The 50-Year-Old Orange Beast - May 2005

Most people welcome spring, with all its nice weather, and the flowers in bloom. I dread it. Not only is all the good candy gone from the stores, but my daughter and I won’t see my husband until October.

He’s not a reservist. He’s not a baseball player. He’s a hot rod junkie.

Brian has a bright orange 1955 Chevy that he acquired from his dad, who got it after Brian graduated from mechanic’s school. He thought restoring this classic pile of rust together would be a good father-and-son bonding experience, but they ended up almost killing each other instead. Brian started taking night classes at Diablo Valley College, and growing tired of riding his bike back and forth from work and school, he decided to restore the car himself. It took him years, but he got the car running and looking great. He even entered it in a few Good Guys shows.

When I met Brian and saw that car, I was impressed. I thought any guy that good with his hands…well, you get the picture. When we got married, we drove off from the reception in the ’55. When Sara was born in 2002, Brian wanted so badly to bring her home from the hospital in the Chevy, but unfortunately, while I was recovering in the hospital, the car handle broke, so we had to settle for my boring sedan.

Even after he fixed the handle, each weekend, Brian worked on his car. The uninformed might be thinking, “Why does he need to ‘work’ on something that already works?” But those who own classic cars know. It can always be better. The engine can be souped up. The paint can be spruced up. It’s always a “work in progress.” Look at it this way: Some women own 50 pairs of shoes, of which they wear four; and some men have cars that are never done.

Last September, Brian finally got his car to the point where he felt he could show it again. It was finally done! Sara loved the loud “VROOOOM” his engine made. We went to a few car shows where folks raved about his car, but Brian humbly said, “Thanks, but it still needs this, that, etc., etc.” He could never take a compliment.

Then in October, he was driving his Chevy home on Vasco Road in the rain. The truck in front of him came to a sudden stop. Unfortunately, Brian didn’t notice this until it was too late and he rear-ended the truck. If Brian had been driving anything but a car like his -- his car was made back in the days when cars were made out of solid steel, not the fiberglass and Silly Putty that cars are made out of today -- he would have been hurt. Thankfully he wasn’t. But the Chevy’s front end was completely smashed in. Luckily, he could rebuild it. He could make it better, faster, cooler than ever.

Unfortunately, my hopes of seeing him on the weekends were once again dashed. It could be worse. He could be doing drugs, women or roller disco.

See more about Brian’s ‘55 at www.brians55.com