Import Tuners, Hot Rods, Muscle Cars And “Getting It”

If I had a dollar for every collector car guy or hot rodder who communicated to me in some way their lack of understanding about import tuner cars and the kids who drive them, I’d be able to afford a thumping subwoofer and some neon lights for my ‘60 TR3. All too many car enthusiasts seem to look at the coffee-can exhaust crowd with one part confusion and another part disgust.

For those who grew up in the pre cell phone days, allow me to make this very simple for you: the kids you’re looking at driving slammed Civics with wings are just a younger version of you. You just haven’t made the connection yet.

So allow me to make the connection for you.

About ten years ago my father-in-law made some statement about not understanding why someone would do all that crazy garbage to a Honda. I simply asked him: “what was your first car?”

“A 1950 Ford” he replied.

“Did you buy it new?”

“No, it was my parents’ old car.” He explained.


“What was the first thing you did to it when it became ‘your car’?” I continued.

“I stripped off all that chrome. It’s what everyone did in those days.”

“And what did your parents think about that?”

“They asked me why I was ruining the car!”

After explaining that parents don’t give their kids hand-me-down ’50 Fords anymore…now it’s Accords, Civics, Corollas, Tiburons, Eclipses, Imprezas, and since there’s no chrome anymore to take off, personalization trends have swayed towards exhaust, wings, lenses, wheels…he “got it”.

“Getting it” doesn’t necessarily mean wanting it for yourself. It does, however, lead one to understand that spouting derogatory phrases at the guy with the stickers, aero kit and wing on the ten-year-old econobox is no different than your dad yelling at you for buying Cragars and glass-packs for Mom’s Impala…or your dad getting yelled-at by grandpa for unbolting the perfectly good fenders from the ’32 Ford and spending a week’s pay for and a weekend’s time installing that foolish Edelbrock intake and carb setup on its flathead.

At the end of the day, we’re all car people. We might express our love for the hobby in different ways based upon where, when and how we were exposed to cars, but at the core we’re far more similar than we usually realize.

And even if it isn’t your cup of tea, take solace in the notion that most of the drivers of cars you shake your head at today will be scolding their own kids for making similar counterproductive modifications to a hand-me-down family car in the future.

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