Today the historic Earl Smith Strand theater in Marietta, Ga hosted a classic car show. Two main arteries through the square --North Park Square and East Park Square-- were blocked off to other traffic, but open to pedestrians so that they could see some great examples of classic Detroit steel. Creepers Car Club, founded just down the road in Smyrna back in 1960, was well-represented on this hot Saturday afternoon.
What caught my eye, then? Well, the atmosphere was the first thing. These streets, normally bustling with afternoon traffic, instead funneled a diverse crowd through the small show area. I ran across two older gentlemen with sons in-tow, explaining the straight-8 Buick we were standing in front of. Then it was on to a beautifully-redone Chevelle, 1966, with the appropriate year-of-manufacture license plate. The silver Chevelle had a corner spot, and rightfully so. Red pinstripes on the tires accented the Torq Thrust style wheels beautifully, and further proved that you don't always need a lot of flash to be noticed.
But there certainly was a fair display of flash elsewhere. A custom, chopped top Mercury convertible turned the heads of everyone passing by. Further down the lane, however, I found something even more interesting.
Rat rods are almost always head-turners, because they go against every single rule we know about classic cars. Classic cars should be clean, well-preserved examples of what used to be. But rat rods, on the other hand, are the exact opposite.
Shows like this one are the hotbeds of Americana. Located in a historic town square --one spared by Sherman in his march to the sea-- these events are the epitome of small town America. They're the picture you see on the postcard. The cars are simply display pieces, testaments to what used to be. I overheard a guy my age drop the token phrase: "They don't make them like they used to." While on the whole I like to disagree with that statement ("Look at our technology nowadays!" I say. "Don't live in the past!" I say), we do benefit a lot from looking at the past.
You see, even the rat rods are being preserved. Underneath all of that surface patina (to put it nicely), there's often a modern, sophisticated chassis and drivetrain. But history repeats itself. Undesirable cars are filtered out; they die off one by one, then hundreds by hundreds until only several are left. These several remaining Ford Tempos are kept running by their faithful owners (for some reason), but then expire to the pages of history. Only the staple cars--the Pontiac GTOs and the Camaros and even the Falcons-- are kept going because they light that spark. It's a spark that's ignited from a combination of factors.
The way these cars look, or the way they drive, or even television shows and movies they appeared in. They inspire a collective group of people who can afford to fix them back up to their former glory. And then they're passed back down to us, the masses, in hopes that we'll catch a glimpse and become compelled to stay a little longer and truly examine these pieces of history.
What caught my eye, then? Well, the atmosphere was the first thing. These streets, normally bustling with afternoon traffic, instead funneled a diverse crowd through the small show area. I ran across two older gentlemen with sons in-tow, explaining the straight-8 Buick we were standing in front of. Then it was on to a beautifully-redone Chevelle, 1966, with the appropriate year-of-manufacture license plate. The silver Chevelle had a corner spot, and rightfully so. Red pinstripes on the tires accented the Torq Thrust style wheels beautifully, and further proved that you don't always need a lot of flash to be noticed.
But there certainly was a fair display of flash elsewhere. A custom, chopped top Mercury convertible turned the heads of everyone passing by. Further down the lane, however, I found something even more interesting.
Rat rods are almost always head-turners, because they go against every single rule we know about classic cars. Classic cars should be clean, well-preserved examples of what used to be. But rat rods, on the other hand, are the exact opposite.
Examples like this sedan and pickup are often made to look even more ravaged by the elements and years than they already have been. Intentional surface rust, broken glass, stickers, and ripped up upholstery are all staples of the rat rod.
Shows like this one are the hotbeds of Americana. Located in a historic town square --one spared by Sherman in his march to the sea-- these events are the epitome of small town America. They're the picture you see on the postcard. The cars are simply display pieces, testaments to what used to be. I overheard a guy my age drop the token phrase: "They don't make them like they used to." While on the whole I like to disagree with that statement ("Look at our technology nowadays!" I say. "Don't live in the past!" I say), we do benefit a lot from looking at the past.
You see, even the rat rods are being preserved. Underneath all of that surface patina (to put it nicely), there's often a modern, sophisticated chassis and drivetrain. But history repeats itself. Undesirable cars are filtered out; they die off one by one, then hundreds by hundreds until only several are left. These several remaining Ford Tempos are kept running by their faithful owners (for some reason), but then expire to the pages of history. Only the staple cars--the Pontiac GTOs and the Camaros and even the Falcons-- are kept going because they light that spark. It's a spark that's ignited from a combination of factors.
The way these cars look, or the way they drive, or even television shows and movies they appeared in. They inspire a collective group of people who can afford to fix them back up to their former glory. And then they're passed back down to us, the masses, in hopes that we'll catch a glimpse and become compelled to stay a little longer and truly examine these pieces of history.
