SOUL & Feeling, Do cars have a soul - (pix)

What does it "feel" like to drive your rod or kustom? Many hot rodders love their car, and the DRIVER'S soul is activated when it is driven. This addiction known as: Gearhead.

I have seen a few cars, drip of soul, feeling, history, story & passion, But a human was no where near it, The car's soul is seen at first glance. What am I lookin for? I'm looking for that "love at fist sight" feeling from a metal machine. (some will say I'm crazy. That it is not possible.) The pretty girl (or guy for those hamb gals ) that you lay your eyes upon at first glance, and you get that feeling that!!!: THIS is SOMETHING SPECIAL! You always see hot rods, just like always seeing pretty girls, But every once in awhile one comes along that stops ya in your tracks & you say:

Nothing.
Below are examples of what I mean. Let us see if we can create a post that is so soulful it will make you speechless.

****WARNING**** And thanx for keeping this post MATURE!
This post is for mature readers ONLY,,, please do not sabotage,,, or create a pissing match out of this post. (This post was almost blocked,,, but recovered when I complained. Look at it this way: If I were ask why your wife is beautiful,,,I would hear something about how she makes your soul feel,,,And every guy would have a different answers...You would be an ASS to disagree with the beauty of another man's wife,,,don't be an ASS here.

 

How 'bout those cars that actually hate you and won't run worth a shit for you...or break when you take them out...???

R-

 

Never thought I'd admit this, as it sounds hippie dippy, but yeah, some do. I've felt it. Like it knows you're there. Kind of cool and creepy at the same time. I get it from old airplanes, too.

BTW, it was cool meeting you outside of Fool's.

 

I just saw this car for the firsttime a couple days ago and fell head over heels for it



Here's a couple other thatmade my jaw smack on the floor with lust.....

 

I think we used to post some fiction on here from time to time. The following may be kinda goofy, but it's something I wrote a couple of years ago after driving my car. I think it fits here.



"The Drive"

It was hot today. That’s not unusual for this time of year in Southern California, but none the less, it was hot. Thankfully the sun was setting now and it was beginning to cool off. It was still warm, mind you, but much more comfortable. I unlocked the garage. The hot rod was there; it’s creamy off-white flanks shining in the half-light coming through the windows. It seemed ready, eager even. I could almost hear it saying, "Come on, let’s go."

With a turn of the key the flathead burbled to life. Unsteady at first, then more smoothly, more confident. Its exhaust note soft yet loud at the same time in the confines of the garage. A quick check of the gauges showed that all was well. I slid the gear lever into reverse, and slowly backed out of the garage and onto the street. We eased down the street letting the heat build gradually in the engine. There would be time for speed. The car felt good and as the temperature continued to climb I flipped the switch that started the electric fan. Now it was time to go.

The road began to rush under the wheels and I could hear the rear tires, with their large tread blocks, starting to hum the faster we went. The warm night air flowing around the windshield was buttery soft and brushed against my arms and face like the touch of a feather. I could see the glow from the headlights shining on the sides of the front tires as they spun ever faster. The car was bouncing slightly with the undulations in the pavement but the steering felt positive and the car would go precisely where I wanted. Faster. As the road opened up, the flathead was now singing loudly, sweetly, melodically. I drove on, almost delirious with the rush of air and the sound of the engine, no, not just the engine but the sounds of the entire car. The suspension working up and down, the tires on the road. It was as if the car was alive, breathing, feeling, enjoying this rare event as much as I was. With no top to obscure the view, I could see that the evening sky still held the pale glow of the sun now far over the horizon. The first stars of the night were scudding in between the few high clouds and a sliver of a moon was there to catch any that fell through. It was wonderful.

I felt sorry for the people driving their dismal mini-vans and SUVs around me. Their windows tightly closed against the warm and fragrant night air, their cell phones and stereos blocking out all other sounds. Completely isolated from any sensation that they are actually traveling through the magic of the twilight. What a terrible waste. Here they are frantically scurrying about, rushing to complete some errand or another, without giving the slightest thought to the pleasure of the trip. Perhaps not even realizing that pleasure can be derived from any sort of driving. Sad.

There is, I am very happy to say no such agenda for us on this night. This magnificent hot rod and I have no place to go and no set time to be there. We merely want to enjoy this journey to nowhere that we have set ourselves on. For there is much to enjoy. And so we drive on, taking our liberties with the speed limits when we can, behaving ourselves when we must. This car and I are one, simpatico. It is a deliciously intoxicating experience. We wish we could drive on like this forever. But unfortunately we cannot. And so, somewhat reluctantly, we turn back down our very own street. The engine is still singing beautifully, the night air is still warm and sweet, and all is well with the world. I turn the car into the garage, and slowly bring it to a stop. I let the engine idle for a moment, enjoying the mellow burbling of the exhaust. Once again I turn the key only this time there is silence. Silence but for the soft ticking of warm metal.

Ah, that was perfect!

 

much like people, some have a soul, some don't

 

I totally get this. My Comet is totally human to me. She has good days and bad. I drove the hell out of her on a dirt track and she was FILTHY inside and out, but looked glorious! The next morning she was covered in the morning dew and dirt, she just looked tired. To me, she is me. Me made outta metal.....and awesome.

 

too true.

saddly, this is all I've got for now

 

Yes! This post is what I'm looking for! The written emotions from Bitter Red & 2002p51 are very kool.

Appleseed we did meet at the hunnert, and it was great talking this same subject with you.

Also, if you are just seeing this post NOW,,,,please be directed to the top where I placed the warning.

Thanx for making this a positive & insightful post!

 

I HAVE A 1980 FORD TRANSIT TRANSPORTER IT OWES ME FAR TO MUCH MONEY BUT SHE LOVES ME OTHER PEOPLE HAVE USED IT AND BROKE DOWN BUT SHE NEVER LETS ME DOWN IT DOESENT HAVE A RADIO SO I CAN TALK TO HER WHEN WE ARE OUT THIS WAS ONE OF THOS TIMES WHEN I NEVER SHOULDA BOUGHT THE RUSTY OLD TRUCK BUT SHE JUST SPOKE TO ME AND I JUST CANT HELP MYSELF I EVEN DRIVE THIS CAR TRANSPORTER WHEN IDONT HAVE ANYTHING TO MOVE JUST FOR THE HELL OF IT AS THE OTHER GUYS SAID SHES JUST ME IN METAL

 

I think my cars have all sold their soul to the devil!

 

Would a car that was owned by an honest-to-goodness Saint, qualify as having a "soul"?

There is one coming up for auction later this month.

You can check out how to buy St. Padre Pio's '59 Mercedes here:
http://www.oldcarsweekly.com/Default.aspx?tabid=520&articleid=8382&articlemid=1519#%231519Articles

 

Was it a '58 Plymouth named Christine, by chance ?? Now there's a car that had a soul ???