A SLOW walk through the southern sun a few years back brought me to a treasure. It appeared during a car show held on a closed golf course at Amelia Island, FL. Amid the magnificent automotive antiquity gathered.., oddly, the car that caught my eye was a mint ’56 Chevrolet BelAir. The convertible was flavored brightly in white and copper.

 Why did it strike me so while sitting alongside such impressive mechanical history? Simply put… it brought out memories of my own personal past. The car, the model, and the color… were just as I remembered it in the late spring of 1956, when a favorite uncle taught me to drive.

 I stood for a moment to take in the sight, and recalled the time. I remembered the Sunday when it all began. You see, Sunday was a day of rest for the family. That is, after the cows were herded into the barn, the stanchions closed, the milking done, the feeding finished, and the herd pastured… then you could rest.

 Such was the start of any day on my Uncle’s farm. But it seemed to take so long on that Sunday. When you are almost fourteen years old, each minute often seems to take forever.

 You see, Uncle Curt had promised to teach me to drive. And I knew that Curt was good to his word.

Go to Next Page....

 The milking was done and cows were pastured, but we still didn’t go out in the old truck. The truck didn’t look like much, but it ran in its own rickety way. The old ’32 Ford pickup truck still sat in the machinery shed, waiting patiently like an old farmer for my first field lesson.

 But we left the barn after milking and didn’t go to the shed. Instead, we went to the house and cleaned up. I’d been told to prepare my clothes the night before. We loaded into the ’56 Chevrolet BelAir. With Aunt Mary adorned in her Sunday best dress, we drove out the dirt lane. I sat in the back and practiced steering, watching over Curt’s shoulder as

A Sunday Ride…

Memory caught me up as I approached. I remembered that a 283cid two-barrel carbed V-8 and two-speed Powerglide ushered my summer family to church, ice cream, and heavenly company.

Automotive memories are wondrous workings of an active car show mind. Historical clues can surface any time we see a favorite car, a paint color, a slick set of wheels, a hood ornament, or even a taillight lens.