By Dennis Spencer Goddard
I have always been fascinated with cars. I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t thinking about cars, looking at cars, talking about cars, drawing cars or scheming on how to own them. So much so, that even the first sentences I formed were car related.
The following is the confession of a true car nut.
As a toddler, while my parents were visiting friends or running errands, and, because I loved being in the car so much, I would always beg to wait in the car for them. Remember, this was innocent, early fifties era Long Island, so this was a common practice. People never locked their doors at home and always left their keys in the car. Even Chevrolet cars of time had an ignition that if not set in the “Lock” position, it could be started and driven with no keys at all.
Without fail, as soon as they left the car I would scurry to the steering wheel wearing my diapers, grab on, jump up and down excitedly and pretend I was driving. Even at that very young age I was perplexed with the actual mechanics of driving a car and could not quite fathom how to start the car and make it go forwards or backwards. In my tiny but active mind I was convinced that it surely required telekinetic powers to drive a car so when I was in the car alone I practiced concentrating very hard to make it come to life, nothing. I furrowed my developing brow, thought very hard and “willed” the car to go forward, nothing. I would do the same to make it go backwards, nothing.
I resigned myself to the fact that the amazing and secret driving talents that my parents possessed would someday magically come to me and I would be able to drive. I did however discover the horn much to the chagrin of anyone within earshot of the old Mercury.
This would be the ritual on every little trip and invariably when they got back to the car they would say, “Move over!”, slide in and continue on our journey.
Then something clicked and I finally learned the proper name of these colorful, magical, four wheeled miracles, Move Overs! So after that, every trip was punctuated with “Wow! Look at that cool red Move Over! Look at that blue Move Over!”
Now maybe I can find the Wimbledon White Move Over of my dreams, the one that says GT-350 on the sides!