Amazing What You Can Get Away With (When You Own A Corvette)

  

A new friend of ours is a master carpenter and is working on this beautiful new house right on Lake Erie in Bay Village, Ohio. It's a to-die-for home in a nice town about twenty minutes west of downtown Cleveland. Last Sunday he had us drive over to the house and take a look around if for nothing else, just to see the great view of downtown Cleveland from the home's backyard.

 

 

Here's that view. Damn. The home, which is under construction, will retail for just under two million dollars.  If you say that slowly it sounds like it's even more. Views like this are expensive.  

 

 

The house itself is nice but it's this yard that is just absolutely spectacular. It's everything I would want in a yard and then some. Maybe a third of an acre back here and all the splendor of waterfront living without having to worry about flooding or waves or even a boat dock since the yard is about fifty feet off the water. Perfect. 

 

 

When our builder friend recommended that we just mosey on over and take a look, we had no idea that we would be able to not only prance all over the property, but saunter right in past the workers who needed little more than a smile and wave from us to let us in. It dawned on my wife and I just why that was; we were in our Little Red Corvette. If ever there was an automotive hall pass, it's a Corvette of any vintage.

 

 

When you own a Corvette, good, bad or indifferent, you have admittance to an exclusionary club of blue bloods and wannabe blue bloods. We're neither, of course. Just fans of the car but people just think we're rich. The workers saw us driving up in up in our Corvette and they assumed we belonged there. They even waved, gave us the thumbs up and asked me what year it was. If we were in our drab, work a day, wormy old Tahoe, I have to imagine we wouldn't have gotten past the apron of the driveway. Our dashing good looks only getting so far.

 

 

It's harmless fun to innocently appear to be more than what you are. I've learned that if someone thinks you're something you're not and it's something positive, might as well leave that alone. No sense in correcting people.
 

 

The home is scheduled to be completed and ready to move in by the end of January. I wouldn't want to be moving in at the end of January in most cities let alone a "snow city" like Cleveland. Especially considering the forecasts of a winter even worse than last year's soul crushing baddie. Then again, I'm not moving into a house like this. Some things you don't want to wait for no matter what Mother Nature has in store.

 

I hope that to whomever is having this house built, they never come to look at this view and think it ho hum after a while. My wife and I struggle with that when it comes to our Corvette which looks like it's a lot more than what it is. After all, a view is just a view...

 

 

1968 Cadillac Sedan DeVille - A Life Lived Well

 

The key to keeping any car in pristine condition is to take care of it.

 

When the first radio station I worked for changed from a music format to what is known as "news talk", the company that owned the station apparently thought enough of me not to fire me. Being just 23 at the time and not appreciative of their kind gesture, I believe they didn't can me because they'd never find anyone who would do the job they moved me to, executive producer and desk writer, for less money. I stewed over what I believed was my wretched plight longing to be back on the air playing music and not producing talk shows that focused on local politics and writing kickers for the news anchors.

 

 

That includes keeping it out of the elements all year long, changing major fluids regularly and fixing things that break as quickly as possible.

 

The station, honestly, was a train wreck. A misbegotten tangle of huge egos, bad ideas, sloppy execution and abhorrent planning, I somehow was able to enjoy myself not in the work but by immersing myself in the lives of the talk show "hosts". A most interesting blend of mature professionals ranging from financial planners to pediatricians to chefs, none of them had done radio before and you could hear it on the air as they were terrible broadcasters. Very intelligent people, mind you and most likely more than adaptable and trainable given the right coaching and instruction but during the short time I worked with them they were awful. However, all of them appeared to me to have one thing in common - they were all extremely happy people.

 

 

To maintain originality, try to replace parts with OEM or NOS parts. Historical accuracy is key on any older collectible car.

 

I was particularly enamored of the host of pediatrics show, "The Baby Doc", Dr. Prestano, who did a daily two hour talk show that catered to new moms. "Dr. P", who was in his mid 60's at the time I worked with him, was the most delightful, positive and charming man I had ever met. His enthusiasm was infectious and everyone at the station loved him. He was in terrific physical shape too and claimed never to have been sick a day in his life.

 

 

It's also important to appreciate your older car for what it is as opposed to being upset for what it's not.

 

He attributed his happiness to several very simple principles. First, he advocated a strict diet of non processed foods, no smoking, little to no alcohol and most importantly he said, positive perspective. For without it, there would be no way you'd be happy and being happy helps your body to perform at its peak.

 

 

It's obvious what older cars have had a life lived well and which ones have not.

 

He said the key to being happy, in addition to taking care of yourself, of course, was to live your life well and not waste your time doing anything that doesn't make you happy. He said it was ok, to a point, to be selfish to that happy end. Afterall, if you're not taking care of  yourself to make sure that you're happy, there wasn't anyway that you'd be any good to anyone else.  

 

Today, I don't stew over the plight I experienced years ago at the station instead I look back fondly at working with people like Dr. Prestano. He passed away in 2011 at 88.

 

 

The New York Islanders - Victims of their Own Success

These young fans either like to tailgate conveniently (you can't tailgate at Rangers games) or they're what's left of a fan base that should never have existed in the first place.

When the Islanders limp out of the Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum at the end of the 2014-15 season for what their owner believes will be more the prosperous confines of Brooklyn, it will mark the end of the longest fade of a professional sports team in history. A fade to black, more like blue and orange, that began as far back as before the first puck was dropped for their first game back in 1972.

 

Much of the Islanders problems over the last quarter century have, wrongly, been centered on the team's very humble home, the Nassau Coliseum.

 

The "Islanders" fade to black beginning before the first puck of their first game because the team never made any sense. Established to block the long defunct World Hockey Association from gaining a toe hold in the New York metropolitan area, their biggest problem has been that they play in the middle of Nassau County, not exactly a hotbed of NHL fans. Say what you will; outside of Canada and say Detroit, Boston and Chicago, is any city in the United States a hockey hotbed? 

 

With the move to Brooklyn, there is little chance this will never happen again seeing that if the Islanders win the Stanley Cup in the future, the celebratory parade won't be on Long Island. Not that it matters, Islanders fans being fickle and sparse. As Steve Jacobsen has pointed out, if Long Island really cared about the Islanders they wouldn't be leaving.

With the Rangers home less than twenty five miles west, the Islanders had to carve out a fan base from the Ranger's fan base; the Islanders' original owner, Roy Boe having to pay the Rangers $5 million dollars in territorial fees when the team first launched to offset losses in revenue. With a uniquely localized team identity, if you're not from Long Island why would you be a fan of a team called the Islanders -  (?), in addition to the limited appeal of hockey, to have a chance at surviving  the Islanders best bet was to quickly become more competitive than the Rangers. They did that and so much so that they became a victim of their own success; had they never had that success early on the franchise wouldn't have remained on Long Island as long as it did.

Enigmatic, polarizing, and the most important player on a team of remarkably strong players, Denis Potvin is without question one of the best players in NHL history if not its greatest  defenseman.

The Islanders came of age  in the mid 1970's taking many disgruntled, Long Island based Rangers fans with them when the Rangers were in a foggy rebuilding flux (some things never change). Their rapid assent from door mat to contender seeming like a rebirth of the Yankees of yore as opposed to an expansion team. When they stopped winning, however, those "loyal" fans, again,  many of them being disenfranchised Rangers fans, as the Islander's ever astute GM Bill Torrey had feared, stopped showing up en masse. Mr. Torrey having no idea, of course, of how long the losing would be.

Butch Goring, Potvin and Bryan Trottier with first of four Stanley Cups won consecutively between 1980 and 1983. No major league sports team has won as many consecutive titles since.

As remarkable as the team was early on, they have been consistently and remarkably lousy for way longer than they were good. In the twenty five years since the retirement of Denis Potvin in 1988, they've made the playoffs a mere 8 times and have advanced past the second round only once. Conversely, during their first 16 years in the league, save for their first two seasons, they made the playoffs 14 years in a row to say nothing about their four straight Stanley Cup wins.

Bob Nystrom scored the overtime goal that made Rangers fans cry. It gave the Islanders their first Cup in game five of the 1980 finals against the Flyers.

Blame an NHL changed through multiple lockouts and strikes making it difficult for smaller market teams (Long Island is a large market but it might as well be Indianapolis) to be built the way the championship Islanders were built, farcical ownership changes, bizarre decisions and a bankrupt Nassau County all plying against the organization's chances of putting a consistently good team on the ice. You can't blame the fans for staying away.

The future of the Coliseum is in doubt. Most likely, since it's in the middle of one of the most densely populated and wealthy areas of the country, it will be demolished to make way for office parks, shopping malls and residences.

Will the Islanders, find the financial resources they never had on Long Island when the move to Brooklyn next year? Anyone's guess. One thing is for certain, if they don't win, win consistently and win quickly once in Brooklyn, regardless of what the team is called,  fans there will be even more ambivalent towards them than the ones they leave behind. The Islanders will fade to black again. 

The fact that the team, at last report, will retain the name "Islanders" after they move being another odd footnote in a team's history that has been nothing if not unusual. A team name that so aptly if benignly now describes their fan base will soon be completely at odds with the identity of where they will be playing. Understand that Brooklyn, while on the same land mass as Long Island, is not, oddly enough, considered part of Long Island. So, the "Islanders" being called "Islanders" in Brooklyn makes as much since as calling them "Islanders" if the team had moved to Cleveland.

1987 Buick Grand National - Gnarly Fer Sher

  

There 1980's were chock full of great memories. The Gold Medal winning men's Olympic Hockey team, Ronald Reagan, movies like Back to the Future, Culture Club, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Communist block crumbling and a booming American economy. There were also some things about the decade that were not worth remembering too. Like the supposed "Valley Girl" speak that people today think was all the rage back then (gag me with a spoon for it was not), hair metal and most domestic automobiles.
 

There are one or two rare and exceptional cars from the '80's (no, barf me out a DeLorean is not one of them)  one of them being the Buick Grand National. The "Grand Nat" was special because it was able to do what most automobiles in the decade could not; be the best at what it was ultimately designed to be. That being a great muscle car, whatever that is anyone's guess. If we define a muscle car as being a mid size automobile with a larger or more powerful engine than what was standard in the car and the car's sole mission was to accelerate quickly and look badass - then the Grand National was second to none. Being able to accelerate from 0-60 in 4.7 seconds, the Grand National was the fastest accelerating automobile available for sale in the United States in the 1980's. The fancy clothing only accentuating the attitude of what the car could do.

 

 

The Grand National shared much with other "muscle cars" like it being a rear wheel drive, fast accelerating two door sedan. Like most muscle cars, it couldn't do much more than accelerate very well in straight line. Unlike other "muscle cars", though that used the larger engine from a larger car, usually a V-8, Buick powered the Grand National with a turbo charged version of its standard V-6 engine. 

The turbo, an exhaust gas driven compressor that forces more air into the engine, was a point of differentiation between it and other similar cars of this vintage from Chevrolet, Ford, Pontiac and Oldsmobile. Ford made a turbocharged Thunderbird that was an all around superior performer to the Grand National but it was not nearly as powerful a car.
 

When we sit around talking about the '80s and the subject turns to movies and cars, invariably someone will mention Marty McFly and the DeLorean in the Back to the Future movies. That car  somehow coming to symbolize '80's automobilia. Those that lived through the 1980's and saw the movie for the first time got the joke about the DeLorean. Just as well for a decade that was, at least as far as cars go, very forgettable. Except for the few exceptions like the Buick Grand National. Gnarly.

Our Four Homes

 

 

In the fall of 1991, in thick in the middle of a deep, dark recession, two crazy kids found the Long Island housing market to be delightfully in their favor. There was no shortage of homes available for us to choose from nor was there a shortage of homeowners willing to negotiate. After several weeks of frantic weekend searches, we found this not even 1600 square foot ranch, 50 miles east of Times Square with a very motivated owner who was relocating to Houston. Built in the midst of the 1979-1980 energy crisis, which itself helped spur another recession, this, at the time, bone stripped, builder's special served us well. The house was not perfect, though. Too small and with no basement, by the time the boys came along we were  bursting at the seams. The best part about this home and the Long Island housing market in general back in those days; appreciation. In the 12 1/2 years we owned this home our initial investment tripled. The challenge was that our investment tripling also meant everyone else's investment tripled.



 

 

Make plans, God laughs. In the blink of an eye, circumstances change. In 2004, I changed jobs taking advantage of an opportunity in "nearby" Connecticut. We bought this "contemporary colonial" in a Hartford suburb and it was everything our Long Island home was not. Twice the size with a walk out (unfinished) basement, two stories (the boys loved that) and loaded with luxurious amentities, we could not ask for more. Of the house. While very nice, Connecticut is nearby to Long Island only physically. The metaphorical differences between Long Island and "Southern New England" are seismic.  After being in the same place for 12 1/2 years, we suddenly found ourselves moving for the second time in a year. To Dallas, Texas of all places.

 

With knees and elbows scrapped from the abortive landing in Hartford, we decided to "buy down" in Dallas. The Dallas housing market is remarkably affordable at least in comparison to homes from the North East. Armed with a wheel barrow of cash, we could've easily "over bought" down there. The homes tend to be out of this world huge. Knowing that and being fully aware of the tender nature of what I do for a living, we thought it best to buy something at least on the modest side by comparison to what a lot of folks down there buy. Always thinking quick resale, we found this 2,500 square foot, "one story home" in a handsome, booming community North of Dallas (Allen) about 20 miles from where I would work. This home was gorgeous inside. 4 bedrooms, spacious kitchen, 3 1/2 baths, a pool, hand scraped wood floors amidst other wonder touches, the only things we wished for was a basement and a tad more room. I also wasn't fond of this mini cul de sac thing and the traffic on the street; we were too close to a major roadway that was only getting busier. We toyed with the idea of relocating within this development to a larger home with more property that lent itself to more privacy. We loved Dallas and never thought we'd leave.

We'd live here a total of five years. I would live here, technically, only three. We were still getting adjusted to life in Dallas when in early 2008, another massive life change occured. My position that relocated my entire family to Dallas for was eliminated. While, luckily, I found work fairly quickly, it was in Nashville and with a company that I was not excited about working for. I moved to Nashville, the family stayed back in Dallas while we tried to figure out what we were going to do long term. I had a small apartment in Nashville near the airport and came "home" just about every other weekend. This dragged on for two, very long years.
 

In March of 2010, I found work in Cleveland, Ohio and I felt confident enough, with the position, that we moved there as a family. We settled in a community about twenty minutes west of downtown Cleveland that, ironically, is a pleasant mixture of all the places we've been. We couldn't ask for more of our home. If you count the massive, finished basement, we have approximately 4,000 square feet, six bedrooms, four bathrooms and a three car garage. The schools here are fantastic, my commute is the best I've ever had, save for my ten minute jaunt to the office when I slummed it in Nashville, I enjoy my job but most importantly, my family is thriving. In Cleveland. Who'd have thunk it?

 

 

We even got a dog.

1954 Chevrolet Pickup - That Rare Exception

 

As a dyed in the wool, washed in the blood "car guy", rarely does a light duty pickup truck get my attention and here's that rare exception. While I still find little to oogle over with this 1954 Chevrolet 3100, I do appreciate that someone does find it not only oogle worthy but worthy enough to sink enough money into it as to ask 20,000 cold hard dollars for it. Y'see, old trucks are just like old cars in that it's best to buy one that's already restored. Even a rust bucket bought at next to nothing will run you easily twenty large to get it into decent shape. That's not counting the initial out lay of cash for the purchase, mind you. Seems to me the person selling this truck is attempting to recoup some of that expense. Yes. It's for sale. Email me if you're interested. It looks flawless and very fresh to me.  

 

Naturally, what something will cost is relative to what someone is willing to pay for it. Some scoff at the Little Red Corvette my wife and I bought ourselves for our twentieth wedding anniversary present to ourselves a couple of years ago. Especially when it's in less than perfect shape and is less than the most appreciative model years being a 1977. "At least it's not a 1980 to 1982", I bark back at people that I smugly dismiss as being jealous. This sixty year old pickup truck at twenty grand? Sheesh. What's more, that's twenty grand for a brutally crude appliance that makes our Corvette seem like a Ferrari 458. That color is horrible too. My iPhone 4S camera doesn't do it's sickly, almost military grade of bland blueish grey justice. It's shiny too just like a new hammer. Is it a coincidence that this thing is in the parking lot of a hardware store?

 

 

Now, many times I'll stop and fumble all over myself taking pictures of an old car and burst with excitement about getting back home to write it up. Just as many times with vehicles like this that I not only have no emotional connection to, there was literally nothing like this where I grew up, little less even liking, I struggle to put words on paper but I find the serendipitous juxtaposition of my Corvette with the truck making for some interesting if not striking conjecture. For instance, is it me or is it hard to fathom that the truck is a mere 23 years older than my Corvette?

 

 

My thirty seven year old Corvette seems almost impossibly modern compared to the ancient lines of the truck let alone how much more advanced it is mechanically. Sorry, that would be a lie. It's really not mechanically more advanced than the truck but if you take a 2014 Corvette and put it next to a 1991 Chevrolet pickup, you're not going to have this same physical juxtaposition. I doubt that there are many people who would look at a light duty 1991 Chevrolet pickup truck, one that's in pristine condition, mind you - haha, good luck finding one of those in Cleveland - and realize that it's twenty three years old let alone acknowledge that the 2014 Corvette is "the new one". Car and truck design having hit a symbiotic plateau somewhere in the last twenty five years making everything that's recently old looks fairly timeless. What's really come a long way is what's underneath. Cars and trucks today are just fantastic.

 

 

I know enough about trucks to tell you that this thing is not for me on any level whatsoever. It's that utter ambivalence that helps me empathize with people who find no interest in my vehicular pursuits. In fairness, I do appreciate some of the finer design details on this truck that are little more than fluff, though. I also wonder how the hood on this thing opens without getting dented by this deliciously delicate rear view mirror. 

 

 

This wooden bed back here is of nicer lumber than my kitchen floor. Was it this way when new? Seeing how much attention to original detail in the restoration there is I have to imagine that it did. Why is it that all of the boards are not of the same width, though? See? That's why I'm not good with pickup trucks; I can't help but wonder why there's any design ethos on something that's supposed to be nothing if not practical. I also find dainty toilets to be equally as perplexing.

 

 

Make him an offer. I won't even charge a finder's fee.