The StyleI recently had a chance to drive the '06 Z06 Corvette for a couple of days after the guys at Hot Rod were finished punishing it for being fast. I took it on a leisurely cruise through some Southern California beach cities, played with the accouterments, and pondered its significance in the car world.
The Corvette has evolved remarkably since the '85 model I once owned. For one, the new Vette rides a lot more like a super-comfy sedan than a low-slung sports car. My dorkus friends squander a lot of cash on the latest Mercedes and Bimmers, so I spend my share of time sniffing foreign leather in the back seat of these high-buck rolling living rooms. If there is one thing those cars do well, it's put your butt to sleep. The Vette is similar in that it has heated seats and really squishy leather buckets with a heads-up display so you barely have to turn your head while you drive. It also has that new push-button starter and a really confusing stereo with a flat-panel touchscreen. Click it into Sixth and do the cruise at 80 mph with nothing more than tire hum to let you know you're moving.
But I have to say, I felt weird driving it. It just wasn't my style, and I felt too young to be tooling around in a $70,000 car. Almost like I couldn't have earned it. Around here, it is common to see a mega-dollar ride and then spy a 20-something in a baseball cap behind the wheel. I almost need to see a graybeard with a nice suit to think it's legit and not a trust-fund kid or lucky actor exploiting the spoils of a trendy first flick.
I am way more comfortable driving something that is less than 20 grand while wearing a Dickies jacket and blue jeans. I have been that way as long as I can remember. So I guess you could say that's my style. Once in a while, the world becomes interested in the same sorts of things I have always been into, and my style becomes cool. Right now, the musclecar is back in vogue, so the lifestyle-clothing guys, wannabe motorheads, and trend followers have taken to looking like me. For the next year or so, girls will notice me and dudes will compete with me because I am wearing authentic blue-collar-car-guy apparel with the proper dose of distress to make my five-year-old So-Cal Speed jacket look like I blew $1,000 at Fred Segal to get it yesterday. It also means that instead of going to the feed-and-tack store to get a pair of boot-cut jeans, I can drive to the Abercrombie or Banana Republic and get colors other than dark indigo. Trendy jeans are more comfortable, too.
I've been contemplating the look for some of our upcoming projects, and in doing so I've noticed that, like my boots and jeans, certain looks are born from necessity. Take the drag racer from the '60s, for example. The idea was to go as fast as possible in a straight line using a lot of horsepower. That led to the high-rise intake manifold and consequently, a hole in the hood. They soon figured out that a hoodscoop was better than a hole, and the entire thing was covered in primer (usually black) after the install. You see this look on late-'60s and early-'70s factory musclecars, as they mirrored the designs and provided factory-sponsored equipment to get in on the game.
Racers also needed traction and usually several sets of wheels and tires for the weekend. Hubcaps were illegal per NHRA, so what you saw were steel rims in the back, because they were cheap, and a new one-piece mag in front that was as skinny as possible to reduce drag. If you look around, almost every other segment of the car culture has some variation of this basic theme.
So, I probably don't have to tell you this, but you just might be in style and not even know it. We're all in the club, so find the trendiest bar in town, wear your dragstrip duds, pull up in your drag-race-inspired street machine, and hand your keys to the valet. If you're looking for a date, this is as good as it gets.-Douglas R. Glad