Canary yellow, lime green, turquoise blue…. street rods of every possible color and model fill the Minnesota State Fairgrounds on this first day of the 2015 Street Rod Car show called “Back to the Fifties”
Some years have passed since Dick and I last attended this huge event, but we’re here in our 1946 Chevy pickup. It’s parked in a quieter area, and we are strolling through the noisy busy central hub of activity.
Rock ‘n roll from the 1950s blasts through the air… Splish Splash I was taking a Bath… That’ll be the Day…A Teen-ager’s Romance… Candy-Candy. The lively music counterbalances the deep rumble of pipes …motors revving… and the steady thrum of powerful engines.
As we walk the crowded streets, the laughter and chitchat of show attendees fill our ears. Besides walking around and looking at cars, the second favorite activity here is to sit near your vehicle relaxing in tree shade or under an awning.
Everyone smiles. Everybody looks happy. The grass boulevards are filled with picnicking car owners and their friends. Coolers and grills are set up alongside the tents as people picnic and snack. Awnings, pitched everywhere, are filled with chatting, laughing people ranging in age from tiny babies to the very elderly.
As the sun moves higher in the sky, more and more spectators join the scene, so we move from the crowded sidewalks where vendors hawk car parts and snacks and walk in the street, mingling with slow moving vehicles. Soon we must step out of the way for a black 1957 Impala convertible that carefully travels through the throngs, several teenagers sitting on top of the back seat.
Next, a rat rod slowly wends its way through the throng, its engine vrooming occasionally to clear its pipes. The one now creeping ahead of me looks rather ratty with its unfinished gray exterior hence the name—but it’s a popular fad. Owners finish the engine and mechanics to perfection but leave the exterior as is. Therefore a rat rod will pass all the criteria for a good street-rod, but the exterior isn’t fancy.
Dick stops to compliment a car, and this leads to a conversation that I don’t understand. I’m not a car person. Somehow automobile facts, figures and lingo never stay in my memory. But car people speak their own language. So while Dick and the car owner discuss things like …front end suspension…350 cubic inch engines…and something called a cam, I scout out the fairgrounds map for the Craft Market location.
The car conversation continues, and I don’t mind waiting. The sun shines from a blue sky. The temps are warm but not uncomfortable. Perfect day to relax. I admire a shiny black Model A and the huge fins on a 1950s turquoise blue Cadillac.
Soon, we head for the Craft Market, and not long after that, we mosey back to our street rod where we relax in the shade and talk with passers by.
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