The Beauty of Old Cars

The Volvo 240 is the unofficial car of Portland. This fine specimen is a 245DL, dating from the late 1970s based on the round headlights (not pictured).

I’ve loved cars as long as I can remember.  When I was three years old, my mother would take me to the park near our house and we would stand by the side of the road while I named - correctly - the makes and models of all the cars that drove by.  I don’t know how my three-year old brain possessed the faculty to process an abundance of vehicular information, but my ability to do so astounded relatives and strangers.

I cried the day my dad parted with his Volkswagen GTI because of electrical gremlins and cheered the day my mom bought an Audi A4 , but my love of cars isn’t limited to quick and luxurious European models.  My parents had a Ford Taurus wagon when I was born that broke down nearly once a week and was a weird shade of brown - which my mom bought because she said it reminded her of the color of Jersey cows and coffee with cream.  Yet I loved that car to pieces because it transported me to my first days of school and on numerous road trips across the United States.  Despite its faults, the Taurus was a trooper, utilitarian but memorable in its people-hauling prowess.

The mean, lean Ford Torino.

These stories are why I love old cars.  Right now, I don’t have a car for practicality reasons, so I spend a great deal of time admiring other people’s rides.  As much as I want a brand new A4 or GTI in my hands (apparently my parents’ taste in cars has rubbed off on me), I find just as much appeal in cars that are 20, 30, 40 even 50 years old.  On my recent trip to Portland, I found an abundance of these vehicles since the temperate Pacific Northwestern climate is kinder to cars than the Minnesota winters, with their proliferation of road salt.  Here are a few of the vehicles I came across in my journeys across the city.

A Land Rover Defender calling out for rescue.

An early 1980s Honda Civic hatchback, blending in with Portland's resplendent fall foliage.

One of the best looking Toyota FJ40s I've seen.

The man who owned this 1973 AMC Matador approached me as I took its photograph, inquiring if I were the police. Though the car - by his admission - gets six miles per gallon, the faded and slightly mossy patina is a sight to behold.