Carshow in Bristol Center

The powder-blue ’60 Chevy is in the middle. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

“I wish I could find the owner of that powder-blue ’60 Chevy,” I said to my friend Jim LePore (“luh-POOR”).
I was attending Bristol-Center Fun Days, and it showed cars — hotrods, speedsters, nothing special, just attractive.
Jim was showing his Camaro. Jim, like me, is a widower. He sorta bought that Camaro to offset the death of his beloved wife.
His Camaro, pictured at bottom, is very much a classic. He doesn’t drive it much; mainly just shows it.
“It’s a shame us old guys have money for such things,” he says. “When younger, and more able, we couldn’t afford ‘em.”
“That’s my car,” said another dude in the shade south of the display area. “That ’60 Chevy is MINE.”
“Is that the same car I saw at another show with open exhaust?” I asked.
“I haven’t heard a sound like that in years. 283 Chevy at Cecil County Drag-o-Way back in 1965.”
“Not a 283,” the guy said. “Now it’s a 350 SmallBlock. Originally it was inline six, but the guy before me installed a Jasper crate-motor, a 350 SmallBlock.”
Needless-to-say I gave the car a good look/see. “Bel Air” it said on the side. Not a Bel Air that I can see. Too plain; maybe a Biscayne.
No backup lights; a ’60 Bel Air had backup lights. Mess not with The Keed!
I ambled around; I had my dog with me.
“What a beautiful dog!” people said. “What’s she after?”
“Food,” I said.
“Yep, she smells my chicken.”
“You can’t have that, you monster!”
Plenty of glittering four-wheel monsters were on display.


Cheek-to-jowl in strident sunlight. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

’57 Chevys, a ’55, and lots of made-up specialty cars — things that would scare me to death.
A bunch of foreign sportscars were off-to-the-side.


The ferriners. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

“Didn’t I pass this thing this morning up on 64?” I asked, pointing to the red Triumph.
“Probably. They live in Fairport, so would use Route 64.”
“I used to have one of these things,” I said. “A silver ’58 fish-mouth.”
“Ya probably wish ya still had it.”
“Nope, I like what I have. I ain’t Mario Andretti, I don’t need to prove manliness.
Furthermore, I need rain and snow protection. A TR3 totally lacks that. I remember freezing in a blizzard on Blossburg Hill in PA.”
Front-and center was a line of cars including a tricked-out Volkswagen Beetle.


Oh the insanity! (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

The car had a giant V8 — I didn’t look to see what it was — stuffed into what normally is the Beetle’s trunk.
It had two gigantic four-barrel carbs under a drag-racing scoop. I wondered if it was driven in — probably 3-4 mpg.
How can it handle (safely) with all that additional weight on its front?
Sure, stuff yer foot in it, and hang on for dear life!
Interesting to look at, but I wouldn’t touch it with a 10-foot pole.
Cars are so much better than when I was a teenager. Mainly they stop, and handle fairly well. I can usually avoid skids in the snow — I don’t push too hard. (Retired bus-driver.)
I looked at a ’55 Chevy years ago, the car I lusted after in high-school and college.
The owner took me for a ride: SmallBlock with four-on-the-floor; once the car of my dreams.
Kee-YUCK! What a douchbag! I could hurl $50,000 at it, a complete frame-off restoration. Yet end up with an old car.
Its door-locks were the same el-cheapo wire things I remember.
The buttons unscrew and are lost forever.
Car-owners were starting to leave. I arrived about 1:30.
LePore was considering leaving, so I walked to his Camaro and took the picture below.
His Camaro was probably the newest car there. Shortly after I took the picture, he left.
I left about the same time. It’s notable I’m no longer as interested in car-shows as previously. I was there perhaps an hour. A chance for my dog to socialize.


LePore’s Camaro, named after his wife Shirley. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)


• It’s notable I did this blog entirely on-the-fly; no legal-pad, entirely on my laptop. I went to the show earlier this afternoon, then after returning home sat down to process photographs, and started writing (“slinging words”). I expected to crank a sentence-or-two, but I never stopped.
• “The Keed” is me, Bob Hughes, “BobbaLew.”
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that 11 years ago.