I’m from Detroit. They don’t call us the Motor City just because we build cars. Motown creates dreams that celebrate those cars.
If you’re from Detroit, you know what I’m talking about. If not, let me explain.
It’s been a dream of mine to drive my own classic car in the annual Woodward Dream Cruise. Today, I finally did it.
On this hot and steamy third Saturday in August, 16 miles of Woodward Avenue was the place to be — from Ferndale to Pontiac — as car buffs and classic car owners hit the streets.
Known internationally, for 24 years the Dream Cruise has drawn hundreds of thousands to the world’s largest single-day classic car event. Car enthusiasts from as far as Canada, Georgia and California caravan to southeast Michigan to participate in the end-of-summer tradition, a rite of passage for some that attracts 40,000 classic cars and 1.5 million people to the metro-Detroit area.
The first time I had open-heart surgery and attended the Dream Cruise, I barely lasted an hour sitting under a sun-drenched tent watching the cool cars go by. That was in 2001. I probably bought a T-shirt.
This time at Rebecca’s urging, we ventured out, despite the heat and threat of thunderstorms.
Exactly 17 summers later and nearly three months after my May 31 MV repair and maze procedure, I was back at the Cruise, but not just as a spectator.
I was driving my own car, a 1965 Ford Mustang convertible, praying my “Sal” wouldn’t overheat so we could keep on cruising. Mustang Sal did just fine, and the rain held off.
It was a dream come true.
(Copyright 2018)
