Time Machines

A trip to Duncan Imports prompts an unexpected rendezvous with cars from my past. And want them all back. Well, except maybe the Ram.

- EZRA DYER

I learned how to drive, like most of us, behind the wheel of a heap suited to the abuse meted out by a clueless kid. You don't realize it at the time, but the bland obscurity of that machine means you'll probably never drive one again. You won't someday be walking across the Costco parking lot and say, "Why, it's a 1984 Subaru wagon just like the one I drove when I was 11 years old!" That's because (a) Subarus of that vintage started rusting while they were still on the assembly line and (b) your parents, unlike mine, weren't insane enough to allow children to head out for drives in the forest. I've always taken it for granted that I'd never get a chance to conjure that new-driver nostalgia because the relevant vehicle was terminally disposable.