The Lure of the Car Cruise

Summer has finally decided to come around in Beaver County. Right now its over 80 degrees outside, which is just hot enough to poach and egg or an endangered species. This, of course, means that folks will be outside, enjoying the weather, flying kites and climbing trees. In the evening, folks will catch lightning bugs and sit on their respective porches, reading the paper or shooting the breeze with a Colt .45. This also means that any momentum that the theater troupes in the county have worked so hard to build will suffer slightly as we see the return of our greatest nemesis (and America's biggest waste of time): the car cruise.

Perhaps I just don't understand the lure of the car cruise, or maybe I understand it all too well. But the fact that there are people in the community willing to stand out in the sun for hours and do nothing but look at old cars frightens me just a tad.

I'm not totally sure car cruises are something that happen all across the country, just like alot of people don't have chipped ham or grilled chicken salads. Let me explain it in the simplest terms possible: it's an event that consists of people treating a parking lot like a white-trash art exhibit. Classic car owners, or just guys who invest alot of money into modding their DeLorian, park their cars in the middle of a street or in a huge parking lot. Then they pop the trunks and the hoods and shine everything up really nice (it's as if these cars are this clean naturally!) and unfold their lawn chairs and prepare for the long day ahead. Spectators stroll by each car (I can only assume this is called "cruising") and look at the engines and the interiors.

But you won't find any guys here with thin, rimmed glasses and dark turtlenecks analyzing the significance of a bobbling hoola dancer on the dash. People don't peruse cars while drinking champaign or munching on expensive French cheese. Folks are puffing on cigarettes, drinking Miller Light, and wearing mesh tank tops. Hundreds of people show up at these events. Some of them bring their own chairs and sit next to the cars they like, striking up a conversation with the owner:

"So, you wax this thing?"

"You bet."

"She's a beauty."

"Yeah, it was either this, or college for my kids. I think I made the right choice."

Towns in this area thrive on these Cruises. Every time one is held, all of the businesses in the area are jammed with folks wanting food, drinks, and whatever else they can occupy themselves with while they walk around on the hot tar. And it's always the same people, too. You rarely see different cars at these things, because there aren't that many people in the county. So the same cars and owners show up at every car cruise, showing off their cars to usually the same folks that patronize each event. It's sort of like a traveling automobile circus. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the bearded '63 Mustang and the five-wheeled Festiva!"

As I've said, I don't understand why people populate these things. I have never seen an unsuccessful car cruise in the area. Each year, Beaver County holds a "Riverfest" regatta. And each year, the biggest event is the car cruise. I can only imagine the number of "autophiles" out there, who just stare at those shiny cylinders long enough. Meanwhile the comedy troupes, community theaters, concerts, and open mics in the country suffer at the hands of these oil-smelling hooplas. I know what you are thinking, "If you can't beat em, join em." I have considered driving my Cougar up to the cruise, parking that thing, and just doing some improv. In fact, we've tried to perform at these events before... but our comedy wasn't as interesting as a fifty year old muffler.