S unday saw Quinnipiac University’s front lot filled with sexy, sculpted, powerful bodies that’ve aged tremendously well. Not of flesh and blood, they were of painted metal and polished chrome, of rubber tires and engines mighty enough to burn them, testaments not to humankind’s physical beauty but to its ability to harness beauty and physics.
It was the Memorial Day Weekend Car Show, the 22nd annual, with a cut-off for cars released after 1986, and, I’m sad to report, I mostly missed it. My own car, a 2003 sedan with a weathered roof and dings all over, arrived about 30 minutes after 3, when the awards were given out. Under the illusion that entrants would gawk and chat and preen into the evening, I knew I was in trouble when, about a half-mile from arriving at the lot on Mount Carmel Avenue, a long parade of classic cars roared past in the opposite direction.
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But there were lingerers good enough to stay put long enough for stragglers like me to get a good look: a red and white 1950s Chevrolet Bel Air, with a gleaming silvery hood ornament like a streaking passenger jet; a Chevy Nova, maybe 1970s, painted blue with thick white racing stripes from trunk to hood; a plum purple 1980s Chevy Monte Carlo with orange emblazoning; a duo of Chevy Chevelles—teal and red with different touches and modifications; a gold Chevy Corvette; and a 1963 Ford Fairlane, white and winged. As you can see, the scene was heavy on Chevy, which makes sense: The event was organized by Connecticut Classic Chevy, the same vintage car club that puts on the weekly cruise nights at Glenwood Drive-In, and it stands to reason its members would be the last ones to leave.
And why not stick around a little longer, anyway? It was a warm, sunny day, by then nice and quiet thanks to the exodus, and their cars’ good looks weren’t showing any signs of slowing down.
Written and photographed by Dan Mims.
