I wanted to be in a car club as long as I can remember. Hell, I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. But, I’ve yet to see a piece of art that I dug enough to commit to a state of permanence on my flesh. Similarly, I never came across a car club that I felt strongly enough to pledge to. I toyed with the idea of starting my own club. I even designed a righteous logo for it.
I have this affliction with Pontiacs that started when I put a stump-pulling 455 Poncho mill in the Devils’ Grocery Getter ’40 Chevy and won some races. Then, I put a 400 inch Pontiac in a ’57 Ford Sedan. The “Powered by Pontiac” water transfer decal in the back window sure pissed off the Ford guys. My ’49 Pontiac Silver Streak fastback got a ’55 324 Olds and Hydro swap. My engine-swap madness always seemed to involve Pontiac, in a way that could be described as “automotive bestiality.” But, in spite of a great name, the “Raunchy Ponchos cc” never came to be. It appeared I was destined to go through life a “Lone Wolf.”
That all changed about five years ago, when I became involved with an amazing car club. And since becoming deeply involved with the car club “scene,” I have come to the realization that clubs matter. Every single club has its own personality, its own agenda, and its own reputation. Club identity is as diverse as the people themselves, and for the most part, that collective identity attracts members who identify with what that club stands for.
Read more about clubs in Boulevard Crawl in CKD #29
Boulevard Crawl
Boulevard Crawl
By Dale Van Zant
Car Clubs
By Dale Van Zant
Car Clubs
