73 degrees is perfect driving weather when you have no air conditioning.

With the windows partially rolled down and the radio tuned in to the classics, you forget that you even need it. The hum of the engine rolls up through your feet and over your body, keeping you company. 

I followed behind the red 85 Avanti my dad was driving, making our way down to Salina, Kansas for the first Studebaker North Central Zone Meet that I would be participating in.

The meet was a goal that was years in the making.

To understand this story, you need to know a few things. First and foremost, my dad loves cars–not just any cars, but classic Studebaker cars. Cars that look like this:

As a young kid, I would follow my dad around the shop, asking questions, holding the light for him, and most importantly going for rides. It should be no real surprise when I say that his love for Studebaker cars was given to me.

For my sixteenth birthday, he gifted me a 1966 Studebaker Cruiser in the color Algonquin Green. Now when he bought the car, it wasn’t a show car, far from it. There was rust in the floorboards, the seats were ripped apart, and the paint had faded to a dull cloudy color. But there was potential, my dad saw it, and so did I.

Before we would dive into the extensive repair of the car, I would need to learn how to drive it. A car from the 60s is different from a car from today in countless ways, but one significantly more so than the rest.

This car was a manual.

I had to learn when and how to shift into each of the three main gears: first, second, and third, and use a clutch. This foreign concept terrified me. It excited me also – I would be the first out of my three sisters to learn how to do this, but it wasn’t something you could jump in and automatically do. (That’s a little unintended car joke for you).

Dad taught me the basics. Listening to the sound of the engine for a shift, not riding the clutch so you don’t wear it down, and the different type of brake this car had.

I didn’t have long to drive it before we started gutting the interior and working on repairs. My dad fixed what he could and took the rest to mechanics he trusted. While I can’t say I’m an expert mechanic by any means, I wasn’t completely useless while making repairs (though I did burn through the carpet more than once while installing the new carpet).

Eventually, the car started to look like the model pictures we had seen in the Studebaker magazines, and my dad had a plan. After six years of repairs, we would have an end goal and take the Cruiser and one of his Avanti’s up to the Studebaker Meet in Custer, South Dakota over Labor Day weekend.

This past summer, we made the finishing touches, we practiced driving around my hometown, and we made plans for our trip. Unfortunately, life had other ideas for us. My grandpa passed away over Labor Day weekend, and our trip was canceled.

Though we couldn’t go together to that meet, we had another option ahead of us.

The North Central Zone Meet was taking place later that month in Salina, and we decided to go.

For the three-hour drive down, I followed my dad in the Cruiser. This trip was not only the Cruiser’s first major outing, but my first solo drive.

For the first half hour of the drive, my hands were shaking so badly, it was hard to shift. I was nervous beyond all reason, but more than that, I was giddy. I was driving the Cruiser. By myself. Something that I could never quite picture myself doing until that moment.

A mild 73 degree fall afternoon had never been so perfect until that moment.

It also didn’t hurt that everywhere we drove there were thumbs up, honks, shouts of admiration, and nods of approval.

The Cruiser and the Avanti were entries 34 and 35 respectively out of the 40 entries that were there that day. We detailed the cars and set up up the displays at the meet, then began our stroll through the show visiting with other Studebaker owners and admiring the cars.

And admire we did.

Larks, Champions, Dictators, Commanders, Hawks, and more were all on display. Some so beautifully restored it seemed like a crime to have them on display to the public. But then again, that’s what these cars were made for. To be enjoyed. To be tinkered with, loved, and driven.

Though neither of our cars won any awards, it was just as enjoyable. The cars were a display of the work my dad and I had done on the Cruiser, of the time we were able to spend together.

We talked with descendants of Studebaker, Virgil and Peg Studebaker, and listened to George Krem talk about his world-famous racing Stude, the Plain Brown Wrapper.

The trip and the meet itself were more than I could have hoped for.

The day of meet, I was told by almost everyone who had seen me driving or talked to me about the cars that they were proud of me. Proud of me for continuing the Studebaker legacy in my family. For asking my dad and other owners questions. And most importantly, for not being afraid to drive.

Click on an image below for a larger view.