Back in the early '60's, I often dreamed of buying my first new car, an Austin-Healey Sprite Mk. IV. The '67 model shown here, with the exception of the body color, is precisely what I had in mind, with its black interior and top and optional wire wheels. Its simplicity and affordability were qualities I highly admired back then, and I still do. The main thing that has always kept one of these little squirts from moving into my garage is their legendary British, ornery behavior and reliability. Although I love the simplicity, the top design could have been slicker. The exact reason that the Mark IV model started my motor was because the Sprite finally received a proper convertible top that was actually attached to the car body and folded down underneath a vinyl boot! The Mk. III had received genuine roll-up windows, but the attached top did not arrive until the Mk. IV. One morning in the early summer of 1968, I was literally on my way to the local Austin-Healey dealer in Memphis to pick out a new '68 Sprite Mk. IV that could have been blue or white, but my heart was set on a Britsh Racing Green version. On the way to the dealership, I stopped by the Fiat dealership for one more look at the 850 Spider. I never made it to the Sprite Department and I have never regretted my decision. A top that snaps down under a vinyl boot is one thing, but a top that drops under a body-colored panel like a Sting Ray or Mercedes SL is quite another! The dealer didn't have any British Racing Green Spiders in stock, but since the little 817cc, rear-engined sports car was neither British nor a racer, white worked out just fine. The dealer had one with mag wheels, but since it was red, I settled for the standard steel ones.
My first book was released 12/15/00 by iUniverse.com. Plastic Ozone Daydream is my homage to the history of the Corvette in America. The book covers all the eras and aspects of the Corvette in a manner that has not been done before. The eras are broken into patterns that are very different from what you would expect. The attitude toward many Corvette models has a lot of variance that is discussed in the book. I have been obsessed with cars since I was knee high. The key that separates Plastic Ozone Daydream from other car books is that, even with all the meticulous research that is reflected in the book, I am not a Corvette is the only car sort of person. I like Porsches, Ferraris, Lotus, Lamborghinis, Jaguars, Mustangs, Firebirds, GTO’s, TVR’s, Austin-Healeys, and even Fiat’s almost as much as I like Corvettes. There are many other cars that I did not even bother to mention in this list. Luxury cars, SUV’s, pickup trucks, vans, and ordinary sedans bore me silly. What I like are sports cars: big ones, little ones, expensive ones, cheap ones, old ones and new ones. An old Corvette is the most satisfyingly cost-effective sports car to own in America. If you want to see pretty pictures of Corvettes or read the tired old story of the ’53-’62 models, followed by the ’63-’67 Sting Rays, followed by the ’68-’82 Stingray/Makos, followed by the ’84-’96 C4’s, followed by the ’97-present model C-5’s, then read the hundred books that repeat this story endlessly. If you want to take your knowledge to the next level, read on. If you want to know why the late ‘70’s Corvettes are so boring or why the C5’s are so expensive, read on. If you want to know a detailed description of how Americans get what they deserve when they pay $50,000 for a Corvette instead of the $5000 it used to cost, read on. If you are a car nut who just wants to be entertained with more inside car culture jokes than you have ever seen in one place, by all means, read on.
I was born a skinny little nerd in the Old Southern town of Natchez, Mississippi, February 22, 1948. I have no knowledge of my blood parents because I was adopted as a baby in Jackson, MS, soon after I was born. My parents took me to the tiny town of Carrollton, MS, right on the edge of the Mississippi Delta. I lived there until I was nine, when my parents moved to Greenwood, the culturally elitist town of 10,000 just twenty miles away. Two years after that my family moved back to the hill country, this time to West Point, a burg of 8,000 residents. We moved one more time in 1964 to Starkville, 25 miles closer to Mississippi State University. The location was actually smack dab on top of it: my parents' house was directly behind McKee Hall, a girls' dormitory. Except for the few months I lived in Memphis and Campbell, CA, in my feeble attempts to escape to civilization, I lived at Monkey State until I became a Dallas resident in 1976. I spent a very pleasant four years at The Saracen Apartments in Oak Lawn before they kicked out the residents to create a complex of clowndominiums. At that time I chose to move my residence to Austin, a legendary town suitable to my attitude.
You don't have to have muscles to drive things, so I became fascinated with motorized transportation so early in life that I cannot even remember the origin. When the Sears catalog arrived, I eagerly snatched it up to check out the ubiquitous Allstate motorcycles, scooters, and mopeds, immediately after a look at the latest bras and panties, of course. This was a time before everything. There were no Honda 50's yet, and the Puch Twingles were a lot more serious looking than the Cushman Eagle and Highlander. This was that narrow era between the Whizzer and Simplex motorbikes and the Japanese Tiddler Invasion, the time when the red and cream $159.95 Allstate Moped was the entry-level ride that every pedal-pushing twelve-year-old lusted after. We also lusted after Marilyn and Bridgitte, but that's another story.
The earliest images of four-wheelers I have are of my parents' drab beige '49 Chevy fastback and the two-tone green Buick that replaced it. Soon thereafter I could identify any car by its taillamps, and my favorite became those of the legendary '59 Cadillac. Within another five years my fascination would turn to Corvettes, Porsches, Elans, and Austin-Healeys, not to ignore Mustangs and GTO's. Daydream is a book about a love affair with cars. The appeal should be to anyone of the Baby Boomer Generation who has grown up fascinated with cars. Although the legends of the distant past may be mentioned in the book, the details are strongly focused on the legends of more recent history. The premise is that America reached a wonderful peak within the development of its own culture in the year 1970. The availability of exciting cars that were actually affordable to the masses was at its zenith in 1969. Most everything about America has been rolling downhill ever since.
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