One small moment in time set in motion a 57-year-long journey that started in Southern California when I was 10 years old. My brother’s friend pulled into our driveway with a new dark blue 1964 Pontiac GTO. It was a 4-speed with the famous Hurst shifter and white shift knob on top. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. 

The sight of that car in our driveway sent me on my life’s journey. 

Four years later, I’m living in Connecticut. Culture shock? You bet! One day I was hanging out with my new friend, and his cousin when my friend’s future brother-in-law pulls up in a gorgeous white 1966 GTO. Of course, it had a 4-speed with the same Hurst shifter and white shift knob as the 1964 GTO.

The owner Bill was a great guy and a lot of fun. He was a kid at heart. He told us he just had a “Heavy-Duty Racing Clutch” installed. Of course, I was impressed. I knew all about racing clutches from reading countless Hot Rod magazines. Bill told us if we could take off smoothly without stalling the car we could drive his GTO. I was so excited I almost wet myself. 

I had been riding my brother’s Honda motorcycle for a few years. I had learned the mechanics of the throttle and clutch. That gave me the advantage for Bill’s challenge. My best friend went first. It only took about 10 seconds before the car jumped. He stalled it. One down, two to go. His cousin was next. He did worse, as he stalled it instantly. Two down, one to go. 

What happened next initiated a lifelong obsession with cars and car culture. I climbed in, and sounds and motions disappeared around me. I was totally focused. I couldn’t fail. I took my time and adjusted the seat and mirrors, as I knew I’d be going for a little ride.

Once I was comfortable, I closed the door and put the window down. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the beautiful snow-white shift knob, I pushed down the clutch. I remember thinking how heavy and stiff the clutch felt, but I didn’t let it phase me. I moved the shifter through the gates to get a feel for it. I slipped it gently into first gear, took a deep breath, and slowly gave it a little gas as I let up the clutch, up ever so slowly. 

The next few seconds are a blur as the car moves smoothly forward. I accelerated, then shifted into second, and then into third as I cruised down the street in my neighborhood. As I pulled away I thought I heard someone frantically screaming and yelling. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Bill wasn’t in the car.

As Bill disappeared in the rear-view mirror I thought to myself, he did say if we didn’t stall it we could drive it. I guess he should have been a little more specific about the rules of the game. 

For 10 to 15 minutes I drove up and down the streets all around the neighborhood. Smoothly starting and stopping at intersections along the way. I’m proud to say I never stalled the GTO.

I pulled back in front of the house and parked. Bill was a really good sport to let a 14-year-old take his car for a ride. Bill later told me as he watched me drive out of sight I looked like I’d been driving all my life. He was impressed by how well I handled the car. I can’t express my jubilation with what I had done. It was a dream come true. I became the envy of all the neighborhood kids. Maybe that’s what it feels like when you hit the lottery, pure joy.