My car club is the ragtag group of dudes that I forged me into the gearhead I am today when I was in high school. It’s about 5 guys. We all drove different things in high school. I had a civic hatchback with a prelude swap, my other friend, a 9th Gen Turbo T-Bird, a first gen GTI, an 80s Festiva, a late 80s 280z and a second gen Supra. Everyone was constantly scrounging cash to keep our cars alive or install another performance upgrade. Weekends included brake jobs and replacing failed or failing electrical parts. We all loved fast cars, and none of us really had one (my hatchback got a little scary after the swap).

Fast forward 15 years later and we all still have project cars. The Supra is still alive actually. Waistlines have gotten bigger, bills a little bigger as well. The cars are faster, but more “family friendly.” GTOs became four door trucks. One friend actually became a mechanic and teases us with pictures of OEM performance upgrade jobs on new Corvettes. We still do our own maintenance, and have pizza and beer parties to pay our friends for getting grease and grime under our fingernails, even though we’d all do it for free just for the company.

We’ve done some autocrossing and track days. But it’s much more fun to go to Laguna Seca, or the Long Beach Grand Prix, than risk our own cars. We still have a dream to go to the 24hrs of Nurburgring as a group one day. Hopefully it happens.

But, I’m still just as happy with weekend brake jobs and the occasional hilarious Craigslist ads that we share on our group text chain.