Yesterday was hot in the city with a high of 93 degrees it made the hot air blasting into the winglet windows of the 1968 BMW 2002 seem like a hair drier. Keeping an eye on the road I would glance down to the temperature gauge on the cluster to monitor the the severity of stop and go traffic… but once on the freeway with the speedometer at a steady 55 MPH the Stuka seemed to float with no care in the world. A calm took over the engine and the little car with 45 years of driving pleasure lived up to its name once again.
Going to Denver is always a production, I25 is notorious for having bad traffic and even worse drivers, accident at every major on and off ramp plague the morning commute during the week… but on the weekend it is a sea of cars with drivers that don’t care if you are in your collector car as they cut in front, wiz by you as they champion their right given lane even if that lane is stopping… they are winners at getting in front of you… just to change back after they feel that the other lane is better suited to their speed.
Once in denver it does calm down, and the little shops and bookstores are a cool little spot on Broadway for an afternoon adventure to unfold. I pull into a street parking space and before I am out of the car I get my first question.. “What Year is THAT!?” A common question I hear almost everywhere I go… I tell them it is a 1968 2002… and an instant confusing look takes over their face and so i have to explain the 2002 is the model.
Good food, good conversation, and a great group of friends to discuss what friends discuss while appreciating the time shared. Music, art and work, a blender of topics that all seem to connect back to the fact that we get each other, we are friends and life right now is easy. An easy feeling that the rest of the week calls out for, but never quite gets due to work schedules and errands.
After our day in Denver I come back to the little car and check to make sure my time on the parking meter is good… it is. I have 8 minutes left, but why do I have a ticket on my window? A closer look describes the reason… my plate does not have a month tag… and I have a 5 year collector plate and it is going to expire in September… I look at the ticket and decide it is not worth my time nor effort to explain that I never received a month tag and being new to the area I thought that this was a standard on all 5 year collector plates… I was wrong. I will however use this experience to remind myself the next time I want to go to Denver to just head over to Louisville and save my money for better things like old tube amps and brisket at “LuLu’s”.
The drive home was nice… the sun was setting and I was feeling the blister on my hand from the steering wheel (with no power assist, makes you appreciate power steering) and the soreness in my legs from the “pedal dance” over the stop and go day driving. But all in all a great Saturday drive with good friend and fun memories.