‘Why’ … some have asked

Phases and stages, circles and cycles,
Scenes that we’ve all seen before.
Let me tell you some more …

— Lyrics from the intro to Willie Nelson’s 17th album, “Phases and Stages,” recorded in March 1974.

– – – – – – –

It’s an incurable addiction that defies description.

Best expressed, in my opinion, by a small sign I saw on a pristine 1955 Chevrolet at a swap meet some years ago. The car left me breathless. Not the first cool old car to do that, nor was it the last. This one, probably because it was just like the one I drove in high school. Turquoise and white. Fast and loud.

I laughed at the minuscule message. “Warning: Cool old cars — an expensive and highly contagious addiction. Approach with caution. There is no known cure.”

My addiction was diagnosed at an early age. Attended my first swap somewhere around the time Ronald Reagan might have been thinking about becoming president. The most recent ones, I admit, have been cause for reflection of the phases and stages of many long years afflicted with automotive addiction. And loving every minute of it.

Feeling blessed to have grown up in the last golden age of automotive awakening. Earning a driver’s license during the birth of American muscle cars. A time when dealership showrooms and drive-in parking lots were packed with high-performance, inexpensive (by today’s standards), street-legal rocket ships. Also, a time when many of us were driving, hopped-up versions of 1950s “used cars” bought for a couple hundred dollars. A time when searching wrecking yards for parts preceded swap meets and the Internet.

“What is a swap meet,” some have asked? Think “flea market,” one that is all cars, car parts, and car stuff. Tools. Memorabilia. Art. Clothing. People. Attitudes. Swapping memories. All automotive.

“Why,” others have asked?” To those, I humbly suggest, “Start reading at the top again.”

Sixties muscle cars were still used cars in the early days of the grandaddy of Texas swap meets, the Pate Swap Meet. Or as it was originally known, the South Central Swap Meet. Today, it is the largest in the Southwest and the second largest in the country. Even then, however, covering the event meant two days of walking acres of cow pastures, creek beds, and a few rows of shade trees south of Fort Worth near the community of Cresson. Annual quests for parts to keep a couple of rescued aging muscle cars in my garage running. Cars like those I dreamed of owning in my youth. Combing through parts on tables, in boxes, and spread all over the ground. Purchasing what I knew I needed. And what I thought I might need. Just in case I did need it.

In 1998, Pate moved “up north” to the Texas Motor Speedway facility where everything now fits on pavement the size of a small East Texas city. One without a dollar store.

My most recent event was not Pate. That’s in the Spring. This was a newer event. Farther south, down toward Houston. At Conroe. As good as Pate, just smaller. But smaller means doable in one day. What can be two days of walking, sunup to sundown, I’ve narrowed that one down to about four hours. Walk, look, rest, repeat. And still home by dark.

These days, it doesn’t take much to keep the trio of mid-fifties Fords in my garage running. Mostly because I don’t get to drive them much. And because I probably have a part stashed away. In a box. Somewhere. If I need it.

Swap meets for me today are a stage of spending time looking, seeing things that remind me of cars I drooled over when I was much younger. Or cars I was once lucky enough to own and enjoy. Like the ’61 Corvette diecast model I scored at Conroe. Still in the box. Just like the one I used to have. Even the same color as the one I had. Just one of several on that lengthy list of, “Wish I’d never sold it.”

We all have a list like that. But, we also admit the reality. We had to sell the car we were driving to buy the next one we wanted.

Swap meets today are also a stage of breath-taking prices. Cars and parts. A set of unused, never on a car, 1956 Texas license plates priced at $275. Exactly what I paid for my turquoise and white ’55 in high school. The whole car. With license plates. Made me think, “Where are those things I bought eons ago, thinking I might need someday but never did. All that stuff I’ve moved three or four times over the years.”

Including a box of new, original FoMoCo 1950s Ford heater control valves I bought in 1985. I only needed one back then, but the whole box was a bargain. I still have ’em. I know I do. In a box. In the garage. Question is, which box?

As the day wore on, the walking made me think maybe my swap meet days were ending. I noticed the number of still eager parts hunters, “young guys” … about my age. Like me, straining with glasses to read part numbers. Taking the longest time to get down on a good knee to examine parts or pieces on the ground. And like me, taking a lot longer to get up.

Then I saw it. A flyer for the next Conroe Winter Meet in February of 2024. Just in time to get pumped about Pate in May.

I smiled.

“Why,” some will ask?

“One more time” I would suggest. “Start reading at the top again. And read slowly this time.”

—Leon Aldridge

– – – – – – –

Aldridge columns are published in these Texas newspapers: The Center Light and Champion, the Mount Pleasant Tribune,  the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, The Fort Stockton Pioneer, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.