Paul Turner: Spokane knows the true value of old cars

Everybody knows about Spokane’s affection for classic cars.

Years ago, a movie director spending a few weeks in the Lilac City said the number of restored autos on the road here made him feel like he had gone back in time.

He didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment. But then, as I recall, we hadn’t sought his approval in the first place.

Still, shiny car-show beauties aren’t the only vintage vehicles that get some love here in Spokane. No, there’s another category of old cars that merits affection.

At least that’s what I was saying to Wayne Wold as we looked at my 1987 Honda Civic hatchback Monday afternoon. (It needed a new battery.)

I told Wayne I’ve had the Civic slightly longer than I have been married. And next year I will have been married 30 years.

“It’s your baby,” said Wayne, owner of Manito Automotive on South Grand.

Yes, I guess so.

And the thing is, I know I am not alone.

I’ve crossed paths with all sorts of people in Spokane who, for one reason or another, just never got rid of an old car. Now they have no intention of ever doing so.

Of course, the thing is, these cars weren’t always old.

Take my Civic for instance. It was the peppy young thing I drove across the country to Spokane to start a new job in March of 1988. It was in a lot better shape back then. So was I.

It’s crazy to get sentimental about machines. We all know that. But sometimes you can’t help it.

That’s why the opening notes of Neil Young’s “Long May You Run” still stop some of us in our tracks.

We’ve been through

some things together

With trunks of memories

still to come

We found things to do

in stormy weather

Long may you run.

Some of these old cars hardly ever get driven anymore. There’s a good reason for that.

The slightest little fender bender and your insurance company would waste no time in declaring your faithful old pal a total loss.

So that’s why you see some of us being extremely careful when taking our 20th century cars out for a short weekly drive to the grocery store. You know, to keep the battery charged.

Remember that one scene in “Risky Business,” the movie that launched Tom Cruise way back in 1983? While his parents are away, the character Joel lets his dad’s Porsche get submerged in a pond. And after having the car expensively refurbished (how he got the money is another story), he’s driving it home – so slowly and hyper-cautiously that little neighborhood kids pass him on their bikes.

Owners of beloved cars that insurance companies would “total” if someone gave them a dirty look understand that scene.

I suppose there are multiple reasons why some of us hang on to over-the-hill cars. But sentiment has to be high on the list.

It’s not just a Spokane thing, though sometimes it feels like it.

When we look at a road weary vehicle that has been a part of our lives for decades, we don’t just see a spiritless conveyance.

We see the car we brought our daughter home from the hospital in.

We see the car that was used for driving lessons, an emergency trip to the vet, a million hours of singing along with the radio and lots of big talks.

We see the car that made it through some utterly hellacious storms. Delivering us safely home.

We see a trusted old friend.

Long may she run.