I was standing before a group of about fifty people gathered in the dawn light in a park in San Jose. The gathering consisted of the friends/mourners/celebrants of a revered soul who had recently departed this earthly environment. They were neighbors, relatives, fellow artists and kindred spirits. Seven of us knew him as an aviator Because of my close friendship I knew a great deal of his past, especially during World War II; and it was because of this knowledge I had been asked to speak.

He flew a PBY. He was in the air during the attack on Pearl Harbor and was able to rescue two downed pilots. He was at Midway and he saved the lives of more pilots. He received many awards for his heroism. He rarely talked about these events and even hid his medals from his family because it was too painful to remember and talk about. We both cried when I coaxed him to tell me about these events. He loved flying; he was proud of the lives he and his crew had saved, but it was so painful to remember bringing back the bodies of those that didn’t make it. Heroism is surrounded by black moments and pain.

When he was too old to fly real planes, he discovered radio-controlled sailplanes. I taught him to fly these wonderful, motorless birds.; And he in turn gave much to the South Bay Soaring Society by quietly securing a flying site for us in the evermore crowded area of San Jose. He was a truly wonderful, dignified man; and like many of us, people only knew a small part of his story that fit into their world.

As I stood there before the silent gathering, wondering what to say – where to begin – how to express the measure of greatness of this departed soul – a sound of an airplane began in the distance and grew ever louder. Seven people looked up. Just seven!

And then it hit me – hard. Only seven people there would really understand a significant part of this man’s life. The rest didn’t understand. They weren’t callous, uncaring or stupid. They just would never understand the attraction of the sky – of the mystery of a large piece of metal flying through the air – the sound of an engine saying, “Hear me – here I am doing what birds can do. Join me if you dare!” They didn’t hear the roar!

So in my faltering way, I tried to tell them about the fascination that flying had for this man. I tried to tell them of the heroism and pain that his love of aviation had brought to him. I tried to explain the wonder he – and I – felt when through some miracle we were able to place our sailplane into a rising current of air and soar like a bird. I tried to explain why we looked up into the sky when we heard the roar. And I cried in my love for this man and the wonder that we shared, loved and heard.

At this point you may be wondering why I am relating this memory to you.

Let me ask you two questions:
How many of you stop to look when you hear the roar of a car’s engine?
How many kids do you know who stop to look when they hear the roar of a car’s engine?

Do you ever wonder what the future of our hobby is? Do you ever wonder what is going to happen to your treasured cars when you die? Do you know any kids who will want them? Do you think anyone will care about them as you do? Will you be one of the lucky ones whose significant other really wants your treasure? (OK – so I asked more than two questions – throw rocks at me!)

I recently read a group of articles in a Bonus Issue of ‘Old Cars Weekly’ about the “State of the Hobby.” Believe it or not, there are several groups of car nuts who are concerned about the survival of the hobby. Let’s face it, to love and care for these creations of ours takes money – sizable amounts of it. Most of us who have and love cars are of the “geezer generation” and not growing younger. If you measure the sport as a pot holding water, more water is going out than going in.

I’m lucky because in my involvement with the pinstripers I’ve gotten to know about ten young people (two are women) who really dig cars.  Three of them would like to join the Roamin Angels, but they don’t have the bucks to own a pre-73 car in any condition. (The others don’t live in our area.) And these are real car nuts – very talented people.

The pinstripers raised $4190 through the auction at the car show (big thanks to Ron Cherry, our auctioneer extraordinaire and others of you who gave of your time, talent and money to make the auction work). This money was donated to the Big Brothers and Big Sisters organization.  I’m proud of that. And I thank you for honoring me for being proud of that. But, I have taken the liberty, with the permission of Thane and Duke, to invite every Big and Little (that’s what they call the mentor/child relationship) to come to the show next year for free. And I also propose that if any of these pairs shows any interest in things that roar, that they be made honorary Roamin Angels.

Even if they can’t, or don’t own one that roars, I want them to look. Maybe it’ll grow.

Story by George P. Photo credit PBY Cat: Source: 'Bless 'Em All' by Robert Hayes

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