Remember when the annual fall arrival of newly-designed automobiles arrived at one’s local dealer?

Please say that you do, Baby Boomer or other generational reader. Please placate the writer; it’s the premise of this post.

The big reveal was standardized amongst the auto manufacturers, all American, all based in Detroit, though Studebaker and others made a run. The iconic Stutz was in Indianapolis, I think; there’s a vintage auto museum in Auburn, Indiana to this day.

It was a rite, a ceremony, an extravaganza! A party that my family got dressed up for, often receiving baby orchids pinned to our lapels. As if it were Prom or Easter.

Perhaps it was regarded as a secondary Mother’s Day, worthy of a corsage or other gift, because even in the ’50s when women didn’t work outside the home, women influenced the car buying…

(my mother didn’t even drive, an uncommon way to control her movement… about in a very small town? I’ll never know because the politically incorrect question was never asked or answered, not by this eager-to-thrive child, anyway.)

My husband lunches each Saturday with a band of brothers that I call the ‘Need for Speed Guys’, men bonded by shared enthusiasm for all things fast, though, perhaps not women because they are all long-and-happily married.

Larry’s buddies include racing legend Dan Gurney, Bob Liebeck (he invented the Indy car airfoil), the legendary test pilot Chuck Yeager, and a local dentist with a penchant for gizmos and gadgets and the monetary fortune to buy them.

Also in the ranks at the CoCo’s restaurant is a specialty Corvette shop owner, who recently attended with a quest: names for his new super-charged 657 hp Corvette – yes, that is the correct number, way over the stock Corvette engine, which is smoking hot without the boost.

I suggested Blazon.

When my suggestion becomes the new showroom star, don’t you think that I should be awarded one? As a gift – way better than a corsage! Florals are lovely, there is nothing like that new car smell.

If your commentary suggests that an arrest-me-red Corvette would be a midlife crisis present for me, I say “thank you!” – for thinking that I am in the middle of my life.