(Reprinted by kind permission of The Tri-County News June 13, 2002)

Function's Flash Awes A Newcomer
Our reporter finds dreams wheeling by
By LaRae Ash
Editor's note: The writer, the Tri-County News' newest reporter, got her first look last week at the June ritual of the Function in Junction and shares her impressions here.

JUNCTION CITY - A visual feast. Eye candy. Part carnival, part flashback and part family reunion.
It's hard to nail down just what the Function in Junction evokes. A young man's fantasy or an old man's dream-come-true? Romantic remembrances of soft summer nights cruisin' with your honey, or the dog days of summer hauling hay in the old Ford pickup? Gangsters and glamour, or visions of long, carefree, cross-country cruises? Or maybe a faint and cranky memory of a hot Sunday afternoon, squabbling with your siblings in the back of the Merc.
Wherever your inclinations might lead, there was something to appeal last Friday evening when a thousand classic cars - and some not so classic - took to the streets in a swirling, whirling, wonderful assault on the senses.
From customized hot rods to classic Corvettes to old Chevy coups, T-Birds, roadsters, Cadillacs and convertibles - lots of convertibles - all went round and round, teasing and tempting with a brilliant flash of line and color. Standing on the curb, it was easy to fixate, fascinated by one, and then another, delighted each time it whirred or roared or rumbled by.
As the river of chrome and voluptuous color- canary yellows, royal blues, pale pinks, the limeiest of greens and red-hot candy reds - flowed by, the tired old phrase, "like a kid in a candy store" came to mind. Which one to choose?
Fortunately, it's a decision that's not part of my world. Those glittering automotive jewels represent not just hours of loving care and plain hard work, but prices way beyond my meager budget.
But one doesn't require funds to fantasize. A pink Cadillac called my name. And a huge, drifting turquoise boat of a car, white leather interior, trimmed out in bold little ribbons of turquoise, with bright-eyed, finned taillights winking my way. And always, the '57 Chevies, upon which I cut my driving teeth.
Then there were the Corvettes, and I was 30 years back in time, flying down the coastline in a sky-blue dream and my father's worse nightmare. I met a Corvette couple who are heading off for a three-week road trip through Canada with nine other Corvette couples. They didn't say which of their two Corvettes they'd be driving - the sweet little red '59 or the '96 coupe. It didn't matter, there wasn't room for me.
Like the thousands of folks lining Ivy Street - who came to see and to touch and to hear the proud purr of an elegant part of our past, maybe it's enough just to dream.

© 2002 Serif Publishing