Wednesday, December 10, 2008

At the Printer!

Along with all of my other projects I also find time to edit the West Coast Crosley Club newsletter, the Tin Block Times.   I'm lucky that several of the other members contribute material as well, and my pal RH does the layout.   The best part of the gig is that I get first dibs on all of the stuff in the classified ads!

The latest issue (emphasis on late) is at the printer now and should be in the mail this weekend.  I ended up with a pile of material about the West Coast's 2008 regional meet, so most of the issue is devoted to coverage of the club's event.  

I'm not a joiner.  I was in the Tennis Club for about two days in high school, and my folks stuck me in Demolay (a Masonic youth group- and no, they didn't tell us the true identity of Jack the Ripper) when I was 13 or so, but that's about it.  For whatever reasons, organized groups never really clicked with me.

Except for the Crosley Club.  I joined way back in 1997 when I met a few local guys who heard about my ads looking for a Crosley.  They were unequivocal:  join the Crosley Club.   I did.... first the national group, and then the West Coast Regional group.   Becoming part of those two clubs opened a whole world to me.  Unlike most car clubs, where there is at least some element of machismo, one-upmanship or class snobbery, the Crosley Club is almost perversely welcoming and supportive of anybody who cares about these cars.  Machismo?  Not with 26 horses under the hood.  One-upmanship?  With what?... another Crosley?  Class snobbery?  With the 'Car for the Forgotten Man'?  

I found myself in a brotherhood of oddballs who had a deep and genuine devotion to an absurdly humble little car that had been forgotten for nearly half a century, and was regarded as a joke by most of those who remembered.    From the moment i joined the club, I was in. People I'd never met offered help, advice, and even rare parts that they'd been hoarding since the Eisenhower adminstration.  I've never met a group of people as sincere, helpful and, well, uh, peculiar as the members of the Crosley Club.   I'm proud to be a member.

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