Classic cars aren't our business; they're our passion.
At age 12, I began clipping automobile ads from magazines and pasting them into scrapbooks. After school, I would take the bus to downtown New Haven, get off at Yale University, and walk up Whalley Avenue (automobile row at the time) to visit all the new car dealerships on the strip. I was hooked on cars.
My love for cars was not inherited from my dad. In 1960, my dad decided to buy a brand new Chrysler — the first new car he had ever purchased. I was so excited to go with him that I couldn't sleep the night before. We drove to the dealership that Saturday morning but I had already been there days before to pick out the car I wanted my dad to purchase. There it was on the showroom floor: a rose-colored 300F convertible, optioned out with white swivel seats and all the bells and whistles. My excitement was difficult to contain. I truly imagined going home in that car. However, much to my dismay, my dad opted for a stripped down, green-on-green Windsor four-door sedan ... without a radio. I knew from that moment on that I was alone in my passion.
In 1973, a few months before my first-born, Chris, came into this world, I purchased a 1954 Bentley R-Type. At the time, my wife Claire couldn't comprehend how I could think about buying an old car. Since then, both Claire and Chris have become afflicted with my passion, and Chris is now my partner. Over the years my taste in cars has changed; today, though I'd still appreciate that Chrysler 300F that my father didn't buy, it wouldn't get my adrenaline going like it would if you put a Bugatti, vintage Rolls Royce, or Ferrari in front of me.
There was a point in time that I wanted to own every great car I came across. It took some time for reality to set in and I realized that my quest could never be achieved. So, today, I focus on fewer cars, and focus more on the important models and less about quantity. Buying, selling, and trading cars is fun and exciting, and though we call it a business when we make money and a hobby when we lose money, the joy we derive from working with the cars (and the people who appreciate them) remains constant. It just doesn't get any better.