The dash of Sheriff Jim Kennedy’s 1956 Ford Thunderbird.

Some people collect art. Others have extensive wine cellars stocked with rare and fine vintages. But for these car owners, the greatest beauty and enjoyment is to be found not on a wall or in a bottle but on four old wheels.
While everyone can appreciate the craftsmanship of vintage automobiles, their owners have a particular relationship to them not easily understood by the outside world. They have sought and obtained the cars of their dreams, and the satisfaction they derive from them is limitless. The cars are more than novelties: they are wishes granted, hopes fulfilled, cherished members of the family.
The car is almost always a connection to a personal history: many Bloomington owners purchased cars similar to those they first learned to drive. They might choose a car like the one their parents owned, or, like Tom Coleman, a model they remember admiring on the street as a child. Even for younger drivers, the cars seem to embody nostalgia for an earlier age. Lyle Feigenbaum, too young to remember the ’50s, nevertheless describes his Corvette fondly as a “piece of Americana.”
Even British car ownership—practically a movement in Bloomington—represents not precisely Anglophilia but, again, a type of American reminiscence. The “British Invasion” of the early ’60s brought with it music, movies, and cars from across the pond. MG owners like Nancy and Charlie Henry were in high school during that time, and purchasing a car like the one they had then brings back happy memories.
Many owners join car clubs like Cruisin’ Classics of Bloomington or the Hoosier A’s. Some, like Norm Deckard and Ed Dathe, enter their cars to win awards for restoration and maintenance. Others, like Doug Bruce and Tucker Madawick, are ready to take competition a step further with vintage racing. But for certain owners like Sheriff Jim Kennedy, just driving his old T-Bird is enough.
The one thing all of these owners have in common is a willingness to talk about their vehicles. It seems there are no shy vintage car owners, accustomed as they are to being stopped on the street or in a parking lot. So if you still have questions after you’ve read their stories here, go ahead, pull up next to them at a stoplight. They’re expecting you.

(left) Norman Deckard’s maroon 1930 Packard and beside it, a 1913 Rambler. (below) His 1955 Chrysler St. Regis and next to it, a 1948 Chrysler Town and Country with wood siding.

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