About 10 years ago, I was minding my own business at a car museum in Launceston, Tasmania. We were having a fine time looking through all the various developments of cars and motorbikes from the very early days. It was an excellent museum. I enjoy the occasional visit to a car museum.
The horror, the horror. With no warning it was upon me. One of the exhibits of a vintage car was one of the sports cars of my youth: a Holden Monaro GTS.
With no warning, no phase-in period, I instantly started to feel old. Courtesy of Facebook, I can relive and share those moments at my leisure.
How can I pretend to be still young when surrounded by a range of sports cars of my high school days at a museum. If the sports cars in my youth are vintage cars I must be a bit of a vintage myself. All my previous experiences with vintage cars was with old cars, usually from before World War II, that had been restored after years of neglect and disuse.