Anyone who knows me from high school knows that I'm a car guy. Back then, I drove a variety of classic cars. My first car was a 1966 Dodge Dart. Then I upgraded to a 1968 Ford Galaxy, which had a bigger engine and fewer doors. Finally, I ended up with a 1969 Plymouth Roadrunner, a real muscle car. All of my friends drove similar cars: Mustangs, Novas, Camaros and Corvettes. We were car guys.
In a way I still am. Sure, I don't drive a muscle car. I haven't had grease-stained fingers for years. I can't look at a nut and tell you what size of wrench it takes anymore. Get me near a classic car, though, and I'm suddenly in a different place. The lines of the metal speak to me. The smell of the interior, the exhaust and the garage bring back memories. The chrome and leather and wood of the interior put me back behind the wheel.
When I first heard of this documentary about Eric Bana's car that he's owned since high school I was immediately interested. I mean, he gets the car of his dreams in high school, goes on to become a movie star, yet he still owns the same car he bought in high school? And now he races it? Yeah, it went right into my Netflix queue.
Ultimately, it's a movie about Eric and cars and racing. It documents his history with the car and his relationship with his childhood friends who have always helped him work on the car. It documents his passion for driving and for racing. It culminates with him racing in the same race that first made him fall in love with his particular model of car.
Mixed in with all of the cars and racing are the relationships that have formed over the years. There's Eric's relationship with his friends and his father. There's Eric's relationship with his car. There's his father's relationship with
his car. Dr. Phil talks about what's going on here from a psychological point of view. Jay Leno talks about how he's never sold a car that he's owned because of the relationship he has with every single one.
In the end, it's a documentary that's about a lot more than cars and racing. It's about relationships, both with cars and with people. Eric said something that really made an impression on me. He said that the car was he and his friends' campfire. It was something they gathered around while they talked, something that brought them together. I really liked this analogy.
Most car movies aren't really considered sentimental, but I have to admit, I teared up at the end of this one. I don't know why it got to me but it really stirred something inside of me. I'm not inspired like I was after I watched
It Might Get Loud, but this movie definitely made me feel. It didn't make me feel like I wanted to go out and drive fast cars (OK, maybe it did just a little bit). Instead, it made me feel something that I've lost, something that I once knew and had forgotten. It also made me feel fortunate for having had the experiences with cars that I've had in the past.
I really enjoyed this documentary. Even if you're not a car person, I'd still recommend it. It's entertaining, funny, touching and has some great guest appearances. It might even touch you in an unexpected way like it did me.
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Here's my 1969 Roadrunner. It was loud, fast and a few different colors. |
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Here's my 1968 Galaxy. We measured it once. It was over 19 feet long... and was only a 2-door.
It's also the first car I ever did burnouts in. |