By Anita Rafael
Forty-three years ago, American auto manufacturers had every reason to celebrate. It was 1965 and that year Detroit rolled a whopping half-million convertibles off its production lines, hot new cars that blue-jeaned young buyers snapped up the minute they hit the showrooms. In addition, U.S. dealers tempted motorists even more by importing record numbers of hip roadster "ragtops" from England and Europe. America's love affair with the convertible car had begun.
There's no telling exactly how many of those now-vintage convertibles are kept stashed away all winter in former cow barns and old chicken coops near here, but once the weather warms up, we see them zipping past us everywhere we go. Patiently re-tuned and polished to perfection during mud season, come June, they're out. First the robins return, then the daffodils pop, and finally, right on schedule, all those classic speedsters are revved up, their tops are down and they're ready to roll.
We asked some of the, ahem, "topless boys" that we met cruising along our back roads to slow down a bit and pose for pictures one sunny day. What are you driving, we asked, and, more importantly, what's it like to take a curve on Mountain Road through Stratton at that speed?
There was plenty of gear-talk to be sure, but there also seems to be a universal truth about motorists who bask in the pleasures of Vermont's languid country summers in vintage convertible cars. It's not about the horsepower, the shiny chrome, the leather seats, the automotive legacies, or even the memories of their youth long lost - it's the romance of the road. Not that any of the guys we talked with would say it, but the passion was evident: the love of tripping with the top down, the promise of adventure.
