Drivers of New York: Justin
A portrait of America’s most unlikely car lovers.
Cars. Whips. Hoopties. Basket cases. Cosseted classics. No matter the shape, no matter the make, no matter the era, we at The Drive and Classic Car Club have a love affair with the automobile. A love affair that crosses well into unhealthy territory. (Seriously, it’s a problem).
And we don’t need a 675 Longtail McLaren or a four-cam Porsche Speedster to enjoy seat time. Anything with a steering wheel suits us just fine. We’re equal opportunists. We love them all.
That’s the thing about cars: It’s not what they are, but what they allow. Cars are pieces of machinery that you can fall in love with. Somewhere under steel roofs and carbon engine covers, there’s a personality. It might be that of a champion, or perhaps, more like your recovering alcoholic Uncle Eddie. But it’s undeniably there. It comes to life when the RPMs climb past 8,000, or when mid-corner steering is dialed in just so. It surfaces when you’re trying to merge onto the 405 in LA, foot to the floor and crawling 36 mph, or when the door swings open every time you make a right-hand turn. When we discover it, we give the cars we love names like Jenny and Charlotte.
And thus, the birth of this photographic column. In future editions, we’ll change out the New York bit with other words like “Tulsa,” “Seattle” and “Bucharest,” but for now, The Drive and Classic Car Club have partnered with one of their favorite pro shooters, Finnish phenom and Mercedes devotee Tuukka Koski, to find like-minded people and to hear their stories.
Justin—Fort Greene, Brooklyn. 1968 Buick Electra