by Robbie Gower
Bob claims that he attended a hill climb race when he was about a young teenager, he attended a hill climb race and at that event he saw and, more importantly, heard his first Ferrari. He decided that one day, he would have a Ferrari. He spent many years as a Ferrari fan without owning one.
Sometime in the late eighties, after making do with an Alpha Romeo Spyder for 12 years, he decided it was time to have the car of his dreams. He searched around and at the Ferrari of North Dallas dealership in Texas, he found a 308 gtsi that met all of his criteria and made an offer for the car. We were both pleased when it was accepted and we made plans to fly to Dallas to pick up the car and drive it back.
At that time, I was driving a Datsun 200sx (yes, they were called Datsuns before they were called Nissans – it was a very old car) and Bob was driving his 12 year Alpha. Needless to say, this was the most expensive car that we had ever purchased, and we were both elated and apprehensive about the drive back to Colorado Springs during the winter.
We left Dallas on a cold, winter day and headed northwest to the Springs, passing through one small west Texas town after another. We had been on the road for quite a while when we reached Dumas, Texas. While sitting at a red light in this small town, we were suddenly accosted by a cowboy in a pick up truck behind us. He was blowing his horn and waving his hat out the window and motioning for us to pull over. I said, “Something is wrong; the car must be on fire; pull over.”
We pulled into the local Gibson’s parking lot and were followed by the young cowboy in the pick up. Bob and I leapt out of the car and looked around it expecting to see flames, parts falling off, or at least a flat tire, when the cowboy came bounding over and said. “A Ferrari, I can’t believe it. I am the biggest Ferrari fan in Dumas, and this is the first one I have ever seen.”
Bob let him crawl all over the car and when we pulled out of Dumas, he drove behind us for some time before honking his horn, waving his hat and turning off to go home. I told Bob that he had been a Ferrari fan for many years, but at least he had seen one to cause the passion. As we drove through blowing snow over Raton Pass, every once in a while we would just chuckle and sing a line from the old country and western song, “Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas.”