When L’il MissMotorMouth was more little, I only had 1950’s dial phones on cords and in the kitchen I had an old pay phone. She grew up without TV and computers and the evil-like. I made all of her toys and baby food. (you think I am kidding at this point). She never went into a Toys ‘R Us until she was 12 and was completely underwhelmed upon her first visit. I drove a used Aerostar van and had a recycled clothing line. I loved my manual typewriter second to only freshly sharpened pencils and really nice linen paper.

My brother was 5 years older and adored cars. I just listened to him when we talked daily. Sometimes he would start talking about racing or just new cars and I would put the phone down and walk away to take care of something and would come back and he would still be talking about cars. I imagine that when I started talking about the Eames furniture that I found at a thrift store was just about as exciting to me as the last Grand Prix or NASCAR race he had attended.

After he died 5 years ago (May 30), I was cannon-balled through a process that burped me out with this freakish knowledge of cars; a subject I had previously claimed to not be ambivalent about as I had deeply and openly despised them.

I began working in the automotive related industry by accident. At first it was for survival. You know the I-can-do-this-because-I-have-to-in-order-to-get-by kind of way. Then, I began to see myself, years before, seeing an old Mercedes rotting in a field in New Mexico and lying awake at night wishing that I could save it from its certain death. There were many, many cars like that I lost a lot of sleep over. At the time I chalked it up to my romantic, artistic nature.

Nature or nurture? Currently, between my blended 4 parents I think that they have about 15 cars, including a ‘51 Midget, a Jag, a Mercedes, a ‘57 T-Bird and a feed truck. That is currently. Over the years we had a Jimmy (in bright orange), Z240’s through 300’s, a ‘67 Mustang, teeny Datsun pickups with a lift job and KC lights, Wagoneers, two diesel Mercedes, Rancheros (because El Caminos were too obvious), a ‘47 Willys Jeep (in which I would drive over saplings in fields as an 11 year old trying to learn how to drive). The front door of one of my childhood homes was painted to match one of our cars.

I have been absorbing everything about cars that I ever overheard. I didn’t read about them and I certainly never researched anything about them. Cars permeate everything in our culture so their sub-culture is pretty easy to trip over. Car salesmen, plied with the odd beer, will eventually tell you everything about their end of the world, good and bad. Everyone else doesn’t realize how much their cars take up their lives. From that “first date way” that people like to present themselves to the world to the very private part of them who will reveal their bad/good investment choices at dinner parties, everyone loves to talk about cars.

Then I began to ask questions. That was when my heart really fell for cars. Designers, engineers, dealers, people who provide services to dealers, professional drivers, photographers, writers, owners, buyers, sellers, environmentalists would all let out this collective sigh that they had an interested ear to hear their stories and how it relates to the automotive industry. The big machines of industry are made of humans after all. The trends, successes, failures and potential is best told by the people involved. The analysts have their own sites.

This world became what I live and breath. Giving in would be an understatement. This is my passion and sharing what I see and hear is my goal.

Michelle is quite knowledgeable in the car space. Even more so than myself, which I hate to admit. Jason Stagliano, Mota.net

Thank you for coming to visit my site. I hope that you enjoy watching it grow as much as I am loving making it happen.

XOO, Michelle