Daydreams: The Plymouth Prowler

In the first post of our new ongoing series, Daydreams gives us the opportunity to examine cars that struck a cord with us as children, only to discover as adults that they were not all that we imagined. West Brother kicks us off with one of the more imaginative cars from his childhood and shares his thoughts on it now. If you are interested in contributing to the series as a guest, please contact us.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

As I was driving back home from work one evening, a bright yellow car caught my attention. As it got closer and made its left turn, its shape looked strikingly familiar. The hot-rod like profile, open-wheel race car style front wheels, and soft convertible top seemed to drum up memories from when I was much  younger. It finally dawned on me as I began to drive away: it was a Plymouth Prowler. I had not seen one of these cars in years!

When I was a kid, I did not know much about cars. I always thought they just looked cool. At the time, the Plymouth Prowler was the pinnacle of cool to me, with its outrageous shape and unique styling that drew on the classic American hot rods. The first time I encountered one of these machines, I thought to myself, "man, when I get my driver's license, this is the car I want to drive! I bet I would look so cool in this thing!" As I grew up, and my knowledge of cars began to expand, my interests moved on to other vehicles. It was not until I entered high school and began understanding the inner workings of automobiles, power-to-weight ratios, and other important automotive measurements that I realized the Prowler, despite its cool looks, was a real dog.

Road Trip: The Kancamagus and Sawyer Highways

The morning was cool, water droplets still littered the lawn and the previous night's rain had yet to fully evaporate, leaving the pavement slightly damp to the touch. Nonetheless, I grabbed my gear and mounted up, the K1200S purring along smoothly as I hit the highway, headed towards NH. As I rode, the temperatures began to rise and the roads had dried off, allowing me to open up the big Beemer's motor and really stretch its legs. Settling into a rhythm, music playing through the speakers in my helmet, I cleared my mind as the lane markers flashed by beneath me.

With one slightly extended detour to check out MAX BMW while I was in the area, I arrived in the tiny hamlet of Conway, NH right around noon. The holiday on Thursday meant a lot of people had taken this Friday off and the roads were crowded with all manners of cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Not having taken that into consideration when I left home that morning, both the bike and I were running on fumes by the time I pulled into town. Luckily, the main stretch in Conway offered both a place to grab some gas for the bike and some refreshments for me. Getting out of the mid-day heat, I camped out at the Sweet Maple Cafe for a bit to have lunch and do some work on the laptop I had been lugging around with me all morning.

The bike fully fueled, my bloodstream coursing with caffeine, I stepped out into the hot afternoon sun and saddled up for an afternoon playing in the mountains of central New Hampshire.