So this gray-bearded guy wearing shades, camo clothing, and a “Vietnam Veteran” cap drove down the west side of Woodward Avenue Saturday and parked his Jeep in the driveway of a restaurant lot.
This was at the Dream Cruise, in the noon hour, just south of 14 Mile Road in Royal Oak. But his vehicle was unusual even by the gaudy standards of this annual summer feast of machine worship in the northern suburbs of the Motor City.
That’s because his distinctive Jeep was not hot off the lot or even tricked out in a customized way for civilian taste.
Instead, it had two, large guns mounted to it, one pointing straight at you if you stood in front of it. It appeared very much like an actual military vehicle that had either served in a war or was built to do so.
Quickly, a crowd gathered around it, ignoring — at least temporarily — the ’57 Chevys and the ’69 GTOs that roared by the curbside behind them, gunning their gasoline engines and burning their rubber tires.
Joining the audience quickly, however, bounded a bouncer from the restaurant. He wore a tight, white T-shirt over a fit torso and a disapproving expression on his face.
“You can’t park here,” he said, testily, more than once. “You have to leave. Gotta move this Jeep, or it will be towed.”
Gradually and reluctantly, ‘Nam Vet and his friends climbed back into their war machine and cruised out to who-knows-where on the 16-mile circuit that runs from Eight Mile Road at the Detroit City limit to M-59 in Pontiac, not only a city but also a brand of car named after a local Indian chief who long ago took on the British in a war.
Curiously, this military Jeep had tried to crash a party for a different war-inspired vehicle. In that very same parking lot was an exhibition for large Buick GMC products, including — in the center of it — the new 2023 GMC Electric Hummer!
As you may remember, the original, gasoline-powered Hummer SUV soared in popularity in the 1990s in part because its roots were in a military vehicle (the “Humvee”) used in the Gulf War of 1991 when the United States drove Iraq out of Kuwait in a fight over oil.
The current, electric version of the Hummer will run you a $120,000 basic sticker price, before you add on the toys. (Guns, for instance, are not included.)
“This is definitely a super truck,” said the young woman giving me the sales pitch in what amounted to an open-air showroom. “It has 1,100 horsepower. The thing itself is a tank. It goes from zero to 60 in a little over three seconds.”
Indeed, a sign nearby called it “The World’s First All-Electric Supertruck.” While she spoke, an amplifier nearby played Journey’s recording of the song “Don’t Stop Believing,” but the sales person didn’t stop to sing the line about “Born and raised in South Detroit!”
In that I was north of Detroit, I walked on, mostly between 13 Mile and 14 Mile, just a fraction of the circuit. Thus, this is hardly a comprehensive report on everything that went on but rather a series of impressions from four hours and 6.4 walking miles.
For instance: the sidewalks seemed more crowded this year. Perhaps that is because fear of the COVID-19 pandemic is in decline. I saw no one wearing a mask, but they wore T-shirts that said things like “Free-Range Chick,” “Motor City Muscle,” and “Hillsdale Football.”
At one corner, guys from a marijuana store called Church Cannabis were giving away free . . . wait for it . . . . bottles of water. Above them, an airplane towed a sign from a different store that said “Leaf and Bud. Big Sale.”
Vanity license plates included “DROPOUT,” “VOOOODO,” and “MURRICA.” More plentiful than usual were the anti-abortion banners featuring fetus photos.
On the northwest intersection at Woodward and 14, a guy in a car turned the corner and shouted to an anti-abortion activist who spoke through a bullhorn.
“I respect your right to free speech,” he said, leaning out the window, “but get rid of those graphic images.”
The preacher stood among a throng alongside eight lanes of the median-divided Woodward, from kids to senior citizens, in a constant stream up and down Detroit’s most famous avenue.
In a metropolitan area hardly known as pedestrian friendly, the sidewalks — paradoxically — surge annually on the holy holiday of the automobile. At times, the pedestrians moved faster than the jammed cars. Among sidewalk occupants were those who rode on wheels without motors.
They included baby carriages, wheelchairs, and bicycles. Marching alongside them was a one-man band, playing an electric guitar and a harmonica amidst pre-recorded beats.
His roadies walked and rode slowly behind him, carrying his small speaker system. One of the guys wore a T-shirt that said “LIFE BEHIND BARS, IRON BANDOGS, Erie Chapter.” It also showed a skull wearing a hat that said “MISFITS.”
But it is hard to be a misfit at the Dream Cruise, now almost three decades old and said to attract a million car buffs from inside and outside Michigan. It takes all kinds.
It’s a free event. People come as they are — or were.
Kids sold lemonade from a home-made stand to Baby Boomers. A woman waved from the passenger seat of a car. The door beneath her window bore a sign that said she was 102 years old and “Loves Cruising.”
That would mean she was born in 1921, when Detroit soared into the Roaring ’20s and the Motor City – for better or for worse – put the whole world on wheels.
@metrotimes 📍Woodward Avenue #woodwarddreamcruise #dreamcruise #detroit #metrodetroit #motorcity ♬ Hot Rod - Dayglow
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