I was working a crossword puzzle during my lunch break one day back in college when a friend interrupted me by throwing a sport-bike magazine down on the cafeteria table. He slid into the seat next to me and announced, “There it is! That’s the one.” He pointed to a picture of a race-ready machine being hooned down an open straightaway on one wheel.

“Badass,” I said, and returned to my crossword. We had already been through this, and I wasn’t sure what else to say. My friend had come to me a week or two earlier seeking advice on which shiny crotch-rocket was best. My response? None of them.

I’m terrible at accepting advice, and I know all too well the seductive power of shiny loud bits. But my friend’s experience straddled atop a motorcycle was limited to having once ridden his cousin’s best friend’s dirt bike for about 10 minutes. When I tried to explain what 100 horsepower in a 500-pound package meant in terms of his life expectancy, he was none too pleased. I encouraged him to buy a used dirt bike and spend some time with me in the trails for a year or two and then reconsider. Instead, he convinced himself that I was joking.

My friend went on to buy that bike he pointed out on the cover of that magazine. He also managed to total it and break a couple of bones before he even acquired his permit. Adding insult to injury, he hadn’t even managed to insure it yet. In the end, he did the right thing — he swallowed his pride and choked down his losses, but he hasn’t ridden a motorcycle since.

At the time, I felt bad for attempting to shoot down my friend’s interest in that bike, but I couldn’t help myself. My experience growing up riding and driving everything I could get my hands on was enough for me to know things were likely going to end badly for him. He came to me for advice, but what I had to say was so far from what he was hoping to hear that he chose to ignore it altogether.

Dream Chevelle

A different, less-impulsive friend recently ap[1]proached me to ask about muscle cars. He had finally convinced his wife that it was time to start shopping for something loud and fun. I always get excited at the prospect of spending someone else’s money, so I was in.

I will admit, though, that I was surprised that this particular friend was so serious about picking up some old-school American muscle. He’s a successful businessman in his mid-40s, so I know the cash flow isn’t a problem, but the only inclination I’ve ever had that he was even remotely interested in classic cars was a passing compliment or two for my own Chevelle. But hey, the market is growing because of guys like this.

A different, less-impulsive friend recently ap[1]proached me to ask about muscle cars. He had finally convinced his wife that it was time to start shopping for something loud and fun. I always get excited at the prospect of spending someone else’s money, so I was in.

I will admit, though, that I was surprised that this particular friend was so serious about picking up some old-school American muscle. He’s a successful businessman in his mid-40s, so I know the cash flow isn’t a problem, but the only inclination I’ve ever had that he was even remotely interested in classic cars was a passing compliment or two for my own Chevelle. But hey, the market is growing because of guys like this.

We needed to talk budget and timeline, but, most importantly, I wanted to get a sense of how he was planning to use the car. Did he want a weekend cruiser or a show car? Something to drive and enjoy or something to preserve as a collectible with the intention of turning a profit? Either way, I was happy to help, even if we were just going to be window-shopping.

I began thinking about the best car for a guy in my friend’s situation. He has a couple of young kids, no discernible mechanical abilities, and a limited toolkit, but is sharp as a tack and very much a see-it-through-to-the-end kind of guy. He mentioned that his ideal candidate would be a ’70 Chevelle, but he was open to suggestions.

With those things in mind, a Chevelle really did seem like a great place to start. Not only are they plentiful, easy to work on (or easy to find someone else who can work on it), and overwhelmingly supported by the aftermarket, they’re big, roomy, and perfect for spirited family cruising. I wasn’t convinced the 1970 model year was the right choice for him, but that decision would and should be influenced by one of my earlier questions: How was he planning to use the car?

When we finally had an opportunity to chat, I asked that exact question. It turns out that my friend was working under the assumption that he would trade his daily-driver Tacoma for a daily-driver Chevelle and off he’d go to daycare and then the office.

Cue the record scratch.

You want to do what?

In that moment, I flashed back to my old college buddy and the aftermath of biting off more than he could chew.

Can you live with an old car as a daily driver if you haven’t ever really been around them? What about adding kids into the mix — doctors’ appointments, student-teacher conferences, etc.? With the right car — one with no up-front visible issues — it might just work. Or it might just turn a long-held dream into a nightmare of both big and little issues that never seem to get fixed.

As a guy who tries to use his own old car all the time, I was stumped about what to tell him. The old-car life is fun, but I’ve lived it long enough to know the importance of a modern daily driver, too. I felt myself preparing to pivot out of the conversation completely. But then I pivoted back. Like Steinbeck once wrote, “No one wants advice — only corroboration.”

Who am I to say to what lengths my friend is willing to go in order to live the muscle-car dream? He asked me to help him search for the right car, not to talk him out of anything, right? I thought about it for a while — and about my friend with the motorcycle — and then suggested something more modern than that ’70. How about one of Mopar’s SRT machines or a Pontiac G8 GXP? Back seats, modern reliability, muscle soul.

Is it the same thing? No, not really. But it’ll still be a lot of fun while being easier to live with as an only car.

Here’s hoping he makes the right call for him — and understands what he really wants and why he really wants it.