An Automotive Soul Mate
Memories of My Dear Friend Nick Reed
by Paul Kramer
There are only a few people who have crossed my path whom I would call true car friends. Yes, there are many car-enthusiast acquaintances whose company I share and enjoy; but, there are only a handful of people whose thoughts and opinions I value. Nick Reed was one of them. Unfortunately, he lost his valiant battle with cancer this week. However, his brave fight did give people like me (selfishly) more time to savor his friendship.
His wife Gena reminded me how she associated car sounds with Nick. When they first met, it was the sound of his BMW 320 as he raced through her neighborhood. I can completely relate. At our shop, I could tell when Nick would pull up. Either the throaty sound of his BMW 3.0 CS or the popping of his hot rod 1973 911 3.0 Liter would be shortly followed by his beaming smile. With great curiosity, he would start checking out the toys in our inventory: opening doors, sitting in drivers’ seats and gripping steering wheels. You could see in his eyes that he was taking the cars on a mental test drive. His enthusiasm for all things automotive was truly infectious. His optimism allowed him to find the inner beauty in almost any car, even if it was on its way to the crusher.
I met Nick just over 10 years ago on the Orange County New Year’s Day drive. He was driving one of his pride and joys, a Colorado Orange 1967 BMW 1600 Alpina. He had a strong enthusiasm for spirited driving on the back roads. I didn’t realize that he was recovering from a heart attack that had changed the direction of his life. He was now pursuing some of the other passions of his life, one of which was driving vintage cars. Little did I know that this would be the beginning of a journey. That chance happening led to our driving thousands of miles all over California with him.
Each year, Nick would join my dad and me on several automotive rallies. Basically, he just looked for any excuse to drive. On one particular drive to Monterey, Nick was following us in his beautifully restored 1972 BMW 3.0 CS (actually, it is really Gena’s and she would loan it to Nick). He was driving that car at its limits and trying to keep up with our much lighter and faster Porsche. In the process, his car bottomed out and broke an exhaust bracket. As we stopped to assess the damage, I chose to relieve myself at the nearest plant. I could hear Nick telling my dad that if he just had some wire, we would be fine. Just as he said that, I looked down and saw a wad of bailing wire very close to my newly created irrigation path. I excitedly exclaimed, “I have some right here!” Just as Nick finished manipulating the wire to hold the exhaust in place he asked me, “where did you find this wire and why does it smell?” When I told him, he feigned a punch at me and then just laughed. For years afterwards, he reminded me that he would never ask me for roadside tools again.
One of Nick’s last great drives took place earlier this year on the Targa California. This was a three-day, thousand-mile vintage car rally through the Central California countryside. As his health began to wane, many of us were worried that he wouldn’t be able to join us. That never dissuaded Nick. He prepared his BMW Alpina, strapped on his oxygen and drove like a bat out of hell. You could just tell that he was going to suck the marrow out of life on this drive. Each day, after driving over 250 miles, Nick would be in the parking lot beaming. He would passionately describe plowing through miles of thick mud as if he were competing in the Monte Carlo Rally. You could just see in Nick’s eyes that he was truly living.
Nick touched hundreds of people with his kindness and altruism. He never said “no” to anyone and warmly welcomed everyone. He was the kind of person whom we should all hope to emulate. There are countless songs written about saying goodbye. It is because no one likes to use those words to the ones they love. So, as Nick would say to me when he left the garage, “see you guys later.”
