Have you seen my car?

Mark Levison, The Levison Group

Remember the cars we drove as law students? Actually the older lawyers among us remember that they didn’t have cars at all. Some took buses or rode bicycles, others walked. Those of us with cars drove Volkswagens, Festivas, and Saturns. I had a friend who drove a yellow and orange Volvo. The orange was rust. While rusty cars are acceptable for law students, they are not acceptable for lawyers. They don’t give clients a good feeling about their hired gun, so a car purchase is one of the first moves a lawyer makes after landing a real job. These new lawyer cars are usually a significant upgrade. Young males tend to opt for low-end two-seaters.

Charles Kramer, my writing partner, bought a 300ZX. He couldn’t afford it, and “Zs” always drove like sedans rather than sports cars, but it helped him fit in with the rest of the young male studs in his graduating class. Unfortunately, whenever a bunch of young male lawyers get together they have to drive a dozen cars because they can’t fit anybody into theirs. As the years go by and lawyers “mature,” their cars change. It becomes acceptable for the females among us to drive minivans. After all, these modern-day advocates often serve a dual societal role and they’re proud of it (even if their lifestyles tax them to the max). The cooler of this group accomplish the same functions by driving new Volvo station wagons, and then as fashion changed, off-road SUVs. I don’t think most of these lawyers ever learn how to shift their vehicles into the off-road mode.

Male lawyers in larger firms gravitate towards Lexus and BMW convertibles, while personal injury lawyers often buy American. Some of the more successful P.I. guys get their business from labor-union feeder systems and Cadillacs are more acceptable to pipefitters than Lamborghinis. As a result there are a lot of middle aged lawyers driving around in big old boats just like their dads drove. The difference is, these were their dads’ dream cars, but the sons are embarrassed to be seen in them – they would rather have a Jag, and as the years have gone by, even some injury lawyers have started to buy foreign.

Of course, there comes a time in every male lawyer’s life – and as female lawyers unfortunately become more like male lawyers it may happen to them as well – when an alarm goes off and we have an urge to jump back into a two-seater. But now it’s no longer a Mazda, we are talking about Porsches or Mercedes SLs. Then there is the new Tesla Model X sports utility vehicle. It looks like a combination between a gull-winged Delorean and a high end expresso machine. Look for a lot of “high-end” lawyers to be driving it. Finally, there are aging lawyers – living on the edge – who, at this stage shun the security of metal walls completely and opt for Harleys.

I was a little different. Upon graduation I bought a 1961 Chevrolet Biscayne. It was turquoise. I am confident that in the not-too-distant future researchers will report the discovery of a gene defect that causes such aberrant, antisocial behavior. Donald Trump has the gene problem. Why else would he call the senator from Massachusetts who has Native American heritage “Pocahontas?” Lincoln Chafee certainly has the same problem because what else explains the fact that he thought he was an appropriate candidate to run for president of the United States? At any rate, for those who don’t remember 1961, Biscaynes were the low-end Chevrolet. They were designed in the post neo-sputnik, cold-war era when Americans were in a frantic space race. Even though we were behind the Russians in the stratosphere, we made sure we were ahead of them on the ground by designing cars to look like rocketships. The turquoise Biscayne had a set of six pointed tail lights sticking out the back, looking very much like firing thrusters. It was the kind of car Flash Gordon would have driven.

As my fellow lawyers moved from car to car over the years, I stayed with the old Chevy. After all, depending on when in the model year it was built, either Ike or JFK was president.
Those were good times, we were confident, there wasn’t a lot of crime on the street, today had heard of ISIS, and the American future was limitless. I felt good driving around in my ’61 Chevy for all of those years. Besides, it was a group car. Four people could sit in the front and four in the back without being overly crowded. The trunk was big enough to bring a spare Mini along, and although it cost a bit to keep it in oil, gas and fresh paint, it seldom broke. Every year my partners’ cars depreciated. Each day as I pulled into the garage, the Chevy was worth more than the day before.

I took my youngest daughter to a hockey playoff game last week. My partners drove their Mercedes, Jaguars and Ferraris downtown. I drove a decades-old turquoise Biscayne. Somebody stole it.

I asked myself who would steal one of the biggest and oldest and surely the only turquoise car in the city. It was puzzling. I suggested to the police officer that he put out an APB for someone who was young and stupid, or maybe not quite right in the head. Then again, I like to think it was stolen by someone who appreciates the old days. Maybe one of our senior judges has it.

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© 2016 Under Analysis, LLC. Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Mark Levison is a member of the law firm of Lashly & Baer. Contact Under Analysis by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.