On Amelia Island, Florida, there is a small neighborhood where the sunny streets all ring of some distant past. It’s a nostalgic echo that brings us back to the dreamy days of First Car ownership.
You’d jump into your Caprice and drive it down to the football game. Your best friend would meet you there in his convertible Buick Reatta. You gave him shit for that car, but deep down you were always a little jealous of it.
What you weren’t jealous of was the Ford Taurus that your neighbor drove. God, that thing was a piece of shit. You had to help him jump it twice this year already. You knew the odds of it getting stuck in the school parking lot after the game was over were high. You hoped to clear out of there before he asked for your help again.
You also made a mental note to avoid the two seniors who always showed up in their parents’ Benz and DeLorean. Those were the kids who threw parties at their houses when their folks were out of town. You heard a nasty rumor last year that someone died at one of their parties. Someone from out of state, nobody you knew.
What you did know was trouble when you saw it, and those two were bad news.
And Sterling. Man, Sterling! Some absurd number that is definitely over 100 percent of the people reading this post have never even heard of Sterling. In fact, Sterling is so obscure and weird we can’t even be entirely sure that’s what the street is named after, but given all the other car names, there’s a strong chance.
For those who don’t know, Sterlings were basically re-badged Rover 800s, which were themselves already re-bodied Acura Legends, and all of it was terrible and wonderful. Nobody bought them!
And now, you can live on that street.
h/t to Tim!