here was a point in time when I wanted my car to be the loudest, rowdiest muscle car on the planet, or at least on my block. I wanted it to announce its presence with authority from afar. Judging by the looks I got from my neighbors, mission accomplished. My exhaust was loud and offensive. I loved it … for about 2 weeks. Then the novelty wore off.

As I’ve gotten older, what was once about being tactical has now become more about being practical. I still like the sound of a healthy V-8 settling into a lumpy idle, and it doesn’t bother me if the exhaust gets loud when the tach swings north, but when it’s booming while cruising at 1,900 rpm, that’s no longer my idea of a good time.

Same goes for the suspension. I used to drive my Camaro with the suspension set on “kill” at all times. Every freeway expansion joint felt like a speed bump. Apparently, I thought an autocross would suddenly break out while driving on the 57 freeway. These days, I prefer my suspension set up with the capability of carving corners without riding like a steel floor jack with license plates.

Back in the day, buying a car meant making a beeline for the nearest audio shop before anything else. Every vehicle needed a kick-ass aftermarket system, complete with a subwoofer shaking the trunk—and in the case of my truck, one stuffed behind the seat. Don’t get me wrong, I still like my car audio to have some punch but sometime along the way I became the guy who instinctively turns the volume down three houses before pulling into my driveway. What’s that about? Once again, age seems like the culprit.

And those times when I do happen to leave the sound up, hilarity ensues the next morning as I turn the key and instantly fumble to turn the radio back down to “old person volume” while busting out language not suited for this magazine.

So, here I am trying to be as cool as one can be in his early sixties, yet I’m well aware that “being cool” is a relative term, and nobody 20 years younger than me is buying into the fact that I was pretty damn cool at one time. I’ve tried to convince my kids (both in their twenties) of this, but they are not buying it, either.

With that said, I’ll just keep driving my not-so-loud Camaro, crank up the CD player with the appropriate ’80s tunes, turn it down when I get close to the house, and just keep driving through life being as cool as one can be at this stage of life.

You in?