A refrigerator with wheels, or a beautiful lawn ornament: the car nerd dilemma.

Greg, Masters, Ben and I were walking the Greenwood car show and we came across a 1956 Chevy Bel Air coupe that had clearly received more focus and money than has my college education. It was flawless, from its perfectly detailed under carriage to exterior paint so smooth you could read the fine print on a speeding ticket in its reflection. No part had been untouched in the Chevy's rebuild, and it showed. What also showed was that this car was driven exclusively in sunny weather and passengers were allowed only after the owner verified that there were no rivets in their jeans, less the perfect leather interior should be marked, or even more terrifyingly, ripped! Gasp!

Just one car away sat a 1969-1971 Charger in purple with black vinyl roof and bright red drum brakes at all four corners. This car was the same body as the one used in Dukes of Hazaard, and I'd be surprised to learn that the purple one in front of us had never experienced a little Dukes style jumping action of its own. The paint was chipped and faded, the interior cracked and worn, and best of all there was actual grease on the engine. It was beautiful.

Of the four of us, no one could definitively decide which of the two cars was better. Neither could we defend one against the other. Where the Chevy was shiny, the Charger was drivable without a full detail kit nearby to polish the chrome lower suspension control arms once parked. The Chevy was prettier, faster, and likelier more comfortable in theory, but the Charger had clearly achieved actual speed.

The problem is similar when choosing between econoboxes (any car that values efficiency over speed and excitement) and lawn ornaments (beautiful classics that are likely broken more than not). Is the theoretical better than the proven?

I asked my coworkers today if they'd rather have a $2500 econobox (Civic, Accord, Escort, etc.) or a $2500 classic (1967 Mustang Coupe, 1972 Buick Skylark, 1956 Chevy 210 Sedan, etc.). Sure, the econobox would likely smell better and get better fuel economy, but the classic would be infinitely more fun. We were split by the equal desires for comfort, fuel economy and coolness.

I know how I stand, being the proud owner of the least useful car ever made, but what about yourself? Do you swallow your pride and dive into the sea of beige in which econoboxes slowly drown your dreams and ambitions? Do you hitch hike to work every now and then when your beautiful, interesting 1963 Pontiac Tempest convertible invariably overheats or locks the brakes up while midway to a destination? Comment below, let's get this conundrum solved.