Everything went peachy for about a year, until "she" showed up. "She" was a lime green 1971 Chevy Vega from San Diego. She left a cloud of blue/white smoke in her wake, and was about as unreliable as the Vikings in the Super Bowl. One day on the way to a friends house out in the country I decided to "open 'er up" to see what she could do.....
One minute later I was walking.
I walked to my friends house, and we got his old clapped out Caprice to tow the Vega back home. Now, you have to understand, this Caprice was given to him by his Grandmother (I swear!), and the term "rusty turd" would be an apt description of its condition. So, here's the scene:
It's early summer, in this corner was a clean Vega with a blown engine, in that corner was a rusty Caprice with a good 350, and in the midst were two teens with more time than brains. Hmmm.......what to do.......what to do.....
Holy Crap did that little thing fly with that 350 in it! Stories? You want stories? I'll tell you stories!
(Man, I just realized how much I miss that car).
Oh yeah- my first car? That would be a '75 3/4 ton Chevy van purchased from the Pabst distributor here in town. Imagine a 16 year old kid in a van with absolutely HUGE "PBR" stickers on all four sides! That one was pretty fun, too.
Jim
audio apprentice.