Few rewards are as fun as taking that first spin in you own car.
In my case it started out pretty quick to be “First series Chevy” trucks and through the years I have had seven that ran and this one will be my last I think.
Not because I wouldn’t want a thousand more but gas and the the roar of engines with a smell of burnt petroleum smokin from the tires is almost past to the status of legends.
Carburetors are tossed for EFI 350 V8 blocks or some such but give me that old stove bolt 6 that sounds like a well oiled sewing machine any day.
Gas that once was cheap even for a $0.75 an hour kid is hard to justify but I will until the dinosaurs give up the last drop I can afford just to feel the freedom of wind blowing through the cowl vent, windows down even in mid winter, the purr of early iron and finicky gauges bopping with the bumps and Mr. Butterfield’s ”East West” drifting with the breeze around my head from cheap speakers and a shared drink stashed between me and my girl.
There are few finer feelings than nowhere particular to go, all day to get there in no particular hurry.
Keep um rollin!
