Back in the days before I had any real responsibilities, most of my weekends slipped by in the garage. In those days, daylight turned to dark unnoticed, as I spun wrenches on my ’66 Chevy. Sometimes I’d stop to eat.
My neighborhood, like many of yours, was built out of car waypoints. For those of us young people who spoke the car language, it’s how we navigated our world. There were Chevelles, GTOs, classic trucks and more sprinkled around. They Read More