My first ride was a 1980 Camaro purchased from a neighbor down the street. That car lived a long and exciting life. On any given night, the smell of smoke would waft from open windows and a dummy may or may not be sitting in the back seat with bits of melted rubber covering the rear quarter pannels. The tell-tale burnt orange paint was on the local police radar, but they always seemed to show up a day late and a dollar short, often following, knowing nothing good was to come from the night. Knowing it was just a matter of time, the car took on a new identity wearing a fresh coat of primer grey before being laid to rest with a Viking funeral. Too many memories.
Now its Tour time! If you happen to be in the 'burg, venture out of the cyber gallery and check out some of my images in person at SBC.