Out of the fifty-some cars that have passed through my hands, only one has ever gotten painted with anything better than spray-paint cans of Krylon. Only two have ever gotten brand new wheels. Only one got a body modification that was purely for looks on my dime. It isn’t that I don’t want a gorgeous ride…I’d love nothing more. It’s that I’m a cheap son of a bitch by default and that even if I did have more cash than I currently do, my focus would not be on the looks of the vehicle, but the performance. I can handle being seen in a beater all day long. What I can’t take is driving something that sounds promising but is barely capable of getting out of it’s own way, and I’ve been there fairly often. The Mirada, the Imperial’s original build, the Monte SS, all of the Cutlasses, the Cougar…all dogs that had potential if the money flowed.
It’s that kind of vision that has me in love with this Camaro. First judgement says it’s an early third gen with some swapped-in taillights, with a beat-up body that I think is sprayed primer yellow (I hope that isn’t the factory color…) and a small-block Chevrolet that will get the job done by itself, no bottles, no blower, no brown-box turbos from who knows where. It launches like a jet off of an aircraft carrier and doesn’t look back for anybody. This is the kind of car that is put together to make a little coin on the street. Looks like a beat-up third-gen, sounds like the glasspacks are wearing out, and hikes the wheel off of the ground on the launch with a purpose. This is how it’s done properly.
Oh, that TRACK! Two car garage with carport underneath the timing tower in da’ middle of the staging lanes. Is that “Dirty South” or what?