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This was brought up on another board. But, I'm curious if any of you here, were there. Here's one story
OK, back in the 70's Van Nuys Bank of America story. We're hangin out after midnite, as usual on Saturday, Street Race night, and this mid 60's Mopar gets towed in behind a Caddy with a very short piece of chain. This piece of shit's got the roof sawed off, no fenders, 1000 screws/rivets holding the hood on, motorcycle lights where the fenders used to be, torched rear wheelwells with slicks sticking out on those white-spoked Van wheels, black spray can primered, with the words "The Thing" stenciled on the doors. A huge crowd draws around this pile. I fight my way through the crowd, take a look, and say this looks like some wreck Marv would bring out. Marv fights his way through the crowd, and in his thick New York accent says, yeah, that's my fockin cah, make me a fockin race, ya focka! After a bit of negotiating, I consent to race him in my 68 big block Camaro for $100. A "grip" of money back then. I BEAT him. Holy shit. A few days later, he gets my # from someone and calls me at home in the middle of the week. Ya got my money ya focka, I wanna rematch. I meet him on a Tuesday(?) and clean his clock again for $100(big money), and AGAIN on Thursday. $300 is more than I made as a mechanic then in TWO weeks. The following Saturday(our street race night) I ask where's the "Thing"?? He says after the beating I gave him last week, he crow-barred the hood off, took his Nitrous off, and lit the car on fire in the parking lot of his shop
OK, back in the 70's Van Nuys Bank of America story. We're hangin out after midnite, as usual on Saturday, Street Race night, and this mid 60's Mopar gets towed in behind a Caddy with a very short piece of chain. This piece of shit's got the roof sawed off, no fenders, 1000 screws/rivets holding the hood on, motorcycle lights where the fenders used to be, torched rear wheelwells with slicks sticking out on those white-spoked Van wheels, black spray can primered, with the words "The Thing" stenciled on the doors. A huge crowd draws around this pile. I fight my way through the crowd, take a look, and say this looks like some wreck Marv would bring out. Marv fights his way through the crowd, and in his thick New York accent says, yeah, that's my fockin cah, make me a fockin race, ya focka! After a bit of negotiating, I consent to race him in my 68 big block Camaro for $100. A "grip" of money back then. I BEAT him. Holy shit. A few days later, he gets my # from someone and calls me at home in the middle of the week. Ya got my money ya focka, I wanna rematch. I meet him on a Tuesday(?) and clean his clock again for $100(big money), and AGAIN on Thursday. $300 is more than I made as a mechanic then in TWO weeks. The following Saturday(our street race night) I ask where's the "Thing"?? He says after the beating I gave him last week, he crow-barred the hood off, took his Nitrous off, and lit the car on fire in the parking lot of his shop
and the kids in the cars were laughing and clapping; It was great.
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