With all of the “how have you aged” photos flying around Facebook, I decided one night that instead of blindly just putting up an old and new photo of myself, I’d instead take a reflection on my overall growth between one of the darker years I’ve had and where I am at now. Honestly, not too much has changed about me: I’m still tall, I’m still broad, and I still have whatever the male equivalent of “Resting Bitch Face” is called going on most of the time. Beauty isn’t my strong point…every photo taken of me in the last ten years slams that point home. But what has changed is just about everything else: my outlook on life, the way I care for myself and others, and my relationship with the world at large. That’s the kind of growth that should be reflected upon.
I’ve known “Lt. Dan” for a few years, actually, from the days when I haunted the forum boards at Moparts more often. I’ve been little more than a ghost ever since I came on board at BangShift, but Dan and his 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix stuck out in my head for one big reason: if the car was a touch darker, it’s a dead-ringer for the Grand Prix my father owned. I have a picture of the car that I found recently (I’d show it, except that my sister is posing in front of it and I’m sure she wouldn’t be that appreciative of the Internet fame) and the resemblances are uncanny: brick-red color, the rally wheels, and the air of a survivor that has seen a hell of a life between day one and the current time. The difference? Between the ton of tin worm that my dad’s car suffered and the engine size (Dan’s is packing around a 455 and has done so for quite some time), not much else. We aren’t going to steal Dan’s story away, but we do want to showcase someone who has had a car in their life for just about as long as I’ve been breathing. 35 or so years is a long stretch of involvement and ownership for one car. Hit the link below and check out his own words at Curbside Classic:
I bet that’s Fire Thorn Red, same as my 1976 Camaro