Hot Rods and Cool Memories

I love drawing older cars. I think that the older ones have a little more class than the newer ones. Oh sure, the cars of today can go over 200 mph and have more electronic equipment on them than the space station, but they just don't have the pizazz of an old '69 Camaro, or a '32 Ford Coupe.

My first car was a 1972 Chevy Impala, convertible. It was charcoal gray with a lighter gray, vinyl interior. The old man I bought it from sold it to me for $800 and it was still all original. 350 small block engine and automatic transmission, and one of the old push button radios.

After I got it home me and my dad got started to work on it. It had a busted motor mount on the right side so whenever you tried to stomp it the motor would raise up and the fan would hit the shroud. My father never liked small blocks and he wanted something with some "meat" under the hood. Being only 16 years old and working part time in a truss shop before and after school, I didn't exactly have the money for a new motor. Dad helped me sell the 350 and then loaned me the rest of the money to buy the big 454 that he wanted to put in. We finally found an engine that we wanted, bought it, cleaned it up and sent it off with the transmission to Atlanta to be reworked. Dad wanted them balanced. I didn't even know what that was at the time but Dad said that it would make the car run better, smoother and faster. FASTER!!! Hell!! That's all I needed to hear!!! That was the longest wait of my entire life. I didn't think they would ever get back. Everyday I got home I would look down at my father's shop and see my car sitting there covered with a tarp. Ugh!!

Finally everything arrived and we went to work. I was so excited I think I could have put everything in by myself, but Dad was right there beside me all of the way. He would keep a piece of broom handle with him and whenever he thought that I had tightened something enough he would rap me across the knuckles with it. OUCH!! I asked him why he couldn't just say "That's tight enough" or something to that effect and his reply was simple and pure Dad, "You'll remember this more." He was right. He usually was. We added dual Holly carburetors, dual exhaust, chrome mags all the way around with white letter fatties, and a Kraco car stereo with a tape deck and 4 new 6X9's in the back. Can you say, " WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

We got it all put back together and took it out for a run. The dual exhaust sounded like a demon screaming. We took it down some back roads for a awhile when Dad suggested we air it out on the interstate. I was more than happy to oblige. I was cruising down I-85 North at about 90 when from out of nowhere a '68 Camaro rolled up beside me and romped the gas. Two words came out of my father's mouth..."Get 'em!!", and down the road we went. That Camaro was dialed in a little better than the Impala, ... and... they didn't call the '72 Impala the 'Lead Sled' for nothing. But still, I'll never forget the look on my dad's face as we went screaming down that highway doing 140+. It was a very good day and one of my favorite memories.

After the ride was over and we had parked the Impala, my Dad turned and put his arm aorund my shoulder and, with a smile, said "Yep. We did good."