Love these kinds of stories, the what if's from our youth. Now, I grew up a Mopar kid. Dad was devoutly a Chrysler man and we had up to that time had a constant stream of Chryslers (Newports, New Yorkers) and Plymouths or Dodges (Barracuda, Darts, Valiants) passing through our driveway and I didn't think there was any car that was more cool than a Hemi 'Cuda or GTX at that time. It's 1976 and I'm a 15 yr. old kid riding the bus to school and back each day. My trek to get me to the bus stop included passing through a newly constructed neighborhood that was quite a bit more "upper crust" than the area I lived in. Each day, I would walk past a certain house that always had their garage door open a few inches at the bottom so you could see that cars were parked inside, but couldn't tell what they were. One afternoon on my way home, the door was open enough to see the lower fender of a car unmistakably painted with hemi orange paint. I walked home and made the determination that I would knock on the door the next day, which I did. I was greeted by a 20 something blonde who must have been quite amused by my awkward stammering as I tried to explain why I was on her front porch. When I finally got why I was there, she replied "Oh, that's my boyfriends car, would you like to see it?" WOULD I? We walked to the garage and she flung the door open to reveal the most beautiful, pristine 1970 Plymouth Superbird I have ever seen. As I gawked and walked around the car, I asked "Do you think he would ever sell it?" , somehow thinking that my part time $3.00 an hour job would get me within striking distance. She laughed and said "Sure, for $10,000"........................ Might as well have been a million to me back then.
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