I love it. Kids love to get their hands on stuff. Dad let me shift the four speed in his '57 Bel Air, and his '69 Superbee when I rode with him. I don't remember this because I was too young, but Dad tells me this story all the time. He's at a stoplight in his '57. Mom and I are beside him on the bench seat. This Chevelle SS 396 pulls up next to him and blips the throttle and Dad obliges. The light turns green and they launch. Mom is yelling, "Slow Down!" I am jumping up and down on the seat yelling, "Go, Dad! Go!" He said I was maybe two or three. I don't remember the race, but I remember the car. Dad gets a big belly laugh talking about it even now. I asked Mom about it a couple of years ago, and she told me the same story. She also said that he burnt the Chevelle by quite a bit by the time he hit the next traffic light. Dad always said he felt like a hero with his little boy next to him yelling , "Go Dad! Go!"
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