For me it was not any one car, rather it was my Dad. I grew up around them. I am pretty sure I was the only 5 year old dropped off at my school in a 1941 Ford Coupe, cragers and with 283 Chevy complete with a cross ram and no hood
Me and my brother would always run to the window when we heard a rumble looking to see what he had bartered or traded for. My mom just came to accept it. He passed about four years ago, but even through my adult life he would show up at my house with something. It's funny even at 38 years old now ,every time I hear a rumble coming down my street I still catch myself thinking to look for Dad
