Dad always had "project" cars in the shed, but never had anything he could drive. My brother and I would "drag-race" (cars were parked next to each other... imagine 2 young boys making engine sounds and slamming gears on 3spd sticks pretending we were Bob Falfa and John Milner) between the 55 Chevy, and the '50 Chevy... 55 always won, because 2-door cars are faster than 4-door cars.
I never got to ride in anything cool until we went to watch a car-cruise and saw my neighbor there with his
'71 'cuda 340 Red, black interior, black billboards, and red wheels with dog-dishes. He stopped to talk to Dad, and Dad asked if he could take me and my brothers for a ride. That was my first burnout. I was probably about 8 years old at the time.