Bravo! My first car was a '66 Chevelle convertible that my father and I built. It was a fast car too, but I think the experience of putting my own labor into it caused be to have much more respect for the power and thus I never wrecked it, nor got a ticket in it.
To help with that urge for speed however, my father also made a deal with me. I could take it to the track whenever I wanted, and if I blew it up or wrecked it at the track, he would pay for all repairs, all I had to do was help in their completion. On the other hand, if I blew it up or wrecked it racing on the street, I had to pay to fix it, I had to do the work, and when I was done, he would keep the car. Needless to say, there was no street racing!
Merry Christmas!
Bill
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You ever wonder what medieval cook looked at the guts of a pig and thought, "I bet if you washed out that poop tube, you could stuff it with meat and eat it."
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