[Ummgawa]

When I was 6 years old (In 1966), my Dad had this ultra wicked 63 Buick Riviera, Black with Silver(yes silver) interior, every option on the planet, front to back console with floor shifter, NON locking reverse. It had a 465 Wildcat motor with dual quads and a power glide (which tore up alot).

Anyway, my neighbor, Mike Langford, and I were acting like we were driving it all the while it was parked on the street,in front of my house, aimed down hill. Mike grabbed the shifter from the passenger seat, yanking it in drive. It rolled down the hill where I lived, crossed over the busiest road in West End Atlanta, Avon Avenue, (By the way, I was at the wheel probably screaming like a girl) we weaved between traffic and jumped the road as Graymont drive dropped off about 18 feet below grade past Avon Avenue.

I am sure that the Duke Brothers would have had a full on woodie from seeing us leave the ground. The suspension compressed from the weight of the car and decompressed as we left the tarmac. I was convinced we had traveled 40 to 60 feet in the air (LOL). When we hit the ground, or pavement, the hubcaps flew off, the front bumper came off, side chrome came off, hood came up, I crapped myself, the rear hit and the trunk flew up, dented the gas tank beyond all use, bent up the rear bumper, dual exausts were crushed flat, transmission was locked in Neutral and the doors would not open.

Mike and I were lucky that day. We dove out of the windows into the woods and made a circle about two miles around to circle BACK to the car and played innocent. You shoulda seen the crowd, the cops, and my old man. The power glide was blamed for it all. I know all these things because of how much the insurance company payed DL Clayborne Buick to fix it.

I am sure that if my Dad knew it was me that did it, I would just now be getting off restriction, and I am 46.

Oh, and, Mike, the 40 year code of silence we "Pinky Swore" back then is officially over.