When I was 16, I bought a trashed ‘68 Firebird for $1800. Over the next few years, my brother and I restored it and then raced it (and his ‘68 Firebird) at the Famoso Dragstrip. It was really bad when I got it- original paint underneath four more layers of paint, badly redone upholstery, chip crumbs in the shifter… the transmission had been converted to a three-gear from a two-gear, and the third gear kickdown was literally held together by duct tape and baling wire. I thought before that was only a white-trash cliche… We pulled the car entirely apart, and my brother worked on the engine (painting the block the original sparkly blue color) and I worked on the interior (combing junk yards for original door handles and whatnot). It was finally finished my freshman year of college, and I was immediatly known as “muscle car girl”. I had good times driving my car around LA… I had to sell it to my dad eventually, because I couldn’t afford the gas (!). The purpose was accomplished, though- to hang out with my brother while doing something he enjoys. 7 years ago