I can remember July of 1967 like it was yesterday. My aunt bought a brand new 67 Pontiac Lemans, and she, mom and dad, me and my little sister all loaded in for a break in trip to the smokey mountains. That car was always a part of my life growing up. After my aunt owned the car for a few years, my dad bought it and used it as his work car. Funny thing about pop, he had the ability to use up a car until there was nothing left of it. Thank goodness my sister decided to take it on a Murtle Beach joy ride before then and hit a parked car, and in 1981 I was given the nearly totaled object of my childhood. We became good friends and went everywhere together. 2 minor restorations later, as the Ohio weather started to really take its toll, I was doing an appraisal about 15 miles from home, and crossed a rail road track, (in the rain) and heard a loud thud and dragging noise. Ah, the muffler has finally let go I thought, and pulled over to drag it out and continue on my merry way. Much to my surprise it wasn't the muffler but rather the gas tank had fallen out and was being dragged behind the car by the fuel lines. I wedged the tank between the frame rails and drove home at about 10 miles per hour, and knew it was either time for the crusher or take on the biggest restoration project to date. Seven years and six thousand dollars later, the old car is once again as good as new and begging me for another trip to Gatlinburg. Maybe when the old car turns fifty, so watch for me and please stop if you see me by the side of the road, standin in the rain.