craig b

Take me home country roads...

Growing up the son of a Mother that was a Biker as well as a bit of a gear head was a great experience for me.

My mother's car, 1971 Camaro. Jet black with gold metal flake racing stripes. High performance 350 with a 4 speed transmission. Black interior with crushed velvet swivel bucket seats. That car was faster than fast, at least that's how I remember it. She would race motorcycles and win. Not to many cars around could touch that car either.

I was around the age of 6 or 8. My Mom would drive around with me in Joliet, Illinois for awhile. Getting thumbs up and people asking to race was an everyday thing. I remember sitting in the parking lot of Kmart at the corner of Jefferson St and Larkin talking to people and sometimes racing streetlight to streetlight. Lots of good times in that car.

My Mom married a douchbag that spent most of my Mom's money and blew the engine in the 71. She sold it and the guy that bought it put a new motor in it and wrapped it around a telephone pole.

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