I "bought" a perfectly sound 1954 Chevy 2 door sedan as a 13 year old from a neighbor for a penny in 1967. My Dad drove it to my uncle's place in rural Massachusetts with me and I promptly went to thrashing it around in the woods and fields behind his home with my cousin Jeff who had an equally sound '52 Chevy. After about 6 hours of heavy beating and banging, both Chevies died, mine of transmission failure, his of a blown engine. Both were retired to the woods and probably remain there to this day. The pictured car (not mine) recalls how it was left. I have had nearly 200 cars since, but this one is still my greatest memory. I miss it and those days of adolescent foolishness and fun.