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My dad got me started. He worked for the local Chevy dealer as a parts man. I was about 10 when he gave me a 1:24 scale model of a 70 Chevelle SS , red with black rally stripes. I totally treasured it and became a Chevy girl at heart. I could appreciate a nice classic car at a car show, cruising down the road, or the power on a drag strip.
For my first car, he helped me buy a 69 Chevelle Malibu with a 307, auto with posi-trac. A clean car with a straight body and good paint. I put Daytona 60s with polished aluminum wheels on. Had a Pioneer sound system installed. A nice car with power, but not too much. She was a perfect fit.
Unfortunately, while I was out of town, my youngest brother was allowed to drive my car. He had had his license about two weeks and was showing off to his friends and ran it into a telephone pole. Needless to say I was heartbroken. I tease him now that he owes me and I am part owner of his 67 Camaro. I bought a 72 El Camino worthy of restoration but that wasn’t meant to be either. A drunk driver broadsided me and totalled it. I was resigned to the fact that I wasn’t meant to own one.
Then I saw the concept Camaro, a modern classic that I could get excited about. I knew instantly that I had to have one.
My dad has since passed away, but I know that he would have been just excited about the new Camaro as I am and that I ordered one.
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