Well where to start? It was 1993, I was fresh out of the Navy with a Camaro (don't flame me guys!) that needed work. Too much in fact. A friend of mine had a 1967 RS/SS he was trying to sell. So, me being a still wet behind the ears kid that didn't know sh*t from shinola, went to look at it. Passed on that one, too far gone. He also had a 71 Cuda that he was selling along with another car. There she was, fresh out of the paint shop, with drive train out and front end sitting high in the air. It was a 1973 Challenger Rallye 340 with 47,000 some miles on it. It had been a project he and his dad were finishing up, however his dad passed on and the car sat unfinished. It was love at first sight. I bought her on the spot and my love for all things Mopar began.
Fast forward to 2001. I had rebuilt the motor a few years back. It was a screamer! A tad scary to drive at times. I was an electrician making good money, some for the car the rest to financial obligations. Then it happened. The bottom fell out of my trade. No work. Was laid off. The bank account drained, foreclosure looming on the horizon, I had to do something drastic. I had held on for a year and a half, but could no longer hang on. I had to sell her. I sold the car to my cousin. Instead of keeping her in a nice, dry garage, she sat on the street slowly decaying. It was not until last year that he actually put the car in his garage. Insanity I tell you! To see the car that I loved, (still love) slowly rot is hard for me. I offered to buy the car back recently, but I got the "I'm gonna restore it" response. I am still a scorned ex lover whose girl is now with another guy. :banghead: