I’ve been to the junkyard, plenty. As a matter of fact, I’ve been to the junkyard to get parts for 1960s Mustangs, and their idiot adopted cousin, the Fairlane. A proper junkyard is full of snakes, yo. As a matter of fact, we used to go snake hunting in the junkyard. You’re going car hunting in a snakeyard. Wearing toddler shorts ain’t helping your look, either, dude. And you keep returning to the junkyard without any tools. You’re on the Motor Trend channel, so you’re obviously dilettantes, so we’ll move on.
This dude is not mechanic. He’s the Dr. Moreau of auto restoration. I’m not sure it’s appropriate to call this a ’55 Chevy anymore. After a while, the Mona Lisa is no longer a portrait of Lisa Gherardini. It’s it’s own thing. It exists in a universe of its own making.
The ancients believed that individual prosperity was a sign that God approved of you. In the modern world, a Lamborghini is a sign that the Devil thinks you have too much money. He figures you have so much dough that you’ll spend a quarter-mil on a car designed by eight-year-old boys and Italian men, which is pretty much the same thing.
I’m sort of a car junkie. I like big cars, little cars, medium-sized cars, cars that go forwards, and cars that can go backwards. I’m especially fond of cars that can make both left and right turns. It can be very difficult to drive around town when you can only go forwards. I like to use pedestrians and low walls to change my car’s direction if I don’t have the luxury of a steering wheel.