Back in 1968, I broke my little toe on my left foot. Now that may not seem
important, but it was a rather nasty break and it was a compound fracture and I
was home alone and my wife had the car and I needed to go to the emergency room
and I didn't feel like fighting with cabs and besides my best friend lived only
2 miles away. Soooo, I called him and told him that I had fallen over a chair
that my (soon to be ex) wife had left in the doorway, and that I needed a ride
to the ER. Said he would love to help, but he was working on his Camaro at the
time and he had the transmission all over the living room floor.
What with people changing trust washers, etc., on a daily basis, you people
remind me a lot of him. Haven't seen him in years, but I'll bet he is as
strange now as he was then and just as strange as all of you (notice, I don't
include myself in that description - I haven't taken delivery of the final
restoration as of yet!)
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