Morning, AJ. My dad had a poor man's muscle car.
A 1964 Pontiac Tempest with manual steering and manual brakes.
Did they have 326 V8s? For some reason that number sticks in my head.
(Forgive me if I am way off. I do not know cars the way the gents here do.)
The thing was a bitch to steer at low speeds. It was so engine heavy, it fish-tailed easily every time the road got the least bit wet. My dad could handle it easily. It was difficult for a novice driver. I rarely got to use it. When I got out of college, he gave it to me. Too bad he didn't believe in frequent oil changes. The rings gave out. You could tell where I had been by the blue smoke trail. Ay-yi-yi.
At this point in my life, I don't think I could handle it, but I sure do enjoy the memory.
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