In 1990 I went to go see a 1969 Chevelle Malibu Super Sport that my friend Greg wanted to buy. The man who selling it had purchased it for his 16 year old son for $3800 the year before. The car had a candy apple blue metallic paint job and it couldn’t have been more than a couple of years since it had been restored. The body of the car was a mess. The boy had rear-ended a Metrobus, a fire-hydra...
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