A trip back in time to 1981, when my dad bought a totaled 1967 mustang. She was lime-gold poly with a scrappy vinyl top, smashed on the driver's front so badly that the tranny was cracked open and the headers were smashed flat on both sides. The 289 was ok though.
She sat in the carport for what seemed like an eternity to a 16 year old. Dad was retired, suffering with emphysema brought on by years of smoking, body work and automotive painting. It took him and my brother a while, but they bought a doghouse from a '68 from the junk yard and proceeded to chop the car in half. I'll never forget it all... big 'ol Larry carrying the transmission in his arms like it was nothing, or the sound of the engine firing up the first time with no exhaust manifold just to make sure she ran.
The body work began, the torch, the wet rag tossed on blazing red metal to shrink spots that were stretched (I imagine). She lost the vinyl top and was painted white.
I had her for a number of years before I sold her. I wish I still had her - if nothing else, for the memories of my dad and brother and the surgery they performed to bring her back to life.
I deeply adore automotive photography and understand the attachment people have with their cars.
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