1 of 2
1 of 2
Sat in my brothers yard for years, when I was around 14 he gave it to me. Wreck and not running, but I loved it. Put all my time (had a lot of that) and money (didn't have any of that) into it for my senior project for High School. Body work, fresh paint and a 3.1 V6, I was the man. Learned everything in that car, how to drive, how not to drive, how to hit an apex, how to hoon. It was all well and good. Time went by, and I was in our high school musical because it was my last year and my girlfriend asked me to, had a great time, except for the last night of the showings. Was walking up to the car after we all changed, I was sweaty, my hair had dollar store gel in it, I had eye liner on. Walking, talking and just hear this metal ripping/crunching, and I just see The Bird shaking back and forth. I sprint towards this F150 that hit it. Long story short, I got cash for the repairs, but for some reason I had no motivation to fix it. It was like the dream was dust and it'd never be the same. Drive it like it was, still washed and waxed it, and one day I was car searching and saw the TransAm, fell in love all over again. Then another story starts.
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