I was a Junior in high school. Bike was a Honda CB160, car was an orange 62 Corvair my Dad and I had rebuilt. I remember it like it was yesterday. At dinner one Friday night, out of the blue Dad said he had bought me a car. I couldn't believe it. Who was this person and what did they do with my Father. He would not say what it was, only that it was a car. Well, Saturday morning we loaded up and drove across town to a small car lot. Naturally the cars up front were the muscle cars of the day: Camaros, Mustangs, GTOs, etc. He drove right past them. Then came the family 4 door cars. Thankfully he drove past them. When we got the the very last row of 4 doors he stopped and we got out. He pointed at the Corvair saying, "There it is". What he was pointing at was a sun faded red 2 door Corvair up on concrete blocks. Hell we had to borrow a couple of tires to get it home. My disappointment was short lived because when we got it home and in the garage we immediately got to work. It took a couple of months of evenings and weekends for us to get it running and prep'ed for paint. What I ended up with looked brand new inside and out, and could get a nice chirp of the rear wheels in second gear.