I was always a gearhead--since before I even recognized what cars really were. My Mom tell the story of me in my high chair as an infant, pushing one of my older brother's Matchbox cars back and forth, and all I was doing was watching the wheels roll. My biological father, I would later discover, was a mechanic.
A couple of years later, my older brother taught me to read. I was at my Godmother's house, and she broke out her son's Hot Wheels (he's quite a bit older than I, and took phenomenal care of them). My favorite was a metallic-green Barracuda fastback. I remember being in her kitchen playing with the 'Cuda on the floor, and referred to it as a car... she sort-of corrected me, and said "It's an automobile." I flipped it over, read the bottom, and said, "Actually, Aunt Jeanie, it's a Bahr-a-cyooda!"
My favorite two cars we had while I was growing up were our '69 Polara K-code 9-passenger wagon and my Dad's red 302/3-speed Maverick Grabber... in that order.
When I met my friend Freddy, he'd just purchased a '74 'Cuda. We worked on that car for 3 years before it ever hit the road. Simply put, the fastest 318 car in which I've ever ridden to date... and that was with a stock intake and carb. We spanked a 350-4V '74 Nova and a '73 454/4-speed 'Vette
in the same race. The Corvette owner about shit himself when he saw that Carter BBD.
But, prior to the 'Cuda getting on the road, I'd sold my '75 455 Trans Am and bought a dealer-modded black '73 Challenger. 340, 4-speed with that awesome pistol grip, and 4.10 cogs. 69K miles, rusted to the body crease, and a 13.9 in the quarter assured that this was the car that would finally seal the deal. I've regressed back to Pontiac once since that car to build my RA-III '78 Trans Am which would give me my best timeslip ever: a 12.92. I think had I ever raced the Black Bitch with all three gears in the TorqueFlite, I could have done better since letting it coast after second gear netted me consistent 13.30s in the low 90MPH range.
I gotta be honest, though... knowing where a '71 Maverick Grabber sits quietly rusting away occasionally fills my mind with thoughts of a Cleveland-headed 347 backed up by a manual trans and deeply-geared 9" rear.