By Mark Weisseg
When you say you bought a Plymouth to your friends they expect you to say it is a Road Runner or a SuperBird. But when you say it’s neither of those you can feel the air coming out of the balloon. Oh, he must have bought a Plymouth Scamp with aslant six then someone mumbled. Loser, deadbeat, corn chucker and so on are the names you know they are calling you. Then you tell them it’s a 34 Plymouth and they of course think you bought a black business coupe. Now they think you really suck lemons.
Finally you invite them outside to shut there pie hole. This is the hot rod. While everyone else is fighting for a 32-34 Ford you found yourself a bad mother Plymouth with a crate engine. A 383 stroked engine so when you line up next to them in there cars they will back off while you lay down two black strips of rubber. The car is low, chopped, fast and painted orange to be different. This is a sweet ride. You can put the hood on or leave it off so everyone has a good view of that engine. Big ass tires in the back, a four speed transmission, and skinny front tires. Who’s laughing now? And who is a corn Chucker now you fools?
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