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The late sixties and dearly
seventies were the salad days for the American automobile. Muscle
cars rolled out factories with 454 cubic inch engines, pumping
out 450HP at about 8 miles/gallon. Gas was like water. Champagne
and orange juice, eggs Benedict and a couple of Bloody Marys
were the norm when it came to Sunday breakfasts tin bed. Many
said the Muscle car died after '71, the luxury of excess dying
with it. These times are preserved by the great car-chase movies
and a few rumbling machines still left from that glorious era.
But somehow, when I'm riding around in my '71 Torino, with it's
351 Cleveland just begging to be let loose, everything still
feels alright. |
