HevyMetlMachine

Just got out of the Marine Corps as a radioman and bought my first road runner in the early 1990s after Tony Pisano gave me a tour of their race shop in Long Beach. I was given the tour to compensate for a larger that quoted powder coating bill that really rocked my tight budget. The sandblaster charged him more than double of what he quoted me. No worries I paid it! On our way back to the Powder Coating Shop I saw a green machine beneath a shredded car cover in the side lot. Its thousand yard stare caught my eye. The grill was lurking thru the tattered cloth, like a vampire in its coffin eager to rise. I walked over to it and asked what it was. It was a lime green, 383 emblem on the cowl hood, 727 floor shift with console (I think), 1970 road runner. Tony allowed me to sit in it, the white interior was well intact from what I remember. Tony went on and told me that my car was a girls muscle car, and the Plymouth I was sitting in was a man's muscle car.

Went home and his words echoed throughout my mind all night and the days that followed. Either way I wanted a road runner. Bought all 5 Recycler Classifieds covering Southern California from a news stand on Cahuenga in Hollywood, and an issue of Chrysler Power. Didn't know much about mopar or any mopar people to converse with. Road runners were far and few. Nicknamed my search Bird Watch. Scoured the local landscape from San Bernardino to San Diego, to Simi Valley, to West Los Angeles and almost everywhere in between, Ended up buying one in Lynnwood on Independence Day that year. It was covered with spider webs and dog hair in the rear of the driveway. Put a few gallons in the tank, poured some down the carb and the bird roared to life. It was alive I thought to myself, just like Frankenstein in the old black and white monster movie. The road runner wanted another life.

I've met a great many really cool people as a mopar guy and its been a great way of life. A few dishonest crooks along the way as well. I own a 1969 Valiant, 1969 road runner and a 1973 Dodge Adventurer pickup truck. The Valiant is a shell under construction, the road runner is getting a 1966 elephant transplant but they're all street fighters, duking it out with all the young kids on the pavement whenever we leave home. I'm that aging odd guy on the block, that does his own yard work and waters the lawn with a hose. As my neighborhood sadly gentrifies the new residents would love to see the County Coroner in my driveway rolling my corpse away to the city dump. Then they could welcome a politically correct, environmentally friendly "yes" neighbor into their fairy tale lifestyle. I feel like Clint Eastwood aka Walt Kowalski in the 2008 movie Gran Torino. We have lots in common. His neighborhood was Highland Park in Detroit while I live less that 400 yards from Highland Park in Northeast Los Angeles. We're both highly patriotic Veterans, did time in Hell, own an old truck and a muscle car. Old Glory hangs across my porch as well and we don't take any crap from delinquents and criminals. God Bless America and each and every person and machine that makes America great. Esprit De Corps