I convinced my mother to buy a Plymouth Duster in 1976 when I was thirteen. THEN she goes and buys it from my gaddamned uncle who wouldn't let her upgrade to 360ci V8.
Knowing I'd get the car in a few years, I begged and pleaded for the upgrades, but to no avail. After I finally got it, my friends and I made the bloody thing look amazing, but it still had a slant six and handled like a fucking Volare. I was sixteen with a hot looking Duster, but it could have been soooooo much better.
I have never forgiven my POS uncle for that. Ironically, he ran a Ford dealership. But because he was the ONLY dealer in his town, he could special order all brands.
The bastard still has the dealership, too. Fucker must be 200 years old.
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