I was 15 years old, soon turning 16 when I could get my drivers license. My dad had lined me up with a weekend job that involved crawling under houses and in attics pulling wire for an electrician that rewired old houses, but I didn't work every weekend. I had a friend a few months older who already had his license, and I remember going into Charlotte and ogling the new cars on weekends when I wasn't working. I had a small Honda CL125 that I rode on my parent's land (they had about 14 acres). The annual summer camping trip to Ocracoke Island National Seashore was coming up soon. Dad's main driver was a 1966 Catalina 2+2. He was operating his garage at the time and was selling cars out of his shop. He bought a 1963 Falcon Sprint with a 260 3-spd for me to drive. It had a bad engine, so we swapped in a 302 from a later car. I didn't drive it for long, he bought a 64 Galaxie w/390 automatic. I didn't drive that long either, I burnt the rear tires down within a month. I had saved some money and had a part time job, so bought my first car purchased with my own money a little later in the fall. It was a 1968 Torino GT convertible with a 390 4-spd. After the Arab Oil Embargo hit a few months later, American Muscle was dirt cheap. It crossed the auction block for $275.
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