My story is pretty ordinary, really.
My family was traveling down south in the 70's. We stopped off at a barbecue joint along a country road to get some food and go to the bathroom. I was jiggling around with a gumball machine, hoping to get a freebie. A mustached dude in a cowboy hat walked by and knocked me over into a stack of Coors beer cases and catfish entrails. The man apologized, and gave me his cowboy hat to make amends. He then jumped into a gold trimmed Trans Am with T-tops, and sped away.
I never forgot that Trans Am. And so started my love of Pontiacs.
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"...ridge reamer and ring compressor? Do they have tools like that?"
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