My philosophy professor used to say: "Age is irrelevant. We don't get to pick when we hit the planet, we just deal with it".

In this regard I look at it as if some folks just have a head start on others . . .

I hit the planet in 1960 - just missing the 50's by twenty four days . . .

By the time I was old enough to drive, the adults of the day were casting off muscle cars in droves in favor of newer more fuel efficient vehicles.

A Hemi Road Runner or Cuda, Big Block Camaro, Chevelle or Nova, Big Block Mustang, Torino or Galaxy were just cheap used cars. One of my buddies had a 70 Buick Skylark GS that was crazy fast. Another a '67 Olds 442 with a posi rear-end. Yet another an auctioned police detectives car (Plymouth Satellite) that was such an ugly shade of green he sprayed it in rattle can gray primer. My dad would not let any of us own cars - but that didn't stop me from having fun with others . . .

Back in those days 'the flats' (to South and West of Downtown Cleveland) was the Buckle of the Rust Belt. Nothing but abandoned buildings, shutdown factories, empty warehouses and vacant lots. Except for two Biker bars there was basically nobody around after dark.

The cops didn't police it hardly at all, so on summer nights Quigley Road became a drag strip. The road is long and super straight. Because it runs along a railroad switch yard there are no cross streets - and just a few side streets that dead end into Quigley. With cars stationed at Clark, 7th and 3rd one could watch for cops and keep cars off 'the strip' during a run.

We'd hang for hours watching run-what-ya-brung match ups . . . drinking three-two and smoking cigarettes like they were soon to be outlawed . . .

Some of the cars that ran there were fairly modified and capable of low 11's. A breath taking sight when standing at curb distance as a pair went by with Thrush mufflers in full song . . .

regards,
stock49

[Linked Image from 49fastback.com]