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I was 13 yrs old when
I fell in love with Chrysler muscle cars. I remember seeing my first Superbird in front of the bank. Later, I found out it was the
teller's husband who picked
her up every day. What was
this Hemi Orange car with this
weird but beautiful wing thing
on the back deck? And it also
was named after my favourite
cartoon bird.
So then I found myself
daily at the local dealer Sorenson, Chrysler at Warden and Sheppard,
drooling over Cudas and Challengers and especially Road Runners!
At 13, you know you could drive, but unfortunately that age thing
gets in the way. So as time went on, and I got older I collected
a vast selection on Mopars, all muscle of course! Some fixers,
some finished, it became an obsession. Every car I saw sitting
in the weeds, I had to take home and try to get the feeling the
same buyers got when they were new. Most I sold to other collectors
and some I kept and drove.
I live in Arizona, since the wife is gone
and kids on their own and the fever is still strong! This time
the cars have complete frame rails! You don't open the trunk
and look down at your shoes! Complete metal bodies and original
inner fender wells!
So my web site is different
than the others. Some show rusted hulks of what was once someones
pride. This site shows daily drivers in the southwest, in parking
lots, grocery stores or just on their way to work. Almost as
if time down here stopped and salt never existed.
My love for all Muscle
cars is great; not just Chrysler. It was a fantastic era, and
I'm glad I was able to see these cars pound the streets. Certain
vehicles in each town took on a personality of their own and
you knew the fast ones and the ones that were not. Rumours of
a 6pac Runner in the north end that was untouchable. Someone
was driving but with tinted windows you never knew. After thrashing
on a 69 Camaro, he vanished. And would occasionally surface again.
My passion for Mopars
is due to Al Spencer from Scarborough Ontario Canada. He probably
never will know this. He owned a 69 B5 Blue Road Runner that
when he pulled to the stop sign at Vradenburg Dr. would let us
all hook on his bumper in the winter to get home quicker pulling
us along on our boots. I always seemed to get the right exhaust
tip in my face. YA!
Thanks Al for the beginning.
--Derek Habbeshaw
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