Millwinder Slim

I'm a lifelong, hopeless car buff. I was born in '57 and a brother, thirteen years older, is the one to give credit (or blame) for this chronic obsession. When I was old enough to be proficient at descending the cellar stairs, I'd slip into the basement garage and watch him and his greaser buddies wrench on their bombs. ( a '53 Lincoln, a mild custom '53 Studebaker, a '52 Merc, a '57 Ford Fairlane, a '57 Merc , a '51 Ford Convertible , A '50 Buick Sedanette , '57 &'59 Pontiacs).
When they weren't occupying my old man's garage, they were about a block away, hanging at a neighbor buddy's 3 car garage. In there I recall a late '20's fenderless T bucket w/ 3 deuces ( small block Chevy?), the mild custom Studie, a '50 Olds 88 and a flattie powered, '31 Ford 5 window coupe with 4 motorcycle fenders. As the sixties progressed, these guys turned their interest more towards the factory muscle . All bets were off; the bug bit me hard and repeatedly. Ironically, for me, as I was getting my drivers license, the last muscle cars had since rolled off the assembly lines and the vintage rods had disappeared.