The growl of the engine. The smell of burnt rubber. These things I love. The obsession for American sports cars courses through my veins like an affliction, that has no name. But yearns to “go fast”. I like most kids got a license at 18 instead of 16. Reason being was that my mother was so afraid of putting her girls behind the wheel of any car. There was good reason for it. Her affliction with cars. From the early days of American Muscle cars my mom had a list of potential prizes. So one might say it’s in my blood. “It’s what non-car people don’t get. They see all cars as just ton-and-a-half, two-tons of wires, glass, metal and rubber. That’s all they see. People like me know, we have an unshakable belief that cars are living entities. You can develop a relationship with a car. And that’s just what non-car people don’t get.” -Jeremy Clarkson. From the moment I got behind the wheel, my car was my escape. She was the mistress that no one could take away, nor would ever leave me. Weather it was passing time or going for a leasurley drive, I was hers and she was mine. My first car was a 1979 Dodge Omni. Baby poop brown. It did not have a passenger seat, so everyone got to sit in the back. It looked like I was a Taxi carting people around. However my long legged friends loved it! Through 18 years of having a license, I have had a total of 20 cars. Many were pieces of shit that were purchased at auction. However, I can say that I loved them all.