Powerglide.

Unfortunately, what’s good for the soul isn’t always good for the environment. Case in point: My ’68 Impala.

As many of you know, this beautiful machine has been in and out of my life since I was 15. Now that we’re together again, I can’t imagine my world without the old car. It goes beyond the power of the 327. It’s bigger than being behind the wheel as the aerodynamic body floats through the streets and quietly soars down the highway. It’s more important than satisfying my obsession with the collecting of old things.

The car forces you to pay attention to the trip—and possibly reconsider the destination. When you think of all the gas, oil and antifreeze that cars consume and turn into muck, I have to wonder if this one might be a special exception. The cookie for the diabetic. The shot of whiskey for the dying alcoholic. While it’s not a daily driver, the miles we do travel are memorable. And if I recall correctly, making memories is what it’s all about.

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