Along with her extensive wrinkling and cosmetic damage (she would never be a collector's car, I lamented), her breaks were failing, her exhaust was all but missing, her struts had given in, the radio was held together with a 14 gauge grounding wire, and all but one speaker was blown. I retired her in early '05 in a solemn ceremony where I left the signed title and key on the seat with the doors unlocked. Because she wasn't even street legal, I left anonymous messages with the six nearest junkyards, offering her up to the quickest one to take her to the car crusher. When I got home from work she was gone.
The '94:
RS would of course never have agreed to part with the '92 if he hadn't stollen the '94. Sleek and elegant, the sister ship to Cav One looked exactly like her predecessor, except she was painted the glistening teal of algae scum covering a wastewater treatment pond.
Is it just me?
She was fast and furious, and RS had me disconnect the heating and cooling mechanism, in order to reserve more horsepower for the engine.
RS had her for less than two years in Ohio, when the FBI again cornered him. They broke in twice more, but still they had nothing to pin on him.
In 2004, RS heeded a primal instinct and took the '94 westward to San Francisco. He was chased for three states, but the extra horsepower from the disconnected air gave him the boost to outrun them. In a harrowing 3,000 mile drive, he could smell the burning of break pads in the mountains. But the '94 handled it in stride. If they know anything in Lordstown Ohio, they know mountain driving.
In the city RS began planning for the greatest caper yet. He decided to sell the Golden Gate Bridge for scrap iron. He’d read on wikipedia that it weighed almost 900,000 tons, and the guy at the salvage yard paid 25 cents per pound for the straight 6 engine blocks he’d “obtained.”
