Quote:
Originally Posted by BarryGMC
Well the boy hit 16. And his first drive as an independent driver was with the 65 with the 305 and 420 trans. Actually he is out tonight with this rig. So the next generation in Barry land is running the v6 as a daily driver. I will post some pics of the boy with the truck tomorrow. He really likes the suicide knob on the wheel. How many drivers even know what that is? Boy O boy fun times ahead. Barry.
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Hi Barry and Barry's Son,
I can still hear the single thud as multiple parents put their foot (feet) down. It was their way of reinforcing the verbal, "No," in response to my suggestion that I mount--at no cost to the parents--a necker (oops, steering leverage assist) knob on their steering wheel. That might be why my pockets were permanently bulged--from carrying both necker knob and screwdriver. I wanted to be ready when the moment arrived. I suspected, at age sixteen, it wouldn't be soon, but prayers were answered as time inched along until, at age much later, a young lady eased left across the bench seat and I stealthily placed my right arm around her shoulder. In hopes this might be the most joyful experience of her life since winning "best decorated bike" award in the July Fourth Parade, I tried to keep my arm in firm (as in reassuring), but light (as in caring), contact with her shoulder: I certainly did not want to be heavy handed. This worked pretty well for about three city blocks. As my arm and shoulder fell asleep, all I could feel was tingling nerves. I was pretty sure all she could feel was an oak log bouncing up and down on her shoulder in perfect time to pavement imperfections. I would like to have known a cool move for extracting my arm. I didn't. I became nervous. When it came to sharing worry with a lady with whom I might later want to fall in love, my training was less than exemplary. It was nil. I've been known to perspire. I did that.
The necker knob was worth every penny and all those punched out pockets. I didn't get close to sharing worry. We did laugh at right-arm-falling-asleep disease. We may have briefly hugged. We didn't do any necking that night.
Regards,
Culver