[RotaryRocketeer]

When I was a kid, I got my motorcycle license at 14 and 1/2 years old. My dad made me do it and helped me by the bike for no other reason than he said I needed to get a job after school. I got a job in a local body shop one day later. The owner had a lifted (and I mean LIFTED) square body Jimmy. That truck didn't do much for me, but the two tone yellow and white '85 short wide he bought as an engine donor for the Jimmy sure did! It was a gnarly 454 setup that would break tires from interstate speeds. The truck was no beauty queen back then, but now days people would love it. Had that survivor/rat look that has become so popular way before it was cool. Lowered 4/6 on some nice looking wheels and everything. I begged my boss not to cannibalize that '85 and take payments from me for it and he just never bit. I thought I finally convinced him it was too cool to tear the heart out of, as he just used it as a wicked shop truck for a while. Until I ran into him a few years ago in the Jimmy. It was loping hard, making BBC noises, and emanating the unmistakable scent of race gas. I knew in my heart that the unspeakable had been done. In his defense though, the Jimmy has come a long way and looks like a legitimate show winner. But my love affair started that day when he rolled up in the '85. Windows down, Beastie Boys coming through the speakers, and rat rail waving in the wind.