He kept that car (and Mom got herself a 71 Caprice) until he died in 1985. I picked it out - I liked the color and the fact that it had dual 6-way power seats. He got a nice tax check back and then - drunk as a skunk, bless him, he took yours truly to a cockfight, a speakeasy and then to a Buick dealer where he got the last car he'd ever own, a burnt yellow 1975 Buick Electra Limited Coupe, loaded. Dad got a 66 Chevy Impala coupe just to get him back and forth to work until he decided what else to buy. Some neighborhood boys found her wrapped around a pole during a rainstorm about five blocks from our house, bruised up but okay. My mom wrecked that one - she knew squat about engines and thought she could handle this one like she could the first Charger. He replaced that with a 70 Charger R/T Magnum that he kept for a couple of years. He had the charred hulk towed home with hopes of repairing it, but like the salvage of the Normandie turned turtle at her pier, the money and effort would not have been worth it. He got out about a minute or so before the car became engulfed in flames.

Several cars honked at him as he pulled over, 'Hey, dude, your trunk is on fire.

Dad's Charger was a nice one (383 4bbl), but rather short-lived in 1974, he dropped a cigarette into the trunk while on a fishing trip, and he forgot about it until he was on I-95 when he smelled smoke.

T bird 60