Like a high school gym locker packed into a McDonalds dumpster on a 90degree day.
- 5,951 Posts. Joined 6/2012
- Location: Canada
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The first summer that I worked at the Shelby shop, I had ridden my bike to the place after getting out of school one day and asked if I could help out. I think the owner of the place thought that childhood me was brave to have such a notion (especially since I demonstrated that I knew exactly what a Shelby was and what it was worth), so he humored me and let me "help". That first summer consisted of me tripping over everything, sandblasting delicate original pieces to smithereens, wiping my middle-school fingers all over brand-new paint to "dust" it, and generally screwing everything up.
I'm surprised I was allowed to come back the next summer, but by that point I had learned to actually work on cars and (at least theoretically) I started contributing to the shop. By the time I left for college, I knew more about classic Shelbys than most of the cars' owners did, and I'd met Bill Ford, Sr., Corky Coker, and 'ol Shelby himself (RIP).
And here I thought it was a Red Wings playoff reference:)