...at cold latitude 57, Salt Slush shop doors will stay wide open to welcome Gearheads that suddenly comes by. Today thier thunderous rides and smokin' tires force salt slush rats out from the hole. Remark; There was no harm on any racing rodents, we just got to see the sunlight and smell soft smoke. Yes, we talked turbos too.
Not the matchning number type of line up.
Yellow but not chicken. Smoke seems to emerge from the wheel house at idle. What we learned: Big displacement matters
There was this 55 Chevy. But where the hell did that yellow 3W Ford 32 go?
All the right stuff in al the right places.
Mean type of TriFive. Owners name is Hog. Nickname that is.
Those wheels are there for a reason. Picture this dream; Gullwing, Biscayne, and a calm Caribeean ocean with occasional smoke. Think fog.
...but in these warm waters, there are Stingray's too. Better be ware.
At some point in time the magic was broken and it was time to go back to our work vacation in which we're making our dreams come true. Step by step.
A rocket launch if you ask me.
Smoke in my eyes and (tire-) smoke on my mind.
At some point to relax with a cigar is what remains of a good sunny day.
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