The Youngest Ramcharger
Rowing the gears on the Ramcharger Plymouth is my crazy, insane, annoying, awesome buddy Patrick, who brought me to Chryslers at Carlisle for the first time 5 years ago after having known me for all of 20 minutes.
Going on a nearly 1000 mile road trip (one way) with an almost complete stranger? The most damn fool thing I ever did, considering I was on crutches, with a broken left foot and a cast up to my knee. But being away from Chicago, surrounded by over 2,000 muscle cars, and talking to hundreds of Mopar faithful, was the best medicine a car guy could ask for. As for him, I saw his courage and his sense of decency and right and wrong first hand on that trip. And since that time, we've become brothers. The youngest of his 3 children, who I've watched grow up from a baby and start eating solid food and walking and talking, calls me "Uncle Puffy".
Patrick's a wildman. And so am I. We can talk about anything with each other; no judgements. And we can joke with each other about anything, with no PC What-was-THAT-supposed-to-mean? B.S. getting in the way. Waiters and fast food employees on the way to Carlisle and back, listening to our banter, must have thought we hosted a morning drive-time radio show.
And I know sometimes I've wanted to whack him upside the head with a 2-by-4, and I'm know he's wanted to do the same to me. But 5 minutes and a handshake later, it's forgotten. That's how brothers are. Beats being an only child to hell and back.
The Youngest Ramcharger
Rowing the gears on the Ramcharger Plymouth is my crazy, insane, annoying, awesome buddy Patrick, who brought me to Chryslers at Carlisle for the first time 5 years ago after having known me for all of 20 minutes.
Going on a nearly 1000 mile road trip (one way) with an almost complete stranger? The most damn fool thing I ever did, considering I was on crutches, with a broken left foot and a cast up to my knee. But being away from Chicago, surrounded by over 2,000 muscle cars, and talking to hundreds of Mopar faithful, was the best medicine a car guy could ask for. As for him, I saw his courage and his sense of decency and right and wrong first hand on that trip. And since that time, we've become brothers. The youngest of his 3 children, who I've watched grow up from a baby and start eating solid food and walking and talking, calls me "Uncle Puffy".
Patrick's a wildman. And so am I. We can talk about anything with each other; no judgements. And we can joke with each other about anything, with no PC What-was-THAT-supposed-to-mean? B.S. getting in the way. Waiters and fast food employees on the way to Carlisle and back, listening to our banter, must have thought we hosted a morning drive-time radio show.
And I know sometimes I've wanted to whack him upside the head with a 2-by-4, and I'm know he's wanted to do the same to me. But 5 minutes and a handshake later, it's forgotten. That's how brothers are. Beats being an only child to hell and back.