Luckily, for the 1954 Chevy and myself, Ron is passionate, dedicated, new owner and truly appreciates this wonderful bit of American history. Over the course of hours, we drove the car, fixed the car, considered the car, paid for the car, transferred paperwork and carefully inspected Terry's hot rod flathead pick-up truck. The corrosion was discussed -respectfully - and the dogs were not offended.

As I was driving to Ron's house, I realized this would be the last time I would be driving the 1954 Chevrolet. With the faint smell of burning clutch, I was overcome with sadness and thought, one day, I will have a desert lot, a cabin in outer Lancaster, a forgotten gas station in the San Fernando Valley, a creaky corrugated warehouse in Bakersfield or a bombed out ranch house in Trona, and will never sell a car again.