I know, I know, ZZ Top lyrics as the title is not very imaginative, but hey, it's half nine in the morning and I just want to share this purdy car with you...
Some serious car lust, there.
I love how every so often you'll either see one of those incredibly well dressed men, straight out of the Sartoralist or something, driving an immaculate hot-rod, or a muscled, tattooed guy who looks like he was paid thirty quid to bump you off in an equally immaculate one. I can't decide who looks better in them.
You see? Hot rods bring equality to the world!
Except they don't really, because you never see a woman in one, except for one of those quinsentially English, eccentric ladies in headscarves. And I don't want to be that old yet.
"In a flat forty-one with my strat on the door
We was goin' to the country for what we came for.
I'm sure you've smelled the trees in the air.
The best of motor cruisin's just the joy to get there."
ZZ Top - Chevrolet
Love, Peace, and God Bless American Hot-Rods,