It was 1979. It was a hot, sweaty summer in Marksville, Louisiana. My parents had each remarried and my Pop was workin his ass off for Conoco in the Gulf (of Mexico)- 7 days on- 7 days off. When he would come home from off-shore we would hit car shows, drags in Baton Rouge, or little stops at Glen Mayeux's race shop in town or stop to gawk at any bad ass set a wheels that you saw in town. It was all about feeding that inquenchable desire to build and run your own set of wheels. He always had a dream to build a Hot Rod from the ground up.
Well that summer he went to a certain car show and saw that certain car, shot under the right light and that was all she wrote to get that fire started.
Pieces were picked up here and there.
A powerplant from a Corvette was found and gone through. My dad has been tearing down and rebuilding combustion engines since Christ was a Corporal. He's forgotten more about chevy engines than most will ever learn.
By January 1980, the motor was in the frame and ready for it's first fire. . The little garage shook to the core when T-Oiseau came alive that night.
By July 1980 we were tearing up Brouillette Road.