Chevy Impala '67 tárgy
„You'll see it.”
„She was nice,” Sam said when they reached the black Impala and were safely out of her range of hearing.
„She was hot.”
„Sure, I guess.”
„Don't tell me you didn't see it.”
„More your type than mine, I guess.”
„She was hot,” Dean reiterated. „Trust me.”
1997, January 24
I gave Dean the Impala today for his eighteenth birthday. The car is 30 years old now, amazing it runs as well as it does. I’ve taught Dean a lot of what I know about working on cars, which was everything until 1983. Haven’t kept up since then, all the computers and emissions spaghetti drives me nuts. Give me a fat 327, no electronics, just pistons, crankshaft, and a gas pedal. That’s a car. And now it’s my son’s. He knows I’ll still be driving it, but he’s a man now, and since he’s already made his share of kills, this was the only rite of passage I could think of. He goddamn well better take care of it.