The affair started when I moved to Minnesota in 2001 for a job at a very reputable tattoo shop. Around the same time, I met a young woman named Lisa, and we hit it off pretty well. After dating her for about a month, she took me home to meet the parents. After dinner, things got better—much better. Roger, Lisa’s father, took me out to the garage and introduced me to my future soul mate. As the garage door opened, unveiling the beauty and style that is a ‘59 Impala, I was speechless. I thought to myself, “Wow, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” Later that night, I told Lisa about how much I wanted to ride in the car and how cool, yet unlikely, it would be if Roger would let us take it out on a date sometime. About a month later, we stopped by Lisa’s parents house on our way out to dinner. When I entered the house, Roger tossed me the keys, told me to drive safely and to bring the car back in the same condition I’d got it—or he’d kill me. My jaw dropped, I agreed and we left.
Lisa and I continued to date and were given plenty of opportunities to take the Impala to car shows and other activities, which I took full advantage of. During this time I became even more obsessed with the machine. Then the day came when Lisa told me Roger was selling the car. I couldn’t stand to see the car go, so I invited Lisa’s parents over for dinner and drinks (wink, wink). After dinner, the negotiations began. It really wasn’t that big of an ordeal. Roger was happy to sell me the car and had little doubt I would take care of it—especially since I didn’t have a garage and storing it at his house seemed to be the likely option.
Since then, I’ve paid the car off and have my own garage to store my baby in. I’ve also rebuilt the original (numbers matching) 283 cubic in (4.6 L) Turbo Fire V8 engine and recently had the crew at Wheel Medic put new wheels and tires on it. I have plans to put disc brakes, power steering and air ride shocks on, as well.