I grew up in a motorhead family.

Note: yeah I've had a few. Probably best to ignore my drunken post. Stop now.

I was born in 1965. I'm the youngest of 8. My mom was the youngest of 12.
The stuff I saw when I was a kid, looking back at it now, is fascinating.
A 312 Ford engine hanging from the oak tree? Nothing unusual there.
The time my brother Al had his pretty '63 Fairlane t-boned up into the porch a block away from home? Just another story.
My pa with his '68 390 Merc wagon? Too damn many stories.
My brother Dave pulling wheelies on grass in the back yard with his Pontiac? (brother Dave stories would take me ages).
My brother Jim with his '68 Charger RT? He saved my life, literally, with that car when I was about 5 yrs. old.
My brother Doc with his Dusters? (I never knew how ******* scary those were until Dave gave me a ride...no offense Doc).

Don't get me started on sisters, aunts, uncles.

Maybe I just need to write a book.

If anyone's interested, I'll post more.

Take care of yourselves, and thank you for all the knowledge you've given me.