Man, I’ll never forget the first time I drove an old ‘67 Camaro with a manual box. Halfway through a backroad cruise, it was like the steering wheel started pulling me into the turns before I even thought about it. The pedals had this weirdly perfect weight, and the chassis just knew where it wanted to go. Ever had that happen? Where the car almost feels like it’s got a mind of its own in the best way possible?
I’ve wrenched on plenty of rides, but there’s something about the ones that communicate that sticks with you. What’s your story? Any particular model that surprised you with how alive it felt?