Barn Find!

It was liking bumping into an old friend, one in which I hadn't seen in many years. Not just any friend, but a best friend, a friend in which many great memories were shared. A friend that for reasons unforeseen at the time, led us down separate paths, paths in which our friendship would be neglected for nearly a decade.

Fall of 2001. That was the last year my Camaro was up and running. It was perhaps the best year of my auto enthusiastic life. I had just moved back from Michigan from Indianapolis, IN. With so much racing heritage, one would have thought Indy would have been a great car town, and yet aside from the big car shows that rolled through, cruise nights were practically non-existent. Enter Michigan, where as many as 70 car shows happened weekly throughout the metro Detroit region. I was in car heaven, and things were going to get even better.

Accepting a job at Ford, the logical move was to live in Dearborn. This allowed me to get to know metro Detroit, as well as offered a short 5 minute commute to work. Little did I know, it would also allow me to cross paths with a muscle car in distress. The day I moved in, I spotted a 1970 Challenger R/T, Hemi orange, just sitting there in the lot as if begging to be rescued.

As you can imagine, my attachment to cars is not like that of your average person. Perhaps it's the sweat and tears we gearheads pour into them, as they can become as much a part of our life as a family member. Memories from years past, people whom we've met, and even traffic tickets in which we've received. They all are part of a bond built between man and machine.

Yesterday, watching my car being hauled back to Detroit, replaced a passion in me that has lied dormant for some time. It was different this time around, as serious progress has been made, and an engine nearly ready to be placed between the frame rails will soon follow the same path home. Though lacking interior, I climbed over the roll bar an sat myself in an unbolted down seat. No glass, no steering wheel, no brakes, and no gas pedal to be pushed. Yet there it was, a smile, one that slowly creeped onto my face as I sat in a shell of my car. Hello good friend, it's been a long time.

Below our some pictures of the journey back home. We'll kick it off with a little Motley Crue, Home Sweet Home.

From Adrian, to Detroit, to Adrian, and back to Detroit. It's been a well traveled venture towards reassembly, but the next reincarnation of my Camaro is closer than ever.

On the trailer, anxious to come home.

Easy killer, I know you're anxiously awaiting the green light, but you got no engine, and you're being held down by restraints. Soon my friend, very soon.

Passed the Tire God travels Detroit's finest iron ever to roll down the assembly line.

Out of the darkness, into Detroit.

Showing off her colors in the sun.

Though separated by 20 years of production, both cars rolled down the very same Norwood, OH assembly line.

Assembly required.

Family Reunion.