1932 Three-Window #575B

On loan courtesy of Ken Schmidt:
It was late on a dark and rainy night when he started to ramble. At first we just took it as another one of the tall tales he spins, usually fueled by that green puss he drinks.
“Chopped the hell outta her, five, maybe six inches, leaned the posts back, too. Stretched her a bit, made her handle better at speed. Had a can of yeller, so I painted her with it. Louvers, yeah, punched her full o’ holes. Made a cool-ass roll pan in the rear, even had a blown 24-stud into her with a five-speed and quickie to boot. Yup, she was one fast little bitch, she was. Boys, when I tell ya she was fast, I ain’t lyin’. Had t’ sell her, though. Yup, damn cops couldn’t catch me, so they hid in my driveway and waited for me t’ come home. Bastards threw me in jail. Sold her to Whitey down at the junkyard t’ make bail. Hell, Whitey’s been gone fer some time now. Yard’s still there, full o’ new shit. All look like half-used bars o’ soap t’ me. Last I heard she was still layin’ there, way down back with a bunch of mid-50s and 60s boats. All growed up back there now, no tellin’ if’in she’s still there or not.”
Every now and then Ol’ Mr. Bones becomes a little confused, and we figured he might be talking about the junkyard owned by Keith’s nephew Casey. We found her there, right where he said she’d be and dragged her back to the barn. The beat-up coupe was in pretty good shape considering, so we just greased her up and threw on a new set of tires.