The station-wagon aspect is slightly beyond my ken, but I understand the charm of a remembered car; the only vehicle I’d be more interested in owning than my parents’ 1967 Cutlass is a version of my own dearly departed 1972 Cutlass. My brother wrecked that car over 15 years ago and I haven’t quit complaining yet. Just ask him. In fact, tell him I told you to ask him. He loves that.
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