I think I love cars too much. Any kind really. Except for rice rockets, shopping carts, rice burners, etc... American muscle is where my heart lies. Mustangs, Camaros, GTOs, Mavericks, Road Runners, Chargers, Challengers, Comets, Chevelles, Fairlanes, Cougars, AMXs, even the long hated Edsel gives me wood. The thought of roddin' out an old piece of Detroit metal gives me goosebumps. When I see a car like that, it's one of the only things I think of; how to muscle it. It's ok to keep it vintage and restored, but I like to maximize the potential of those bad girls. Nothing would stop me from dropping a big ol' supecharged 502 into a Camaro or strapping a 429 Cobra Jet into a Mustang. Because come on, that's what a musclecar is. Beef. I just want to cruise down the street. Call it pride, but it would make me feel good to have people stop and look at what I made with my own 2 hands. My blood, sweat, tears, and elbow grease made that thing go. That's my baby.