The Supra was the first car to go.
It was a 1984 Toyota Celica Supra, white with maroon interior, velvet seats, silver radio like an Aiwa boombox. Rough on the edges, a 1980s street survivor.
We gathered for the start of the Touge California vintage rally, here on the outskirts of Thousand Oaks, and its owner Joe lived down the street. (This detail will be very important very soon.) The Supra never skipped a beat, he assured me. Its chunky radio, its cracked box flares, its sheer wedginess—I loved it. Needed one of my own.
I handed him a business card and said, “Listen, if you ever get bored with this thing, give me a call.”
“You want to ride in it?” he asked. (more…)