My Parents Sold My Corvette While I Was in Tokyo

Guy named Phil Puckett, seventy-four years old, had it under a tarp behind a tractor that hadn’t run since the Clinton administration. Matching numbers 350, four-speed, Rally Red over black. The frame was solid. The floors were shot. I paid Phil twelve thousand cash, trailered it home, and spent the next four and a half years putting it right.

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