My 14 year-old son loves cars. With an emphasis on Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and McClarens. Last weekend I took him and his friend to a secret garage in Costa Mesa. We helped push a vintage paint-stripped, engine-less Ferrari onto a hydraulic lift. I watched the garage-owner’s twenty-something kids trouble shoot a 1982 Rolls-Royce Corniche that needed a jump start. The owner, a world-weary gentleman about ten years older than me, called Rolls-Royce a “shit car”. I like Rolls-Royce, especially from the 1960s era.
The Week In Photos
The Week In Photos
The Week In Photos
My 14 year-old son loves cars. With an emphasis on Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and McClarens. Last weekend I took him and his friend to a secret garage in Costa Mesa. We helped push a vintage paint-stripped, engine-less Ferrari onto a hydraulic lift. I watched the garage-owner’s twenty-something kids trouble shoot a 1982 Rolls-Royce Corniche that needed a jump start. The owner, a world-weary gentleman about ten years older than me, called Rolls-Royce a “shit car”. I like Rolls-Royce, especially from the 1960s era.