The car was definitely not a babe magnet, but at the age of six I wasn’t interested and didn’t care.
I remember cruising around a lot in this rockin’ mobile (in my mind, in the basement, in my underwear) with the (imaginary) wind blowing through my flattop, and every station on the (pretend) radio playing either “WipeOut,” “Beechwood4-5789,” or “Witch Doctor,” with NO commercials.
What’dya say? Let’s dust off the old Roadmaster and take it for a spin on
The Overnight Open Thread.