With yesterday's Choose Your Eternity poll, most of the commenters seemed to prefer the Pinto, yet 55% of voters went with the Vega. What does that mean? It means that you'll need the appropriate mobile domicile to go with your little V8-powered deathtrap, since you'll want to adopt the life of a ramblin' man (or woman). See, when that open road starts to calling you, and there's something o'er that hill that you've got to see, you need to start shopping for motorhomes! And, since this is Hell, you don't get a nice motorhome where everything works- you have a three-figure budget and lots of repairs to make! We can all thank Mad Science for the "You Could Live In It" idea.
Space is at a premium when you're goin' mobile, and to have room for your toast and tea and tape machine you'll need a big machine. Really big. That's why we've found this 36-foot Chrysler 440-powered motorhome, located in the picturesque nuke-test fallout-saturated southwestern corner of Utah. The seller doesn't bother to mention the manufacturer's name, though you won't care about that when you hear the price: 600 bucks! It's got only 25,608 miles on the clock and, while the seller's description leaves some open questions about mechanical condition, you figure a 440/Torqueflite 727 combo should be pretty easy to get into shape. There is "a little roof damage" (and I should interject at this point my hard-earned observation- gained from having lived in a rickety camping trailer for several years- that there is no such thing as a minor roof leak in something like this) and it needs a "heck of a cleaning" (possible translation: red phosphorus and ephedrine byproducts- not to mention neptunium-237 from the nearby tailings piles- saturating all interior materials), so you'd need to be a carpenter, metalworker, and hazmat expert to whip this beauty back into shape. But when you're done- luxury with Mopar big-block powah!
When you're rolling from town to town in your new peripatetic lifestyle, you need to have style. You need to roll in something different, so the locals will give you the respect you deserve as you hit the honky-tonks. While a gigantic box-shaped motorhome might give you superior comfort and room for a big TV, you'd feel much cooler in this 1951 Cadillac-based rig. You'll need to pay an extra $200 over the cost of the behemoth, but it's clearly worth every red cent. You may have some questions at this point. Does it run? Does it stop? Turn? What's the rear suspension setup? What's the interior like? How do you get to the driver's seat? Does anything work? The seller doesn't think you need to know that stuff, and that's good enough for us! It's a homemade 1951 Cadillac motorhome, buddy! What more do you need, an engraved invitation? Imagine slapping a ten-gallon hat on your dome, putting some Ray Price on the AM, and letting that Cadillac 331 engine (if that's what it still has; for all we know it may have an Iron Duke out of a Citation) purr along as you head to new adventures!