LaVella walked out of the Center Hall at the Las Vegas Convention Center with us. We headed toward Mopar Alley, the covered walkway between the Center and South Halls. A vintage Dick Landy Dart greeted us at the entrance.
LaVella: "Now this is what I'm talkin' about."
Us: "Yeah, totally."
As we're standing there admiring a Hemi-powered '68 Sox & Martin Barracuda fastback, we hear a familiar riff. It's the Stooges' "1969."
"Hey, LaVella! It's the Stooges!"
"Of course it's the Stooges! What else would they play?"
"But it's the freaking Stooges! At SEMA!"
"Well, it's Detroit muscle."
For just a moment, we were lost in nirvana, surrounded by Mopar A and E-bodies; Iggy sneering in our ear. Then we saw Tony Hawk's Jeep Commander and were rudely snapped back into reality with the force of a nitrous explosion. Man, reality sucks.
Related:
Because There Aren't Enough Wheelstanders These Days: The Hurst Hemi Under Glass [Internal]