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Lately, we've been a little obsessed with bombas. Maybe it's because it's summer, and the Mexican guys around Pedro are dragging 'em out of the garage and parading them around. These cars were harbingers; the first customs, and they've got a look today that totally endures. They won't look dorky and anachronistic like todays billet rods will in 10 or 15 years. They're an eternal cool, and you simply can't touch them. What's more, when you see a guy cruising down an alley in San Pedro in his bomb with a laundry basket in the back and then spot the car parked at the laundromat, it's like Prozac for the gearhead soul. The sound of San Pedro isn't the Chevy small block. It's the Stovebolt six.

The Lonely Barracuda of Pedro [Internal]