Amos Hart--350 Rocket

   
   "Amos Hart--350 Rocket"
   
   It was only a two-barrel, but she looked to be in her prime, and always would.  Amos knew that the bleu beauty was like unto a French dame whose children did not need to be reminded of their folks' failures or crimes--the axiomatic truth, not some yarn spun by the masses to induce time traveler hysteria, unless you own a DeLorean.  
   Parents hurt their children best, for when the kids find out their parents are bums--it all goes to hell for them; moreover, the glamour and illusion are gone; however, when a child has been brainwashed into thinking their parent is bad; next, unearths the truth that his mother was actually a sublime creature, well--that child, as an adult, inherits a crown and continues with the magnanimous work of spreading Good News, which is all about exposing nefarious action.
   Amos Hart couldn't take his eyes off of her.  He hated to cheat on his Datsun; still, the 350 Rocket was smoking smooth, better than four wheels strapped onto 454 cubic inches of SS (outta control) with LS (Lots of Speed); on the flip side, a redneck Yankee is curious about the heavy lifting, and the force that causes and manipulates the rotating circle of life.
   Amos couldn't purchase it, yet Bucko complained with a bastard's bark, and everybody needs a back-up, especially if it's a granny's hot rod.