[ursus]

Growing up in the 1950's, the neighbor boys always had several hot rod projects going at any one time. Old cars were towed home on the end of a rope, the torches and hammers came out, and amazing things emerged. They set up a machine shop in the basement of the house and parts went back and forth through an open window. Mom called it "gasoline alley" or "the devil's workshop" and held out the operation as a bad example, something we should definitely avoid. Nevertheless, we were drawn to it like moths to a flame.