By accident (or, the car that found me)
I’ve been into cars since my earliest childhood. Cars used to be my favorite toys, favorite subject to draw, favorite everything. My mom actually wanted to take me to a child psychologist because I was so obsessed with them. Even from an early age, I had my indisputable favorites. As there were always quite a few American cars around in Switzerland, I soon fell under the spell of Detroit iron. The throaty rumble of the V8 in conjunction with the spectacular design made a big impression on me.
As I approached driving age, the all-important question started to come up: what car was I first going to own? In Switzerland, you can’t get your driving license until the age of 18, so there’s plenty of time to take this matter into careful consideration. But there was one important fact that was limiting my options: money— or rather, the lack thereof. So, that 1972 Stingray wasn’t really an option. Neither was the 1965 GTO.




























































































































































































