Memory is a funny thing. One of the first cars I remember ever seeing as a kid was my grandfather’s rusted old white Stingray, sitting up on blocks in his driveway. I don’t think he ever got around to fixing it, and I’m not sure I ever knew what year it actually was (hey, I was 4 or 5 at the time)…but it was striking. And memorable. Even underneath all the rust, which of course was made even more obvious by the fact his ‘ray was white.