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December, stirred my soul and brought fond memories of my 1940 La Salle. The year was late 1961. I lived in Tacoma, Washington, and drove a ’47 Plymouth club coupe powered by a Corvette engine. It was the day after I had been caught street racing, in a road block near a school yard. The judge suggested that I sell the Plymouth and stop paying the Tacoma police department’s wages. My buddy owned a used car lot that had just received a beautiful ’40 La Salle sedan from an estate sale. The moment I saw it, I was immediately smitten by the glossy black paint and fabulous grille of this really classy piece of craftmanship. I took the judge’s advice and traded my Plymouth, and some bucks, for the La Salle, which was a true luxury car for the ages! The massive flathead V-8 was smooth as glass as the car floated down the road. The huge tires hardly felt the chuckholes. The La Salle was a real highway car, and could easily cruse at 60-70 miles per hour down I-5 on trips to Portland and Seattle. It gave a guy a sense of true pleasure as the scenery passed by. The only problem was, even at 28 cents a
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