Who says old Class C's ain't worth much?

PoorGary, you must be my kindred spirit. I still miss the smell of raw gas coming out of the doghouse, the heat on my feet and legs through the firewall, turning up the carb to richer to adjust for altitude, nylon tires going bump and thump on a cold morning. And the vice grips, electrical tape and pieces of wire. Life was - and is - good.

Paul