There's a certain mystique that surrounds those survivors, barn finds and one-family-owned hot rods. It's not just that they allow you a glimpse into the way they did it back in the day. Most of those stories add some new dimension to that ole pile of steel, rubber and rust. Call it spiritual if you like. And maybe it's just me but many of those tales start with something like, he built it in high school. Or, during his senior years, this heap was his only means of transportation, including frequent trips to El Mirage and the Santa Ana Drags. There's also a story that goes with this black beauty here, albeit it takes a little different turn.