I've been passionate about cars since I was a little boy.
I was lucky to have a dad who was a mechanic
and who taught me the basics from a very young age.
I would spend my time fiddling around with my dad,
in the evening, on weekends, on the family cars.
He taught me a lot of things,
but he mostly communicated his love of do-it-yourself
and gave me tips and tricks
to repair cars, but also about life in general.
At first, you start working on cars,
fiddling with engines and bodywork,
and you quickly move on to other steps, like learning how to weld
or creating small boxes out of sheet metal.
You basically try anything you can,
until you realize you can do pretty nice things.
You twist objects, and people like it, so it makes you happy.
It is a very rewarding experience.
Every day, you have an idea
of what you want to put into practice.
My name is Gabriel, and I drive a 1973 Chevrolet Camaro.
I've always had a soft spot for VW Type 1s.
I've had a lot of fun restoring a few.
These are great memories,
but when you keep on seeing four-cylinder cars in American movies,
you end up wanting one.
From the time I was 18, I drove Type 1s,
and V8s were just a fantasy.
You think it's impossible, until one day you say, "Why not?"
Another car enthusiast friend and I
started dreaming of fetching a V8 in the U.S.
And we did, in 2013.
We took the plunge and left to each buy a car.
We didn't have a set idea in mind.
Contrary to popular belief, we didn't necessarily want a Mustang,
but we wanted a V8, the typical American car.
So we flew all the way to Los Angeles,
but, of course, we couldn't miss out on Las Vegas,
so we went.
Right in the middle of the desert, I took a look at the gauge
and realized the tank was almost empty.
I knew I wouldn't be able to go 200 miles,
so we took the next exit, which was Victorville.
We had no clue where we were going, and there was nothing in sight.
We truly were in the desert.
So we took the Victorville exit and tried to find a station to fill her up,
and, luckily, we found one.
Half of the shops were closed.
We were a bit lost, but we quickly got gas at the pump.
While doing that, my friend saw a vintage car off the road
and wanted to check it out.
I could tell it was apple green, which is not a color I like,
but we had might as well take a look, because the car was for sale.
So we got closer, and it was a Nova.
It was not my favorite model, and I didn't like the color,
but then a Mexican guy showed up.
His name was Roberto.
So, Roberto came up to me and said, "What are you looking for?
Why are you here? Do you want to buy a car?"
So, I told him, "Yes, I am looking to buy a car."
And he said, "Follow me."
We entered a shed full of dismantled cars.
I saw a car under a dusty tarp and recognized a Camaro.
My interest was peaked.
He removed the dusty tarp,
and I got all excited; I loved that car.
He fiddled with the starter for a bit,
and then it made a thundering noise.
The car lived again.
I had goosebumps.
The noise filled my ears, and I could smell gasoline.
So, we took a serious and closer look.
We looked under the car and inside, and it was very dirty,
but despite the dirt, it was in very good shape.
Then I confirmed with Roberto.
"I can wire the money. Is everything okay with you?"
He said, "It's all good with me.
You'll have the car as soon as I get the money."
The nice thing about this story
is that you indulge yourself when you discover the car,
but also when you re-discover it
a few months later, when the vehicle finally arrives home.
You had forgotten a lot of things.
Of course, you had pictures,
but you had forgotten the smell of it, the sound it makes.
Details had been erased with time.
Especially since I had never seen it all clean and shiny under the sun.
So, when the car arrived, I was awe-struck.
I couldn't believe it was my car.
This car is unique to me,
because it allowed me to meet so many people,
and it gave me the chance to have unique experiences
that I will never forget.