Hey Benno, I'll pull that windshield for ya'. Hand me that brick... Yeah, a 'shit magnet'. That's what my '49 Plymouth was. Every stupid asshole in Ballard would come up to me and ask me if it was for sale. If it was, wouldn't there be a sign on it? The worst were the ones who'd open the car (cars with wing windows don't lock for shit) and leave a note inside. I really wanted to catch someone at that. My favorite was the one where the "maroon" left a note (again, inside my car) saying he'd pay "six hudred dollars cash money" for it, along with his phone number. I called his ass up and told him I'd be keeping his letter with the phone number, and if anything ever happened to the car, I'd hand the evidence over to the cops. I guess it's the 'down side' to having an old car.