The moment was like that of a bedraggled and thirsty bandito stumbling across a well in the middle of the Mexican desert. Or Henry Stanley finally finding Dr. David Livingstone. It was catharsis. It was all I could do to stop myself from sinking to my feet and sobbing gently, right there on the sidewalk of 14th Street. I was standing in front of a bona-fide, American issue 2010 Chevy Camaro SS. Click link for rest of article.