Ok, Show Me.

GREETINGS FROM THE GRAVE

- Mark Worman

Hello, my chain-rattling, macabre-minded, Mopar-spirited ghouls and ghoulettes. Welcome to the 20th anniversary of my editorials here at Mopar Muscle Magazine. I’ve had so much fun sharing my warped mind with you all. And remember: “I’m just getting warmed up!” (Al Pacino, Scent of a Woman.)

I love to write, and frankly, I wish I had more time to do just that. But alas, it seems the deadline for my article submissions keep getting shorter every issue. Nonetheless, in fairness to the magazine, it’s my fault—I’m just always late (insert shame emoticon here—wait, do they have one of those?)

Before I get started on the subject of this month’s issue, I want to share some of the things going on around the shop. First off, Season 12 (or XII, as I like to write it) is off to a brilliant start. We have three episodes in the can (TV jargon) and are quickly filling our hard drives with some incredible content. You won’t want to miss the fun this season, I promise you that. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but I am attaching a few photos with this article that might serve as tipping of my hand.

In addition to the show, we are busy as always restoring the finest, rarest, and most desirable Mopar muscle cars on the planet. This coming season you will see our 1971