It was a low-slung Chrysler from the early 1960s, one of the first sports cars produced by any of the Detroit car companies, and Rock bought it for a song. He showed it to Jake Sandlin, a longtime cohort at the paper, in the old Arkansas Gazette parking lot in downtown Little Rock.
Rock was crazy about the car, but there was something funny going on with the ignition key. It had a wad of greasy crud stuck in the cuts that he couldn't quite wipe away. He tried to pinch it out with a handkerchief between his fingertips but to no avail.
As Rock struggled with the mess, Jake pointed out to him that the car's headlights were sealed shut by covers once popular among sports-car enthusiasts. They went out of fashion after no more than a few years because of their lack of reliability.
"Oh, shoot, I didn't notice it had those," Rock said. "Damn. They'll break within a week."
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