In 1982, the city of Paris, Texas was hit by a devastating tornado.  Houses were torn to shreds, power lines were pulled down, and trees were uprooted.  Unfortunately, one of those trees fell on a beautiful plum colored 1974 AMC Javelin, belonging to Dickie and Linda Towers.

Actually, the car was more Linda's than anybody else's.  When Dickie's little sister got a Javelin for her 16th birthday, Linda loved the pony car so much she decided to get one herself and ordered one from Hooker AMC in Sherman, Texas.  A lover of all things purple, she chose the color G-4 Plum.

On July 16th, the young couple drove their first new car off the lot.  Linda loved the car, and drove it every day until the tornado hit.  The falling tree and flying debris caused severe damage to roof and rear quarter.  The insurance company considered the car a complete loss and wanted to mark the car as "totaled," but Linda refused.  She had the necessary repairs done to make it driveable again, and continued using it for another sixteen years!

By 1998, the car needed a legitimate restoration, so Dickie and Linda decided to put it in storage until they were able to do this.  Twelve years later, they pulled the Javelin back out, and managed to get it going again with a few minor fixes.  Unfortunately, this would be the easiest part of the restoration.

For the next two years Linda occasionally drove the Javelin, until the restoration began in earnest.  A body shop started the job in 2012, but failed to perform the work as promised.  Frustrated, Dickie and Linda had to start all over again and find somebody else to finish the job.  Finally, Gary Armstrong of Reno, Texas began restoration of their Javelin in the summer of 2013.

Using a combination of NOS and OEM parts, Armstrong restored the Javelin to near stock condition, except for a few special touches that Linda requested, such as the purple wheels.  It two longer than they expected, and cost three times what they'd budgeted, but after nearly two years, Linda finally had her beloved plum Javelin back.

Since then, it's made it's way into several popular magazines, including American Motoring, Old Car Weekly, and Muscle Car Review.  As for Linda, she loves her Javelin and plans to drive it for a long time to come, before eventually passing it on to her daughter, Nicole.

In an email to AutoMoments, her husband Dickie said, "I can honestly say that this restoration of a piece of AMC Automotive History would have never occurred without the persistence and dedication of Linda, and her sentimental love for this car, and I personally feel that this story needs to be told, to provide an inspiration to others interested in keeping the Classic Car Hobby alive."

We love sharing car stories and this is one of the best.  We wish Dickie and Linda many more years of happy motoring, and thank them for sharing their story with us!

If you have a cool car you'd like to share with us, shoot as an email, at AutoMomentsShow@gmail.com!

Car shows can be frustrating for AMC owners.  While rows of generic Corvettes and Mustangs attract scores of onlookers, often they are relegated to some side lot next to the BMW Isettas and that one guy with an Avanti.  Then, they endure countless people who either don't recognize their cars, or worse, make fun of them.

But once a year, there is a show where they can proudly display their Ramblers, Gremlins, and Matadors, without muscle car owners laughing at them or confused spectators asking "what year Plymouth is this?"  The American Motors Owners Association National Convention is a place where AMCs get the respect they deserve.

Most car shows aren't that interesting to me.  Once you've seen one split-window Sting Ray with an old guy in sitting in a camp chair next to it, you've seen them all.  I also feel this weird sort of tension, as if these men all secretly want me to start an argument with them, so they can prove why their car is harder/better/faster/stronger than all the other ones there.  However, I found the 2015 AMO Convention to be quite the opposite.

The sense of machismo and rivalry typical of classic cars is seemingly absent, replaced with a feeling of "we're all in this together."  The owners seem happy just to have each other, as if there is some unspoken bond that unites them all.  Considering that in 1968 Ford built over 100,000 more Mustangs than AMC built total cars, they may be right.  As one man put it, "All AMCs are rare; we have to stick together!"

This is the only place in the world where a 1977 Pacer gets the same attention as a 1969 AMX.  Here, 340 horsepower Rebel Machines sit side by side with 112 horsepower Concords.  It really is quite a sight to see.  Their shared heritage is the great equalizer, bringing together men and women, young and old.

Speaking of the young, it seems AMC is attracting a new generation of enthusiasts.  Disgusted by the ridiculously high prices of other classics, millennials have taken to snapping up Hornets, Gremlins, Pacers, Spirits, Concords, and Eagles for only thousands (or even hundreds) of dollars on Craigslist.  Many of collectors are younger than the cars they drive, drawn to them simply because they are unique, yet affordable.  It seems the values AMC touted long ago are still holding true today.

Of course, nobody ever accused AMC owners of being normal, and the most enthusiastic of them are quite interesting.  I was introduced to a man who owned no less than 15 Gremlins.  I saw countless people with AMC hats, shirts, coats, and even tattoos.  I met a Pacer owner who drove all the way from North Carolina, bringing with him half the drivetrain of an Eagle in back of his car, who then proceeded to install woodgrain trim on the show field just hours before the judging started.

Even though I don't own an AMC, I considered myself a pretty dedicated enthusiast.  After all, I'd made an entire documentary about the Pacer, and I certainly enjoyed learning about the company.  But it's easy to feel like an expert when 99% of the population knows nothing about AMC.  Here I learned there are people who memorize everything from the yearly changes in chrome door trim to the lines of every 1980s Eagle TV commercial.  I realized that even after all my research and reading, I was only a novice; an outsider.  Thankfully, these people took me in.

They shared their time and their stories with me.  They answered my dumb questions, and didn't insult me for asking.  They told me how much they enjoyed my YouTube videos, and invited me to come film their cars.  I was blown away by their genuine kindness and generosity.  By the end of the weekend, I felt like I was part of the AMC family.

I know there are a lot of great car clubs filled with a lot of great people, but there is something different about the AMO.   There's this incredible feeling of community, as if they're all part of this big inside joke that the rest of the car world doesn't understand.  AMC owners have nothing to prove.  They love their cars, they love each other, and they couldn't care less what others think.  To them, a '68 Javelin will always be better than a '68 Mustang, not because of any quantitative reason, but simply because it's different.  Like I said before, "All AMCs are rare."

Eventually, the show ended, cars were packed up, boxes of parts were stowed away, and the people sadly went their separate ways.  Driving home in my Subaru, I already could hardly wait to start making more AMC videos.  There is such a rich history here that is just begging to be told.  Meanwhile, I'm keeping an eye on Craigslist, too...

As weird as it sounds, I find it highly relaxing to meander down the aisles of a grocery store, looking at all the different products, putting together recipes in my head, and considering all the foods I'd try if I had enough time and money.  Because of this, everybody hates to go grocery shopping with me.

During my grocery adventures the other day, I came across an item I didn't even think existed anymore—lard.

Having grown up during the great "fat panic" that connected the 20th and 21st century, the only time I ever saw lard was in old TV shows and church cookbooks.  I was taught that fat was evil, and animal fat, eviler.  As a child, all my toast, pancakes, and waffles were adorned with a liberal coating of margarine, because that was the least evil of fats.  Butter was something you kept in the freezer for use only in special occasions, like to impress good company or make Christmas cookies.

Undoubtedly, my family was one of millions that traded animal and dairy fat for hydrogenated vegetable oil, only to be distraught in the mid-2000s when science revealed that Crisco and Country Crock contained trans-fats, which actually made them unhealthier than what we traded them for.

While we returned to eating butter with slight trepidation (often differing to Smart Balance), our family never did get into lard.  I assumed that lard was simply something nobody bought anymore, which is why I was surprised to come across it on my grocery excursion.  I figured you had to special order it.

If you ask someone over 50 who is a serious home cook, they will tell you that lard works magic for foods like biscuits, fried chicken, pie crusts, and even scrambled eggs.  While the average family may not need it, there are enough dedicated people out there to keep lard on store shelves.

Lard enjoys an interesting niche.  Because the world was in such a hurry to run off and replace it, there are still many left behind who demand it.  Thus, companies can continue selling lard without investing a great deal in marketing or advertising, because they know there will always be a finite but dedicated base of customers.

It seems Ford stumbled across a similar lesson in the world of automobiles.  By not chasing after the latest trends in luxury cars, Ford cemented the Lincoln Town Car as the only luxury vehicle that stayed true to old values.  So while the rest of the world rushed off to buy margarine and Mercedes Benzes, Ford found those customers still dedicated to lard and Lincoln Town Cars.