So when I purchased my 1953 3100 which is somewhere in the queue for resto, a friend and I were cleaning out the leaves, walnut shells, crud out from under the seat. It was a nice day and we were outside. We did what anyone would do. Put a trash can out there, and start scooping up the crud.
The resident RAT wasn't so sure about our plan to renovate his space. It wasn't me who got the crap scared out of me, so it made for a hilarious scene to see my friend scream like a little girl and the associated dancing that went with it. Glad it wasn't me, but I sure felt for him. His whole manly-man demeanor went out the window in about a jet second!
