December of 2010. I got absolutely smeared by a light pole that ran a stop light. Like it came out of no where and bam, I hit it and smashed up the LS400 I was driving. Dead tires, torque, and a wet road didn't make a good combination for me. Back end slid out during a calm right turn and I didn't know how to handle it.
One month later I walk out side to get the newspaper and my dad is sitting on the hood of a DB and tosses me the keys. "Here". A customer brought the car into his shop for repairs but couldn't pay for it, so he got the title and turned it loose to me. It was bone stock at the time, and after some summer-boredom inspired research I found out what I was driving. The following week I picked up an intake, fell in love, and it's all been down hill since.