Pulling a Clark Griswold, Chuck got lost on an Indian reservation. Rather than have the neighborhood assist in stripping excess mass from his swoopy kitty, Chuck noticed the sun glinting off a vaguely familiar shape off in the distance. The front bumper wrapped tightly around a low nose, and chrome-ringed headlamps were tucked safely behind plexiglass lenses. "Wow," Chuck thought, "another E-Type!" Car people are social creatures, so Chuck's plans changed in an instant. Passenger footwell clogged with grocery bags, ice cream turning into warm milk, he pulled up to the curb and suddenly realized he was in the presence of something even more special than an E-Type.