The year was 1975. I was but a small boy—eyes wide in amazement at the huge structure in front of me loomed larger than life. Its wide girth spiraling towards a single gleaming spire pointed at the stars. This was my raison d’etre. This was why we had traveled seemingly endless miles stuffed into the back of the largest passenger automobile ever made by General Motors — the Chevrolet Impala Stationwagon.