Yes I do remember that Starlet. Dark Brown in color with nothing left in it but the Rotary.
The skinny Spanish kid behind the wheel could drive a mean stick shift.

I was cleaning house that day on First Ave and then they bring this thing on a small trailer and try to sic it on me, I declined with a bow and said, it's all you now, the rest of the pie is for the taking.
I was smarter than I looked.

There was also this rugged ghetto assembled white MG with a Grand National turbo motor stuffed in between the fenders, and I mean stuffed. The hair dryer stuck out the flimsy card board hood like an alien exiting out of Sigourney Weaver's stomach.
Never could get it to spool up enough.
Later after some good fine tuning hands were on it, it turned out to be a terror on 150th st.