Last Call

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In silent agreement, the Grove Lords selected their next victim. All of Miami – or at least the bus-riding, project-dwelling population of the Coconut Grove ghetto – seemed to stop and admire the 1964 Chevy Impala cruising down Grand Avenue. The totally refurbished, twenty-year-old classic had all the trappings of the finest in gang wheels. Metallic blue paint job with a flaming red devil atop the hood. Bumpers, mirrors, and side strips in high-polished chrome that glistened in the sunset. Low-ride, hydraulic suspension that left: barely enough ground clearance for a garden snake. The most prized upgrades, of course, were the all-important rims – 180-count spoke radials with 24-karat, gold-plate finish. Not bad for three punks from the 'hood. They'd stolen it from a Latino gang leader who had more flash than firepower. A pair of 9-millimeter bullet holes in the rear quarter panel marked the occasion.

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