As a car porter, I got to wheel a series of C2 and C3s to the gas station and back, one of the very few perks of the job. The rest of the time I was pushing a broom, whacking weeds, or running over to Standard Auto for one of the techs to fetch parts. Got clipped two weeks early (long, boring story) walked out of the shop with their shirt on my back.
20 years later, I ran into Les Jr. at a Pontiac dealer announcement show in New Orleans. He'd bought into his own store in mid-Michigan by then, so we had a beer and a good laugh about the old days.