1998 Chevrolet Camaro
Tony Espinoza
Austin Conrad
Austin needs a nondescript car to head back to California in, to deal with the Rattlers.  He needs something he wouldn’t be expected to be seen in, something that would go unnoticed but still has a little bit of lead in its pencil.  He asks his buddy Tony Espinoza, who always seems to have a few extra cars laying around.  From the pages of Blood Out:

They had stopped in front of a beat up old Camaro with faded black paint. The paint had completely peeled off of large swaths of the hood and roof, where the desert sun had been most relentless. Speckles of surface rust dotted the oxidized undercoating that remained.

“Seriously? Do I look like The Hoff? This is straight out of Night Rider.”

Antonio turned to take in a full view of the car. “Come on esé, the Knight Industries Two Thousand was an ‘82 Pontiac. This is no KITT car. It’s a ‘98. Fourth-gen Camaro. It won’t talk to you, other than the purr of that LS1 with over three hundred caballos. It’s a little bit tired, but it will still get up and run. She’s a cream puff.”

Austin walked around the car, looking at it doubtfully while kicking the tires and checking for loose body panels. “My old man’s gonna haunt me for driving a Chevy,” he said, shaking his head. “But I suppose if I want to go incognito, this is the last thing anybody would expect to see me in.”