Ordinary, everyday occurrences can create memories that will remain with you for a life-time. I guess that's probably how I got interested in Chevelles.... especially fast ones! It's my dad's fault.Remember back to your childhood, when your dad had what you thought was a fast car? Well, I do. And not only was it fast, but years later, has become my favorite musclecar. As you might guess, the car is indeed a Chevelle, and the year was a 1970.
I recall driving past the local Chevrolet dealer with my dad back in 1972, when we spotted "it". A '70 SS396, Autumn gold with black bucket interior.
Man, my dad loved it the moment he saw it. And, after the first test drive, I was hooked on it too; destined to someday be a Chevelle owner, as well. Motivation for "our" car (as I wanted to consider it) was in the form of a 402ci big-block with 350 horsepower. And even though it didn't have the bold stripes and cowl induction that a lot of other SS Chevelles did, it was well equipped with a Turbo 400 transmission backed by a 3.31 posi, factory air, power windows, steering, disc brakes and tilt wheel.
During "our" ownership of the Chevelle, I was given more than adequate opportunities to take the controls (in dad's lap, of course!). I came up a little bit short of reaching the pedals, so dad was faced with the task of operating them. I felt I'd been cheated, but then I was only 8 or 9 years old at the time. I don't suppose many kids get the chance to learn to drive at such a young age nowadays.
When I think back now, I can't help but realize how cool my dad was to let me "drive" whenever conditions would allow it. What more could a kid ask for?
I also remember my mother's first stint behind the wheel of "our" Chevelle. For some reason, our 396 seemed a little stronger than others around, and my dad tried to warn her that driving the big-block might take a little getting used to, compared to her "regular" grocery getter. Mom drove it fairly conservatively at first, but soon gave in to temptation. She had to find out for herself why this car was so special.. and she soon did! I remember her nailing it and the tires breaking loose as the big-block lunged forward while pushing me back in the passenger seat. As the Chevelle got a little sideways, she deftly corrected, got it back under control (not that it was ever really "out" of control anyway. Sorry, mom), and lifted on the throttle. Slightly shaken, she regained her composure and returned home, knowing she'd handled a wild one.
My dad kept the Chevelle for the next six years, using the car daily and racking up the miles. We took it on many enjoyable vacations to the big city of Chicago, some of them in the dead of winter. I distinctly remember the Chevelle sitting in front of my uncle's Chicago home buried beneath several inches of snow - an unuaual situation since we don't get that kind of snow in Tennessee. I also remember us keeping a nightwatch on the Chevelle, getting up several times during the night to make sure it didn't fall prey to would-be car thieves.
Now, "our" Chevelle was not the only musclecar I remember riding in as a kid, but I attribute that car with being the driving (no pun intended) force behind my passion for cars. I guess I can hold my dad largely responsible, too, for my affliction, as well as all the friends he hung out with through those glorious musclecar years. I'd like to take this opportunity to extend a special thanks to some guys who played large parts in getting me into the fine mess I'm currently into: To the late Euell Hicks, who ran a local body shop and gave me my first taste of uncapped header, circle track dirt cars, and near-full-body-length ladder bars. To Eddie Burnett, whose love for street rods inspired me to turn to him for the first paint job on my first car. And to my uncle, John Anderson, who allowed me to pump gas at his gas station and taught me a lot about working on cars. Thanks everybody!
Those experiences have led me to my present job, and a position that many have said (and may well be) the ultimate work experience. You see, I restore and maintain one of the most impressive musclecar collections around. And if you read many enthusiast magazines, chances are you've seen coverage on this collection. Let's just say there's a Yenko or two in the collection, including an ultra rare '69 Yenko Chevelle.
My dad, Alan, is still into cars. One of his latest projects is this '69 Camaro that's now a COPO clone.
The saddest and final part of this story is that my dad decided to sell "our" Chevelle for a new car that was so unimpressive I can't even recall what it was. I begged him to keep "our" Chevelle for when I would finally be able to drive (and remind him of it to this day), but he had to move on and keep a newer car for the family. But to show you how good a car that Chevelle was, some 18 years later, it's still in the possession of the man we sold it to. The 396 ultimately spun a rod bearing and was replaced with a 427, and its color changed to (what else) Cranberry red. Apparently, the new owner didn't share our love for Autumn gold. I was recently asked if I'd like to buy the car back, but I'd already given up on ever being able to own it, and had already bought another one.
"My" Chevelle, however, is Classic white with a red interior, has the 350-horse 396, a Turbo 400, and air conditioning. Currently, it's unrestored, but will soon be treated to one of my own "last nut and bolt" restorations...one that I plan to share with my own son. Perhaps I can pass the family legacy on to him. Times have changed, though, and unlike my dad, I think I'll wait till my son can at least see over the dashboard before letting him slip behind the wheel of "our" new Chevelle!
My love for musclecars has parlayed itself into one of the best jobs a guy like me could imagine. Thanks, dad, for stirring that interest, and nurturing it, even when I didn't know where it would lead me.
