Earlier this week we got a glimpse of a young PRNDL enjoying his Dad’s white ’63 Impala. Well, I got to digging through the JPC archives and can now say “two can play at that game.”
I have mentioned my father’s ’63 Bel Air wagon before. It was actually a company car, but because it was not the car my mother drove everywhere, it (of course) became my favorite because it was different. This first shot is of me and my little sister posing in front of the old wagon, probably 1965-ish. With a better scan, I wonder if this picture would show the remnants of the treasure map I drew on the left rear door one summer evening. Can’t search for buried treasure in a suburban yard without a map, you know. I went to bed and forgot all about it. When I got up the next morning, my mother informed me that my father was quite unhappy with me. I went out front to find Dad gone to work and my prized green permanent marker ground into the dirt next to the driveway. I guess I picked a good morning to sleep in.
This second picture shows one of my favorite places to spend time in the Chevy. The hood was easy to open, and the front bumper was shaped perfectly for a small pair of Red Ball Jets to stand on. The blonde kid in the striped shirt was my next door neighbor Kevin Bordner, whose mother would later drive a string of hot GTOs. I vividly recall warning Kevin that he had better get his hand off of that radiator cap. I was allowed under the hood on a “look but don’t touch” basis. You may be interested to know that you are looking at pretty much my entire experience with the smallblock Chevy V8, right here. So simple that even a six year old can fix it?
These are Kodachrome slides digitized the quick and dirty way by photographing them with my camera set for close-ups. Edit – Special thanks to Nuts In Aloha for cleaning up my too-dark photos. I located a few more pictures of interest and will dip into the well again some time.