(first posted 5/16/2015) Last week, Paul Niedermeyer posted a feature on an orange ’75 Corvette which had taken a pretty nasty hit to its front clip (CC Outtake: 1975 Corvette – Not What It Was Cracked Up To Be). Ensuing comments ranged from acknowledgement that the ’75s lacked performance compared to previous ‘Vettes, to praise of this generation’s distinctive styling and ease with which performance could be enhanced, to straight-up disgust with the whole malaise-era package. I was born in the mid-70’s, and by the time I was in elementary school in the early 80’s (when the C3 was still being produced and on its way out), many kids my age had no frame of reference to know how relatively fast or slow these Corvettes were. We just knew we liked seeing them on the street, that they were a cut above a Camaro or Firebird, and also that we wanted one, one day.
Instead of rehashing the comments on Paul’s aforementioned post, I’d like to present a simple, pictorial essay as to why these cars are still my jam.
How many American kids born in the 1960’s and 70’s imagined an older, successful version of themselves driving down a main street (perhaps Main Street) in one of these C3’s with the t-tops off and an arm out the window? I imagine quite a few. (I know I did.) In my mind, these cars – however fast or slow – represent the inalienable right to dream big.
Lakeview, Chicago, Illinois.
Saturday, September 10, 2011.