Ten years ago, I had purchased a small, oblong-shaped, sterling silver pendant featuring a small, Chevrolet bow-tie. It appeared to be modeled from the emblem of a third or fourth generation Camaro, though I thought of it as timeless. I was thrilled to find it and wore it everywhere. It was a classy, understated piece of jewelry with a tie-in to my formative years spent in the birthplace city of General Motors, Flint, Michigan. Then, at some point in 2016, I lost it. I spent literally years searching my own belongings including my luggage, pockets of clothing, and every other kind of place I could think of in the hope it was still around somewhere. My thought process was that I might have simply forgotten where I had placed it after taking it off following a night out somewhere, though I had no clear idea of where my pendant might have gone or what might have happened to it.
I tried looking online for another one for sale, even returning to the vendor who had sold the original to me years before. I can’t remember if she had told me that she no longer carried it or that the item had been discontinued by the manufacturer, but I was extremely disheartened, regardless of the scenario. I scoured the internet to find another one like it, clicking on pretty much any seller that would pop up in my search terms. At long last, during the second week of this January, I found one at a reasonable price and bought it immediately. It is pictured above.
I have other automotive-themed jewelry that I have acquired or been given in the six years or so since my original pendant went missing, and I love those items, too. Being in possession of this new Chevrolet pendant, however, feels fantastic on so many levels, even metaphorically. Lately, I’ve been feeling like a Friday-build car that’s in the process of being restored to better-than-original condition. At the time it arrived in the mail, it put me on a big Chevy kick leading into the weekend, which made me remember our featured truck, which I had photographed on an otherwise normal Thursday, work day morning while on my neighborhood walk to the train into downtown.
1960 Chevrolet C/K pickup and Groucho Marx in the 1933 film “Duck Soup”.
By ’62, this generation of C/K pickup was in its third year of production. The original 1960 model had two prominent, horizontal, oval-shaped pods resembling eyebrows on its front fascia that housed the turn signals, which made it look not unlike Groucho Marx as a truck. I’ll just say that the frontal restyle of the ’62 Chevy pickup is not comical and thus an improvement. Styling opinions aside, the then-new 1960 redesign placed an emphasis on being more user-friendly and genuinely comfortable than the Task Force models they replaced. They featured a lower frame than the previous generation, which aided in a lower lift height for loading cargo, as well as allowing for a roomier passenger compartment. The new C/K also boasted a smoother ride thanks to its independent front suspension.
Standard power for the ’62 models came from a 235-cubic-inch six-cylinder engine with 135 horsepower, with an optional, 160-hp 283 V8 available which, coincidentally, also powered the Corvette which was then in the last year of its first generation. A column-mounted, three-speed manual transmission was standard, with an optional two-speed Powerglide automatic available. The cargo bed was just over 74 inches long. I have seen our featured truck around my neighborhood a few times, and given its moderate body damage on the drivers’ side, I like that it appears to be used as regular transportation – at least during the drier, salt-free months of the year. Let’s hope so, anyway. Seatbelts and heaters were optionally available on these trucks by ’62, so it’s not completely implausible that this one might be a daily driver.
Either way, these pictures of this example, finished in what appears to be factory-correct Glenwood Green, were taken only a few months ago. Despite the fact that I’ve again been working exclusively from home for a little while (thanks, Omicron), I’m feeling optimistic about the new year. I’m choosing to look at having found another, identical Chevrolet pendant like the one I had worn for years as an indication things will continue to get back to business. One other takeaway: never give up hope in searching for what you want.
Edgewater, Chicao, Illinois.
Thursday, November 11, 2021.