Spotting this unrestored, ’63 Chevy Impala post sedan at an intersection on my block in July of 2010 got me thinking at the time: What were the years like between when this car first drove off the lot (perhaps from “Z” Frank Chevrolet in adjacent Rogers Park) and that very moment? And how much fun would it be to cruise this baby downtown Chicago from Edgewater on Lake Shore Drive with the windows down, with your crew and/or significant other along for the ride?
My best bud in high school, Fred R., had a yellow, 1976 Chevrolet Nova coupe with a 305 V8 2-bbl. and 3-speed auto. Fred’s ride wasn’t a hooptie in the true sense (in contrast to the Bondo-fest that my ’76 Chevelle Malibu Classic turned out to be), but it was fifteen years old at the time and still a very large car for a “compact”, especially when parked next to its then-current descendant, the front-wheel-drive Beretta. Fred’s Nova was solid and rust-free, had been repainted once (to a brighter shade of chrome yellow), had a white, vinyl interior in excellent condition, and sat on aftermarket, slotted mags that complemented its cool lines and Seventies-swagger.
In the early 1990’s, Fred’s car stood out for its great condition, in contrast to many other Novas of its vintage in the area, many of which were clapped-out. We’d fit four, or sometimes five, of us in the Nova pretty easily, heading to Playland Arcade or Tilt at the Genesee Valley Mall, to Showcase Cinemas for a flick, or to Hot ‘N Now for a bag full of $0.39 hamburgers. Friday nights, we’d all go to “The Cruise” on Industrial Ave. on Flint’s north side near an empty factory complex to watch cars street-race (which police seemed to largely ignore). Great days. Some of my favorite teenage memories are from when I was riding “shotgun” in Fred’s Nova.
Which brings me to my QOTD: For those of us who had a good high school friend who drove a car that would have been considered big or old at that time, what are some of your favorite memories of that car?
Top photo: Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois, Saturday, July 3, 2010.
Second photo: Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois, Sunday, January 31, 2010.
Third and fourth photos (taken from the front passenger’s seat of Fred’s ’76 Nova): Downtown, Flint, Michigan, May 1992.
Watching my friend in high school watching the perfect condition with new paint white ’66 Impala 327 powerglide 2 door be “improved” (in 1973) with rear coil spring spacers that popped in with a 3/8 inch rachet and extension, (and popped out during fast corners or speeding over dips in the road), cheap wide wheels and tires in the back that required spacers and ass end high. The final “improvement” was rattle canning primer all over the nice paint job. The final touch was punching the single exhaust muffler full of holes to “improve” exhaust tone. Fast and easy way to turn a nice cruiser into and ugly pos.
In 1992 my high school car was a burgundy 1965 Pontiac Grand Prix, that I rescued from a private junkyard. It had many options: am-fm, power antenna, rear defroster, PS, PB, rear seat speaker and 3.08 rear. The car sat for 4 years, had air in only 1 tire and both quarters were rusted out. Spent the next 6 months getting the car ready for inspection in PA.
First day I drove it to school a classmate asked another who drove the big, orange POS in the lot. I stood up in psychology class and yelled out that the car was red, not orange.
Going to a catholic school the variety of cars covered the spectrum from a Mercedes to my car. It was the ugliest car in the lot. However, it was MY CAR, my freedom, my entry to adulthood. I took out the back seats to fix the rust holes and duct tape sealed the passenger door. Friends would fight for shotgun, other were happy to sit in the back without any seats, just floor mats.
Drove the car for about 6 months before it became the filling in a 3 car sandwich. The accident happened one day I reluctantly gave my roommate (we did not like each other- but tolerated) a ride to his job. He quickly exited from the car after the impact, citing he was late for work as he threw $2 at me for the ride.
I kept the car for 4 more years, dreaming of the day I would save enough money to fix the car, only to sell it to a tow truck driver as he was taking it to its final resting place.
Fast forward 6 years and I purchased a clone of my original, same burgundy color and with buckets (original had bench). It was not the same and I sold the car to finance my only new car – a 2006 Pontiac Torrent.
My friend Phil inherited some cash when he turned 18, he bought 2 1964 Impala SS hardtops. One stock, one tricked out. We used to cruise around Seattle smoking blunts in them circa 1994. Great times, misspent youth!
Three of my high school buddies went on a fishing trip down in Florida in the late eighties for two months and bought a ’75 Eldorado for $300 to drive home (they took the trawler down, so no car). It had fading grey paint, red leather seats, a huge engine and all the bells and whistles.
Nothing seemed to work quite as intended. The captain, “Chip,” loved to kidd around and riding in the car with him was always hilarious as the thing became a rolling joke with all its sophisticated gadgets and idiosyncrasies. The thing was like an island of misfit toys unto itself.
Anyway, it got them home from St Augustine, kept us entertained for a week, and back for $300. A steal at twice the price.
My family moved from Athens, GA to Inman, SC the summer prior to my senior year in high school, so I had to start all over from scratch, friend-wise. Billy introduced himself my first day at school and we became fast friends until he passed at a much-too-young age in his early 40s.
Billy had a 1965 Mustang ‘box top’ with a 302/automatic, and I had my ’71 Vega, which burned more oil than gas before a Christmas break engine swap.
We both took the same rural route home, and he would easily run away from me until we got to the curvy part of the road where handling trumped horsepower. Of course, if I left first, I simply hit the ‘James Bond Smoke Screen’ feature (floored it!) in the Vega.
Friday and Saturday nights were often spent together hooning around in town – down to the video arcade or to see a movie, or just cruising the new car lots and doing a lot of wishful arguing over which car was best. We also got started hitting the dirt track races every month until I developed a bad allergic reaction to the dust they kicked up.
On more than one occasion, we’d be out in the Mustang and it’d break down, necessitating a hike to a pay phone or house to call Billy’s dad to come tow us in. We lost a rear brake wheel cylinder downtown once, and Billy made a crude repair by crimping the line enough so we had some brakes to get home on.
After graduating and moving back to Georgia for college (Ga Tech), I still made it back up once or twice a month. A second ’65 boxtop joined the first, only this one had a warmed up 302 / manual with slicks out back – it would haul! We both moved on to our next cars about the same time – an ’82 Cavalier for me and a Celica for Billy.
We made a lot of good memories in that old Mustang…
Two of my best friends drove older, well-worn cars in high school. The first drove a 1989 Volvo 240 wagon. Blue with blue vinyl seats. One of my favorite (and terrifying) memories in this car happened when getting on the highway. He hadn’t had much highway experience, so was nervous anyway, and the Volvo was no speed demon. We get onto the highway going about 45 and then he proceeds to stay at 45mph in the slow lane while other cars are forced to pass and angrily beep. I was terrified we were going to get hit and even offered to drive.
The second drove a Ford Ranger 5-speed with sideways facing jump seats in the back. It was actually the car he taught me how to drive a standard in (which I have yet to ever practice again). My favorite memory in that car was shortly before I left for college, a few of us were driving around in it one night and passed a spot where road work was going on during the day. We stole a bunch of cones and a few orange barrels with the blinking lights and then drove around town and put them on people’s lawns who we knew. Sounds silly now but it was a fun night.
My best friend in high school had a metallic green 71 Impala with a 350. It looked like hell but he had rebuilt the engine with performance parts.
I was a passenger on numerous occasions when it would bury the speedometer at 120mph and continue to accelerate. Thrilling at the time, but pretty sobering to think about now…
Want to buy your 7 1 how much ?
Among my high school friends, I was the one with the big old car. ’79 Chevy Malibu sedan, got my driver’s license in 1996. Not really that big per se, but it stood out in its age and its square-ness in a lot primarily full of late 80’s and early 90’s jellybean compacts and small trucks.
I did have one friend who had a bigger car than mine, if not older–a 1991 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser wagon. Despite only being 5 years old, it had already covered well north of 200k miles and was developing a number of maladies and gremlins. The tailgate would un-latch itself (sometimes while driving), the central locks had a mind of their own, and one day he pulled into the lot behind me, another friend got out of the passenger side rear door and shut it, and the door glass cracked, fell sideways out of the car, and shattered onto the asphalt. Memorable though just for its sheer capacity–he was the official “people carrier” and served as a bus of sorts for some of our car-less friends, or for me when the Malibu decided not to start on the odd morning. Nothing like 8 high school students singing 90’s alternative rock at the top of their lungs at 7:30 AM…
I went to high school in an affluent NYC suburb in the early 80s so there was all sorts of stuff in the parking lot. The theater tech’s fleet included a Renault 15, which perished in electrical fire, a VW Thing and my friend had a 69 Beetle with rusted out heater boxes and a leaky sunroof that resulted in miniature skating rinks in the footwells. Going full oddball, one of the football players drove a Citroen Mehari!
Of further interest on the CC front was Lisa’s post HS ride, a BMW 2000 Automatic, and a memorable experience involving 8 people in a Volvo144. The hoopiest one was a college friend who got a 73 Galaxie 500 at a yard sale, and subsequently had the hood fly off.
Compared to this, the family’s 77 Accord was near luxury.
A good friend bought a 1965 Polara 2-door hardtop from his cousin, who had rescued it from the scrapyard that he worked at. (This would have been in 2000 or 2001.) My friend was getting ready to fix-up the bodywork. I cautioned that he should get the title changed into his name first. It turned out that the scrapyard had turned in the title and the car’s VIN was flagged in the computer as unrepairable, which means no way it could be put back on the road, period.
He was pretty upset, but bought a ’65 Polara 4-door sedan and used the hardtop as a parts car after that. I had my ’66 Chrysler Windsor 2-door hardtop as a summer driver, and for the next couple summers we were always going somewhere in one or both cars, often to concerts, car shows or to play pool. Good times.
Hid DD was a 1977 Dodge van. The 318 in the van was toast due to burned valves. Instead of fixing the van, he started driving the Polara year-round. The paint was already faded with a lot of “patina”. Surprisingly, after several winters it still didn’t look too bad. He sold the Polara to someone who had asked about buying it from him previously to restore. That person ultimately decided that it was a better parts car than a restoration candidate.
I, and many of my HS friends in the years ’66 to ’68, had ’50s English sports cars – with a few oddballs thrown in like a Hillman Husky, Volvo 544, some sort of Renault, etc.
But one guy, Geoff with a “G”, had a ’56 Rambler wagon. That was the Friday night rock about car. This car could accommodate perhaps 10 or 11 sixteen year old energetic boys and it was the car I remember often going to see the rock bands at a variety of teen “dances” in northern Illinois. There was no seat in the far back; just pile in and roll around. It must have been a six three speed but it didn’t really matter; it was the way for a gang of suburban white boys to go out on a Friday night.
When I was in high school circa 1970 I had the opportunity to buy for cheap a ’65 Rambler Classic “770” hardtop, complete with reclining bucket seats and matching throw pillows. It also had the Nash 327 V8 with 4-barrel carb, Rambler’s Twin-Stick manual trans with overdrive, and no power steering or brakes.
I kick myself now of course, but being a broke high school kid I was concerned about gas mileage even in those 27-cents per gallon days. So a friend bought it and we would cruise around. That car was just amazing, at the stop light derby it would take off like a raped ape though it was a bear to steer and stop. It was not a real muscle car, of course, but having the element of surprise (it looked like a typical anemic old-man’s car) it would leave much more potent machinery in the dust with the occupants’ jaws dropped.
Unfortunately one day my friend had an angled head-on collision with a VW bug and the car was totalled. The driver’s side unibody frame rails were bent to the point where the steering shaft was almost bent into an “L” and that was the end of that. (The VW, on the other hand, bounced off and could be driven away!)
Me? I wound up with a six-cylinder Rambler station wagon with Flash-O-Matic transmission. Not completely without its charms, but I still kick myself to this day.
Oh Lord, “The Beater” comes to mind. An early-70s Impala 2-door hardtop. A “lovely” harvest gold color where not rusted (this was in 1981) That car had been ABUSED before my buddy had it, had been stolen and had the dash wiring ripped out and then redone by some electrical “genius” – you never knew what would happen when you flipped a switch or combination of switches….all kinds of interaction between lights, wipers, turn signals, hazard lights, radio…christ what a nightmare. But the thing always ran….and ran fast.
The pièce de résistance? The passenger door was permanently closed and would open for nothing – you had to climb in the window to enter/exit the passenger side.
I think it was a small block 400 with a THM 350, but I don’t remember for sure…pretty sure about the 400 cid motor.
He offered to let me use it to take my drivers test. I Said yup, I can just imagine telling the BMV examiner that he has to climb in the window to get in the car.
Oh the adventures we had in that car.
The balance of high school riding was spent in a different friend’s car: 1968 4-door hardtop Cutlass in nearly pristine condition. The Cutlass and the beater were quite the study in opposites back in 1981.
Wish I had a picture of the beater.
I’m a little jealous of you guys; Dad said no cars in high school. He thought it would affect our studies, and in my case that would have certainly been true. It didn’t bother me much, though. We are talking 1966- 68, and maybe a quarter or less of the kids had cars. A few stand out in my memory.
My friend, Doug had a pristine 1950 Plymouth Deluxe in deep blue, which he could take or leave, as it had no sex appeal for the ladies, he thought. True also for the tan ’48 Chrysler coupe that a shot putter on the track team owned. As a non- owner, I looked at it differently: any car was better than no car.
Another guy had a 57 Chevy sedan with no reverse gear. Naturally, he had to be particular about where he parked it.
I went to see the Beach Boys in Boston during their striped shirt phase with a kid who had a red and white Metropolitan coupe. I remember him referring to its cooling fan as a propeller.
There was another guy I hung out with who also had a Metro, this one black and white with a soft top. We decided it would be cooler to remove the big “M” from the grill badge, and replace it with a BMC ribbon logo that I hand painted. The only problem was the chrome surround left no space for the ribbon “tails”. We had no idea that British Motors Corp. was at that moment losing its cool as it fumbled its way into its future with Leyland.
Then there was Eddie, who ran a new MGB GT in deep red. He got lot of attention in that. It almost balanced out his reputation against the time he got into a fight and lost.
None. Bicycles and mopeds, that’s what we had at high school.
During post-high school studies -second half of the eighties- the most memorable car was a beautiful red BMW 2002, in a stunning condition. The guy sold it and bought a Volkswagen Golf Mk1 diesel….he really surprised everybody.
Furthermore I especially remember a white Peugeot 504 and a dark red Opel Ascona B 2.0 on LPG. The young owners/operators thought they were well trained and experienced Scandinavian rally drivers.
Sounds like we’re about the same age, Joesph. ‘My Hooptie’ was a popular song in those days, and while my none of my closest friends had real hoopties, I did have friends a class ahead of me (c/o ’91) and about 5 of them each threw down a hondo to buy a baby sh!t green early ’70s Catalina 4 door, and paint it in our school colors (purple and white) in a cop car like pattern to pile into and go support our football, basketball and baseball teams. Purple land barge with white doors/grille/bumpers. The whole thing was done with krylon in the parking lot of the grocery store where we worked. The thing was inspired by the song, and my friend Chris who was the ringleader had taken a blank tape and filled it with back to back dubs of ‘my hooptie’ to play in a continuous loop as we rode in The Hooptie. MAN, we had fun in that ugly POS!
Totally remember that song and the video! Wasn’t it an early 70’s Electra 225? I figured we’re the same age by your handle, as most of my graduating class was born that year. Your Catalina sounds like it was awesome. Back when gas was like $0.86 / gallon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_F76ySzk48
68 Buick with the nice lines.
six nine buick, grille like a truck as I remember!
None. I am with Johannes on that one. In Europe you did not get to drive a car until the age of 18. The same is true for motorcycles which left us with mofas (limited to 25km/h, minimum age 15, no license), mopeds (limited to 40km/h in Germany or limited to 50cc but no vehicle type speed limit, minimum age 16, license class IV) and bicycles.
In fact for someone like me who moved to the States in his late 20’s that very lack of the American high school experience with athletics, prom and parking lot gatherings was one of the more difficult things to overcome. I had nothing to contribute to the “remember when”… stories my new acquaintances brought up. Also I am unable to get as excited about American cars of back then as I am getting excited about European cars of the same period.
Here are the names that matter to me: Hercules, Kreidler, Zundapp, Maico, Motobecane, Garelli, Vespa and just beginning to roll off the ocean freight liners: Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki, Suzuki.
I had a Hercules moped limited to 40km/h and I was somewhat envious to those who could afford the insurance premiums for the much faster mopeds that were only limited to 50cc displacement and went like stink.
wow
Big differences compared to where I grew up…Nebraska
When I was ten years old I rode a motorcycle exactly like this except without the rear cargo rack, without turn signals, and mine had a white side cover instead of red, and a two tone black and white seat, and lower handlebars, and a smaller gas cap.
I rode this motorcycle to do my two paper routes so I rode it in the rain and in the snow. It had a 4 speed manual transmission and manual clutch, and would do 45+MPH downhill which is 65-70 km/hr.
I think a healthy kid can ride a bicycle faster than 40km/hr…downhill that is.
after my HS graduation in 1968 my dad and I went looking for a car for me—it was late in the summer evening as he had worked all day—no car lots in little town we lived in so headed off to next town seven miles away—first stop was dodge dealer—-the used car lot was inclined up from the street and I could see on one of the back rows the crossed flags on the fender of a black 1963 chevrolet biscayne two door sedan—the search was over—600 or 800 dollars can not remember but a 327 250 hp three speed on tree car—-first thing i did was install hurst competition plus shifter and I was good to go—
My friend went through a few well worn cars during High School, the common ones he gravitated towards were generally sport compacts, the first being a Turbo Probe but the really random car he aquired in between was a well worn, well faded triple black Lincon Mark VII LSC, which was by far my favorite. I got my Cougar just before he got it and even though mine had lower miles and was in much better shape I couldn’t help but be jealous. We used to race a lot and my 4.6 Cougar generally trounced the Lincoln’s 5.0 H.O. every time, but it just had an allure to it regardless. I was devastated one day on the way to the parking lot to see it got T-boned by another student, closing down the intersection. After the Lincoln got hauled off he got into DSM cars and I didn’t have even a slight interest in that move.
Oh indeed! My friend Ken, in HS, had a 1968 Mustang GTA fastback, originally with a 390, but he swapped in a Mick Gray (local race engine builder) 428 that had more 427 Nascar parts in it. I helped him tune it, along with our auto shop teacher, who was super cool and former Ford assembly worker, kind of a Jack Roush type. He knew his craft. This car was wicked fast. The Beast of Tigard in 1982. A 427 Chevelle or Camaro might have well just had a six banger in it. And how it never managed to pop the windshield out every time he stood on it still amazes me to this day.
Maybe I should mention his name is Ken Southerland, and you can go You Tube and see the video of him winning the main event in the Portland Historic races a year or two ago. In what? a 67-68 Mustang! Go figure. Car is sponsored, and I do not know if he helped build it. Great, well done video.
Graduated from HS in 1964 Very few of us had our own car. Most drove parents cars when they could get their hand on them. I drove family 1953 Ford flathead V-8, 3 on tree, Mainline, overheated like most flatheads did. Many friends got older family car and most were sort of rough. It was a big deal for any of us when we got to use the “nice” car.
Oh man, Dennis, I didn’t know you’re from Flint. Showcase cinemas, courtland center,… memories.
You know it! I’ll be back in good, ‘ol Genesee County for Back To The Bricks in August. I’m never happier all year than when I’m at the car festival downtown.
Ah yes…
Way back in highschool when I was barely old enough to drive, there was a guy in one of my classes who was two years older than me. I used to be fairly smart and took classes above my grade level. He had a car that was so impressive it took my breath away. I think I was the only one(besides him) who knew just how impressive it was. I think that’s why he used to take me for rides in it.
Let me tell you about this car:
It was, I believe, a 1966 Nova 2door…the drive train was what was impressive, not the car
It was plain white in very good condition
It had no back seat, only two bucket seats in front. I don’t think it had carpet.
4 speed stick
a 400 small block with a 327 big journal crankshaft
dual quads on a high rise manifold
That car is still the fastest car I have ever ridden in, in my entire life…and I’m not even a chevy guy.
I left High School in 1973 and at that time the biggest car club was only ’63 & ’64 full sized Chevies , at lunch they’d all run off to get their cars and line both sides of the two blocks of that School bumper to bumper , every one a Low Rider .
.
There were many other interesting cars there too ~ ’56 Caddy Convert. , GTO’s , Mustangs , Hillman Huskys , Comets and Falcons etc.
.
I had my battered 1960 VW # 117 Deluxe Sunshine Roof Beetle (big holes in the canvas) , a tired old thing I found behind another students garage & purchased for $50 , $20 down and $10 every week…
.
The battery was bad so I had to push start it every where I went .
.
As mentioned, very good times indeed ! .
.
I still think riding in any thing , even the BUS , beats walking .
.
-Nate
None in school (since European), but in my early university days, a friend bought a crappy old Mercedes 190. Big deal when none of us had cars, so I had a very close look at it. The car had already been souped up when he got it, but he deliberately took it further than that. Note that old Mercs are stereotypically driven by all kinds of scum here. So, he added even bigger wheels, a wooden steering wheel, fake wooden accents in the interior, foxtail on the antenna, fuzzy dice, big speakers, and the like, just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, it had been messed with mechanically as well. This resulted in a higher top speed, but also in the brakes been taxed higher, which resulted in them failing and even catching fire on a long journey home. Eventually he had to scrap it, he now happily drives the most utilitarian car of the same era: a Peugeot 205.
Reading the comments from Johannes, Wolfgang, and BeWo make me realize just what a privilege it was to have a car at all when I was a teenager growing up in the United States. It puts a lot into perspective. Thanks, guys!
I hope everyone else has enjoyed reading all the comments on this post as much as I have! Great stuff on here.
Hmmm….on the other hand: it’s also a privilige to have the physical condition of a horse as a teenager, thanks to all that bicyling all year round. Not much obesity at my high school, I’ll give you that. The boys and girls that came from far (all relatively, of course) did 15 to 20 miles a day.
If you don’t know what you’re missing, you don’t miss it.
A very good point.
So…were any of these strong-as-a-horse teens able to pedal their bicycle faster than a moped restricted to 40km/hr?
Theoretically, yes.
Compared to most of my friends, when I was in high school in the late 90s, very early aughts, I was the man with the hooptie (’87 LTD Crown Victoria).
But an older friend had an ’83 Olds 98 Regency in triple burgundy. Longest car on the lot, and definitely an object of lust.