who sold my folks their house, then DUIed his vette into a tree around the corner. During my basement party. While i was trying to grope a fellow quiz-bowler.
|One flamboyant cockblock.|
Also a reminder of Art, the chicken magnate.
Since those (1983s on the street) don’t really exist. We have a bit of a soft spot for these 1984s. Yes, the styling takes all the sexiness out of the C3 by replacing massive, gratuitous curves with asexual straight lines. Yes, this means that they just shoehorned a few derivative cues on a new platform, instead of letting the form follow the function. And yes, like the straight lines outside and the relentless rectangles of the dash, the dorky, square flip over headlights took the sexy and the menace right out of the 4 round pop up lights used since the early 1960s. Still…
In 1983, when they came out, I could still bike to the Chevy dealer downtown. I had seen the new ‘vette in magazines, but did one make it to my small little burg? Actually, one did. It was gold, and hidden away ion the service department. They weren’t quite ready to display it. Unlike the Porsche/Toyota dealer, or those pricks at Century Buick, the salesman actually talked to me, and invited me to go in back and check it out. No hovering, no sighs of exasperation. No elitist static because a 20-year-old on a ten speed was NOT going to be buying this car (especially with thousands in “additional dealer markup”/”market price adjustment” next to the Maroney).
So there I was, in the middle of their service bay with all access (as long as I didn’t need the key) to a brand new Vette. Yes, the headlights were stupid, but the 235° deployment was pure genius. The engine and suspension were from another planet, compared to my (then-offline) Fury.
The dash was cooler than Buck Rogers and dorky, safe, malaise exterior styling aside, Erin Gray in a jumpsuit could ride shotgun any time.
I could only imagine was it would be like to fire up this baby and test all the buttons and rev the motor. I also wished they let me have the car keys.
Dear Cars and Coffee people,
It’s not a bad thing to pop your lights.
Us and Carparazzi everywhere