My first car was a
1965 Chevy impala SSwith
the Hurst shifter, white bucket seats.
This is a 1965 Chevy impala SS
red with black interior. Hard car to find these day with all matching
numbers. So most are rebuilt which is fine by me
I wish I had more photos of the interior. I paid $350 for this car. It
needed work. Back then I worked pumping gas and school. So I
did not have much money. What a fun car to drive! Hurst shifter.
I burned rubber in 3rd gear. My buddies love it. However, I ruin the
clutch about 4 times. The clutch never lasted long probably because I was
the one to replace the clutch. It was a big job when you do not have a
lift to make things easier. What a bitch crawling under that car. Then
later the rear end went. Needed to be stripped down, to really be
repaired.
I
love muscle cars! I may loose a little muscle as I get older but these
babies just get more buff with each passing year! Check out this
1969 Chevy
Camaro SS.
Oh, those white and orange race stripes! I was
18 years old and my closest buddy, Rich, owned such a Camaro SS. I cruised
many a street with him in that fine machine and did we ever attract the
chicks! The beauty of it back then was I didn’t have to invest a nickel in
it, nor pay for gas, repairs and insurance. What a cheap bum! Yes, I rode
‘shotgun’ but I got all the benefits of ownership. I even got to borrow it
a couple of times to impress a few babes. I could sure use that car now!
Rich and I met in high school back in 1972.
Oh, those early 70’s…what great music we listened to in that car…Pink
Floyd, The Who, ELP, David Bowie. It was Rich who introduced me to the
music of Peter Frampton before his hugely successful double live album.
This was the year 1976. Can you guess how old I am here?
Man, we cruised around in that Camaro all year long.
Rich had these huge speakers in the back and
people could hear us for miles while we cruised to the grooves. Now I can
barely hear!
Suffragette City
We lived in a neighborhood where the houses
sat on small lots all bunched up together so that when we cruised the
‘hood’ blasting David Bowie’s live album on Rich’s 8 track player the
whole street could enjoy the music. Such bad boys!
Michael, another good friend of mine, and I would siphon gas from the
neighbors so we could cruise. What do you think, we were giving away
all that great music for free?
Of course, with the car there has to be a girl. Man, what a guy would do
for a chick!
My 1965 Chevy Impala SS had no brakes. I mean NO brakes.
It was a Project car that
might have not stopped the car and it didn’t stop me either. We’re not
talking Nebraska here. In this part of New Jersey it’s all hills. Here
I am a brainless 18 year old with a particular chick on my mind and I’m
hot to see her, brakes or not brakes. So I crawl over the hills of
Weldon Road, in Jefferson Township, relying on downshifting and the
trusty park brake to slow me down. For me a STOP sign was something I
hung in my bedroom.
Riche’s father was cool and he never knew
it. He had a VW Beetle with the ragtop moon roof.
Then there was
my 1965 Ford Mustang convertible with pony interior. Midnight Blue
with a white top. 1965 Mustang
July 28, 2008
1965 Mustang
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