1966 Chevrolet Corvette: Supercar Sunday
June 7, 2015
In the back of my mind, it's there. No sleeping in. Gotta hit the road early. Don't party too hard tonight, else you'll pay for it tomorrow.
Dawn breaks. Slide into jeans. Something with sleeves. It may be late spring in Southern California, but mornings can be brisk. Old-school GM cars like our 1966 Chevrolet Corvette had keys with the teeth only on one side. Turn the key in the door lock, teeth down, press the release. The door hinge creaks a bit, not fully awake yet either.
Sidepipes. Good morning, neighbors.
Ease up on the clutch and the strong torque drags a tall first gear into forward progress without touching the gas. We're underway.
Sometimes you see them on Highway 101 North and try to guess if they're heading to the same place. One time it was a light blue Studebaker with meats so wide I swear the only thing preventing them from meeting in the middle was the differential. Another time it was a clean black E34 M5. This time we were alone.
The Sting Ray's exhaust percusses, its volume a reflection of the rises and descents defining the terrain. It is your conversation.
Swing the big wheel around to pivot the nose into the lot. Every time, the same show that's never the same. Coffee. A Miura S that's meticulous, yet driven. Subaru 360s. A battalion of fifth-gen Camaros. A solar yellow Datsun 510.
It's still early, more will arrive. What will we see?
Jason Kavanagh, Engineering Editor