by Janice Boland
As we transition from gas powered cars to hybrids, and now to electric vehicles, I think back to the days when America embraced the power and muscle car.
My first car was a 57 Chevy. My dad had taught me and my sister to drive on the back country roads, at first by letting us steer, then as soon as our feet could reach the pedals, by sitting beside us on the passenger seat. We didn’t actually drive on our own until we got our Junior license. When my sister was sixteen, my dad bought us a pokey old Chevy. He called it a vintage antique. We called it The Horror.
It was old. It was ugly. It had a manual shift. It even had a stiff yellow roll up shade on the rear window. It chugged and rattled along, stalling on inclines and rolling backwards. My sister despised that car. It was an embarrassment.
Then, one day it was gone.
My sister’s boyfriend had found a gently-used turquoise and white, 57 Chevy Bel Air. We dipped into our college fund and bought it.
That Chevy was beautiful. It was so cool. It had a V8 engine, and was big, powerful, and comfortable. We didn’t know that it was a muscle car. We just thought it was pretty.
All summer long we drove everywhere in that Chevy, filling the front and back seats with our friends. We went to the beach, to parties, to carnivals. When summer ended the car went into the garage until the end of the school year because I was too young to drive and my sister was too busy. But every summer, we were back tooling around in that car with our friends.
When my sister married, the Chevy became mine. My first car!
I loved that car. I drove it for many, many years until, little by little, it started falling apart piece by piece. First the muffler then the alternator, then the generator, the belts, the brakes. Each month something else needed fixin’. Finally, sadly and reluctantly I parted with my beautiful 57 Chevy.
I have since discovered that, that model Chevy is now a valuable collectible, the top classic car of the motor industry, the epitome of excellence, with its gorgeous front grille, its art deco side bands, its fancy rear tail fins, its elegant form, symmetry, and shiny chrome.
Now whenever I can, off I go to vintage car shows to ooh and aah over 57 Chevys, and like the Ancient Mariner of old, I tell my sad tale to anyone who will listen,
“Once, I had one of those.”
© 2024 Janice Boland All rights reserved.
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