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Camaro vs Mustang, muscle cars of the 1970’s
I am a 1970 Cherry Red Chevy Camaro Convertible that has been stored in the back of a garage from the day I was purchased new. I cost $3,000 back in the day, the dream car of most red-blooded American boys. The young man who purchased me died in Vietnam later that year. The sadness I felt when I heard the news was overwhelming. He took me out only once, with his girlfriend, for a drive with my top down and four on the floor. We were the envy of everyone. It was a wonderful ride with James and Cathy; I can still hear their laughter. James had a hardy laugh. He thought about returning to his girlfriend and me with hopes of starting a new future. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. I wonder what happened to Cathy?
His parents never got over their loss, and I was a painful reminder of their loving son. So, here I sat for 50 years. The parents thought many times of selling me. However, I was the last thing their son bought before being deployed. Both parents have passed, and my future is questionable. There are no grandchildren to pass the car on to, so I am being sold at an auction. I hear I’m worth a pretty penny.
James, my original owner, has a brother, Tom, who will handle the auction and the proceeds. He has mixed feelings about selling me. He’d rather keep me, but the old house and garage are being sold, and I have nowhere to go. The burlap tarp that covers me in the garage has kept me rust-free. I long to be started and hear the roar of my 350 cubic inches V8 engine with 375 horsepower. I need to blow out my carburetor and breathe life into me once again. I can go from zero to sixty in seven seconds and hit a quarter-mile in fifteen seconds at ninety-four miles per hour; not too shabby!
It will be a closed auction with bids submitted quietly. The highest bid will not necessarily win me. Tom is requesting a letter to accompany the silent bid. Tom wants me to go to a nice, caring family that will keep his brother’s memory alive. He doesn’t want me to be sold to a spoiled kid who will race me and never maintain me. I do not want to be pimped out with spoilers or painted racing stripes. I am a classic and should remain so!
Tom has received dozens of letters with bids; it will take some time to read and figure out who is who. One bid was $80,000! Can you believe that? However, the letter didn’t sit well with Tom; they wanted me for Hollywood. I’m from South Carolina; why would I want to go to Hollywood? They want to paint and repaint me according to the needs of the movie and race me in car chases. Tom declined the offer. Another bid was almost as high as $75,000, but the letter was from a rich guy who wanted to give me to his son for graduating high school. I don’t want any privileged kid owning me. High school kid, racing me with his pals, I don’t think so.
After reading a dozen or more letters, Tom was getting frustrated with the responses. One letter was totally absurd. They offered $3000, my purchase price. Are you serious! I’m worth 20 times that. Tom didn’t even read the letter; he just discarded it with the rest of the letters he felt didn’t meet the bill. Foolish man; he was 50 years old, not too well off with money, and wanted me, really? What use would he have for me, just showing off as he went through his mid-life crisis?
Another letter was a sob story of how a guy had the same car back in the day and felt he needed this car because it was owed to him. Tom had it with all these phony letters. He placed them all in a box and put them on my front seat. Where was I going? What was my future?
One letter fell from the box, it was the offer for $3000, which Tom never read. I noticed an old black and white photo of a young girl and baby boy. The boy’s name was James. Tom didn’t make the connection, well, not yet, anyway.
The silent auction went according to schedule, all the letters were read, and Tom was just about to make his decision when he noticed an older woman in the back of the room. She was accompanied by a man. I’d say the man was about 50 years old. Tom peered into the eyes of both of them and began to cry. The auction was momentarily stopped so Tom could compose himself. Tom raced back to me and opened the box of rejected letters. He rifled through the letters, and the black and white photo fell out. He stared hard and deep at the picture, the boy resembled his brother James, and the young girl was Cathy! His mind raced with thoughts of 50 years ago. Could this possibly be Cathy and his nephew!
The auction resumed, and Tom made his decision on who would take me home. He read the letter that he once quickly discarded:
Tom,
You may not remember me, I was James’ girlfriend Cathy back in 1970, and this is his son, James. My love for your brother never ceased. I kept my secret long enough. I didn’t want to burden your family. They were grieving too much. We were in love. The only time James and I road in the car was that one time. We vowed our love that day. I was three months pregnant when I heard he was killed in Vietnam. I was so lost that I even thought about an abortion. I needed a memory of my true love and kept his son. There is nothing left for my son to remember his dad. I’m an old lady now and raised James Jr. by myself. I’m not looking for money, just a memory.
Thank you,
Cathy
Tom began to cry. He was in total shock. He ended the auction by stating: We found the buyer! Everyone left after hearing who won. A frail woman was led by a middle-aged man to the podium from the back of the auditorium. Tom hugged and kissed Cathy as well as his nephew.
He gladly handed the keys over to her and refused the money for me. “This is the home for James’ Camaro.” As they opened my doors to enter and started to drive away, I felt I was born again; I could feel this spirit of James. I could almost hear his hardy laugh. He was alive within all of us.
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3 Replies
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I love car stories, Peter. I remember my parents got me a brand new Camaro Z28, charcoal grey for my high school graduation in 1983. Actually, I got the car my first semester of my high school senior year. I remember it to this day. One of my happiest day of my life. Just for the record, I was not a spoiled kid growing up nor were my parents wealthy. It was the opposite. My family immigrated to Chicago from Buenos Argentina. My mom, younger sister, younger brother, and myself lived apart from my father who went to San Juan Puerto Rico when I was two years old. Why did my father and the rest of my family live such a long distance away from each other? My father’s dream was to come to the United States so he can provide a better life for his family and raise his children with opportunities than any other country in the globe. My father’s number one goal and mission in life was to send his children to college. My father had to drop out of school at the age of 14 so he can provide for his mother, younger brother, and older sister. He eventually went to high school part time during the evenings to at least earn a high school education. When we immingrated to the United States, for me I was nine years old. My sister was six and brother was three years old. I was left with the role to help my parents with family duties. This was helping my parents babysit my sister and brother, especially during the vacation time off days we had from school. My parents always had two low paying full time jobs to make ends meet and save for our college education and spoke broken English. I always went to parent teacher conferences with my parents for me, my sister, and brother. I always went for job interviews for my mom or dad. I got straight A’s in high school until my second semester of my senior year which I got three B’s and three A’s. That damn car, Lol. Because I was a good kid, my parents bought me a brand new Camaro Z28. From that point on, I became hooked with cars. In 1987, I purchased a brand new Porsche 928 S4, I had at least a dozen Corvettes, hard tops and convertibles from 1989 through even recently. Owned 1988 Porsche 911 Turbo wide body with the big tail as well as a 1989 Porsche 911 Turbo Wide Body Convertible with the rear Turbo Tail, 2005 Porsche Carrera GT, Seven Lamborghini Murcielago hard tops and roadsters, 1989 Lamborghini Countach, 1999 Lamborghini Diablo, Two 1999 Lamborghini Diablo Roadster, 2004 Lamborghinin Gallardo, 1992 Ferrari F40, FERRARI 360 hard top and convertible, Ferrari 488 Spider, Ferrari Super America, 2005 FORD GT, At least 15 Mercedes Benz from Mercedes Benz SL65 AMG, SL55 AMG, SL 600, 550 SL, Mercedes 500 SL, dozens of vintage cars from the 1960’s and 1970’s. Anyways, many many cars and still addicted to autos.
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From my experience and opinion, the Lamborghini Aventafor is hands down the best exotic car today.
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I love the newly designed C8 Corvettes.