Corvettes have been in the news quite a bit lately, one Corvette in particular. I’m not going to get into any of that but I would like to talk about Corvettes in general. As a kid growing up you heard a lot about Corvettes and would occasionally see one on the street, but back then I was too young to know much about anything motorized other than my go-kart. I knew the guys on 77 Sunset Strip drove a Corvette, but about the only Stingrays I was familiar with were the two-wheel type from Schwinn and the real one that came across my Styrofoam surfboard and set my chest on fire in Fort Pierce, Florida.
The first Corvette I really saw was when I was twelve. It was also the first one I ever rode in. One of the older guys in the neighborhood, Dennis, bought one, a brand new blue 1968 model. He brought it by the house to show it to my parents and me. I stood and stared at the car, mesmerized. 1968 was the first year of the new Corvette C3 body style. It was like nothing I had ever seen in my young life. “You like this car, Jimmy?” Dennis asked. I told him yes. “Wanna go for a ride in it?” He didn’t have to ask twice. I think I was sitting in the passenger seat by the time he opened the driver’s side door. We went the long way around the block, up Rollingwood, down Flintwood, turned right onto Gresham Road, drove down and took a right Boulderview, then back down Rollingwood to our house. “How’d you like it?” Dennis asked when we pulled into the driveway. “It was great!” I gushed. “It was like riding in a spaceship!” He laughed, but in my twelve-year old mind, that’s what it was like. Low slung, shiny and sleek, sitting in the seat with the two front fender wells rising in front of me and the air dam on the hood, it was like riding in a rocket compared to my parents’ 1965 Ford Fairlane.
After that I was hooked. In my teenage years I inherited the ’65 Fairlane and later bought a ’69 Mustang Fastback. That was a cool car. I loved it, but in a moment of temporary insanity I sold it in 1974 for $1200 and bought a yellow ’73 Super Beetle. Now every time I watch Barrett-Jackson or Mecum and they roll out a ’69 Mustang I go out back, kick myself repeatedly and call myself all sorts of names unfit to post in a family blog. But, I suppose there are a lot of Boomers that have a similar story to tell.
I drove the Super Beetle for fifteen years and it was a good car, but a Corvette was always on my mind, especially in the mid-Seventies. In 1976, during a trip to Daytona Beach, I bought a t-shirt like the one pictured here that said, “Wrap Your Ass In Fiberglass… Drive a Vette.” 
I brought it home and put it on a few days later before heading up to my friend’s house in Cedar Grove. My father went ballistic. “I can’t believe you wearin’ that blankity-blank t-shirt out in public,” he screamed, using words that were a whole lot more colorful than the one that was on the shirt. That was the last time I wore the shirt or even saw it because it disappeared after that. Then he proceeded to tell my uncles, cousins, his friends and anybody within earshot about “this blankety-blank t-shirt Jimmy bought in Florida that said, “Wrap yo’ ass in fiberglass,” sneering the words. He was fond of doing things like that. When I found the shirt online I thought about ordering another one, but decided against it. I guess by now the thrill is gone.
My favorite Corvette has always been the 1973 year model. That particular model was unique, not unlike the ’63 year model ten years earlier. The ’63 was the first year Chevrolet introduced the Stingray body style and the coupe featured a split rear window. The 1964 year model went to a solid glass window, making the ’63 an instant collectors’ item. The ‘73’s differences were subtler, but made it unique, all the same. A urethane bumper replaced the chrome front bumper and grille. The egg-crate fender vents were replaced with solid air-dam cutouts. The windshield wipers became hideaways that rested under the hood. The ’73 year model was the last year that the tail flipped up in a mini-spoiler shape. Interestingly, chrome bumpers remained on the rear but were replaced with urethane in 1974 and the tail sloped downwards. I coveted a ’73 so much I probably should have been on my mother’s Sunday school class’s prayer chain. I even had a favorite color scheme, white with a saddle-colored (tan) interior.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. I saved up enough to put money down on a used white ’73 I found at Lamar Ferrell Chevrolet, but my parents refused to co-sign the loan. Then they told me our insurance agent said he couldn’t cover me on a Corvette. I called our agent and asked him why not and he told me that was the first he had heard about it. I had suspected a conspiracy but now had proof. I priced other insurance companies, but the dealership sold the car and that was the end of that. A few years later a buddy of mine bought a white ’73 with a saddle interior. He was good enough to let me drive it a few times, so I was able to live out my fantasies, somewhat.
The Corvette body style changed in ’82. I didn’t care much for the new body styles and pretty much lost interest in the Corvette, not that I could afford one anyway. By that time I had returned to my German automotive roots and was consumed with Porsches. I finally realized that dream in 1993 when I got an ’87 944 model. I drove it for six years until one night a deer jumped out of nowhere into my driver’s side front fender, turned and hit my back fender and was gone. It put a few dents on the fenders and knocked out the window. I drove the car to my friend Frank’s body shop the next day. He called me a few days later and said, “You’re not going to believe this, but their totaling this thing.” I was dumbfounded. “Why?” I asked. “Other than a few dents, there’s nothing wrong with the car.” “I know,” he said and went on to explain that the parts for the car were so expensive, it was more cost effective for the insurance company to total the car and part it out, or fix it and sell it wholesale. “You can pay to have it fixed yourself if you want,” he said, “but it’ll cost you more than the car’s worth.” So I took the check the insurance company gave me for the car and bought my daughter an ’87 white-on-white Volkswagen Cabriolet. Ironically, I drove that for a few years after she bought a Honda Civic.
For a car that was originally built to compete with the Ford Thunderbird, the Corvette bypassed that particular vehicle by leaps and bounds. The newest models are nothing short of wicked. If you can afford one, it’s pretty much like buying a European racecar right off the floor. From what I understand, the prices start around $60,000. I remember when the ’76 model hit ten grand. “That’s ridiculous,” I said then. “There’s no car worth that much, I don’t care what it is.” Now you can’t buy anything new anywhere close to $10,000, at least anything worth having.
And the Corvette isn’t built out of fiberglass anymore. It’s a mixture of composites and carbon fiber. My old t-shirt would be outdated by now anyway. The days of being able to “Wrap Your Ass In Fiberglass” are long gone. “Wrap Your Ass In Composite And Carbon Fiber” just doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. Maybe the t-shirt isn’t outdated at all, since you can still buy it online. The Vette on the shirt is a post-’73 Seventies model, too. Below is the link where you can buy the shirt, if you’re interested. If you purchase one, hopefully you’ll get to wear it more than once. https://www.amazon.com/Strange-Cargo-Fiber-Corvette-T-Shirt/dp/B00SG3LV4M
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