It was the spring of 1963, I was home for a weekend from Onarga Military School, Ill. One of my good friends from the public school, Steve Kimler had asked my Dad to have me call him my next trip home. This was a very important message because Steve’s Dad was a salesman at the local Chevrolet dealership.
We had both followed the evolution of the Corvette since the 61 was introduced with the new rear end styling. At Military School, Seniors were allowed to have cars the last six months of their senior year and one guy had a Vette. It was a 1959 with a 283, 2 four barrels and a four speed. Red with Red interior as I remember, His name was Steve Templeton, he was a big fellow, with a big wide grin, and a very short flattop. He was one of our football hero’s with a great amount of power. It was fitting that his car was the hot rod of OMS. The squat, noisy little Chevy made out of plastic. When asked about the engine, he apologetically admitted to have the dual quads, "Yes, I've got the dual quads, I’m sorry, but it’s the hottest thing between Wheaton and Cicero including Homewood, Flosmoor and Hinsdale."
Even though the car looked and was fast, we all knew from Road and Track, Hot Rod and Rod & Custom that the 409 was the big engine coming out in the 63 Impala. How would Chevy let the Vette go along without the biggest engine possible? And where was the Mystery Engine the new 427, which we all thought was a bored out 409? We had been disappointed to see the 61 style change only effecting the rear end glass. The cars still rode like a buckboard and cornered with the rear end trying to catch up to the rest of the car.
Mind you, this a very small group of teenagers that had been dreaming of owning a car for several years, none of us could even drive yet. In fact, when Steve and I wanted to see the new 61 Vette, I told my parents I was riding my bike to town to see Steve, then we would walk to the Bus Stop out on Route 54, catch the Bus to Bloomington where there was a really big Chevy Dealership, and check out all the new Chevy’s especially the new 61 Vette.
Well, this weekend we didn’t have to sneak the bus to Bloomington. The little town’s Chevy dealership had one in the showroom and Steve’s Dad would let us look it over, maybe even sit in it!!!!
I never rode my bike so hard or so fast as when I completed my chores on the farm and Dad said I could go to town. I peddled as fast as I could for a mile and half to Steve’s house. Hosed off my face in the yard and wiped my hands on the grass as I knocked on the back door. Steve was still in bed sleeping! What the heck was wrong with him, come on Mrs. Kimler let me wake him up! Forget brushing your teeth, forget breakfast lets go!!. Well, Steve was enthusiastic, but he had a very set routine for a 13 year old. We finally got enough toast and juice down his throat to head out.
I lead the whole way and was nearly exhausted from the two trips. I leaned my bike against a railing outside the showroom entrance. I started to go into total shock as I looked into the large plate glass window of the show room. It was even more awesome than any of the articles we had read. It looked like a Jet airplane, a high speed sonic boom buster. It looked like 120 MPH just sitting there.
Rust Chevrolet was an old dealer ship in a small farm town in Central Illinois, there was room for three or four cars at the most in the showroom. The whole dealership was a single large building, as you looked at it from the road, the show room was on the left with two sides of glass walls. Near the center was the parts and service desk, while the far right was a 3 door high bay area with lifts and workbenches for repairing the cars. All the mechanics wore white shirts with blue circles above the left pocket and their names embroidered in the center. The uniforms were completed with dark blue pants and black workboots. They all had red shop towels hanging out their back pockets. You mostly would see pickup trucks or sedans and wagons in the repair shop. It wasn’t until the Camaro came out years later that we saw anything hotter than a 327 Chevelle.
Steve’s Dad was the top salesman, and he looked the part, very dignified and always friendly, not like the slimy sleaze we think off today. He was tall, with gray temples and neatly slicked back hair, and always in a suit or sport coat. A figure we all respected fully as we entered the showroom. This means no touching, no opening, no nothing without Mr. Kimler’s approval and watch full eye. In the center of the circular raised floor, it was there! The sunlight blasting into the room and causing the black paint to shine as if it were wet. The shadow the car's shape created was like we had never seen. It was like a sharpened pencil with a bump on the back. Not too much chrome, not too rounded, not too squatty. Perfect. I was in heaven, the moment I stepped into the showroom. I was not to have this same sensation until two piece bathing suits came to our little farm town and I saw the local long blonde cutie wearing one on her bike, (Raleigh not Harley).
The car, the car! OK.
A beautiful black coupe, the paint was perfect, not one swirl mark, not one scratch, 7 miles on the odometer!!!, Fuel Injected written on the fender. We weren’t sure what that meant other than mostly European cars were fuel Injected and we figured it was a sophisticated performance approach as the engine remained the popular Small Block 327. The factory started to put chrome under the hood and shielding around the ignition. Many things we saw and noticed as different or unique, but we didn’t know the why’s and wherefore’s yet. Like vents on the hood with gaudy chrome plates and no holes. And louvers on the rear door post that didn’t go anywhere. But it had a gas cap you could see for two blocks and exhaust tips that weren’t hidden or tucked under the body. These pipes were two each, chrome, sticking out so you can seem ‘em PIPES! The hub caps were a little fluky being, spoked and barred and a phony spinner, yelch! We really wanted the five spoke flat black American mags with a brushed silver rim and chrome lug nuts. The following year, Side Pipes and Knockoff Alloy wheels blew us away.
This day was so special, Mr. Kimler was there with a big grin, he knew how we would react to the new style--it was hot! The interior was red, red, red, red. The big dials were perfectly laid out, the speedo on the left and the tach on the right, with a red bar in the mid-sixes thank you, Mr. Duntov. All the necessary stuff was well placed around the center pod. Steve and I didn’t really talk, but we were communicating just the same, m-m-m, wow, gee, oh-h-h. The stick shift was perfectly placed, the back window racked back, I didn’t appreciate the effect of the split window I thought it all was perfect. Storage, but no more trunk. So what! This was the most exciting factory car ever. Until that damn Tempest got a 389 stuffed into it. Even then, a high horse small block would take a GTO to the shed any time, as I later found out.
Steve approached the cockpit first and his Dad nodded with approval, My God, he was going to let us sit in it!!! I overhead him explaining to a very practical framer in the showroom that they wouldn’t normally have such an un-practical car at Rust Chevrolet, but that someone had canceled the special order. And he didn’t think anyone in our town would buy such a frivolous car especially with the optional 36 gallon gas tank!!!! I had to admit the shifter and tires looked on the thin side, while the body was the most beautiful sculpture I had ever been near. Nothing in the Museum of Science and History could come close, except, the large stuffed shark in the fish wing of the old museum. Then I realized the whole styling approach, the shark nose, the raised fenders, the smooth rear window flowing down to tapered tail with little lights and chrome dual exhaust. Clearly American design and clearly a very hot style for the times. And clearly influenced by the most feared, single purpose and respected fish in the ocean.
The intake manifold was indescribable to us then, we had never seem such a box with hoses and tubing. I was worried it would run like a FIAT or a Peugeot or worse an MG. Not the case as we learned later, this fuel injection not only worked great, but it gave better gas mileage than the Holley, even if it didn’t look like a carburetor. As we finished going over everything on top, we crawled under it to see the transmission and shift linkage, it was then we noticed all the linkage in the rear end, it looked like a Jaguar back there. With good reason, we now had a fully independent rear end, not unlike the little Pontiac Tempest but the transmission remained connected to the engine up-front where it was logical. The European’s could only influence so much on this baby.
I must have said "wow!" a thousand times in that short hour at Rust’s Chevrolet. I began to feel my face getting tired from smiling, just like the last Chevy Vette feast at McCormick Place. We thanked Mr. Kimler, and walked out into the bright sun, to get our bikes. We peddled slowly past Dewey’s Drive In, through town on main street, to my Uncle Levi’s bowling alley for a Green River. We didn’t say a word for nearly half an hour, just "Wow" whispered though my lips.
It was December 1966, when I bought my 64 triple white, 365 HP roadster. I was 17 and snuck out after bed time to sleep in it that first night. For four years I terrorized central and southern Illinois. Then I lost sight of things and sold it. Just last year I found my old "Vette Car", registered in Champaign, IL. I contacted the owner, we chatted briefly and agreed to met down in Effingham some time this year. I have yet to replace the car or the dream. Demands of family, college tuition, weddings etc. all have their priority. But I know someday I will be able to relive that wonderfully sensuous day at Rust Chevrolet, when Mr. Kimler let his son's friend rub Corvette, all over his body.
Copyright 1996 Barbara Spear
