by Barbara Spear
It was a cold, snowy January night in 1985. A light dusting of white covered the back country roads obscuring the ice patches below. As I started down a small hill, my 1956 Sunbird hit a slick at ice spun out and was totaled Fortunately. I escaped injury.
A good friend, upon hearing of my mishap called me. "Barb, I know you must be looking for a car and I know you've always liked my Corvette It's been sitting in my garage for several years now, and I'm just not driving it. If you want it, it's yours.
Was this the silver
lining of the storm cloud? Would I finally realize my dream of owning a Corvette?
Naturally. I jumped at the opportunity, and was soon the proud owner of a silver 1973
Corvette convertible--with both a hard top and a rag top. A beautiful car with only four
previous owners and about 85,999 miles on it. Okay. so it needed painting...but was mine!
Since the car was over ten years old, it had to pass inspection. Another friend who loved Corvettes volunteered to take it through. In me middle of the afternoon of the inspection, my phone rang "We have a problem, said the disturbed voice on the other end. "Oh no." I thought, "the car didn't pass."
Well, I was right, but for the wrong reasons. The Vette never made it to inspection. While my friend was parked in the inspection line, waiting for his turn, the Vette threw its timing chain. When the inspector signalled for my Vette to come forward, it sat. Several spectators volunteered to push the car through, but the inspector wasn't sympathetic. How embarrassing--towed out of Motor Vehicles. (Needless to say. that friend never offered to drive my Vette again!)
Fortunately since the timing chain went when it did, the damage was minimal.and the repair costs were reasonable. The gas station that towed and fixed the car even took it through inspection. It passed!
That first episode of Corvette ownership was a disappointment. but nothing to dampen my enthusiasm. Unfortunately, it was a portent of things to come.
The next thing to go was the water pump. Again. I figured it was no big deal. After all. the car had been sitting idle for several years. Little did I know, my dream car was a gem in the rough...very rough!
Another friend suggested, sensibly, that I find myself a good mechanic who specialized in Corvettes. I knew at one right around the corner from my home--within walking distance.
It's nice to know that there are still some sensitive people in the world. After looking at the car and sizing me up as a very naive Vette lover, this kind mechanic drew up a suggested list of repairs. The list ranged from "immediately required and necessary" to "some time when you get extra cash." At the top of the list was brakes.
When I reviewed the list and the estimated prices. I was shocked and depressed. My dream Vette was quickly turning into a very expensive old car. It was also my only means of transportation, so I had to keep it on the road.
1985 was an expensive year. I did the brakes (Stainless Steel), then the alternator which decided to die over the Memorial Day weekend. (God Bless a mechanic who'll work on holidays.) Then I replaced the rear spring, a second water pump--since the first one was installed incorrectly, and finally the emergency brake cable.
As fall approached, I realized that I didn't want to tackle another New England winter with my Vette. It also became clear that my dream car was probably not going to be me most reliable form of transportation I'd ever owned. I bought a Jeep Cherokee, then garaged the Vette for the winter.
1986 war a good year. My Vette only needed regular maintenance and some hoses.. 1987 wasn't bad. either, just tail piper and a few gaskets here and there. I began to regain confidence and enthusiasm. In 1988, my precious got new mufflers, a new starter, and its tachometer fixed.
As my 73 became more mechanically stable, I started to notice some of its cosmetic flaws. In 1989, new door panels and carpeting made the interior look clean and almost new. New visors not only looked nice, but didn't flop down randomly like the old ones did. The passenger seat belt got fixed so it wouldn't either not extend--or extend completely and not retract. And, thanks to a lot of patient effort, the rag top finally got adjusted correctly so that the passenger door closed--with the window up all the way--and there were no more embarrassing "lap leaks" on the driver's side. No extra funds for a paint job, but my Vette was definitely shaping up.
I learned a lot in my first three years of owning a Vette-and not just about my car. My card file expanded to include a complete section of reliable professionals who specialized in Corvette work. My Corvette loving friends dwindled down to a handful of die-hards. Although a major repair might be just around the comer, I began to enjoy my Vette more than ever. We'd been through so much together that I really appreciated each top-down ride an a summer's afternoon.
After my budget-busting Vette initiation, would I jump at the chance to own another Vette? Oh, why not...
Just when I was
recovering financially from my 73, my mechanic, whom I gotten to know well those first few
years, found a terriffic 1963 coupe for me. A great car! Of course, it needed a little
work since the alarm shorted and the resulting fire gutted the interior; but really--it
was a gem in the rough!
Copyright 1996 Barbara Spear
