This is a story about a teenager's car. Not some shiny new birthday present bought by dear old daddy, nor mom's old worn out hand-me-down station wagon that she used to schlep the kids to soccer practice, but a car selected and paid for by the teen himself, with his own hard-earned cash. Cash saved from working summers as a farmhand and from school years working part-time at the Dairy Queen in the local mall. The kind of car a sixteen-year old could afford. In other words, it was a genuine piece of crap, but it was my piece of crap and I was damn happy to have it. This car took me through the last year of high school and four years of college, carried my girlfriend (who eventually became my wife) and I on numerous dates, and then gave several more years of popularity to my brother's high school life after I sold it to him. This is its story.
My car was a 2-door 1972 Chevy Nova that I bought in the Spring of 1986, At the time I was a 17-year old senior and driving my first car, a '74 Nova that I had bought from my uncle for $400. Like everyone and their first car I was thrilled to get it but it soon began to lose its charm: it was a white 4-door straight six and I wanted something cooler. I really wanted an early '70's two door with a small block but most of the cars in that group that were for sale were way out of my price range, mainly because most were kept in great condition. But one day, I happened to drive by this gold colored '72 sitting in a driveway with a for sale sign on it. Since I had been on the lookout for some time with no luck I stopped immediately to check it out.
I was excited to see right away that it was definitely a street car and that it was in fairly decent shape with some slick accessories. But on closer look it was obvious that it had seen better days. Evidence was everywhere of an off-road accident, including a likely crash through a wire fence because the whole passenger side was dented and deeply scratched. More surprises lurked under the hood, where a clearly non-factory 307 smog motor was bolted to a strange 3-speed manual. Even more disturbing was the fact that the cylinder heads and other upper engine parts were in the trunk. Talking to the owner I learned that all of my suspicions about its history were right on. But then came the zinger: I could have it as-is for only $200, which was just perfect: here was the car that I wanted, it needed lots of work, but I could afford it. I bought it on the spot, then had to plead with my dad to help me get it home. Since I couldn't afford to pay for a tow, we worked it out with the owner to have him use his pickup with old tires on the front bumper to push it the several miles across town to my home. Luckily no cops ran across us (we did it early on a Sunday morning) and we got it in our driveway safely. Now I could get to work on my "new" car!
Fortunately, only a new gasket kit and a few other cheap parts was all that was needed, along with a few weeks of my time, to reassemble the engine and get it running again. It was obvious immediately that the anemic 307 just plain had no power. This could not stand - I wanted my Nova to have it where it counts! Luckily a friend of mine was going to replace the 350 in his C/10 over the summer, so I helped him build up a fresh 400 block for his truck and when we were done he gave me the 350 and helped me swap it in. By summer's end I had a much more respectable engine in my car. Along with some fresh Thrush straight mufflers I now had the power and the rumble to go with my bitchin' ride - or at least I saw it that way. What everyone else saw was a beat-up has-been of a '70's era muscle car, driven by a lanky punk kid who thought it was the best thing on the road. Oh, yeah, did I mention it also had overly wide rear tires (which scraped the inside edge of the wheel wells with every big bump) with chrome 5-spoke mag rims? Plus a tinted "Chevy" stripe across the top of the windshield? Seems stupid now but for me in 1986 it was a very sweet summer!
When fall arrived I had to leave for my freshman year in college, and I made the hard decision to leave the Nova at home. Actually it wasn't hard at all - between my dad and my grandfather I had not choice in the matter. But by Thanksgiving, and after a couple of 4-hour each way round trips, I succeeded in rationalizing with the family that it made more sense for me to drive it rather than have my dad drive. So that winter I got the Nova back with me at school. That car immediately gave me a boost in popularity (or was it ignominy?) with my friends, as anyone who rode it in it admired it for what it was. It became known as the True Street Machine, although that designation was more comical than it was sincere - something like True Shit Machine would have fit better. But I didn't really care - I was fine with the car the way it was.
By the time Spring of '87 rolled around I was itching to boost its power still further, so I saved up some extra money from working the night shift the prior semester (which killed my grades) and spent the summer rebuilding the workhorse 350. I rented a guy's spare garage for the duration, borrowed many tools from his mechanic neighbor, and succeeded before mid-August with the project. When it was done I had built the .030-overbored block with new flat-top pistons, a 327/350 GM cam, an intake and Quadra-jet salvaged from a Corvette, new oversize headers, and a much more solid 3-speed from a salvage yard. IT WAS AWESOME! That car now had hellacious amounts of power, especially when the throttle was mashed and the secondaries on the Q-Jet opened up.
Its characteristic deep roar made it heard before it was seen, especially so when the half-assed exhaust system that I had installed (remember the Thrushes?) would routinely blow off the collector flange, leaving the exhaust running open header. Of course, the bodywork was still a mess. I had always intended to get it cleaned up and the whole car repainted a nice shade of red, but I never had enough extra cash. Also, I managed to bash it into a highway guard rail during the next Winter, which I fixed by replacing the hood and left front fender with more junkyard specials. Including spots of red and gray primer, the car eventually had eight different colors on it but the clash of a green hood, a green left front fender (different from the hood), and a red driver's door against the gold really made it sharp!
Somehow, despite me driving a car with a ridiculous mix of excessive horsepower and Technicolor bodywork, I managed to keep up a steady relationship with my girlfriend during college. I'm sure she was impressed with the fact that I always raced the engine whenever I arrived to pick her up, or raced the engine whenever we passed someone she knew, or raced the engine whenever I felt like racing the engine. Hell, I even drove the Nova to meet her family for the first time, and I raced the engine for them, too.
When I graduated from college in '90 and landed my first big job, I suddenly had a big increase in future income. Sadly, the Nova really couldn't hold its own against the craving for a brand new car, or in this case a pitch black '91 S-10. But the Nova wasn't destined for the scrap heap just yet - my brother had had his eye on it for years and since he was now at the same age I was when I bought it, I made him the deal of a lifetime. The Nova was his for only a buck, but what he always remembers is it really cost him $11 because he lost a ten dollar bill during the drive home. He owned the car for another two years, finally trading it in for $300 (which was $100 more than I paid for it six years prior). During his ownership he had to replace the spark plugs numerous times because the engine would constantly flood during starting, and replace the exhaust headers which rusted through. But before he replaced the headers, he managed to get stopped once by a cop who gave him no less than four written warnings for violations including excessively loud exhaust and rear end jacked up too high.
It's been over a decade since I last drove that car, and despite the likelyhood that it met its demise in some car crusher long ago I still remember all of the fun I had with it. Just about everyone cherises their first car memories, and even though the Nova was my second it still takes first place billing with me - the True Street Machine.