Second generation Corvettes
Somewhat reluctantly I callÂ the service manager at the local Goodwrench service center and I’m quickly booked in to get the speedometer correction gears installed. I’m not 100% sure they know how to do this job and they sound a little unsure when I quiz them. I console myself with the thought that this isn’t a reflection on the service center, it’s just a slightly unusual operation. I offer to bring in instructions on what needs doing, as well as the parts and they agree that will be useful, sounding somewhat relieved. I’m less so, as they didn’t admit not being sure until I pressed the issue. I’ve always thought it’s better to admit you’re not sure than barge ahead and screw things up.
So I take it in on the appointed day,Â my fiancÃ©e following in our regular car to ferry me on to my job. When I drop it off I’m informed that the service center is short staffed and they ‘might not be able to look at it that day but they hoped they would’. Here’s where I made my first mistake – I left the ‘vette with them.
Several calls later on that day and I finally establish that the car won’t be ready. They promise to keep it inside overnight, but it will be Tuesday before they can do the work. They also tell me that there is an oil leak on the car and I let them know that the oil pan bolts are known to work loose, so they might want to check them when it’s up on the lift.
On Saturday I was out with Hilary looking at possible houses. Our current place is about to be put on the market and we wanted to get an idea of what we’d be able to get for our money.
Naturally one of the things high on my list is a garage, a place to park and store the imminent Corvette. We’ve approached the process of selecting a house much differently this time. In the past we have often allowed ourselves to be led away from our initial ideas by cutesy romantic ideas. This time I was determined we’d not do that.
What I did was to draw up a list of the features that we wanted, bedrooms, water, sewers, and the all important garage. I then went through the listings and said, “Okay. This is the list of candidates; pick the one you want out of those.” A bit clinical perhaps but at least we know we get a house that meets the needs we have.
So off we trapsed with the realtor through the snow. Looking at a lot of houses being newly built and a few that are resales. It was interesting how many houses had very questionable features. It was also rather amazing how much money is spent in these things just for rather pointless effect. Huge windows and masively high cathedral ceilings are very expensive features that give little in return.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking now. Okay so what the hell has this got to do with Corvettes, other than he mentioned the garage. But hang on.
As were going down one street, around the corner slithered a ’65 coupe. I was sat open mouthed making somewhat incoherent noises while the realtor and Hilary were looking at me obviously wondering whether I was in the initial stages of having a coronary.
This was December. In Northern Ontario. A ’65 Corvette Coupe. And yes, there was at least seven centimeters of snow on the ground; the coupe was sliding around like it was on a snow rally or something.
So the question is. Is this a stalwart ‘vette enthusiast, someone dedicated to driving their precious vehicle at any time in any weather conditions? (The salt man! Just think of the damn salt!) Or was it just a rich dumbass that doesn’t value what he drives at all and is happy for the car to be abused, mistreated until it rots into a pile.
I’d like to think it was the former. I suspect the latter is more likely.
Till next time. Get Vette!