Chevrolet Corvette C1 (1955)
There are mainly three major memories related to cars in my child-years I can think of.
One of them is the ride I got in a Porsche 930 when I was 5. It completely blew my mind, a mind which used to be blown away only by cotton candy. One of the others is my first sight of a Corvette C1 in a showroom when I was 6.
Mind you, 17 years have passed since that day and I have only seen a couple more of these. I asked my father which car was that - I had never even heard of Corvettes before (remember, I’m European). He didn’t know. No one did! I inspected the car thoroughly. The chromes were placed in strategic places, so strategic that they created shapes within the car’s own shape. I was blown away, just like when watching cotton candy being made.
A couple of years later I got my own 1:18 scale of a C1 Corvette. It’s still in the shelf, right behind me. I may be shot for saying this, but American car design has lost its appeal after the late 70’s. Where is the beast-meets-sensitive-designer factor nowadays? Where is that same amazement that caused such impact on a troubled mind of a 6 year old kid?
Eventually I grew up (kinda) and got to appreciate the fine details of European car design. I stand by what’s mine, I love it with all my heart. But these Corvettes still shoot straight to my heart. I often refer to them as my American guilty pleasure.
Because well, they are.
(Oh and, V8 engine, 1.3 tons, 195bhp (early versions) and the hedious longitudional leaf-spring suspension at the back.)
Perhaps my only American guilty pleasure.
Chevrolet Corvette (1963).
Camillo Christofaro (Alfa Romeo - Corvette) wins at Piraciaba, 1960.
