Nova

1972 Chevy Nova. My car in high school.

*sigh*

If I ever made crazy-good money, I'd totally snag another one, along with a couple other cars I like. Not a ton of cars. Just a few that I really like: A Mustang (one of the good ones -- the cool ones, a fastback -- blue, I think, maybe with racing stripes. Maybe white); a new Thunderbird (the discontinued ones; I'd get a convertible, of course).

My Nova was such a fun car, despite the beige vinyl seats and the AM-only radio. It was fast and fun, and the girls liked it. Hee hee. The thinking man's muscle car!

Rear-wheel drive, naturally. Leaded gasoline, of course. I'd have to convert it a smidgen to deal with unleaded gas. I remember that stinker losing all traction in the snow -- I slowly backed it out of a parking space at high school and did a slow 360-degree spin on the frozen lot, just a slow-motion rear-wheel drive apocalypse -- but luckily it didn't hit anybody.

I remember taking friends for drives in it, doing fishtails in the snow, the car stalling out at inopportune moments, the power steering going out, it becoming a sliding brick of an automobile, as I fumbled with the ignition.

I remember dating two girls in one night in that car -- took one out for ice cream and hanging out in the park; then later taking another girl to dinner and a movie. I hadn't planned that -- Girl 1 had originally bailed on a date, so I'd set something up with Girl 2, then Girl 1 called and said she could make it after all, so I said, "Uh, sure." (being 17, the concept of NOT going on my own version of a double date was out of the question) and went on the casual park date -- like a dating appetizer!

I remember drag-racing a friend (who had an indigo 1974 Pontiac LeMans we called "The Bluesmobile" -- that was a HUGE car -- I'm 6'3" and I could lay across that car and not touch both sides). My poor Nova's 307 cubic-inch motor against the LeMans's 440 cubic-inch monstrosity. But we had a good (if totally boy-stupid) race, all peel-outs and shooting down the street. Of course, the LeMans beat my Nova, though I was quicker at the start.

I remember taking that car up to 110 mph with two friends in the back, the wind rocking the hell out of the car (they weren't as aerodynamic as they are today) and my friends freaking in the back seat -- they were the ones who egged me on to see how fast my car could go, so I just floored it and away we went. Yeah, teenaged boys shouldn't have muscle cars -- I get that. I was hurtling down the lonely road thinking Wow, if a cop sees me, I'm totally busted; if I hit a deer, we're totally dead. and my hands sweated and I took my foot off the accelerator and let the car slow itself back down, glad that nothing bad happened. My friends were silent in the back: be careful what you wish for, boys. Funny, but I only remember Jeff. There was another guy back there, but I can't remember who it was. Greg? Scott? I dunno. I only remember Jeff because he totally freaked out. I remember him driving his own car with the parking brake on, totally burning it out. Silly rabbit.

I remember driving that car to my first real (e.g., non-caddying) part-time job, at Burger King. The car makes me think of summer, as muscle cars always do. It was a good car, I was very loyal to it.

Had those little triangular vent windows in the front, which were fun to use. I liked the smell of the car -- not new car smell, but just cool car smell. Its own thing, maybe a byproduct of the horrible vinyl, which made it hell to sit in if it had been stewing in a parking lot all day, the pattern in the vinyl sinking into your legs if you wore shorts or something.

The seats were those monoseats the old 70s cars had, before bucket seats became the rage. The front seats flipped forward but formed a solid line, which made it great for dates. The back seat was one long vinyl line, the rear windows only slightly rolled down.

As a kid, I remember lying in those back seats, looking up at passing trees, trying to guess where my mom was driving us, like trying to guess the route by the sounds and the sights. Sometimes I'd fall asleep back there, and wake up when we were home, wherever home was at that time.

I remember my stepdad getting gas for it -- $5.00 to fill it up! Now it costs over $25 to fill my stinking Escort. Crazy days. I remember seeing "Self-Service Island" and being very young, thinking "Island" was "Is-Land" instead of "Eye-Land" in pronunciation -- in my mind, I thought "Is-Land" meant something like "Is-Good" -- "Self-Service Is-Good." Kid logic. Heh.

My folks sold it sometime when I was in college. There was no question of me keeping it -- it was my mom's car, officially, and she wanted to sell it, and so, sold it was. I didn't think to say "Hey, can I buy it from you?" because my parents were psycho about that kind of thing -- they'd always have this weird thwarting thing with anything I wanted, like the moment I expressed interest in something, they'd be against it. No way would I have asked for them to give it to me, because they totally wouldn't have. And had I offered to buy it, they'd have thwarted me on that, too.

That car was special. I'd probably get an SS version if I wanted a play car today, with a 350 cubic-inch motor. The fast Nova. I remember my older stepsister, who took Spanish, laughing that "Nova" meant "No go" in Spanish. But she was wrong; that car went, and I went with it! So many adventures.

Big-ass thunderstorm tonight. Best stop writing, eh?