I try to take deep breaths when I run across original 1969 Z/28s. (Deep breath). Protect-o-plate looked correct. “DZ” stamped on engine block pad under the alternator. Owner wasn’t around and it was a public car show, so I couldn’t get too much more nosey. Anyway, gauge cluster on the console, 4speed, vinyl roof, small block, Endura bumper. Sigh, ‘69 Z/28….
Here’s a nicely-optioned white 1969 Camaro with a 327, automatic transmission with a column shifter, black interior, D90 striping, N66 rally wheels and black vinyl top. Smart looking car for a non-SS. Would be a sweet daily driver.
A 1972 C3 Stingray Corvette clothed in factory “Ontario Orange”. This was the last year with chrome bumpers front and back. This is a 350 car with an M-21 Muncie close ratio 4-speed. The 350 either put out 200 or 255 horsepower that year and I’m not sure which motor this car has. But she is a good looking girl all shined up at a local car show last weekend!
You had been running for a while now—breathing hard, as your muscles starting getting sore and your body—weak from the torture. All you could see while you huffed through the trail was the woods. You looked back to glance if anyone was following you before you continued to get yourself out of the never-ending forest. You had very little memory of this place as you passed the bushy layers. Your arm had cuts from the thrones of the bushes that had never been trimmed. You were in pain. You had been captured and tortured by a demon to get information on where your brothers were. When you refused to tell, he shocked you and hit you to a point where you were bruised up as purple as a grape. Blood oozed through every single pore of your body. He gave you time to recover and started the process all over again. Even though he tried to break you every single day over a long period of time, you’d refused to give him any information about your brothers. You’d die for them before you got them killed. Every day, when the doors to the dark room you were tied up in, opened, you wanted to believe that Dean was there to rescue you, and every day, you were wronged when the demon walked in with his torture tray.
Take a good, long look at the 1948 Series 62 Cabriolet by Saoutchik as it heads to the auction block.
If any cars merit that old, cliched “rolling sculpture” sobriquet, it’s the art deco works of the French carrosseries, or coachbuilders. As with any shop building custom bodies for wealthy clients, their focus was on style. Predictably enough, though, the French pushed the design envelope way, way further than the Americans, Germans or Brits dared in the decades before WWII (and a few brief years following it).
Saoutchik did a 1930 Cadillac V16, but that must have been before the absinthe really kicked in. Aside from its full-length sunroof, it’s a fairly subtle job. Not so this 1948 Series 62 Cabriolet. Perhaps sensing that the coachbuilding age was winding down in the years following WWII, and hungry for American money, Saoutchik stepped away from Delayahes for a bit and worked up two cars on Series 62 chassis.
1969 Super Sport convertible Chevelle at a local car show the other weekend in “Garnet Red.” This car is a 396 and the owner wasn’t around so I don’t know the horsepower, if it’s a 402 block or the differential. It is an automatic so I assume it’s a turbo-400. This is a nicely optioned car with the convertible roof, automatic, tilt wheel and air conditioning. The girl is for sale too as you can barely see the sign on the dash.