I was first introduced to the Corvair at the tender age of 5. My parents traded in their 1953 Bel Air for a brand new 1960 Corvair coupe. Three memories stick out in my mind about that Corvair. One, laying on my back in the compartment behind the rear seat, I'd watch the lines of the passing telephone poles rise and fall as we traveled down the roads. Two, my fascination with that Corvair's engine. Whenever my father opened the hood, I just marveled at what made the car go. The car was lower than most others, allowing me to see the engine even though I was a small kid. Three, on our way through Merced, California, heading to a family vacation in the summer of '64, we were struck by a red light runner that sent us on a direct course with a traffic light pole. The pole was not willing to budge from its position, so the front of the Corvair took on a new v-shape design where the headlights became cross-eyed looking. Though we were all bruised and sore, praise God, we all survived! After being released from the hospital, we got a ride to pick up our poor, bashed in Corvair. After they pulled the front bumper away from obstructing the front wheel from turning, we were on our 110 mile journey back home. The car was totaled and my dad decided to go with a larger vehicle, a '65 Impala. Interestingly, when we were with my mom and dad in the dealership to lease the Impala, I remember seeing a picture on the wall, thinking, "That is a cool looking car!" Little did I know, at the time, that was the next generation Corvair.

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That was it for Corvairs until I was 18. While in school, all the kids wanted Camaros, Mustangs, GTOs, etc., etc. I set my eyes again, back to the Corvair. Particularly the second generation models. In my twenties I owned many Corvairs, a '65 140/PG Monza coupe, '66 110/3-speed Monza sedan, '66 140 Corsa coupe and a '67 110/4-speed Monza coupe. Oh, the stories I can tell you about, when I was young and dumb. I was always pushing those cars past their limits. Like the time it took a CHP officer 8 miles to catch myself and a Camaro as we raced each other, weaving through freeway traffic or the time I was pacing a Jaguar, flat out on the freeway, at 120 mph, just to name two foolhardy actions.

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A dry spell from Corvairs occured after my early twenties, as I had the responsibility of raising a family. The next Corvair wouldn't come until I was 51, a '68 110/PG 500  (rust bucket) coupe. Bought online and shipped. It came complete with Flinstone floors and my least favorite (light green) interior. Nonetheless, it was a Corvair and it ran. Still working a job, having limited time and resources, the desire to breathe new life into that Corvair just never materialized and I sold it. After that, I purchased a '68 95/PG Monza coupe. To me, this was a special Corvair. It was all original with matching numbers and just 72,000 miles on the odometer. I verified the mileage by identifying that all its components were matching to its VIN and the engine was still running its original valve lifters. It needed a little TLC, but it definitely was a diamond in the rough!