The second-generation Corvette is still my favorite, from an aesthetic standpoint.
Photos never do these things justice. When they're out in the wild, among Camrys and Grand Caravans, they are just eye-grabbing.
"Cool car! What year?"
"It's a '67. Your car is pretty cool, too!"
"Thanks! I've had it for twenty years now."
"The guy I bought this from had it for fifty years! Hold on to it!"
The hood scoop says "big block", which in '67 meant
one of several flavors of 427.
Those side pipes sounded apocalyptic when he cranked it, like God clearing his throat. I waited a second before starting the comparatively dainty six in the Zed Drei, the better to enjoy the acoustics as he idled off through the parking lot...
.
