You never forget your first.
I'd been looking around for my first car, but my budget was $500, and the only vehicle I could find in my price range was a 1963 4-door Buick. It wasn't my first choice, but it was affordable. So that night, I told my dad I wanted to buy it, and he said - and I'll never forget this - "No son of mine is going to drive around in a 4-door old mans car." That wasn't what I'd expected, but OK. I explained that it wasn't my ideal car either, but that I couldn't afford anything else. He told me that my grandfather would take me out to look for something else, and that he [my dad] would loan me the money to buy it.
This is what I came up with: A red 1967 Camaro convertible. It was at the Pray Volkswagen lot in Greenwich. The car had black interior, center console, and most important, a 327 small-block V8. (That's because my friend, Ron Gold had a yellow '67 Camaro hardtop with a 250 cubic inch 6-cylinder and I wanted a car faster than his.) Like Ron's, my car had a 2-speed Powerglide transmission. I'd have preferred a 4-speed, but what the hell, beggars can't be choosers. Grandpa wrote a check for $1,705 and I drove it home later that day.
Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of mine. Not a single one. The car pictured above one is nearly identical to to mine. I ended up selling it to a cheerleader from Rippowam High School after 9 months and bought the
Mach 1.
