Cruising on National Corvette Day

June 30 is National Corvette Day, recognizing the day that the very first production Corvette rolled off the assembly line in Flint, Michigan in 1953. From 1954 to 1980 it was produced in St. Louis, Missouri. Beginning in 1981, Corvettes were exclusively produced in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

That is where MY 1982 Corvette came from. And that is where the National Corvette Museum is located.

I got to visit the National Corvette Museum when we traveled to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky and just happened upon it. It was a great experience and had me wishing I had my Corvette with me.

When we made the move to Colorado, I reluctantly left the Corvette behind. But I was finally able to get it transported to me from New Jersey to Colorado so that I could enjoy it.

Whenever I have driven it, the Corvette has garnered a lot of attention. I have always gotten a thumbs up, a wave, or someone rolling down their window to tell me how nice it is.

One time, I was pulled over by a police officer on Route 9 in Old Bridge, New Jersey. I couldn’t imagine what I could have possibly done as I am ultra careful with the car. When he approached my driver’s window, he didn’t ask for my license, registration, and insurance card, rather, he asked how long I had the vehicle. When I told him the story behind it, he asked if I would mind if he could look inside and sit in it for just a minute. I was shocked but I, of course, obliged. I don’t really allow people to sit in that driver’s seat but I felt this was a special time. The officer told me that his father had an old Corvette that he loved as a kid and always wanted one…that seeing my Corvette go by made him think of his dad who had recently passed. He thanked me for being kind enough to allow him to do that, gave me his card, and wished me well as he sped off having received a call.

I got the Corvette as what was intended to be a bribe from my father…a bribe to go back to school. I had decided after my sophomore year of college at the University of Miami that I no longer wanted to attend college. My father and I had a deal that if he had ever gone out on his own on the Commodities Exchange to form his own company, that I would join him. And when I found out he had done just that toward the end of my sophomore year, I withdrew from school.

Unfortunately, doing that, created my summer of hell. That was 1980. Although I spent the summer months working with my Dad and loving every minute of it, coming home after work was emotional torture, as my mother made my life a living hell. Every night she would badger me and berate me to a point where I could not sit at the dinner table, I would have to eat out with my friends. And at night, I would hear my mother berate my father unmercifully – “I blame YOU! It’s YOUR fault. DO SOMETHING!” Screaming at him like a lunatic. My father would always respond, “Sandra, what do you want me to do? He’s an adult.” She would say, “Don’t give me that crap! He will listen to you.”

I would listen to that scenario every night. And it was difficult to listen to my father get berated. But he NEVER said a word to me afterwards. The next morning we would drive to work and exchange pleasant conversations. He would drink his coffee – extra light and sweet – and his buttered roll. And I would yell at him for getting crumbs from the roll all over the seats.

Then one day, as the time I was normally to leave to head to Miami was approaching, instead of going home, we stopped at the Chevy dealership in the next town. I knew my dad was interested in a new car so I thought nothing of it.

On the floor, along with other vehicles, was a Corvette. And he asked, “What do you think of this one?” I responded, “Dad, you don’t like sitting low to the ground and feeling confined, what are you going to do with it?” He said, “No…for you. I know you don’t want to do this. But I can’t take it anymore. I have never argued with your mother like this…like we argue over YOU. I am asking you to go back to school. I don’t care if you gets A’s or B’s. I don’t care if you pass or fail. Just go and have a good time and get your mother off my back. Do it for ME, please.”

I was upset and refused the bribe. If my father asked me to do something, I did it. The bribe was not needed. That night, I quickly loaded up my car, said “good-bye” to nobody, and headed to Miami.

Unfortunately, less than a year later, my father dropped dead of a heart attack, weeks before his 45^th birthday. What I didn’t know was, he had ordered the car for me anyway…as a graduation present…I was to graduate in May of 1982. He didn’t make it. But the Corvette did.

I was completely unaware that my mother knew about the “bribe.” And when she received the call when the car was ready and was at the dealership…all she told me was that I had to come home from Miami for the weekend to “take care of family business.” That’s when I got my 1982 Corvette.

This Corvette has meant so much more to me than a car…it’s about my relationship with my dad. And it’s about HIS loving commitment to my mother…to make his wife, his partner, happy.

For years I didn’t drive it because I was trying to protect it, it was my prized possession. The first year I had it, I drove it extensively and put 11,000 miles on it. After that, not so much. I have it 44 years, it now has 40,400 original miles.

Now it’s time to enjoy it. Hope to see you out there on the road.