My First Car

1970 Chevelle Malibu hardtop with mag wheels

It was about this point in time, back in 1971 that I bought my first car - I used to have a good head for significant dates, and August 4th comes to mind, though I can't swear to it now.  But whatever the date may have been, it was a happy, happy day for me.  I tell you what.

I had looked forward for what seemed like ages - time passes more slowly for the young, of course - to having my own wheels, and I remember it seemed like the day would never come when I could get a driver's license and a car.  As a boy my trusty bicycle had carried me lots of places, but when I became a teenager, the places I often wanted to go were too far away on busy roads not safely travelled by bike.

But slowly, much too slowly, the day of liberation approached.  For a year or so previously, while driving my mom's old Buick, I had been developing an eye for all the different brands of new cars, and discovered an unsuspected talent for zeroing in on the precise make, model, and year of scores of cars by paying attention to fine details. 

And in the process of observing, I had narrowed my preference down to a sporty Chevrolet - unlike my straight peers, line and color were everything in my judgment, can you relate?  It came down to a choice between a zippy little Nova or a very sporty mid-sized Chevelle Malibu.  Since my mom was generously donating her old car as a trade-in, it actually would have been possible to go for a Corvette - oh my God, sex on wheels - or a new marque I had never seen until I walked into the dealer's showroom, the brand new Monte Carlo, which looked as sleek and chic as a 1930's limousine, though designed more for sport.

But at the time, I just thought I wasn't quite ready for the last two, which were more grown-up toys than I wanted or needed at the time.  And my mom nixed the Nova, fearing as she always did for my safety in a small car - for one brief moment in time, I had my eye on a used Volkswagen bug that I could have bought from a friend for only a couple hundred bucks, but Mom absolutely forbade me to even think about it.

So I ended up wandering all over the dealer's lot to pick out my very own Malibu 350 V8, a bright cranberry red with a black vinyl top - the height of coolness at that moment.  Oh God, it was a beautiful car, fellas, with a new-car smell that was intoxicating.  Sticker price:  $4,025.

And buddy, it would run like a scalded dog.  I tell you what. 

For months, I peeled rubber taking off from every stop light - what fun.  I never notice anyone doing that nowadays, but it was fairly common among my generation.  Of course, I had no way of knowing that I had just managed to catch the last of an era that would soon disappear forever, as has been so often the case in my life.  Muscle cars were all the rage at the time, when gas was only 28 to 30 cents a gallon.  And damn, they were sexy - and so, it seemed, were the guys who drove them.

But the oil crisis of 1973 ended all that.  I'm glad I got my dream car, though - one ought to have things like that when one is young enough to truly savor the experience.  And I kept that sweetheart for nearly 12 years, though that was due mainly to the poverty of my college days.  I've often wished I had that car back again, that somehow I could have kept it safely stored away.

But at this late age, even if I still had it, it wouldn't be nearly as much of a thrill to drive as it was then.  Once you have awakened from a dream, you can't get back inside it, you know?

But it was great while it lasted.

Curiously, I never thought to take a decent photo of my Malibu; there are only a couple of pics that show a corner of it, but nothing with the whole car.  So I had to search around the 'net for the pics you see above and below.  The top picture is actually a 1970 Malibu, nearly identical to the 1971 except for a few fine details like the turning lights and tail lights.  The bottom picture is a 1971 model like mine was, but a convertible - mine was a hardtop, though I did sometimes wish it had been a ragtop:  what fun that would have been, cruising up and down the beach roads in summertime.

But I loved my car, and it was a good friend to me for years and years and years.   Peace to its ashes.



1971 Malibu convertible with factory-equipped sport wheels

Though I can't believe it's been 40 years ago already. Where the hell does the time go?

Bonus:  That was the summer a number of memorable songs topped the charts, like "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor, "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" by the Bee Gees, "Brown Sugar" by the Stones, and this rocker by CCR that sums up the feeling of speed, youth, and dreams of sex:

I was riding along side the highway, rolling up the countryside . . .