I bought my first car at age 15, before I could drive, from an ad in the local paper. Even my father couldn’t resist the low price: $25 for a running 1960 Chevrolet Corvair. I paid cash to a very nice man and then Dad drove the car home. It arrived without any problems, though it clearly needed some work.
For the next year my dad and I spent all our free time rebuilding that car. My dad did most of the engine work and I took care of the interior and cosmetic details. By the time I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, I had a decent first car. But how I ever survived that vehicle I’ll never know – it certainly felt like one of the most dangerous cars on the road. Thanks to the Free Car Brochures website for some of today’s scans, which all show various Corvair models from 1960 to 1964. Click on any image for a larger version.
I’m sure my dad went along with the scheme because he wanted a bonding experience with me and to teach me about cars. In those days you taught your sons how to fix motors because people still fixed their own cars, and I did learn a lot about engines. Our family was also recovering from the death of my older sister and my dad had recently lost his job, so the time seemed right for a project to cheer everyone up. I was clearly a depressed teenager at that point and desperate for some mobility.
When it was introduced in 1960 the Corvair (named for a combination of the Chevrolet Corvette and Bel Air) was deemed Car of the Year by Motor Trend magazine. The Corvair was America’s answer to the Volkswagen Beetle, complete with an air-cooled engine in the rear and the trunk up front. But this was no wimpy VW bug – the Corvair had a 6 cylinder engine and could be classified in some configurations as a zippy little sports car. And it even came in a van and pickup truck version.
My dad and I tore that car down to the bare bones and completely rebuilt the engine and just about everything else. I made new door panels out of leftover wood bedroom paneling, spray painted the all-metal dashboard, laid some indoor-outdoor carpeting on the floor, and decorated the interior and exterior with a variety of goofy items and unique customizations. I spent the summer riding my bike to various junkyards scouring for parts. I loved that car.
For my sixteenth birthday, my parents paid for a new paint job, which cost $29.95 at Earl Scheib (a chain of car-painting stores headquartered in Los Angeles). I chose midnight blue.
By then (1972) Chevrolet had long discontinued making the Corvair and its safety problems were well known, thanks to Ralph Nader’s best-selling book Unsafe at Any Speed, which prominently featured the Corvair as an example of the unsafe practices of America’s automobile industry. Fortunately my parents weren’t big readers who either didn’t know the car was notorious or didn’t care.
According to Nader, the Corvair’s suspension had a design flaw that caused the rear wheel to “tuck” under during turns, which often led to a lack of control and sometimes deadly spin outs. Combine that with a steering column that did not collapse and supposedly impaled drivers, and it’s no wonder sales dropped dramatically after Nader’s book came out in 1965.
One of the first things I did to my Corvair was to add seat belts, though I bolted them to the rusty floor and they probably wouldn’t have held in an accident. But they were psychologically reassuring.
When I turned 16 I began driving that car daily. Living in Los Angeles means driving a lot – from the mountains to the beach. Just going to a movie involved driving halfway across the city.
Even after a complete re-build it leaked oil like a sieve (Corvairs were famous for it) and I had to crawl under the car on a regular basis to pop the gear-shift lever back into its socket. The three-speed manual transmission ground a bit in certain gears but I always managed to get where I was going.
For one reason or another, be it luck or skill, I never got in an accident in that car, despite my youthful age and lack of experience.
In doing a little research this week I discovered that, according to some independent testing that took place years later, the Corvair was pretty much exonerated of its safety problems. It may not have been much worse than many of the cars of that era, assuming you had good tires and inflated them properly. (I usually bought used tires back then – what teenager could afford new tires?)
I also discovered the Corvair was named by Time magazine as one of the 50 worst cars every made.
These days parents take a little more care in the kind of vehicle they allow their children to drive. But in those days it was the kids who got the junkers, the discards, and the $25 models.
Yet almost all my memories of that car are good ones. It took me all over Southern California and represented freedom to me. Even when I had one of my parent’s cars at my disposal, I took the Corvair. It may have been unsafe at any speed, but it belonged to me.
Eventually I sold that car to a neighbor kid who ran it into the ground pretty quickly. It took a little finesse to drive a car like that – you had to baby it and know its peculiarities. I’ve had a lot of cars since then, but none of them have meant as much as my 1960 Corvair.
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This article was last modified on May 15, 2023
This article was first published on February 18, 2011
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Gene, I recently came across some publications from 1880-1900 – they are loaded with engravings, ads, illustrations, etc. The publications are falling apart and I’d like to scan them before they disintegrate. Do you know where I can start to find copyright status? If this is the wrong place, I apologize, but you do so much scanning, I thought I would ask you first.
I had understood that a drip of grease under your car means that eventually you will run out of same if you never add any more. Therein is the story of the premature demise of my beloved ’64 Corvair. I later had a Volkswagon and almost flipped it on a number of occasions. But my Corvair I never came close to rolling. I still don’t understand how Nader was able to do what he did to the Corvair and never say a word about the VW Beetle.
I appreciate all the comments. Sadly, I have no readily available pics of my Corvair or I would post one. Oddly, while I save just about everything, I have a poor selection of photos from my youth.
I owned a 1966 Corvair for more than a decade, and it was one of the most enjoyable cars I ever owned. Of course, by the time my friend and I were done remaking it, it was a Corvair in nameplate only.
We removed the engine and rear seat, and dropped in a Chevy small-block 283, paired with a Borg-Warner 5-speed tranny. I lowered the car by 2 inches, chopped and lowered the roof by another 2 inches, then installed dual shocks on all four wheels. Next we installed a front spoiler that had pipes feeding air to the 4bbl carb and added a rear spoiler that was low profile but functional.
We did a lot of other work on the small white beast, but in the end what I ended up with was a true sports car that could handle like a dream and reach speeds that were definitely unsafe.
A month after we finished my baby, I loaned it to the buddy who spent so much sweat helping me imagine my weird dream car. On his way north on I-5 in Michigan, he was pulled over for speeding. Given the ticket he was written -for reckless driving- he decided to make the court appearance in hopes of mitigating his possible punishment, which could include loss of his license, heavy fines, etc.
The officer didn’t show. The judge read the charge and the details, then looked up rather bemused and repeated what he read:
“135 MPH? In a Corvair??!!??”
He dropped the charge and my buddy drove away completely free of penalty… at a much lower speed, this time.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Sanity is a relative concept.
If you don’t believe me,
let me introduce my relatives.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
If this does not bring back some memories. We had a red one. I still have a picture of it somewhere. You’re right, Gene, it was like driving around in enameled tin foil. There was nothing to them. I remember the trunk was in the front and the engine behind. Downright frightening. They were very little compared to the older behemoths on the road at the time. The image with the white corvair/red interior of the family sans seat belts overlooking the cliff is a nightmare. The graphics are great though I have to laugh at the marketing – “Excitingly New From Every View.” ahahahha
And then there were those of us who modified our Corvairs…took out the back seat and put a V8 in…
Great story, can you scan an old photo of your Convair and post it, pretty please?!
My mother had a Covair. I was born in 1959. First car I can remember her driving. Fond memories of me and my brother in the back seat with the windows rolled down, blowing away with the breeze.
My mom was just starting her first restaurant back then, and it was located clear across town. A million errands in the morning before she opened the doors, so you know she would drive that thing like the wind trying to get to the restaurant on time. Back then she had a minimal crew, so the whole place ran itself pretty much by her alone. The memory that will always stay with me is on rainy days, when we drove through the older area of town to get to the restaurant, the water drainage systems were not all that great. The main street running through town was very narrow in that area, and rain water would collect in the intersecting areas. We would see the flooded areas ahead, but my mom would drive through them like there was no tomorrow for fear the car might die in the water if you lingered for too long. It would be like a wild water adventure, plowing through full speed ahead! And when you came out the other end, the car would be drenched with water flowing off, with those little windshield wipers working in madness to clear the view preparing for the next dive! It was like the prospect of rain gave the car a life of it’s own!
Good times. Good memories. My mom has passed on. Give anything for the moment again. I’d love to have a Corvair now. Just because. Thanks Gene :)
Pat
Loved the story. I own a ’62 Monza, painted midnight blue.
A few counter points:
> *After* the Nader book came out, Motor Trend magazine named the ’65 model it’s “Car Of The Year”.
> The real reason the Corvair was killed wasn’t Nader – it was the Mustang. When Chevy got wind of it, they designed the Camaro to take the Corvair’s place.
And so it goes…
Gene, sounds like we’re all lucky to be alive! Our family had a red Corvair as a second car. My sisters and I would drive it back-and-forth to school and transport friends all over town. You think your family was in the dark about the hazards of that car back then – imagine only learning about it now! Seriously, in Billings, Montana in the 60’s – no one was reading books written by automobile manufacturing whistle blowing activists. Too bad.
Dangers aside, that car was a fun ride and for a bunch of high school giggling girlfriends it was sheer entertainment ‘burning the point’ on a Friday night. Ignorance was truly bliss.
Thanks Gene! I’m glad we’re both on the ‘other side’ of those dangerous days.
Joan
Great article Gene, as usual. I always loved the styling of the Corvair and was saddened when the whole Ralph Nader thing came up. My first car was an Austin Mini Estate Wagon, a British car by BMC (a merger of Austin and Morris car companies). It was British Racing Green in color, and the “Estate Wagon” meant it was about a foot longer than the sedan version and had 2 barn doors on the back and a surprising amount of room for hauling things. It had a whopping 850cc engine that had some trouble going up steep hills, but I loved that car and it took me everywhere. It had such a low center of gravity that I could easily (if illegally) do a controlled 4-wheel drift around a right angle city block corner at 30 miles an hour with no problems, which is why the mini was a favorite of racers in England. It was front wheel drive and while on the Trans Canada Highway I hit an ice patch, went into a sideways skid and couldn’t regain control. I ended up hanging upside down by my seatbelt, with the Mini on its roof. I had it repaired and replaced the front window, and it still ran great for several years. I ended up selling it back to the guy I bought it from, but I’d still love to have that car. It was so fun to drive, and took me and my friends to all parts of my home town and province (I grew up in Canada before moving to the US 25 years ago). They say you never forget your first love or your first car–and they’re right! God bless you mini, wherever you are.
How about posting a pic of it? Never had a Corvair (I was a Ford man) but did my share of cruising in my buddy’s ’65 Corsa. And I still have a photo taken at the Bob’s in Pasadena in another friend’s 62 model. Great little cars.
I had a red Corvair convertible with white seats and black carpeting. You brought back some fond memories–thanks!
Jill Nelson – Kansas City . . . wishing she still had that car
Your first car is a rite of passage to the bigger world beyond your home.
“I’m Earl Scheib, and I’ll paint any car for $29.95”
I used love hearing those ads on the radio and begging my dad to let me take my beat up Mustang to Earl for a paint job. Thanks for the memories Gene.