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The Story of Silvia |
| Hi my name is Silvia and I would like to thank you for stopping to have a look at me, especially with all these beautiful Corvettes at the show. I was born in St-Louis on the evening of December 16th 1966, and my birth certificate reads 1943377S106121. I am a high performance 1967 small block coupe and was ordered through Whitman Chevrolet in new Jersey, who by the way have sadly (gulp) gone out of business. When they originally placed the order for me they must have put a lot of little X's in the boxes on the order sheet, because with all my options, a lot of the other Corvettes that I have met, look at me with what seems to be, more than a little envy. The reason that I'm here today in this condition, is because for the last twenty-five years I have been abandoned in a dark garage, with only a lawnmower and a few shovels for company. But I seem to be getting ahead of myself, why don't I start from the beginning. After having been assembled with great pride and what I considered at the time a lot of TLC, I finely was driven (for the first time) outside to a type of holding area. If you ask me it just looked like a giant parking lot with row upon row of different colored cars, all brand spanking new. Then a few days later I was started up again, and driven through the rear gates next to the railroad tracks. Not long thereafter I was leaving St-Louis on a freezing railroad car. I arrived in Joysey (I think that's the way they say it) during the Christmas holidays, in the winter of 1966. Once I got to the Whitman's, I was immediately brought inside the dealership to be washed, inspected, prepared for initial delivery, and then proudly parked with a two other 67 convertibles that were in their well-lit showroom. I can still remember all the mirrors, the bright lights, and with the fresh coat of silver paint that I wore, I was so shiny, that you almost had to wear sunglasses, just to get a good look at me. It was not long, before my then to be first owner came in and started to look me over. He proceeded to sit in the drivers seat and while admiring my bright blue interior he caressed everything that he could get his hands on, he pressed every button, turned every knob that was in sight, and I knew right then, that he had fallen in love with me. He was a Jewish fellow by the name of I.W. a Canadian, who was living in Montreal and although he had been looking for quite some time, he had not been able to find anything like me, at any of the local dealerships. I.W., who was fortunate enough to have been born into a rather wealthy family, had not been used to waiting around when he wanted something, or had something on his mind. What he had on his mind then, was purchasing a brand-new 67 coupe and lucky for me, the option list that I had turned out to be his wish list. The fact that I was not originally built for export, or that I was in another country, didn't bother him in the least. All that I.W. had to do was to pay the invoice, fill the gas tank with high octane, and drive me all the way back to Montreal. Through a light snowfall we left the dealership on the morning of January 11th (the date that is on the protecto plate) and proceeded to drive north on the interstate all day, and into the evening until we arrived in Lacolle, Quebec, which is the border crossing point. This was to be our only setback, because there was no way, that Canada Customs would let both of us enter the country that night without all the proper documents. I.W. then promptly called a friend in Montreal to come down and pick him up (45 minute drive) and I was driven into a very cold and snowy warehouse, to spend (I hoped) only a couple of days. What follows is a brief description of the time it took at the border, to get me imported into Canada.
I was now a bona fide Canadian citizen, and for the next six years I was I.W.'s pride and joy, not to mention one of the fastest rides around. During these six years, I spent all my nights in his garage, although I don't remember it being heated at the time, and being the only car that I.W. had, I was used for 12 months a year. The rest of the time I spent with I.W. was rather dull, except for that night when he left me parked on a dimly lit street in front of his girlfriend's house. I was parked there minding my own business, when a good-looking Camaro 68 or 69 I really don't remember now, stopped about 50 feet behind me. The occupants got out, came over to me to have a closer look, and when they were sure that no one was looking, they proceeded to remove my center caps and replace them with theirs. They said something about the mention of disk brakes on the caps looking really sharp on the Camaro. The only other thing worth mentioning is the night of the party. It was quite late when everybody came out of the house (most of them had had a few drinks too many) to have a look at me, and with I.W. bragging about how fast I could go, it was only a matter of time until somebody took him up on it. It's been a long time now and I don't remember of it was the GTO or the 440, but after over revving and having blown the red-line on the first three gears, it was only a matter of time till something let go, and let go it did. Nothing dramatic, my engine just seized up (I was low a quart at the time too) then, after I.W. pressed in on the clutch pedal, I just rolled to a very slow, uneventful, and quiet stop. I was then hauled to a garage that was owned by one of I.W.s friends (a Porsche garage at that) who removed my engine and proceeded to dismantle it completely. I was fortunate in that the only damage had been done to the block. The heads, the intake, the pan and all the other components were in excellent condition and reusable. It was during that time, while I was in the garage for repairs that I met my second owner, a young fellow by the name of M.P. M.P. was 33 at the time, was married, had a good job, a house on Pie IX, and a cottage in the Laurentiens. M.P. also just happened to have a Porsche that he wanted to get rid of. Well it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what came next. The price was worked out, the Porsche given in trade, and a promise that the new block would be even better and faster then the old one. By the way (the mechanic said to M.P.) would you like to keep the old block, or should we just put on the pile of scrap metal that's out back. I will leave it up to your imagination, as to what was done with the old block. The next three years that I spent with M.P. from 1972 to 1975 were much easier on me. M.P. just happened to own more than one car, so I was only driven during the summer months, and even then, just on weekends to the cottage. Speaking of the cottage, in retrospect I wish the roads to, and from the cottage, would have been paved at the time because the carpets (have a look inside) especially on the passenger side might have stayed a lot cleaner. The only problem that I had during my stay with M.P. was that of vandals. One night while I was parked beside the house, some of the neighbor kids stopped by to look at me. If looking is all that they would have done I would have been a lot better off. They had a rather heavy stick, something like a baseball bat and proceeded to whack the front part of the car around my headlight buckets to see if it was really fiberglass like everybody was saying, or if they could detect the metallic sound that a metal fender makes when it's hit. Then they even went so far as to bust my windshield, and break the glass on my outside mirror, before leaving. Hey! So much for a quiet neighborhood.... When M.P. drove me over to the shop to have the windshield replaced he noticed that there seemed to be something dragging with the brakes. Not wanting to take any chances with my stopping power (I do have power brakes) he took the car over to a friend who promptly removed one of the rotors and found a problem with the parking brake shoes. Here, is where the story takes a turn. The season was late fall (Oct. 1975), and M.P. is thinking "hummm, I'm not going to be using the car for the next six months, why don't I just put it in the garage and have it repaired next spring?" Well if you have been in the hobby for any length of time, (haven't we all heard that one before?), that's exactly what M.P. did. The car was put into storage with the intention of getting it fixed in the spring, but you know the rest. When spring came so did the stork, and everybody knows that a Corvette only seats two, so well, maybe next year! Well believe it or not, I have been in that damn dark garage for the past twenty-five years, without so much as an engine start. I have been covered with about half a dozen old tarps and there was so much trash piled on top of me, that even when the door to the garage was opened, nobody could even recognize me under all the rubble. That is where I was when Bob found me and brought me back to his garage, which has since become my new home. I now share that garage with two other Corvettes that Bob has, a Red 65 convertible, and an original 66 big-block coupe. Funny thing though, even if they have been around a lot longer than I have, he still gives us all the same care and attention. In closing I would like to thank you for the time you spent reading my story. I sincerely hope that you have gotten as much enjoyment out of reading it, as I have had in telling it to you, and I hope you have a great day. The following are a few things that usually catch people's attention, and I can swear they are all original and un-retouched, as delivered when I left the factory. There are also many more small details, worthy of your attention, so go ahead and do your eyes some good, and give me a good look'in over. |
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| UNDER HOOD AREA
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| DOOR AREA
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| REAR DECK The original build sheet is still in place on the gas tank. To view, gently pull the condom to the right side and you will see an excellent copy of the sheet. I would appreciate looking only and not touching There are certainly many more things that you might like to examine so go ahead and enjoy the car that is why I am parked here. The only thing that I would ask is that you not squeeze the armrests on my door panels. Yes they are original, and take my word for it; they also are soft to the touch, so PLEASE DON'T SQUEEZE |
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| I sincerely hope that you have a good
show, so enjoy, and have a safe trip home. |
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