<VV> 1964 Spyder Convertible for sale, low mileage.

[Harold Eigenman]

>From time to time I get phone calls from people informing me of the
whereabouts of Corvairs sitting out in barns or back lots. You never know when
one of those calls may be just as good as they claim. Usually the person
telling you about the "like new" car doesn't know an early from a late. Well,
just a few days ago a lady called me and said her husband had passed on and
that his Corvair was for sale and wondered if I was interested. I said I might
be and ask her what the year and model might be. She said she never was very
interested in the car as she had her own car, a Corvette, and said she hardly
ever drove it except sometimes on Sundays if the weather was nice and she
could put the top down and drive out to the golf course for brunch. Likewise,
she said her husband took extremely good care of the Corvair, as a matter of
fact, she said he just worshipped that car and when ever he went some place,
instead of driving the Corvair, he would take the shuttle bus that makes a
stop right in front of their home, so it was very convenient for him and he
would rather not get the Corvair out of the garage and take a chance on
getting it dirty. This dear lady stopped talking to catch her breath and I
quickly asked her directions to her home so that I might see this car, she
said that she would like to make sure that she could get the garage open and
she would have a locksmith come by the garage and see if he could figure out
the combination to the lock. It seems that her husband, may he rest in peace,
had a vault door installed on the garage and didn't share the combination with
his wife. She said she would call me back in a few days providing the
locksmith was successful in breaking the code. Three miserable days drug by
and then she called, I was so hot to see this Vair that I was about to jump
out of my skin and at my age that isn't easy. She gave me the directions to
her house and I said I'm on my way. It was about three miles away across town,
I ran two stop signs and one red light, gosh knows I don't want anyone to beat
me to this jewel that has been locked away. I kept dreaming that this one is
the one that will make up for all those fruitless dry runs to look at beat up
Corvairs that even Pic-a-Part would reject. As I steamed into her drive way,
almost rear-ending her Corvette, I noticed the roof on the garage had a very
steep angle to it, very much like some older church buildings. The lady met me
as I got out of my van and she said that she had cleaned the Corvair off the
previous day so it would look a little more presentable. When we entered the
garage, it struck me why she had said her husband had worshipped this car. The
Vair was about three feet off the floor on what appeared to be slabs of marble
and at the base of this were various sizes of candles, some partly used and
some fresh. Back about six feet from the marble base was what looked like a
kneeling rail. On top of this heap of marble (?) was one of the prettiest red
' 64 Corvair Spyder Convertibles I have ever laid eyes on. The lady was very
anxious to know what I thought of it and I could hardly suppress my desire to
just jump up and down with glee. She said " I don't expect to get a lot for
the car as to my knowledge I don't recall my husband ever running it". Also
she said she had a new battery installed the day before and she hoped it would
start. I walked over to the driver's side door and peeked in at the odometer.
The numbers read 00003.5. WOW! My heart did a couple of flip-flops in my
throat and if I hadn't gritted my teeth it would probably flopped right out on
that garage floor, which was clean enough you could eat off of it. I thought
to myself, this car got that mileage put on it from the Chevy agency to this
Cathedral, I mean garage. Well, so much for the preliminaries, time to start
haggling. How in the world are we going to get this jewel off the podium? She
must of read my mind cause she said there were a couple of ramps out behind
the garage. We brought these inside, I said "we", actually, this lady is built
like Arnold Shortzenleger and she placed them up next to the front of the
Convert in line with the front tires and said that ought to get it down to
ground level. I eagerly jumped into the driver's seat, the keys were already
in the ignition switch, I nervously pumped the throttle pedal as I twisted the
key to the start position. The fuel gauge indicated one fourth of a tank of
fuel. She said she had some gas put in the tank by the fellow that installed
the new battery. After a few seconds of cranking and pumping the engine fired
off. The valve lifters started talking in a language I've heard before but
just as soon not. After the engine warmed up a bit I stepped on the clutch
pedal and tried to put the transmission in low gear. It wouldn't go. Clutch
disc stuck to the flywheel or cover assembly or both. No problem, just kill
the engine, put it in third gear, hold the clutch pedal down, and restart the
engine. This usually works to break the disc loose, sometimes, but not this
time. The Carb was still on fast idle and when the engine lit off, the whole
car catapulted right off that marble plateau without even touching the ramps
and out the door of the garage me and the convert went, The steering was a
little stiff from sifting all those years and before I could get the car aimed
in the right direction, the Corvette was a little in my way. Amazing how that
fiberglass will shatter so easily sometimes and this happen to be one of those
times. The Corvair is a solid little doogger and it didn't suffer too much but
the left rear fender of the Vette parted company from the body, fortunately
none of the flying pieces struck my van. I was trying desperately to get the
Corvair under control but as it ricochet down the drive way, a fire plug
jumped out in front of me. We won again, that little turbo came on strong and
took that fire plug out with no strain. Most water I've seen in a long time.
By this time, with the left side of the Corvair all crinkled and the front
bumper looking like a pretzel, I was having second thoughts about buying the
car. After all, who wants a car that has a mind of its own. Finally, I got the
car under control and slowed down a bit, as I applied the brakes, the right
front brake locked up and lucky for me there was a new Cad sitting at the curb
that helped me to stop.. As the Corvair ripped the driver's door off the Cad,
I heard the door buzzer sound. It just kept buzzing, then I realized it was my
alarm clock going off. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed the Calendar,
April 1, 2004