Over my last 20 years in the automotive industry, mostly as a motoring journalist, I have driven a lot of new cars and a lot of old ones. But last week, I was given a very rare opportunity to drive a brand new old one. Yeah, don’t worry, it took me a while to understand it as well. So allow me to explain.
Back in 1978, when cars were dangerous and sex was safe, Chevrolet set out to create a stunning silver anniversary edition Corvette, not only to commemorate its 25th birthday, but to mark the first time they paced the Indy 500. They limited the build numbers to one per dealership in America, which at the time was around 6,502, and slapped a 40% premium over the standard Vette price just to maintain its exclusivity.
Knowing it would be an instant classic, however, collectors snapped them up, forcing each one to be sold for thousands above its sticker price. One particular American collector, however, managed to grab two just so he could drive one and preserve the other. Well, folks, this is that other. One that was carefully garaged, almost never driven, regularly serviced, and lovingly waxed and polished over the next 36 years of it’s pampered life until it was tracked down by a local collector who purchased it a couple of years ago and shipped it to Manila, so he could love and care for it in the same way.
Said to be the only one in the Philippines, the car has travelled just 208 miles since it rolled off the factory floor and will be offered up for auction later this month in Salcedo Auction’s well-appointed life auction in Rockwell. As the auctioneer, I was asked to be there to receive the car and make sure it is stored securely. Fine. No problem. As in, seriously.
I watch it get carefully unloaded off the back of the flatbed truck. Inch by inch it moves down like an expensive gift being unwrapped. The owner notices me videoing the whole thing like a blushing school girl in a One Direction concert and tosses me the key; “wanna drive it, bro?” I’m humbled. I may have driven cars costing 20 times as much, but this is different. This feels more like I’m about to uncork a stupidly expensive vintage bottle of wine.
Naturally, I agree. I take a deep breath, twist the thin metal key, push a chrome handle downwards, swing the door open, step in, and wind my watch back 36 years.
As I sink in to the surprisingly soft, funky silver leather seats I’m greeted by a thin steering wheel about the same diameter as the tires that is unapologetically wrapped in silver leather. In fact, everything you see, both inside and out, is either black or silver, with the odd red accent or stripe. There’s an AM/FM radio, the optional CB Radio to pick up potential speed traps, and plastic covering the luxurious shag pile carpet––which, you guessed it, is in silver. In fact, the only thing that is not black or silver is the original dealer’s invoice stuck on to the passenger’s side window, which although perfectly legible, has yellowed over time.
Shocks, bushings, brake rotors and pads, and even the brake lines are all 100% original and untouched. The only replacements this car has received are fluids and battery. Even the tires are the original Goodyear Eagle GTs. Documentation includes the window sticker, showing almost every available option that was added to this Corvette before it left the factory, as well as a build sheet, owner's manual, and other assorted paperwork that came with any new Corvette at that time.
I’m only allowed to put 2 miles on the car, which may not sound like much, but when you work it out, is equivalent to about six months of the previous owner’s average mileage. I finally crank it over and the optional L-82 V8 engine rumbles into life and roars like a grizzly bear that has just stepped on a piece of Lego. There’s plenty of torque, so I just let it roll along. I’m not eager to floor it because, well, aside from the fact that the owner is sitting next to me, 220hp is 20 less than my family Ford Escape, so there’s really no point. Besides, some things are better left to your imagination.
After 36 years of progress, this is as much about its outright speed and performance figures as an old bottle of wine is about how drunk it can get you. This is all about looking and feeling as cool as Tom Selleck’s mustache. And as I rolled along the streets of Rockwell, the smiles that formed across complete strangers faces confirmed it: It’s not about motion as much as emotion. And this Vette has a full tank of it.
