The Best Vehicle I Have Ever Owned: My 1977 Chevrolet Chevette

Way back in 1977, I purchased two brand new Chevrolet Chevettes off the showroom floor for $6000. Not one mind you, but two. One, if I remember correctly, was a cobalt blue equipped with air conditioning, power steering, AM/FM radio and all the other bells and whistles available. That was the family car. The other was a sardine can on wheels. Dull white, four speed manual transmission, no radio, no air, open glove box, no cup holders, in fact, no back seat, just a plain hatchback absent any bells or whistles, which I disdain having to pay the additional costs to justify such luxuries. It was mine and the 1977 Chevrolet Chevette Scooter was the best vehicle I have ever owned.

A truly remarkable machine. Gas mileage was phenomenal in that day and age. I zipped around the city at 29 miles per gallon and cruised on the highways near 40 m.p.g. on the little 4 cylinder jobby. It practically parked itself when faced with the tedious and onerous task of parallel parking at a city parking meter slot in the downtown area. When parked on a lot amongst all the giants, all the luxury cars, - Oldsmobile, Buick, Cadillac - it resembled a postage stamp in the corner of an envelope. But it had the punch and pep to move in and out, while the drivers of the biggies were still slowly backing out of a stall even though they were equipped with the marvels of power steering.



I vividly remember one experience that rates my Chevette as my best car ever owned. I was doing some landscaping work and needed around 500 pounds of decorative rock and 10-12 landscape timbers of the 4"x 4" x 8" size. The closest box type store to economically purchase such items was 10 miles away off the Interstate highway. It was like a trip to the country in 1979 prior to urban sprawl. I loaded the items into the rear of the little Chevette and dishearteningly looked at the sagging rear end. I hoped against hope that the trip back home would rival the courage of the little engine that could.



First gear and the sardine can lurched forward, accelerating slowly, until I could place it in second. A burst of power and it easily slipped into third as I glided out of the parking lot toward the freeway entrance. This would be the test. I yielded to oncoming traffic, then made my break as if this was the Indy 500. By the time I shifted into third, I was ready to merge onto the highway. The little Scooter met the challenge and I hit fourth gear. We were cruising. Not only cruising, but passing other cars despite the enormous weight facto in the sagging rear end. We made it home without a problem.



During the time I owned the car, I replaced one tire, one battery and a timing chain. I traded it in for a new family car in 1983. I shed a tear or two.