Street racing to us was kind of the norm. Yeah, we knew it was "against the law", but viewed it as mostly harmless fun. Local street racing was also more convenient, as the only local legal race tracks in southern California at that time were Riverside International Raceway (RIR) and Orange County International Raceway (OCIR). While RIR was fairly close to us most of the races there were sanctioned. When there was open racing the place was always packed. OCIR had a lot more street racing type events but it was also a lot farther drive, plus I didn't have a trailer, so that meant driving the Chevelle to the track. One event that was always held at OCIR was the Super Chevy Show. It was a Chevy-only car show, swap meet, and drag race. I never missed that show as it was my favorite. Another OCIR favorite was the Coors 64 Funny Cars event that was held annually. As the name implies, there were at least 64 funny cars and it was a show like no other!
According to local lore, one of the oldest street racing areas (prior to North Main) was on Palmyrita Avenue. Palmyrita was buried deep in the orange groves which provided great cover for racing activities. But it was not an ideal location, mainly because it was a narrow two lane street with almost no room for off street parking. Nobody raced there anymore but my buddy Duane used it to "test" his GTO, as it was located not too far from his house. More than a few times I rode shotgun with him while he was testing out different combinations on his goat. Usually it was another tri-power that he scored at the local Pick-a-Part or Ecology Auto Wrecking. We were lucky enough to have grown up during the glory days of wrecking yards. I personally procured parts from GTO's, SS Chevelle's, GT Mustang's, 442 Oldsmobile's, and many more. Although a lot of these muscle cars are kind of rare now, back then the junk yards were littered with them. I remember removing the Carter carburetors off of a 413 Chrysler cross ram, taking the factory aluminum intake manifold off a 1969 GTO Judge, wrenching off a '68 Corvette 427 tri-power manifold (somebody beat me to the carbs), pilfering a turbo from a Corvair Spyder, dismantling more Rochester Quadrajets that I can remember, and laying on cardboard muscling out Muncie 4 speed transmissions and the occasional Turbo Hydramatic 400. I also had a thing for car emblems and always had to remove as many as I could during each bone yard visit. The rarest car I recall seeing was at R&B Auto Wrecking. Someone had actually junked a 1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler Dan Gurney Special! I really liked this car and it looked like it belonged on a NASCAR track. It was complete but the previous owner had disassembled the top end of the motor and stuffed it in the trunk. Unlike the "self service" yards, R&B was a traditional wrecking yard. Fortunately I knew the owner Will Gray, who was a giant of a man, and he would let me roam the yard and remove my own parts. It was during one of those jaunts that I spotted the Mercury, so I went up to the office and asked Will if he would sell me the whole car. We walked out to the Mercury and he lifted the hood to look over the engine. Will stuck his hand down into one of the cylinders to check for a ridge and his hand was so large that it wouldn't even fit in the bore! He told me he wanted the engine out of the Cyclone for his pickup but if I wanted the rest of the car, I could have it for $1000. Regrettably I did not buy the Merc and I believe it ended up getting parted out. Who knew? We certainly didn't.
The junkyards were essential to us because we didn't have a lot of money, and the more money that I could save meant that I could buy another car! Some of the better ones I didn't have to buy, I actually traded for them. These are some of the trades that I recall: a 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix traded for a 1975 Chevy Monza with a factory V-8 and 4 speed, a 1985 Suzuki KX500 traded for a 1969 Plymouth Road Runner with a 440, a 1967 Pontiac Firebird traded for a 1973 Plymouth Cuda, a 1967 Ford Mustang traded for a 1963 Chevy K10 stepside pickup with a 402 big block, and a 1953 Oldsmobile Super 88 traded for a 1962 Mercury Monterey with a 390. I was all over the map when it came to trading. The deciding factor was usually if I liked the way it looked! Remember, these cars were relatively cheap back then. Besides my '69 Chevelle Malibu and the aforementioned trades, here are some of my more memorable rides that I used to own: a 1939 Ford Pickup, a 1955 Chevy Bel Air, a 1956 Chevy 210, a 1957 Chevy Bel Air, a 1964 Ford Falcon Sprint, a 1966 Impala SS 396 convertible, a 1967 Chevelle L79, a 1967 Chevy El Camino L35, a 1967 Chevelle SS, a 1967 Pontiac Firebird 400, a 1968 Pontiac GTO, a 1968 Chevy II Nova SS, a 1969 Ford Mustang Grande 428CJ, a 1969 Camaro SS, a 1969 Chevelle SS, a 1969 Firebird 400 convertible, a 1969 Pontiac GTO, a 1970 Camaro SS, a 1972 Oldsmobile 442, and a 1983 Hurst/Olds. I also owned many variants of these vehicles that were just considered "plain Jane" or base models but out of all of these muscle cars the only one that I managed to hang on to was the Olds 442. There were also tons of cool cars just languishing in people's driveways or side yards. I would drive around neighborhoods looking for potential projects to buy and would either knock on the door or leave a note. I was used to hearing "no, not for sale" or "I'm going to fix it up someday" and the occasional "get lost punk". The following are some of the cars that I didn't score: a 1966 Chevelle SS, a 1967 Ford Fairlane GTA, a 1967 Chevelle convertible, a 1967 Pontiac Firebird 400 convertible, a 1968 Ford Mustang GT, a 1970 Pontiac GTO Judge, a 1970 Chevelle SS, a 1972 Chevelle Heavy Chevy, a 1972 Camaro Z/28, and a 1979 Pontiac Macho T/A.
I have bought and sold more vehicles than I can remember but as with a lot of people, there is always that "one" that got away. In my case, that one was the 1939 Ford Pickup that my dad gave to me for my 21st birthday. Not a muscle car by any means but it did have a flat head V-8 with a 3 speed and a Columbia overdrive rear end. My father was the original owner and drove that truck up until I was born. In my late 20's I had to sell it, and a few other cars, to pay a hospital bill. I also wish I still had my '69 Chevelle. When I sold it I really didn't need the money but a friend of mine had been bugging me for awhile to sell it to him. I finally gave in and sold him the car on one condition - that if he decided to sell it, I would get the first chance to buy it back. Of course those type of conditions never work out. It was about six months later and I am driving down a side street when low and behold, there is my Chevelle sitting in front of some random house. I was actually on the way to that friends house, the very same one that I had sold it to, but now I had a bone to pick with him. "Did you sell my car?" was the first thing I said when he answered the door. "It wasn't your car anymore" he said, "Besides, I didn't think you still wanted it." Boy was I pissed! I did find out that the guy he sold it to was a friend of his named Paul. So I ended up going over to Paul's house to see if he would sell me my Chevelle. I talked to Paul and explained to him that it was basically my first car and that I was supposed to get the first shot at buying it. He flat out told me that he wouldn't sell it to me because he never got the opportunity to buy his first car back, so why should I be able to? I couldn't believe it! To make matters worse he ended up selling the Chevelle a few weeks later to some random dude who ended up thrashing it. Ironically I "found" my Chevelle one last time many years later at a body shop where I had brought a '67 Pontiac Lemans to for some rust repair. The car was reduced to just a rolling body, no engine or transmission and the hood was missing as well as most of the interior. Even in the condition that it was in I recognized it immediately. To make absolutely sure I crawled into the engine compartment and looked up into the transmission tunnel. Scratched into the top of the tunnel, right above where the bell housing would be, were numerous dates. You see, every time I blew up a transmission or changed out a clutch, I would scratch the date in the tunnel of the Chevelle. Now there was no doubt this was my old car so I had to ask the owner of the body shop about it. He told me it was a customer's car that didn't pay his bill so he was going to do a lien sale on it and keep it. I told him I was interested in buying it and to let me know if he wanted to sell it. A few months later I get a call from him asking me if I am still interested in buying the Chevelle. "Heck yeah" I said, "how much?" He told me $2500 and I told him it would take me a month to get the money together, but I wanted it. A little over a month later I tried to call him to set up an appointment to get the Chevelle but nobody was picking up the shop phone. I decided to drive down there and what I found was the gates to the business were locked shut and there was a "No Trespassing" sign posted by the sheriff's office along with yellow tape stating "Police Line Do Not Cross". I asked one of the business's that was next to him what happened and they told me that the owner was a tweeker and the police had raided the place last week. Apparently they found a boat load of drugs so everything was seized, and I didn't know if I could get my Chevelle back or not. I knew a Sargent that was on the Police force so I asked him what happens to all the stuff that is seized in a drug bust. He told me most of it will probably be auctioned off and I could check with the department for auction dates. When I specifically asked him about the cars he said that only the complete ones would be going to auction, the parts cars would be sold for scrap and the city had a contract with a local metal recycler to haul them off. My last chance to get my car back was history and just like that my old Chevelle was gone forever.
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