Volume 61, Number 1 - Winter 2010

 

By David Pompa, MD

On June 6, 1966, my father purchased a Chevelle in Pomona, California. The car, made by Chevrolet, was white with a blue interior, a modest 195 horsepower engine, and eye-pleasing smooth lines. My father insists the car was one of the main reasons my mother even accepted his offer for a date. After all, he had spent his youth as a migrant farm worker, an Army soldier, and at the time of the purchase, a grocery clerk. How else could he have landed a woman educated in a private college? My mother says she couldn’t believe her eyes when he arrived in that car to pick her up for their first date. 

Fast forward to the late 1970s in Paradise, California, far to the north of Pomona. I recall being driven to school in the Chevelle with the lap belt cinched tightly across my hips. I felt so safe knowing that the car was bigger than others on the road. Gas prices had shot up, and smaller cars were becoming more popular and affordable (sound familiar?). I remember the snowy day crash into a neighbor’s mailbox, which completely inverted the tail of the car. I was so disappointed that the Chevelle could even be dented!

Eventually, my father stored the Chevelle in our back driveway, covering it with an ugly blue tarp. Instead of passengers, the car housed spiders, rodents and an assortment of bugs. I felt sad when my father called the wrecking yard to haul the car away. But the Chevelle was destined to be mine: the wrecking yard owner refused to spend the money for a tow truck. How lucky for me at the ripe age of 9!

Around age 13, I spawned a serious interest in the car and frequently asked my father if I could have it for my 16th birthday. The response, naturally, was “if my grades were good.” I took that to heart, studied hard and secured the car. I vividly recall that my birthday fell on a Saturday, delaying my driver’s test appointment to the following Monday. I was frustrated at having those two days of driving stolen away. 

I was a typical teenager with the Chevelle, racing it whenever I could and nearly killing myself a few times, most memorably when I was racing another car on a residential street and a pickup truck backed out of a driveway into my path. To this day, I don’t know how I got around the truck; I have no memory regarding that important detail. I think I’m on my fifth life at this point, the first four having been eaten up in the Chevelle.

The Chevelle drove me from high school to medical school. I cared for it as if it were a child, constantly washing and waxing it even in the winter. I always felt so proud when random people complimented me on how nice the car looked. I did like the way it looked, but I wanted it to be really special some day—a totally unique show car. 

One night in the last few months of medical school, I was awakened by a huge crash. The sound came from a rapid involution of the driver’s side rear fender, making the Chevelle inoperable. By a stroke of luck, the neighbor who crashed into my car left a note and paid for it to be fixed. Still, I knew I couldn’t continue driving the car during residency and fellowship training. I needed smaller, more reliable wheels for the next phase of my life. Thus the Chevelle sat once again in my parents’ back driveway under the same ugly blue tarp.

My wife and I moved to Santa Rosa in 2002, bringing the Chevelle from my folks’ house. The car remained covered in my driveway as I developed my restoration plans. Restoring a car takes an inordinately large amount of planning. I thought long and hard about my ideas, keeping in mind my teenage dream of creating a truly special “ride.” The restoration finally began in October 2005.

The first phase focused on the power train, including the motor, transmission, rear end, brakes, suspension and exhaust—all the pertinent functional components of a car. I chose a hot-rod power plant: a 383 Stroker, meaning 383 cubic inches of fire with the same amount of horsepower. You get the idea of what I was after. I also installed electronic exhaust cutouts to circumvent the mufflers at the touch of a button, giving the car a raw and mighty sound, let alone extremely loud. The old drum brakes were converted to modern disc brakes; the rear axle was upgraded to an indestructible rear end suitable for a three-quarter ton truck; and the transmission was modernized to include an overdrive that enables an amazing 19 mpg freeway without sacrificing power. Of note, I spent nine months looking at hot-rod wheels before choosing Boyd Coddington’s “Junk Yard Dogs.” When the UPS man delivered the wheels in four boxes, I could have kissed him! I knew then that the Chevelle was coming together like I wanted.

After the power train came paint. I really wanted the color to stand out. I spent six months contemplating paint schemes, finally deciding that Candy Apple Red was the color the Chevelle had to be. I watched every hot-rod TV show (Overhaulin’, Pimp My Ride, American Hot Rod) searching for ideas to set the car apart from others. I finally struck nirvana on an episode of Overhaulin’. An artist named Mike Lavallee airbrushed his version of “fire,” as opposed to “flames,” on the side of a 1967 Chevy El Camino. I knew I had to have that done on the Chevelle, and I wanted Lavallee himself to do it. I called his studio and miraculously, he answered the phone. After a few phone calls and persistence, we finally agreed on a date for him to airbrush my car. 

What an event that was when Mike arrived! At the paint shop, he alternated his time between telling stories and airbrushing the Chevelle. He brought in a photo album full of famous cars he had airbrushed; he is truly a unique artist. At the end of the day, we decided to create a mural of my children on the glove box. Using a photo of them as a template, Mike slowly airbrushed their faces onto the glove box. It was a phenomenal day for me; I was living out my teenage dream. I had to keep this going!

The interior was crafted by an old-time hot-rod guy who incorporated one of the themes of the Chevelle’s era: pride in manufacturer. In the 1960s, the mainstream auto market was driven by what was happening on the race tracks. Chevy, Pontiac or Dodge victories on the track translated into sales in the showroom. For this reason, we decided to incorporate the Chevelle’s “cross flag” fender emblem into the seats. This decision translated into having the emblem reproduced and sewn into each of the front seat backs, along with an enlarged version sewn in the middle of the rear seat back. The red metallic piping on the seats matched the Candy Apple Red exterior to perfection, tying the entire color theme together. Of all phases in the restoration, this was my favorite because the craftsmanship is just downright cool.

The last part of the restoration (at least to date) was the stereo system. This phase required a true expert not only in custom stereo design and installation, but also custom woodworking. Three elements were important to me: a sound system that didn’t overpower the other themes of the car, retention of trunk space for cargo, and a newly fabricated center console to yield a sporty look and offer practical functionality (cup holders and storage). Many stereo systems use the large trunks in this genre of car to gain a dazzling look and massive power output. This concept, however, would overtake the other themes of the car, and I did not want that. I wanted a more subdued yet noticeable design that did not sacrifice my trunk space. 

I researched several custom car audio shops in the Bay Area and settled on a shop in Hayward. In a mere 15 days, the shop installed six speakers with custom enclosures, a 1,000 watt amplifier, and a custom center console housing the stereo deck, cup holders, and the tachometer. All components fit the theme of the car, giving a custom look to the stereo system without overpowering the other elements. The craftsmanship is truly amazing, and I am pleased that the interior, exterior and stereo system all flow well together.

I have shown the Chevelle at four auto shows, taking home trophies twice. The first time the car was shown (June 2008), it took first place in the Custom Chevelle category. As you can imagine, I was in disbelief … honestly a dream come true. Even when the car doesn’t win trophies, it always seems to be a crowd pleaser. People are constantly hovering over it. 

When I reflect on the Chevelle’s history from its purchase, to nearly being lost to a junkyard, to surviving a teenage driver, to becoming a totally custom car living out a second lifetime, I am filled with pride and joy. Recently, my father and I showed the Chevelle at Hot August Nights in Reno, Nevada. My father drove the car during one of the cruise nights, and I never thought a 70-year-old man could have that much fun. He repeatedly revved the engine as loud as it would go, drove close to the crowd and exchanged high fives with the onlookers (perfect fit for the HI5 POP license plate). He truly showed off the car he had once cherished in a different form. The story of the Chevelle had come full circle for me.

My Chevelle is the one material possession I have that has surpassed all my expectations. It houses many memories beyond what could ever be written. It reflects my passion for throwback muscle cars, and it serves as my therapy outside the office. Many a night, I sneak into the garage to “tinker” after my kids are asleep. I seem never to run out of things to work on; the Chevelle is a project that never ends. Nothing can change my mood from bad to good quicker than getting behind the wheel, opening up those exhaust cutouts, and cruising down the freeway with that menacing growl reverberating off the center concrete divider. It turns heads wherever I go, and I absolutely love it.

---