Hunting around for an interesting tech article, we accidentally stumbled across this very entertaining article from the January 1986 CORSA Communique. We got a good laugh and thought you might too. The original authors dollars are 1986 (40 years ago now!) so keep that in mind when reading. Also of note, ALL back issues of the communiqué magazine are available for download for all CORSA members. A fun perk of membership! Enjoy!
~Originally written and submitted by CORSA member Jerry McRorie.~ ~Published in the Jan 1986 issue of the CORSA Communique Magazine.~
Mountain climbers can explain their urge to scale peaks with the explanation, “Because they’re there.” The man banging his head against the wall can explain his action, “I do it because it feels so good when I stop.” But what earthly reason can the Corvair enthusiast give for driving his funny little rig?
Not having a degree in psychology, I will attempt to define this aberrant behavior as best I can from examining my own experiences with Corvairs.
I suspect there are at least three reasons I drive, repair and curse Corvairs:
1. I enjoy the excitement of never knowing if I will reach my destination.
2. I must have made a “vow of poverty” that I don’t recall ever verbalizing, but I seem to enjoy spending enough money to own a Mercedes 450 SEL on keeping just a few Corvairs running at times.
3. You meet the nicest people with Corvairs.
Just a few examples ~ When Becky and I met six years ago, I was driving a ’67 Monza coupe with an automatic. I bought it from a co-worker for $300 and it was a pretty decent little car.
I decided it deserved a better look than rusted and dented doors and torn original upholstery. So I went to my neighborhood auto recycler looking for some straight doors. I found them on a coupe of the same tan and cream color. They didn’t even need repainting! The yard wanted $50 each for the doors but, for another $50, I could have what was left of the car. All it was missing was the starter, the rear window, the gas tank and a battery. Such a deal for $150.
I snapped it up and within two hours my eldest son and I had managed to put some wheels on it and by pushing it up and down the road in front of the junk yard (of course it was another automatic) we got it running. Gas was being pumped from a one gallon gas can precariously lodged where the battery belonged.
I had only to drive it about 10 miles to its final resting place. I had plotted a route that kept to back roads except for one mile where I had to take a freeway across a river. As I merged onto the freeway, I noticed the car right beside me had a big star on the door. The patrolman waved me to the side of the road.
A few pumps of the brake pedal and I was stopped. I left the motor running and hoped there was no reason he would ask me to shut it off.
I waved the bill of sale and pointed out that the car was a match for the one my son was driving and I had purchased it for parts. He was sympathetic enough to issue a ticket only for not having a license on it.
Although the guy at the auto recyclers had insisted the engine and transmission were good, when I ran out of gas a few miles further down the road and we raised the hood, all we could see was oil sprayed everywhere. A trip to the gas station for another gallon of gas and two quarts of oil, a push for a quarter of a mile and we made it home without incident.
Months later, after much tinkering with the engine, my eldest and I completely rebuilt the engine and found the reason it was blowing oil all over. While sitting in the junk yard with the wheels off, the breather tube had plugged with mud!
Well, my Monza ran better than ever with a new engine. While I was replacing the engine, I opted for a transmission rebuild which included a lifetime guarantee at a cost of just over $500.
By now I had about $500 in parts for the engine rebuild, $150 for a parts car, $500 for a transmission. So the car ran pretty good, but it needed a decent stereo to drown out lifter rattle and occasional octane ping. There went another $300. Radial tires were bought on sale for $200.
It was time to do something about the appearance. A nice paint job and re- chromed bumpers for $550 seemed like a good investment and another $500 finished the entire insides with a combination of brown vinyl and crushed velour.
The Monza was definitely getting there, but shocks and a brake ¡ob, including turning those drums that were turnable and replacing those that weren’t, added around $200 more. All told, that put the car at about $2,900 and still seemed like a pretty good deal.
So I went to Becky’s to pick her up to go talk to a minister about performing a little ceremony for the two of us. But my nice car didn’t want to run. Fuel was getting past the fuel pump, but not through one of the carbs. No time to overhaul a carb, so I grabbed a big 4-barrel off another 110 engine and bolted it on.
It started right up and ran great!
At Becky’s house, however, it flooded, then backfired. Since the air cleaner had fit under the hood of the late model but wouldn’t fit under the early model, a great sheet of flame followed the explosion. To further complicate matters, a section of hose used to put all that plumbing together slipped off the gas line and we rolled down the hill in front of the house belching flames through the louvers of the hood and trailing a stream of burning gas behind us.
A block away we bailed out and ran.
The fire department got everything under control shortly, but the heat had warped the hood so it no longer closed and did a little more damage to wiring and paint. Insurance took care of all but $200 of the cost.
Still before the wedding date another fire in the same car in the same driveway.
This time it was the cable to the battery that had cut through where there was no grommet at the firewall. No real damage this time, but Becky was getting a bit nervous about the car.
The solution was to buy a very ordinary ’77 Buick for her and keep the good stuff for myself.
She was riding with me on the dark night when, totally without warning, the engine stopped, the lights went out and the car filled with a very unpleasant smoke.
This time it was a matter of the wire to the cigarette lighter dropping off and shorting out. I guess it is one of the few wires that isn’t fused. A new wire harness took care of that problem.
We finally found out how to keep “Old Flammable” from burning. One afternoon we were using her to launch our small sailboat at our next-door boat ramp.
The tide was way out and the ramp was slippery. I blocked the wheel with a piece of driftwood before engaging in sliding the boat off its trailer.
Standing in the water beside the boat, I told Becky to drive the trailer and car up the ramp. She put the lever in drive and put the gas to it. The wheels spun and the car slid sideways. Wheels still spinning forward, the car skidded down the slime-covered ramp and disappeared in the salty bay.
A friend with a four-wheel drive truck was called and we wrapped a cable around my newly re-chromed bumper and pulled the car from the bottom.
Not wanting to upset my wife any more (or my insurance agent, either), I cleaned the car up, flushed the lifetime guaranteed transmission a couple of times, replaced the alternator and several taillight sockets and being completely honest with the new owner, sold her for $800.
I was going to give examples of meeting the nicest people, like a trip to Europe planned around friends we made through writing to CORSA members whose names we found in the directory.
Imagine a look at Big Ben from a ’68 Convertible and then helping its Bobby owner roll-start it in heavy traffic in downtown London. And I might have mentioned the great people at the Seattle convention who helped us out when our “just-completely-rebuilt” 64 Spyder Convertible decided to lose a valve seat on the Mount Rainier rally.
We had the honor of being the only car brought back on a trailer.
But these stories will have to wait for another time.
Would we get rid of our Corvairs?
Well, Becky won’t drive them anymore, but she loves both the ’65 Corsa convertible and the Spyder too much to part with either of them. And we just bought a very tired Rampside. Now we have to decide whether to restore it, make it into a ‘shorty’ or put on a stake bed.
SFBA CORSA 
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