One night in May when I was about 17, I pulled into the Chevron station to put four bucks' worth of Custom Supreme into my 409 Chevy Impala. Though I loved the Impala, my eyes were immediately drawn to the opposite island, where sat a '67 Chevelle SS396. Bolero Red with an Antique White vinyl top and black bucket interior, it scratched an itch I didn't even know I had. Then I saw the '427' engine call-out on the fender just ahead of the front wheel arch and my jaw dropped. Just then, the owner, a guy who looked to be barely out of high school himself, emerged from the office and strode over. I had to compliment him on this beautiful car and ask about the apparent 427 transplant. Turned out he worked at the parts counter at the local Chevy-Olds dealership and had been offered a sweet deal on a complete 425 hp L-72 counter engine. Took him a Sunday in the dealership service bay to lash it up to the existing M-21/3.73 12-bolt drivetrain, and he had himself one of the city's pre-eminent street cleaners as well as one of the prettiest cars I'd ever seen.
Then he spun the key and it cranked before firing and settling into a lumpy, raspy idle. Then he blipped the throttle and drove off with a brief squeal of the tires, the 427's ungodly roar peaking three times, punctuated by further shrieks of protest from the rear tires before throttling back to a cruise and fading into the distance,
Next week I'll tell you about the '67 Plymouth Belvedere 2-door Hemi sedan.