Online Extra. . . Putting on Airs
By: William Jeanes Source: AARP Bulletin Date Posted: 2007-03-08 10:04:00-05:00
By William Jeanes
March 2007
This is the golden anniversary year of the 1957 Chevrolet, and those of us kindly called "of a certain age" find ourselves beamed back to the 1950s—a decade that President Eisenhower not only epitomized but described unforgettably when he said, "Things are more like they are now than they ever were before."
In that atmosphere, the Chevrolet Division brought forth its mold-breaking 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. It wasn't just beautiful; it was the first break-out-in-a-hot-sweat sexy American car you could sensibly aspire to even if your dad wasn't Oliver Warbucks. And its beauty was more than sheet metal-deep. In the vernacular of the time, it ran like Jack the Bear and is thought to have been the inspiration for the phrase, "Eat your heart out."
Two years earlier, the legendary Chevy small-block V-8 had made its debut in the 1955 Chevrolet, once and for all wresting V-8 leadership from Ford and sending the nation's hot rodders into a wrench-pulling frenzy. The 1955 Chevy was a handsome car, but the 1956 model looked as if it had been designed by Hertz. For 1957, though, Chevrolet stylists added razor-edged tail fins and a twin-rocket motif on the front end, giving the car what one might call an overlay of tasteful flashiness.
Fred, one of the three roommates with whom I shared a house at the University of Alabama, had a smell-good-new 1957 Bel Air convertible. It was white with red-and-white upholstery, a black top and enough automotive testosterone to make James Bond look like a mincing dweeb (Sean Connery and Dr. No lay five years in the future). Fred rarely drove the car, a character flaw traceable to overindulgence in studying. I wore out the knees in four pairs of khakis begging to exercise the car—For its own good of course; even then, I was an unselfish roomie. More times than he should have, he let me borrow it.
Seated behind the non-power-assisted steering wheel that had the diameter of a patio table, I would head for Sorority Row, praying to every god in my Comparative Religion textbook not to let me suffer or inflict mechanical damage. At that moment, no Caesar making a triumphal trip through the Arch of Constantine could have taught me anything about runaway pride and self-satisfaction.
That semester I was dating two blondes, neither of whom wanted anything to do with me that couldn't be done at, say, a Wednesday evening prayer meeting. But even those two icy lovelies were suckers for the Bel Air ragtop. I could tell that they were just as proud as I was to roll up, top down, at Tuscaloosa's toniest drive-in.
Could life have been any better? Ah, maybe, but only if at least one of the blondes had the unbridled affection for me that I had for that Bel Air convertible.
William Jeanes, a former editor-in-chief and publisher of Car and Driver, writes for Winding Road, an Internet magazine.
Additional Related Links
Watch Rare Footage from a '57 Chevy Bel Air Infomercial (Flash)
Hot Wheels Then and Now: Comparing the '57 Bel Air and the '07 Impala
Message Board: Share Your '57 Chevy Memories
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