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Byline: Steve Thompson
At about the time Lyndon Johnson was photo-graphed holding his hound by the ears and reneging on his promise not to send American boys to fight Asian wars, I was driving a '63 Corvair Monza Spyder convertible. White body, white power top, lipstick-red interior with boy-racer gauges in aluminum dash, four-on-the-floor, turbocharger. Babe-magnet-wise, its only allure in an era when convertibles were everywhere was, well, nothing. But my girlfriend liked it and seemed amused by my obsession with its mechanical details.
My girlfriend's father wasn't as amused when, in a moment of hormone-fueled stupidity, I got it into boost on the way out of the cul-de-sac where they lived and, while turning onto the street, managed to spin the car in a perfect 180. With the engine dead and acrid tire smoke in the air, I glanced over at her father as he shook his head, grimaced and closed the front door to their house.
That Corvair suffered other indignities in my hands, but, luckily for me, space limits listing them. Ralph Nader's Unsafe at Any Speed killed the market for the car, so it stayed in the ...
Source: HighBeam Research, Dangerous at Any Speed.(Column)