Corvair

This is a ‘62; mine was a ‘61, and black.

My August 2007 issue of Hemmings Classic-Car Magazine has a giant celebration of the Corvair, which many auto-enthusiasts consider the pinnacle of Detroit auto-engineering.
It was, since at that time it was right at the ragged-edge, and flew in the face of the stodgy conventional-wisdom Detroit had been fielding for years.
It had an air-cooled aluminum pancake motor, unlike the usual cast-iron monoblocks from Detroit, both inline and V.
Plus the motor was hung out back, behind the drive-wheels. Conventional auto-design had the motor in front, behind (or over or both) the front wheels, which were unpowered, and only steered.
Conventional auto-design had a front-mounted motor powering the rear drive-wheels, like a tractor, as things had been for ages.
Thankfully I can say that a Corvair was among the cars I owned, except mine seemed to have something wrong.
It was PowerGlide, and that tranny seemed to be set up wrong. It upshifted properly at 30-35 mph, but would downshift any time you dipped into the throttle.
So here we are doing 50-55 mph on the long slight grade out of Mt. Morris to Nunda (“None-DAY”), and the tranny would downshift revving the poor motor to high heavens.
The rear-hung motor made it tail-happy — I almost had it swap ends on me once. I always felt like I was driving a pendulum.
Mine was a ‘61, so had swing-axles. The fully-independent rear-suspension (IRS) wasn’t introduced until the 1965-model, which even had an all-new body.
(Even now IRS is somewhat a novelty; in 1965 it was cutting-edge. Many cars are still solid rear-axle; even NASCAR is still solid rear-axle.)
One has to remember the Corvair was introduced in 1960 as an American interpretation of the ancient Volkswagen Beetle, which was also air-cooled and rear-motor, with swing-axles.
But the Corvair was also unit-construction; the Beetle only somewhat — a body assembled on a floorpan. Most Detroit-iron were body-on-frame; unit-construction was the future.
The Corvair was mostly the doing of Ed Cole, who was always pushing automotive-engineering to the ragged-edge.
Cole was responsible for the revolutionary overhead-valve Cadillac V8 of 1949; and the vaunted Chevy Small-Block is Ed Cole. (—The sort of ragged-edge automotive engineering Detroit now shies away from.)
The ‘60 Corvairs are very basic, but GM introduced a sporty Monza model in 1961 that quickly became a darling of the sportscar-set.
The sportiest upgrade was addition of a four-speed, floor-shifted manual tranny — it turned the humble Corvair into a faux Porsche.
I road-tested a four-speed 1964 Corvair Spyder at some used-car lot at the foot of McKee’s Hill on Concord Pike, but it was sick. The motor was woozy.
And then my father dredged up the ‘61 — much more a car than my Beast. But it was PowerGlide, and became somewhat an albatross.
My father cosigned a credit-arrangement for me to buy that car, but for years I was in no position to pay it. 600 smackaroos. I heard about that until the day he died, despite my forking over “hunderds,” perhaps thousands, to help my younger siblings through college.
Plus the poor thing crippled on me; probably a broken or slipped tranny-engagement cable.
It sat for weeks until the local Chevy-dealer could repair it — and they pulled the motor and tranny and everything: claimed diff-lube had got into the tranny.
Then it sat for three more months while I saved up from my meager minimum-wage income to pay for it. There was no getting credit: no credit-history.
And then too even after I fixed it, it still liked to downshift and rev the motor into the heavens.
We traded it to buy the Triumph TR250 — a very bad attempt at recalling fond memories of The Beast. (The TR250 was the second-worst car we’ve ever had.)
I think my ‘61 remained in use for a while. I used to see a black ‘61 Monza-coupe in a Rochester neighborhood near where we bought the TR250.
The Corvair went on to prompt Ford to market the sporty Mustang. That’s because the Corvair appealed to the sportscar set, but was too unconventional.
That unconventionality gave gadfly Ralph Nader a handle to foam about — that the Corvair was Unsafe at Any Speed.
The Federal gumint tested a Corvair, and found it safe.
But no matter; the damage had been done.
GM also went on to bring out a conventional economy-car: the Chevy-II — very much like the Ford Falcon and the Valiant/Dart.
The Corvair was no longer an economy-car, and Chevy responded to the Mustang with the Camaro — like the Mustang very conventional.
The Corvair lasted until 1969.
Every once in a while I think I’d like to own one again, but ‘65 or later — with the full IRS.
An English lady at the bank I worked with (she was a teller) had a son who got a Corsa coupe (the later Corvair) with four-speed; a fabulous hot-rod.
And once at Mrs. Merriman’s I saw a later Corvair with an aluminum Olds F-85 V8 where the rear-seat was supposed to be.

“PowerGlide” was Chevrolet’s two-speed automatic-transmission.

“The long slight grade out of Mt. Morris to Nunda” is New York Route 408 in western New York just east of Letchworth Park.

RE: “At the foot of McKee’s Hill on Concord Pike.......” “Concord Pike” is U.S. Route 202, the main route north out of Wilmington, Delaware. “McKee’s Hill” is the main downhill on Route 202 into Wilmington off the piedmont. We (I) lived in a suburb north of Wilmington near Concord Pike.

“The Beast” is my first car, a 1958 Triumph TR3 — a fabulous hot-rod, but no weather-protection. I flipped it while in college, but it was still driveable.

According to my macho blowhard brother-in-Boston, “hunderds” is the correct spelling of “hundreds.”

Our worst car was a 1976 Volkswagen Dasher station-wagon — a rust-prone demonstrator; held together with baling-twine. The TR250 was only the second-worst. It too rusted to smithereens, but only clogged its gas-tank on me. The girl who bought it from me had the rear diff immediately lock up, plus a tire went soft.

The “Corsa” replaced the Monza in 1965.

“Mrs. Merriman’s” is our second apartment — 20 Woodland Park in Rochester; not far from our first house, which came next. “Mrs. Merriman” owned the house; we rented the upstairs. We moved shortly after she died.