Almost 60 Years On, I’m Still Driving My Parents’ 1967 Chevrolet Camaro

In 1967, my father surprised my mother by coming home with a new Camaro. It was nothing extravagant, just a 327 with an automatic. I thought it was bold of my father to make such a purchase without my mother’s knowledge, but she was quite pleased with the new acquisition. 

Since I was two years away from getting my ­driver’s license, I was excited that I might get to drive the Camaro. Indeed, this is the car on which I learned how to drive, change tires, and change my own oil. My father believed that everyone should know how to do these things regardless of gender, and these were the terms for me to take my driving test. I passed on the first try, and then I drove the Camaro to my grandparents’ house the same day.

My mom got a new Buick a few years later, so the Camaro served as the family’s spare car. This was great for me, as it was effectively my car throughout high school. I have many fond memories of sneaking out with it. One time, I went to San Francisco with a friend to go shopping. We only lived about 50 minutes from the city, but we weren’t allowed to go on our own. I accidentally left the car in a no-parking zone, and the Camaro got towed while we were gone. I was freaking out, but my friend had enough cash to get the car out of the tow lot. My mom didn’t know I went to San Francisco until about three weeks later when she got a parking ticket in the mail. She read me the riot act and made me pay the ticket.

In the late ’80s, my parents decided it was time to retire the Camaro. I didn’t want to see the car leave the family, so I bought it from them for $1. At this point, I was living in Michigan, and I had the car shipped out by rail to Chicago. I picked it up at the rail yard and drove it back to Ann Arbor. After the journey back home, I tried enjoying the Camaro, but I could never get anywhere without breaking down. I’m not a mechanic, so I parked it in a dirt-floor pole barn for about 20 years. 

In 2014, the car was transported on a flatbed to my new home, where it sat again for a few more years. Eventually I found Dennis Murphy, a local mechanic, and he got it running again. When the car was ready for me to pick up, he called and said, “We’re 10 miles from 100,000. Do you want to turn it over?” Of course I did, so I hurried over to his shop. The Camaro wasn’t registered, so we went out on a dirt road to drive the last 10 miles.

After it was running again, I drove my Camaro for a couple of years, but it wasn’t in great condition. The paint was a cheap Earl Scheib job that had spent decades baking in the California sun. The body and bumpers had dings, and there were rips in the driver’s seat and the headliner. And even though Murphy did a great job getting the car running, it was obvious the engine was tired from 100,000 miles of service. 

I wanted to honor my mother and father by preserving the Camaro, so I found Randy Russell, a local restorer who had a great reputation for quality workmanship. He worked on the car for about nine months. During the course of the restoration, I decided to make a few changes to the Camaro. I wanted disc brakes, but they wouldn’t fit with the original 14-inch wheels, so I had to go with 15-inch Torq Thrusts. I also had air conditioning and a Bluetooth radio added. The original 327-cubic-inch V-8 needed a full rebuild, but Russell had a 307 V-8 lying around with only 8000 miles on it. I was torn about keeping the original engine, but the 307 was cheaper, which freed up the budget for some underhood dress-up and a few performance parts.

Despite the changes, I still kept many of the original touches that remind me of my parents. I have the original keys and the original California plate on the front. My dad relabeled part of the speedometer back in the day because it wasn’t accurate. I made sure Russell kept those in place. The original AAA sticker couldn’t be saved when the bumper was reconditioned, but the one on there now is an exact replica. 

I brought my freshly finished 1967 Camaro back home in the summer of 2021. Since then, I’ve been enjoying the car when the weather is nice. Each week, one of the little towns near me has a car show, and I meet up with the local club to socialize.

My mom never understood my attachment to the Camaro. She always asked, “Why in the world are you keeping this piece of junk?” To her, it was an old used car, but to me, it was a beautiful family heirloom. One time she came to visit after the car was running again, I took her for a ride to get ice cream. She was 96 at the time. Mom passed the same year the car was finished, but that day I took her for a ride, I told her I was restoring the Camaro. She was tickled pink.