Curbside Musings: 1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza Convertible – It’s Tuesday

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

It’s the first Tuesday of the new year, and I’d hope everyone in Curbsideland is having a great start to 2025, or at least is giving themselves the grace to allow time for good things to gain traction.  If it seems like I had just written about a Corvair, it’s because I had, with the penultimate essay of new content I had scheduled for the end of last year before the “best of” articles had rerun.  In case you are wondering why I had started scheduling my weekly posts specifically for Tuesday mornings roughly four or five years ago, there was no real science behind it.  I had only known that I had wanted to start contributing regularly on a weekly basis, and I also didn’t want to worry about doing last-minute editing on Sunday afternoons for a Monday feature, so Tuesday morning it was.

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

I had seen this ’64 Corvair on the first Sunday of last month, and it was as if it was practically begging to become my next subject car.  I was going to brunch across the street with friends, one of whom I hadn’t seen for at least six years, when I saw what looked like four round taillamps set into a cute, little butt end.  Could that be… is that another Corvair at the curb?  This was the second Corvair I had seen in this neighborhood in just over a couple of months, and the only first-generation model I had seen in the wild here in Chicago.  You can toggle between this essay on this ’64 and last month’s piece on the redesigned ’65 to look at the significant differences in the stylistic details of the two cars, with both examples still sharing strong Corvair brand identity.

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

Where the lines of the ’65 have a decidedly sophisticated, international flair, this Azure Aqua convertible has a perky, wholesome, all-American look by comparison.  It’s an older compact that actually looks like a compact, and not just nominally.  Within the context of the early 1960s, these were small cars, especially considering that full-sized cars were still considered the standard.  It’s just so cute and innocent looking.  How could anything this apple-pie-on-wheels have ever been implicated in any deadly automotive mishaps?  It occurs to me that this first-generation Corvair convertible is like the Tuesday Weld of cars: so sweet, pretty, and unassuming on the outside and yet, like the actress and many of her roles, seemingly complicated, intense, and perhaps, misunderstood.

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

Curbside’s Paul Niedermeyer had written this comprehensive essay on the 1960 – ’63 Corvair which had originally run at the end of 2012.  This is recommended reading for a basic understanding of some of the challenges that drivers experienced with the handling of the early cars.  There were specific tire pressure recommendations from the factory, front and rear, which were intended to neutralize the car’s tendency to oversteer and potential to flip over in emergency maneuvers.  Changes for ’64 included a standard anti-roll bar up front and a modified rear suspension, by which time the handling issues had been mostly sorted out.  Once the Corvair had found its true calling as the sporty, “bucket seat” (basically two individual bench seats up front) Monza after failing to fully succeed as a no-frills economy car, it was still unconventional with its air-cooled, rear-engine design.

Tuesday Weld headshot, as sourced from the internet.

The Corvair did things its own way and on its own terms, and so did Tuesday Weld.  I’ve long been a cinema buff and have spent many cold, winter evenings watching classic films.  This fascination with vintage movies had started while I was in college, when I would scour the VHS section of the student library for titles or cover artwork that looked interesting, in the days before I had discovered the internet.  It was in my early twenties that I had first started educating myself about the careers of many interesting actors, actresses, directors, and the like, but for some reason and at the time, the mystique of Tuesday Weld had eluded me.  She had started her career as a child model, moving to television (The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis) and eventually movies, being cast in roles that seemed to contrast her beautiful, girl-next-door looks with overt sex appeal (Sex Kittens Go To College).

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

There are many beautiful actresses with compelling filmographies to study and enjoy, but it was during a chance viewing of what I’d estimate to be the second half of the film Pretty Poison from 1968 while channel-surfing (I still can’t decide if it’s a dark comedy or pure tragedy) that piqued my interest in Ms. Weld’s body of work.  It’s important to be able to separate the actor / actress from the roles they portray, but without giving away any of the plot, I’ll just say that I kept looking at the character of Sue Ann Stepanek and wondering how such an apparent ingenue could progressively reveal herself to be so… complicated, and in a bad way.  Ms. Weld also seemingly didn’t give two cents about her public perception, dating men decades older than her, smoking, drinking… empowered with the agency to make her own choices (good or bad), and living her life the way she wanted to at that time.  She could be thought of as the 2000s-era Lindsay Lohan of her day.  (I am also a Lohan fan.)

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

The decidedly idiosyncratic early Corvair was an eventual target of political activist and consumer advocate Ralph Nader for its unsafe handling characteristics under certain circumstances.  We all know how that went, and if not, Paul’s essay linked above includes pertinent details.  I like that this example is from the final year of the first generation, capping the fifth model year of Corvair production.  The Monza convertible was the second-most popular of any Corvair sold that year, with its 31,000 units second only to the 88,400 Monza coupes that found buyers.  The turbocharged Monza Spyder was the least-popular series, with combined production of 11,300 units split between 6,500 coupes and 4,800 convertibles.  The total of 192,000 Corvairs sold for ’64 was significantly behind Ford’s 300,800 Falcons and also 251,000 Plymouth Valiants (including 23,400 Barracudas, which were still considered Valiants) that year.

1964 Chevrolet Corvair Monza convertible. Uptown, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, December 1, 2024.

Ms. Weld’s film career and accolades continued to gain traction as the ’60s progressed, even as she turned down roles that became big box office successes, with Rosemary’s Baby and Bonnie & Clyde being commonly cited as examples.  By the time the ’70s had rolled around, she had taken an extended hiatus from pictures until her turn in 1977s Looking For Mr. Goodbar (a film I still haven’t seen).  To me, her temporary disappearance echoes how the Corvair had simply vanished after ’69 with little fanfare, as I had referenced in last month’s essay.

The thing I have come to appreciate about many of Weld’s roles, even those of the beautiful brat, was the sense of menace that seemed to be lurking just beneath the surface, hidden under those cascading, blonde locks and behind that perfect pout.  Even with the proper tire inflation, I wonder how many modern day owners and drivers of the early Chevrolet Corvair secretly enjoy the thought that they’re driving a beautiful car that, rightly or wrongly, was thought to be just a little bit dangerous.

Uptown, Chicago, Illinois.
Sunday, December 1, 2024.