Welcome to March. Only a couple of weeks ago, I was back in Las Vegas for what had been something of a last-minute decision to spend time there both with friends and by myself with my camera. A couple of years ago, I had left some paid vacation days on the table that I couldn’t carry into the next year, so I’ve been more intentional about taking time for myself throughout the year. Presidents’ Day weekend was calling my name. I was torn between destinations, having considered going somewhere warm, like the Tampa Bay area where I had spent many happy years of my early adulthood, or southeast Florida where I could see more old friends and sites in Miami and Ft. Lauderdale. Also, Las Vegas had never disappointed me in over a decade of adventures.
Vegas won in part because I had already vacationed there with the friends I had joined on this trip, and thus my expectations were properly managed and it was all but guaranteed that it would be a great time. Still, I enjoy exploring unfamiliar places by myself and can still see a trip to southern Florida in my near future. We’ll see. Part of the fun of going on vacation is the feeling of being somewhere else and having a break from one’s familiar surroundings. Waiting for the trip can sometimes feel like Christmas, requiring willpower to temporarily put it out of mind and go about one’s day-to-day business without regularly obsessing about when that day will finally arrive.
Who can relate to having someone in your travel group giving you daily reminders of how many days it will be before you take that vacation together? This has happened to me before, and while I understand and appreciate the building excitement and shared enthusiasm for the trip, this approach can also be crazy-making. It’s great to make plans in advance in order to do and see things that might require reservations, but otherwise and by the time I get to my holiday destination, I never want to feel like I’ve already been there for weeks before my flight even touches down. Suddenly, I’m flashing back to childhood car trips and completely blanking on whether not I was that “Are we there yet?” kid, though I honestly don’t think I was. Dad would have quietly and calmly put a stop to that in a thick Liberian accent.
Besides, time is so precious. Like many of my grade school peers, I have since celebrated a significant birthday and my own odometer has rolled over. Statistically, my life could be said to be significantly more than half over, and so many peers I had gone to school with are no longer with us in numbers that slowly keep growing and shocking me with each notice. Making the choice to be more deliberate with how I spend my free time, see my city, show love to people, and basically live the life I’ve been blessed with has led to a much more fulfilling existence than I could have predicted at the beginning of this decade when I had chosen to live a life of more awareness. (I have also recently celebrated five years of sobriety.)
I’m no longer wishing the cold days away to get straight to summer. Okay… there were a few subzero days this winter when I found myself flipping back through my beach photos from 2024. Much like I’m okay with limiting my engagement in conversations about future travel plans, I’ve found joy in the shorter days and early-ish darkness outside that have given me permission to stay indoors and enjoy a range of activities at home. Like I said at the beginning of this essay, it’s already March. Spring is only weeks away (in the northern hemisphere), and summer will be here before anyone has time to think about it.
In a way, my experience of the warmer seasons here in Chicago is a lot like this ’66 Impala convertible I had spotted passing through my neighborhood a couple of summers ago. Just like I had seen the familiar shapes of a rectangular, chrome grille flanked by two sets of dual headlights playing peek-a-boo next to parked cars, buds should soon start to appear on trees and shrubs. The speed with which leaves, flowers, and green grass appear is a lot like how this Impala had both come and gone from this stretch of residential street within the span of a minute… and then all seem to be gone just as quickly.
I like the style of the ’66, with its slight revisions that included the elimination of the “eyelids” over the headlamps and more geometric, rectangular taillamp clusters that made the rear look like that of a super-sized HC-series Vauxhall Viva from the early ’70s, but not in a bad way. It’s actually the reverse that’s true, since this Impala came before that generation of Viva. The back of the 1970 Viva looks like a mini-Impala. Were both cars done by the same GM stylist?
With the annual changes which used to occur with each model year, I wonder how many consumers who seemed so ready for the new and the next regretted not buying the current car instead of waiting until its replacement hit the new-car showrooms. The ’66 seems to have been the last really conventionally-styled biggie that Chevrolet offered for years, with the much swoopier ’67 employing more than a few then-current trends in its look, like putting the taillamps in the bumper and possessing a much “faster” roofline that had been offered on the B-body, before or after. I could see how passing on what was right before them in the ’66 might have left some consumers with more traditional tastes disappointed in the curvy ’67 (which I also like).
This car lacked the “Super Sport” badges on the front fenders, so it’s just a regular, old Impala convertible with a V8. Like time is sometimes wont to do, this car sped by too quickly for me to be able to take note of and photograph what the V-shaped callout on the front fender would indicate is under the hood, with available displacements for ’66 including 283, 327, 396, and 427 cubic inches with horsepower outputs ranging from 195 all the way up to 425. The exhaust did make sweet music, though, which was my first clue before I saw it that some potentially hot car was coming up the street. A starting weight of about 3,600 pounds for a V8-powered ’66 Impala convertible is about the same as for a new, base-model, Ecoboost-equipped 2025 Ford Mustang fastback.
My most recent, quick trip to Las Vegas came and went seemingly as quickly as this Impala appeared and made its way up this neighborhood street. One philosophy I’ve increasingly adopted is the understanding that everything will happen with the timing in which it’s supposed to, and also that spending time, energy, and emotion on things outside my control is not only wasteful, but counterproductive to being most effective in my endeavors and also being present in right now. Are my life and all of its circumstances perfect? Not by a longshot. I do recognize, however, that there may be some part of me in the future that may wish for some aspects of my current life. Right now, I’m doing my best to keep my eyes wide open.
Edgewater Glen, Chicago, Illinois.
Wednesday, August 2, 2023.
Brochure pages were sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.
It’s amazing how fast time seems to speed by, once the personal odometer has rolled past the halfway mark! I can still recall the shock of seeing the first ’65 Impala, thinking “what have they done”! I, too, prefer the revised ’66 model, and this one looks good; although my preference would be a hardtop. I’m at the stage now where ANY well kept models from my youth will draw my appreciative attention!! Planning for a trip later this year, which will include a first visit to Las Vegas, and am starting to feel the first pangs of anticipation!! 🙂
I always liked the 66 best, with the Silver Shadow fenders, although the corner lights really make the 67 classy.
March is definitely here, with spring (and summer) rapidly approaching. We hit 67 F here yesterday and, about an hour ago, we had a nice hail storm. Small stones, but lots of them. Plus, a chance for spitting snow tonight. Ah, the change of seasons…
Anticipation of a trip is always a wonderful distraction. We had not traveled in quite a few years, then we began making up for lost time in 2023. Trips are already in the planning stages for 2026 with 2025 already having motels booked. The anticipation is indeed like Christmas is for little kids.
The ’65s are nice, but the eyebrows and JC Whitney looking taillights really sour the overall package. The ’66 does look to be more of one piece with much better incorporation of the taillights and without the droopiness of the ’65s front.
That said, I did see (from a distance) a rather plain ’65 Impala sedan recently. It was a dark red with the base wheel covers. It was a looker; perhaps condition played into it (it was immaculate from what I could tell), although I would not have thrown it out of the garage.
You’re right about the tail-lights, Joseph and there were sylists transferred from Detroit around that time. Clays dated Sept ’64 for the HB Viva show low, horizontal taillights quite like that, though they settled for the twin stacked corner lights (very like the Mk.2 Cortina, by co-incidence) which had been on the initial sketches.
http://vauxpedianet.uk2sitebuilder.com/vauxhall-hb-93000—viva-part-1
It better suited the HC which had a slightly lower rear and more horizontal emphasis, i.e. more like this Impala, in miniature. See also the Torana LC.