It was requested I post this here, for your enjoyment...
"For you Corvette fans. If ever you get the chance to take a factory delivery, DO SO!! It’s worth every dime.
Prolog:
The story began back in some fuzzy year in my life around the age of 9 or so. There I was in the back seat of Dads big ’56 Caddy with its big V-8 and 2 4 barrel carbs. We were cruising down the highway, I was sitting behind Dad and I look to my left and there is Torch Red car coming around to pass. I don’t know what kind of car it is, but it is a convertible with the top down and this guy and a blonde headed girl with her hair blowing in the wind not 6 feet from my door, WOW! Hey Dad, look at that car! Dad says, “lets see what he’s got” as the big Caddy’s dual carbs start suckin air like a Hoover plugged into a 220 volt outlet. The guy in that Torch Red car looks over, smiles at me just as he grabs the next lower gear, all I see is the back end with the word CORVETTE written across it.
Right then I make up my mind I am going to drive one of those. I start saving nickels and dimes mowing yards, digging fence posts, you name it. That day came at Christmas of my senior year of high school. Dad, said “son, time to go get that Corvette you have always dreamed about”. We found it over in Dallas on a Friday; it was an Artic White convertible with Navy Blue interior, 4 speed, 327-365 HP. Dad signed for me and I had a $41 dollar car payment…those were the days and that perhaps is another story.
The odyssey:
Begins over a year ago when I decided I needed another sports car in my life. I’ve owned about 10 or so Corvettes and a string of other cars from Lexus Sports Coupes to MB SL 500’s but none ever really lit my fire like good ole’ Chevy iron. I find me a dealer that wants to sell one, Graff Chevrolet in Grand Prairie, Texas. There I meet Shelly Otto, a cute little Texas gal who knows how to sell a car and keep you laughing at the same time.
I placed an order for a 2000 with Museum Delivery. Shelly calls after some time and I cannot get Factory Delivery on my 2000, but I tell her I will forego the 2000 if I can get a 2001 much-rumored Z06. Shelly and her boss Gerald Hately were able to put it together and followed up with the good news that on Dec 11 2000 my Millennium Yellow with Torch Red interior was to be built and I needed to make arrangements to pick it up at the Corvette Museum in Bowling Green Kentucky.
Arrangements were made with Judy Yanko and the fine folks at the Museum. On Jan 11th I pack a suitcase and grab a handful of CD’s as I head out to the Miami airport to fly to Bowling Green to pick up my “baby”. Of note here is the fact that Shelly had told me that her and her hubby had been trying for years to have a baby, well it wasn’t until she ordered my Corvette that she got pregnant for the first time and had a healthy baby…before I got my Corvette!
It was a late flight to Nashville, and just me and what looked liked every mother’s son on that silver bird. I must have been the only one not bringing a guitar and looking for their big break on the Grand Ole Opry that weekend. I landed and headed over to National to pick up my rental car to journey to Bowling Green, about an hour away. Its raining and I’m hungry so I follow a big chromed, cab over Pete pulling a reefer into that respite from healthy eating, the American icon, Waffle House. The only place I know of you can get pecan waffles with your fried grease, but ohhh it is so good.
I pull to the inside of the big 18-wheeler and as I get out, I see a big hunk of a man walking around the truck. His name is Steve, he is got a load of fresh produce he picked up down in the lower Rio Grande bound for up north. He said he’d been poppin benny’s since Dallas and was running ahead of schedule so he wanted to spend a little time in Nashville, eat some BBQ over at Corky’s, see Elvis and with some luck find a woman. I wish him good luck as he walks over to the truck stop and I head into the Waffle House. I walk into the place thru a bluish haze of cigarette and fried egg smoke.
I am greeted by Sheila who puts a cup of Joe down in front of me and asks what else I want. By the tone of her voice, I suspect there is more on the menu than the pecan waffles I have a hunger for. She barks out to the cook my order and turns to me with a smile that shows her years. She tells me she was a Cajun queen from down around New Orleans and her last trucker boyfriend left her stranded here at the truck stop about 6 months ago. She took a job here, but is itching to get back out on the road. She looked crushed when I told her I didn’t pull up in the big chrome cab over Pete. Sheila had seen some better days in her youth I’m sure, but I figured I wouldn’t tell her I was driving a Corvette back to Miami. I finish my meal, tell her good night and as I turn to leave I see Steve walking across the parking lot towards us. I turn to Sheila and say, “here comes Steve, my buddy, he’s driving the chrome rig, take good care of him.” I meet Steve at the door as I am leaving and tell him to sit at the bar, before the door shuts behind me I hear a big HELLO STEVE…sure hope he finds Elvis.
I awake the next day to look out the window of my Holiday Hotel to see nothing but snow on the ground and flakes coming down the size of waffles I’d had the nite before. I head on out to the Corvette factory, take the tour, then head over to the Corvette Museum for pickup of my Z06. There it sets in delivery area 1 of the museum, Adam Boca gives me a VIP tour, I sign papers and drive off into what has become blue skies and dry streets. It is a wonderful day in my life. If you have ever thought of buying a Corvette, then think of getting the Museum Delivery option, R8C, most fun and best $482 you will spend anytime soon. The folks at the Museum and Factory could not be any better and are there to make it not just worth it but one of your better experiences in life. Bring camera and lots of film!
As I head south I pass the Waffle House and I see Steve’s truck parked in the motel parking lot next to it…guess he found Elvis. I find I-24 to Atlanta and drive to sundown where I get some rest at the AllTheWay Inn. Its 997 miles to Miami and Interstate all the way. I had the foresight to call Mike Valentine at Valentine Research and ask him to put together one of his best. Mike is the worlds foremost authority on radar detection and his radar detector the Valentine 1, is the best. I have never got a ticket using one.
Its getting late in the eve of my second day of driving as I pull into a gas station along side I-75 just south of the Florida border. The Z06 has just ticked over 500 miles and I am thinking I need to let those 385 ponies loose. I look over at the far pumps and I have 2 Porsche’s filling up. A Boxster and a 911 Carrera. The two guys see me and wander over asking me about my ‘vette. They tell me they are investment bankers from Atlanta heading down to an Alumni fraternity party in Tampa. From the looks of these two, I am sure they are going to have a gay ole time. Boxster boy is telling me how fast the other Porsche is and I listen as if I am impressed. They leave telling me they hope to see me out on the highway…bet on it banana breath!
I fill up my tank and head south. I bank right and hit the I-75 on ramp like Jean Claude Killy chasing Suze ChapStick down the slopes in Aspen. I turn my Valentine One to max bogie as I head down that highway and crank up Thrugood’s Bad To The Bone CD. It is not long and I come across the two-bobsee twins in their German machines. Boxster boy is following as I pull up beside the 911.
We are at 75 mph, I see the 911’s nose dip slightly and I know he is down shifting, I have 6 forward gears residing in a Tremec Mk 12 racing transmission, I see his nose dip again and I know he is fixing to hammer it. I am grabbing for gears faster than a monkey reaching for a banana. I see the nose head up and he has the drop on me as I catch the top of second gear heading for 6500 rpm, he has me by a car length or so but its German Vs. Chev iron or I guess aluminum in this case. Third gear gets here in a hurry, then it fourth, I left him behind in the top of third, but he is hanging on like a trapeze artist without a net.
Telephone poles are begining to look like a picket fence and the dashed line in the highway looks like a solid line when I look ahead and see a long sweeper curve up ahead. We run out of straight away and head into the curve. Z06 will pull 1G and I know he can, but does he have the kahunas to hang in there?
I have the inside lane heading into the sweeper and I am looking at him in my right hand side mirror. We are running about 135mph, I have been seeing him in that mirror since we hit triple numbers. As we go into the apex of the curve I see his nose-dive and I know he did not have the guts to stay the course, what do you expect from a jellyfish. I slow and those two have faded faster than memories of Cato Caitlin after the OJ trial. I see a sign for the Empty Arms Inn and I exit to spend the night.
I’ll make Miami by 4 this afternoon and I just got my belly full of lunch at the Last Pancake south of Gainesville. I’m at an easy cruise about 78mph when a brand new Camaro Z-28 pulls up. We play but it never gets past 85 or so, the windows are tinted but I can make out the profile of a girl, a girl that goes to FSU if the decals mean anything. Most likely, some college girls heading back to school on a Sunday afternoon. They are running along beside me when suddenly I hear that fateful sound of a tire gone bad. The Z-28 nose-dives as they pull to the right and I speed up and pull over about 50 yards ahead of them. I back up till I’m at the car and I get out.
The window is down and sure ‘nuff it’s a coed, she smiles and asks for help as she is stepping out. She has on a miniskirt and the last time I saw something that short it was Yasar Arafat’s Happy Hanukah gift list. About this time, I see another face getting out of the car as my little coed coo’s, “this is my older sister, we have been visiting mom and dad in Tallahassee and are on our way back to Miami”. She comes walking around the car and its big hair, big eyes and big smile and I am thinking I better bend over and look at this tire before she asks me if I am glad to see her or do I always carry a tire jack in my pocket. I’m thinking these gals got their Daddy’s money, their mamma’s good looks and have made me smile like a stack of comic books. I change out the tire while “older sister” helps me, she is divorced, two kids and thinks her favorite color is yellow. We make plans to get together in Miami on some moonlit nite and I head on south with them in tow.
Stats:
Avg. gas mileage, 23.2
Overall average speed, 76
Best gas mileage, 24.9 @ 80 mpg from Nashville to Atlanta
Gas mileage from Gainesville to Opa Locka FL@ 90 mph avg, 23.1 mpg
The Z06 Corvette last made by Chev in 1963, 199 produced, built for racing.
Impressions: The Z06 has more pickup than a busload of hookers on payday Friday nite. The torque curve is flatter than my last girlfriend without her wonder bra, which gives one the ability to drive it anywhere under any conditions, unlike my ’69 427/435hp, which could only take off on dry pavement. Albeit it had pickup, like the straps on Dolly Pardon’s bra it was always stressed and larger than life. Usually an all or none approach. The Z06 fully reflects 48 years of engineering and one can somehow feel that Zora himself looks down upon each one and smiles. Not sure what the “Bowtie Boys” have in store down the road, but the Z06 is gonna be one hellava act to follow!
Epilog:
We went 34 years in our family that Dad, sister, or I drove a Corvette. It was a very emotional time for me while picking up the Corvette in Bowling Green. Judy, my sister, and I spent many years in the Corvette Club of Texas together and Lord knows she loved her Corvettes. She sold her last ‘vette shortly before she passed away from cancer a few years ago and it was always her desire to visit the factory and museum.
Judy, this 2001 Z06 Corvette is for you!
In memory, your loving brother."
