The functional car of my youth was the 1955 Chevy.
(Not my photo. Not my car. Mine was all blue and wasn’t this shiny and nice.)
I loved it. A V-8 and a Hearst floor-shift installed by my brother Tom. I imagined it was fast, but with that small 283 cubic inch engine it couldn’t have been that badass.
The car of my heart was the 1932 Model B Ford two-door sedan. Dad found it for $75 and fronted the money. The car didn’t run then and never did, but it had most of its parts. It sat in the driveway and I puttered with it off and on. I bought an old Chevy V-8 engine, and rebuilt it to go in the Ford, but before I got the new engine put in the car I got distracted and joined the Army. When I got home from overseas the 1932 Ford was gone. That shape and style still calls to me every time I see it though.
(Not my photo. Not my car, but this is generally what I had.)
While we were at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge we spotted a Model A sedan. The owner was kind enough to chat with me a while. It is a 1930 model A; a little harder lines; but not entirely different from my ’32.
I always thought my car was a Model B, but I find out later that there were different versions of that car produced in 1932; the Model B, with an updated four-banger engine, and a Model 18 with a newly released flathead V8. I had the V8 Model 18 with a whopping 65 horsepower compared to the 4 cylinder 50 hp!
(Again, not my photo. I don’t know if a photo of my actual car survives.)
Were I to have this experience to repeat, I wouldn’t be looking to soup it up with a Chevy V8. I’d be fine with that old flathead ford and a car that ran like the original.