1969 copo camaro

[JChlupsa]

[ QUOTE ]
actually a very good question...
the first owner, just recently located, has provided us with information that the vinyl roof was applied after the car left the MK showroom floor. of course at the time the restoration was completed the first owner had not been located to provide us with first hand knowledge of the copo's early years.

[/ QUOTE ]

Cowl tag will tell you if it was factory V/top.

[deuce-less]

you do make a valid point mark

[1969l78]

I know a guy looking for a big block nova. Great point Mark The car looks great.

[TLucas]

Very nice looking car. Please provide info on the drive train, interior, etc.
Thanks

[deuce-less]

Before She Was the Blue Mule

Donald Riley
August 2008



I was recently visited by an old love, my ‘69 COPO Camaro, purchased when I first got my driver’s license back in 1974.

She’s had several incarnations since we last were together, lives that I’ve just now been discovering as she returned in the most unexpected way.

But before I get into her return, let me talk about our days together in the dazed and confused 70s.

After having my driver’s license for a month, I suddenly found myself behind the wheel of a monster, a most beautiful monster, but nevertheless, a monster! She was rated at 435 HP, but of course in those days they underrated the horsepower for insurance reasons so the number was actually much higher.

My Mother didn’t want me to own such a car, The neighbors were already calling up yelling at her because of the way I was using the local streets as a race track in my ‘57 Studebaker Hawk… an additional 250 HP in the COPO would certainly be a deadly mix in the hands of an adrenaline thirsty teenage boy.

My Studebaker wasn’t running when I saw the ad for the Camaro. I wanted to borrow my Mother’s car to go look at it, but she wouldn’t allow me, so I bought an old Dodge that someone was selling down the street for $25 to go look at the Camaro.

When I first saw the Camaro it was love at first sight, that Lemans Blue was like the color of the Heavens above, or at least the waters of Waikiki. When I started her up she roared, the only exhaust system was the headers and glasspacks, the sound was pure power!

I have to admit that as a 17 year old with little experience behind the wheel, I was a little nervous about driving it the first time, my left leg was shaking so much as I pushed in the clutch I could hardly put it into first gear. Once I did get rolling though, it was amazing! The experience of driving this car could only be measured by G-Force as it threw me back against the seat each time I entered the next gear.

There was no doubt this car was going to be mine, it was my hard-earned money from all those cold winter mornings delivering the local newspaper and I had the cash on me, $1600… Mothers just don’t understand these things.



I had my COPO from the end of my junior year in high school until the summer after graduation, the perfect time for a 17 year old boy to own such a car. This was the kind of car that would find me looking out from my living room window at it sitting in the driveway long after the newness wore off… and the kind of car that everyone else looked at too, including the girls… and the cops.

I was too shy in those days to fully use such a “chick magnet” to its full advantage, but my car was an accomplice in the loss of my virginity. For the most part it was me and my buddies who rode around in this car though, often very intoxicated as only someone from the 1970s would understand. It was really quite amazing that this car ever survived, or that I survived, as I’d take it out on the highway cruising at what seemed to be the speed of light.

The speedometer only read up to 120 mph so I could only guess how fast I was going, but it was well beyond the capabilities of the speedometer. Of course a car built for acceleration was not meant to cruise at such speeds, but I didn’t know that. All that I did know was that it was so cool going so fast… the cars doing 70mph looked like they were standing still and when I dropped it back down to 70 I didn’t even feel like I was moving.

There was a problem with this though, just a small matter, I blew the engine on one of these runs. In those days no one knew the value of a COPO, certainly not me at that time, so I went to the junkyard and bought another engine, a 396/375. But after a weekend in my front yard with a rented engine hoist and hooking the new motor up, to my disappointment it wouldn’t start. The junkyard had sold me a seized up engine, all that work down the drain.

I was very frustrated at this point, so I dropped the 427 back in and had my friend rebuild it. Talk about bad luck being good luck, if that 396 would have started up, the 427 would have been lost forever in some junkyard and now this car would only be worth a small fraction of what it is worth today.

As I was to find out 33 years later, this COPO has certainly been blessed, like a cat with 9 lives. It survived not only a senior year with a crazy 17 year old boy, but again as the Blue Mule, a stripped down race car, and then rescued by the guy who bought it from me in 1975, Dan Palchanes and now being restored to perfection by its new owner Alan Forman.

How strange the way that my COPO returned to me though. I was actually visiting an old friend from high school, hanging out in the basement of his house that he’s lived in since we were kids, his drum set from the 1970s still sitting in the same spot. We were reminiscing about the old days, him telling me how frightened he was in the backseat as I used to race that car down I-287 with bald tires, my other friend in the front begging me to go faster.



As we were talking, my cell phone rang. It was my Mother telling me that the guy who bought my car back in 1975 just called her all these years later and wanted to talk to me, a guy I had only met one time. He, Dan, told me of the car’s long journey and his journey to find the car again, and then finding me by looking through an old newspaper ad for the car. He put me through to Alan, the current owner and Alan sent me pictures of the Camaro as it was being restored.

Suddenly time lost all meaning as I recalled through my senses the memories. I remembered things like what it felt like to put my hand on the seam of the black vinyl roof as I washed and waxed it, or my right hand on the radio controls tuning in to Lynyrd Skynyrd or Led Zeppelin.

What a great family reunion! I miss my old girlfriend, but she is in good hands and I am so happy to know that she is alive and well, now being restored to her original beauty, knowing that time is of the mind and we are all Eternal.

Long live the Blue Mule!




Some other memories of my COPO Camaro:

* That 427 offered the warmest hood in the neighborhood. Not only was it a chick magnet, it was a cat magnet! I could never keep the car clean, every morning I would go outside and find cat footprints all over the hood. 

* My one friend who lived about a mile and a half away told me that he always knew when to put his coat on when he was waiting for me to pick him up, he could hear me start up the car and go through the gears as I drove to his house. I know the woman next door hated when I started my car up every morning to go to school, it was loud!

* One time after a late night of partying I was driving home when I saw a police car out of the corner of my eye, parked on the side of a building with his lights off. From my rearview mirror I saw his lights go on and without thinking I stepped on the gas and took off! I wasn’t far from my house and I was sure I could outrun him, and I did. As I approached the last corner before my house I could still see the red and blue lights behind me. I raced into my driveway where some large trees partially hid me, I killed my lights and the engine and I sat there in the dark as the cop came around the corner. Our house was at an intersection, the cop slowed down to a stop, he didn’t know which way I had gone. He looked at the road that continued straight and he looked at the road to the right, but he didn’t see me behind the trees to the left. I laughed as he slowly pulled away, what a great triumph for a 17 year old kid, and what a great story to tell my friends the next day.

* Years later I was going out with a girl who grew up in my neighborhood, but was 12 years younger than me. One day I was talking to her about my Camaro and how I used to use the street behind her house as a drag strip. Suddenly she looked at me in shock and anger and said, “that was you?! I hated you when I was a little girl! I was afraid to go out in my yard because of that loud, blue car racing down the street all the time!” I could only laugh, and then she laughed with me.

[mockingbird812]

Great stuff Alan. The stories really set these cars apart and you have some terrific history on this COPO. You got a real gem there. The day 2 look is just right to pay homage to such a beast. Saw it at SCR and it looks great and sounds great. Good luck. LB is one of my favorite colors.




This is what I'm talkin' about.....

[Stefano]

What a cool story(s). Every time I get behind the wheel of a '69 Camaro it takes me back to age 15, when I bought my first one.

What a great piece of Americana!!

[deuce-less]

thx for the additional pic's, they are some i hadn't seen.

[69 Post Sedan]

This is what a '69 Camaro should look like, perfect stance. There isn't a better wheel/tire combo. IMO Nice job. Good luck with the sale.

Kurt

[deuce-less]

The birth of Big Blue


It was August 6, 1969 and I was in El Toro Marine base in Anaheim, California. I had just returned home from 3 consecutive tours in the Southeast Asian war games and was about to be discharged. During the 30 months I’d spent in theater I’d managed to save a tidy little sum of cash and it was burning a hole in my pocket. I went overseas in April of 1967, just before the muscle car boom hit and I’d come home right in the middle of it. I wanted my little piece of Chevy heaven.

I got discharged and headed back to my mother’s home in Wood-Ridge, NJ to get reacclimated to civilian life. During our mustering out briefing we had been cautioned not to wear our uniforms during our trip home. The political climate had changed dramatically while I was gone and military personnel weren’t looked upon too fondly. It was a brave new world indeed. August 7th was a Thursday, mid week, and the airport was pretty empty. I’d chosen to wear my uniform to get the heavy airfare discount – I wanted to save as much of my cash as possible to buy my dream car. I’d read every muscle car magazine I could get my hands on while in Vietnam and I’d narrowed my choice down to either a Camaro or a ‘Vette.

Upon returning home I spent a day with my family and on Saturday I headed to Malcolm Konner – a Chevy dealership in Paramus, NJ. Malcolm Konner was known for having a large selection of ‘vettes and other muscle cars. I walked the lot in awe. They had more corvettes than I’d ever seen before and a lot of cars that I’d never even heard of before I left – Novas, Chevelles, you name it.

Then I went into the showroom. On the floor was a very plain looking Lemans blue camaro. To be honest, the thing that drew me to that car was the reversed hood scoop – the “cowl induction”. I loved the color, I loved the interior, the baby moons left something to be desired and there was no visible marking to differentiate this camaro from the 6 cylinder versions out on the lot. The only standout was that cowl induction. Then the salesman came over popped the hood and told me it was a COPO. I was amazed, I was shocked but most of all I was in love. The sticker price was right around $4,200 which was a lot of money in those days (my future wife had bought a Dodge Dart Swinger for $2,400).

The salesman made it clear that there would be no test drives with this car other than a quick trip around the parking lot. That’s all it took. I think I nearly broke my fingers getting the deposit out of my pocket. I was about $1,000 short of the purchase price so I told the salesman I’d go to the bank on Monday and be back to get the car on Monday or Tuesday. Tuesday it was. I had my financing arranged and headed back to pick up my dream car. I vaguely remember some talking head explaining the maintenance schedule to me but I didn’t hear anything. When they finally gave me the keys and I was getting ready to leave the head mechanic came over and said “break it in the way you want it to run”. I said “what?” and he repeated what he’d said. Then he said never mind what they told you, if you want it to run fast break it in that way.

As I pulled out onto route 17 to head home I lit up the tires for 50 feet. And so began the amazing saga of Big Blue.

Within days I pulled off all the pollution garbage and replace the exhaust manifolds with a shiny new pair of hooker headers. The only downside to that was that the linkage to the backup light sensor had to be removed so when I wanted to back up I had to rotate the sleeve on the steering column manually to activate the lights. The next thing I did was to test the performance with various jet sizes in the carb. If memory serves me correctly (and sometimes it doesn’t), the Holley dual feed 850 came with primaries of .068” and secondaries of .072”. I rejetted it to .072” and .080”. She ran like a scaled dog.

As soon as I’d saved up some additional money I took her over to Gasoline Alley in Patterson. I had Dayton ignition set up a dual point distributor and recurve it for maximum performance. She ran like a badly scalded dog.

Back to work to save some more cash and then back to Gasoline Alley. Pappy Huff refined the exhaust system including a pair of 16” thrush mufflers. She sounded heavenly and ran that way too.

The car was quickly developing a reputation in the Newark, Passaic, Patterson area and I was starting to have to go out of the area to find people who would race me on the street. A friend of mine began calling her “Big Blue”. At that time there was a commercial for SOS scrubbing pads and they were called big blue. As I recall the commercial said something like “nothing can stand up against big blue”. The name stuck and, to me and all that knew her in those days, she’ll always be big blue.

In 1970 I took her out to Motion Performance in Baldwin, Long Island. They had a “supertune” package that, as I recall, cost about a month’s pay but it was worth it. I quickly realized that I needed a better way to get all that power to the ground. My L72 engine made lots of power and the M-22 Muncie all aluminum close ratio transmission passed it through to the 4:10 posi-traction rear but the tires just couldn’t get it to the ground with no weight in the rear. That’s when I put the traction bars on her. I recall taking my mother to the grocery store and pulling a hole shot. The front wheels lifted off the ground surprising the heck out of me and left my mother on the verge of a heart attack. Suffice it to say that I never did that again with her in the car.

In those days gasoline was about 27 cents a gallon. For about 4 or 5 dollars I could fill the tank. The problem was that Big Blue only got around 4-6 miles to a gallon (the way I drove it) and the tank only held 16 or so gallons. That gave me a pretty short cruising range. None the less she looked and sounded so good that it was never a problem to find “companionship”.

In November of 1970 I got married to the “other” love of my life. In short order it became apparent that a newly wed couple couldn’t afford the $1,400 a year insurance premium for old blue and still have enough left over to feed her voracious appetite for fuel. More and more she sat parked while we “zipped” around in the Dodge dart swinger which got much better mileage. Like the dragon in the song “puff the magic dragon”, Big Blue was left alone most of the time to just sit and wait for the turn of the key that would make her roar back to life.

By the end of 1971 I decided that I had no choice but to sell her and hope that she would find an owner who could afford to run her and who would gain his own set of life long memories. I sold her to some unscrupulous dealer in Patterson and, shortly thereafter a new owner came to my mother’s house to ask some questions. I happened to be there and answered all his questions but I was surprised to see that she’d changed. She now sported a black vinyl top and a rear spoiler. The look suited her well but it also made it clear to me that she now belonged to someone else. Her new owner seemed to love her as much as I did so, although I was sad to see her as someone else’s car, I was happy that she was in good hands.

Through the years I’ve often wondered what ever happened to my Big Blue monster. Then, on August 29, 2008 my mother called me and told me that someone had called and inquired about “the camaro”. I returned Dan Palchanes’ call and we talked for more than an hour. Dan asked if he could have the current owner call me and I said sure. Alan called me and we also talked for quite a while. He told me what was going on with old blue and sent me lots of pictures taken throughout her life as a street racer and drag racer. I’ve often wished I’d never sold her but I’m glad she’s wound up with a new chance, and a new owner that loves and appreciates her just as I did some 40 years ago.

My old memories were rekindled through Alan’s efforts and I can’t thank him enough for including me in this rebirth.