1972 Chevelle SS

Who says you can’t love inanimate objects? This ’72 Chevelle SS disclaims that theory.

by Brad Hoke Photography by Colin Date

This was supposed to be a car story. But once into it, it occurred to me it was actually more of a love story. Its original owner doted on it from day one, and so has our entire family.

Our 1972 Chevelle SS Convertible “Old Sport” has had only two owners– the original purchaser and us. It has always been licensed and insured, and has never been out of service even for a few weeks. It has never been in even the most minor of accidents, has been in a garage under a cover every night for the last thirty years, and has been a fully restored showpiece for most of that time. Even at this writing, Old Sport has accumulated only 72,000 original miles.

<img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-90" src="/media/wp-content/ecklerschevelle/chevelle/uploads/2015/02/72-detail-glove-box-300x200.jpg" alt="72-detail-glove-box" width="300" height="200" srcset="/media/wp-content/ecklerschevelle/chevelle/uploads/2015/02/72-detail-glove-box-300x200.jpg 300w, /media/wp-content/ecklerschevelle/chevelle/uploads/2015/02/72-detail-glove-box.jpg 450w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />The man who purchased our Chevelle new was a bachelor named Jack. He lived in one of those gigantic apartment buildings in Washington, DC. He had bought the car in a DC suburb from Rockmont Chevrolet in Rockville, in Montgomery County, Maryland.

My work was also in the District, and my route to the office frequently took me and Lee, who rode with me, past the huge parking lot of Jack’s building. One morning in 1984, there was a ’72 Chevelle convertible sitting there with a 5 x 8 card in the windshield. You couldn’t read it, of course, but you sure could guess why it was there. All we had time for was to loop back through the parking lot to get the phone number.

During the day, Jack got a call from yours truly. We made arrangements to meet at his place after work to look things over and maybe talk turkey. It was a no-brainer if there ever was one. The car wasn’t perfect, but the price was fair, it was in fabulous fundamental condition, and even way back then, it was the good stuff.

We shook on it and made arrangements to meet again the next evening, so he could get paid and give me the title. Then Jack sprung a surprise on me. He said he only had one condition– would we please take the car home that evening? He was afraid something bad would happen to it, especially with it having been parked where it was, and with possibly someone knowing it wasn’t going to be around long.

Lee agreed to drive our truck home making that possible. So the car went home with me on the evening of the very first day we’d even seen it! At that point, Jack couldn’t completely control his emotions. As we were ready to leave, he reached out, patted the car on the top a few times, and with a hitch in his voice said, “Well, goodbye, Old Sport. I think you’re going to a good home.”

That continued to be the car’s name for the past thirty years. And our whole family has continued to love it all that time, every bit as much as Jack did.

My father left me a Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary that by actual measure is five inches thick. Its very second description of love is “a strong liking for or attachment to something.” Not only does that pretty well shoot down those who claim we can’t love inanimate objects, in this car’s case it’s actually something of an understatement.

In Jack, my wife and I, Old Sport has had ardent owner/lovers all its life. And seeing how much our children and grandchildren care for it, that will continue for a long time.