Bill Cash: Motorhead

Graduating high school, I was always somewhat of a motorhead. I had my share of muscle cars, motorcycles and a stack of car magazines.

I knew I wanted a 1963-67 Corvette, and three months prior, my brother had seen a 1967 Corvette parked in front of a store in Mill Valley, CA and he had left a note with a name and phone number saying that I was interested in buying the car. I received a call from the owner, who had decided it was time for him to sell his Corvette. Before I had a chance to open my mouth and negotiate a price, the owner said he would let it go for no less than $2,500, firm!

Of course I could not argue with him, and I agreed on his price. I headed up to Mill Valley with cash in my hand. The only information I had was that the car was blue and my brother said it looked nice.

I met the owner—and the Corvette—and, to my amazement, the car was beautiful. It had 20,000 miles on the odometer, the color was Lyndale Blue with teal interior and 300 horsepower with power brakes, power steering, soft top and a vinyl-covered hard top. The only thing that had ever been replaced on the car was the battery. I bought the car without hesitation, and now I was off to college with my new ride. It had everything I was looking for: personality, style and drivability.

Going to school in Southern California for six years is tough on any car, especially with stop-and-go traffic, congestion, hauling friends around, tying surfboards to the roof and parking in precarious locations. But, no matter where I went, I would always get a thumbs up, and it seems that the Corvette would always break the ice and help me to build friendships around the coolness of the car.

Whatever personality radiated from the ‘67 seemed to pass through to me—from meeting girls to the parking enforcement officer on campus not giving me many deserved tickets. This guy even gave me a special parking spot if I was late because he remembered growing up with a Corvette, and shared many stories about his experiences riding in his dad’s 1963 coupe.

On holidays, I would drive home from Southern California to see my parents in Carmel. I would take Highway 1, which was the longer route and that would add an extra hour to my drive time. But I always convinced myself that taking the coastal route was the most direct route. Maybe it was because the car always seemed to run smoother on Highway 1— or maybe it was the car that made the final decision for me.

A wife, two boys and a few Corvettes later the stories and adventures continued. My passion for automotive design and the engineering of the early 1960s cars—especially Corvettes—amplified. I was officially obsessed.

After college, my 1967 Corvette sat in my parents’ garage for years and years, collecting dust and making a nice home for spiders. Every time we would visit the grandparents, my 3-year-old son Graham would inevitably end up in the garage in the driver’s seat of the 1967 Corvette and pretend like he was driving the Mach 5, just like the cartoon series “Speed Racer.” He always wanted to know how fast the car could drive, if it could drive under water and which button controlled the saw blades that popped out in front of the car. Like a good dad, I told him the car could outrun any bad guy and that the heater control lever controlled the saw blades, but we should only pull it if we ran out of road and had to drive through a forest.

A few years later my son looked me in the eyes and asked why we can’t take the Mach 5 home. At that point, we somehow decided as a family that it was time to bring this old friend home and treat it to a full restoration.

Even with the car parked for over 15 years, it seems the design was a magnet to all ages, especially to our young son. After the restoration was completed in 2005, the whole family planned a summer getaway and trailered the Corvette to the NCRS Nationals in Park City, Utah, where our car received a 97.2 for a Top Flight!