Don’t throw your furniture out the window and run for the hills after reading this, but do pause for reflection. Yesterday, eight Corvettes fell into a 40-foot- wide, 20-foot deep sinkhole. Is this a message from above; i.e. muscle cars don’t belong in the age of global warming? The catastrophe took place at the National Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Hang on! Exactly one year prior to the sinkhole, lightning struck the Vatican after Pope Benedict XVI called it quits. Whoa!
Now I must confess that one of my big regrets in life is not buying a 1958 candy apple red ‘vette for $800. I drove that puppy and turned into James Dean. At the time I was getting around with a 1959 Chevy Biscayne, favored by old people everywhere—three speed on the column with a giant windshield. This was back in 1967—I was a crazy 21. The ’58 vette was owned by a “co-worker” at North American Van Lines—we working our way through college. His car needed many repairs– I could see the road through the floor board and it broke down during test ride. And I didn’t have $800, or anything close to it. Anyway, the sinkhole made me think of that sunny day when I drove about one mile in car that was beautiful to look at.
How about a 1968 VW Bug? That’s our museum…waiting for a sinkhole in the driveway.
67Steffen.com 
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