As a kid, my Father always had a Chevrolet El Camino, sometimes more than one at a time. Although his name was on the titles, I always called them ours. I believe that it was the years as a small child that I spent near El Caminos that formed my love for American Muscle that I still retain. One of the main things that leads me to believe this is my being told that I was using an electric sander on Bondo rust repairs at age 3 with my Father and Uncle. El Caminos came and went. One time we were driving in our Nissan Xterra, Shockamagooder, and I saw, sitting outside a doctor’s office, Maroon-on-Maroon El Camino for sale. I screamed so loud, my dad thought that I had been injured. It had aftermarket rims and the odor of an ashtray, two factors of my dad never being too crazily fond of it. We pulled over and waited two hours for its owner. He came out and the El Camino was ours within a few days, although it never received a name that I can recall. It was sold a few years later.
One El Camino always remained, Juke. Juke was a 1986 model (they were all of the fifth and final generation, years 1978-1987). It had the stock 350 C.I. engine with a Holley carburetor, which I will forever remember from the “Holley Equipped” sticker in the engine bay. Then, in June 2016, my stories with Juke ended. The engine caught fire and the block was melted, as we would find out later. The slightly rusty Holley air cleaner was off, which I still have today. Juke sat in our lawn for a while, and it was later towed to Scotty, our mechanic of many years. He had always loved Elcos as well, especially ours. He informed us of the melted block. It was sold for $1000, and he has since swapped in a 383 CI small block.
To replace Juke, we bought a 1987 Elco, which we christened Screamin’ Jay, after the blues legend. Another of my father’s passions was music, as he owned a room full of vinyl of various sizes, stereo equipment, and turntables. We have a Victrola in the living room and a jukebox in the dining room, although their functionality is touch-and-go. As clean and beautiful as Screamin’ Jay was, it can still just never fill the hole in my heart left by the car that I grew up with. When I turned 16 years old, my father gave me Screamin’ Jay. It is my secondary car; my daily driver is a manual, V6, 1999 Firebird.