My Wild GM Pony

My 1970 Hugger Orange Camaro designed for me by my friend Don Yenko
Today’s news flash worth blogging. This well-over fifty woman has just gotten a review that means more to her than a Tony or Academy Award. This Nana has just gotten a leg up on “awesome” in the eyes of her 18 year old grandson.

The other day, while browsing the internet for a new/old mustang to replace the wheels he bought last year the (“grandma chevy”- his words not mine), I casually mentioned that I had owned a Chevy Camaro when I was on Romper Room.


“Yes, my friend Don said it was on the cover of Car and Driver that year.”

Marshell immediately Googled and there it was, the cover I had never seen in all these years, my hugger orange beauty right there on the cover of the magazine.

In 2001, I came as close as I was to seeing my old flame. While I was leisurely reading the New York Times and getting ready to hand the Automotive Section (which I never read) over to my husband, my heart flipped when my eyes scanned the first section page.
An old love of mine that I hadn’t seen in years was staring me in the face. The aristocratic and sporty nose; the classic look that has aged so well. There in beautiful Hugger Orange was a picture of my old 1970 Chevrolet Camaro. According to The Times, that year Chevrolet built a short run of Camaros with aluminum-block 427 engines. Only 69 were built and I just happened to have the one designed and fitted with special spoiler by my friend, Don Yenko, the famous NASCAR driver.

Don’s father owned a Chevrolet dealership in Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, and when I saw this Hugger Orange beauty in his showroom, I had to have it. My husband had a fit, but I bought the car, anyway.

In retrospect, I wish I had put that old beau up on cinderblocks and well-covered. But I didn’t. I sold it to one of my daughters friends who, within a week wrapped it around a tree. No injuries, but the death of my old love was hard to take.

If I had kept that Camero, I hate to think of what it would be worth today, but I know when my son, Emerson, got to be of driving age I would have given it to him anyway. So evaporate those dreams of having a car worth six figures. It never was to be.
©Sandra Hart 2012

Empty Rooms

“How is the house?” I asked my caretaker over the phone.

“Lonley.” he said.

I hung up feeling quite sad because I knew he was right. Houses have souls. Empty houses are lonely.

Each time I am away for a long period of time, opening the door I don't see the home I left. It looks a bit older, sad and not the place I remembered when I locked the door behind me.

A house becomes just a house when empty. It takes the noise, running about, chattering, fighting, loving and living to make a house a home. Without life inside its walls, a house dies. Truly.


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