The big difference between 1976 and 1977 Corvettes, despite having identical bodies, is that '77s were not called Stingrays.

When I was a wee little nipper growing up in the concrete jungle wilderness of suburban Manhattan I looked at Corvettes with the same awe as I did the prettiest girl in school; Corvettes, like her, were completely, utterly unobtainable and unapproachable. I had convinced myself that just the thought of talking to that pretty girl would result in my bursting into flames. It was something mere mortals, like me, simply didn't do. Be safe! Stay away! Like a love sick boy I also looked longingly at impossibly gorgeous "Shark Body" Corvettes. Especially red ones. I'd just stand back, lurk and wish longingly for one as I drove by in my Ford Maverick. Oh. The pain.

Some Corvette purists are not fond of the 1968-1982 "Sharks". I grew up with these and have always loved 'em. From afar.

To celebrate twenty years of wedded bliss, on the eve of that most special occasion Mrs. Shotgun and I took delivery of this "Little Red Corvette". My wife's late dad was a sports car guy and had a 1960 Corvette. On the test drive she said her would love this car. Well, that was that. We had to have her. 

That hump in the middle of the hood is functional as well as oh so super cool. Without it the hood would not close properly because the top of the engine is too tall. It is, honestly, a little tough for Mrs. Shotgun to see over.

The AC looks like it hasn't been hooked up since the end of the Reagan administration, the cruise doesn't work, the radio is horrible, the speedometer can't tell me how fast I'm going and the clock on the dash doesn't work. Oh, and the passenger seat won't adjust properly. If you call adjusting a seat back with a screwdriver adjusting a seat. She rattles and moans and growns. The engine fires up without a hitch though and despite having what I would guesstimate to have "only" about 200 or so horses (the catalytic converters are long gone thus giving her a couple ticks more go) she goes pretty good. Just enough power to get me in trouble.

Mrs. Shotgun on the test drive driving it like she just stole it.

Forget all that, man. She. Is fine.

The expression on our older boy's face (he's 15) when he first saw it is priceless. Reminds me of the line about the old Vette in George Strait's classic, "The Best Day". 

Jennifer Lopez was once asked if she'd rather be smart of good looking. She said, "good looking". I can see why. Our "Little Red Corvette", like J-Lo, is an attention grabber by just standing (or sitting) there. Oh, performance? What's that? Can J-Lo sing and dance? Oh, she can? Haha. Well, I guess by 1977 standards our Vette performs well. Contemporary road test reviews of her are less than flattering. She doesn't handle or brake well, the ride is fairly murderous, she's uncomfortable and can bury a gallon of gas faster than any vehicle I've had in the last 25 years. The interior cabin also heats up like an attic. Pop the T-Tops and make sure you wear shorts. A short traipse in one of these is akin to a steam bath.

We've had it only two days and it's already a family heirloom. If you can, listen to your inner 15 and 13 year old and get one.

Forget all that, man. She. Is fine.

The Hot Wife (of 20 years!) and the Little Red Corvette

Happy anniversary, Mrs. Shotgun. Your dad would approve.