[caption id="attachment_63945" align="aligncenter" width="614" caption="Image courtesy Motor Trend"][/caption] Known as "Jet Smooth," the Impala returned to Chevy's line-up along with the Bel Air and Biscayne in 1964. Most of us can't remember a time when buying a new car for under $9,000 was possible, but the 1964 Chevy Impala rolled off the lot for an average price of $2,926. This is a small down payment for many cars today and weighed in at a bloated 3,895 pounds at its heaviest station wagon version. The 1964 Impala was the last of this body style, and boasted upside down U-shaped aluminum trim above the taillights, which were surrounded with body-colored paneling. Under the hood was a massive 6.7-liter "turbojet" V-8 engine. My grandfather was lucky enough to own a new 1964 Chevy Impala when it first came out. My grandfather's 1964 Impala came standard with a slip and slide powerglide two-speed automatic transmission and the absence of the B-pillar was not seen often before. Pictures of his white Impala, with its red cloth interior, still gives me the sense that I'd trade anything just to get behind the wheel. Sam Grossman—1967 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 While the Corvette has always been at the top of my list, along with the Chevelle, there wasn't much thought put into which Chevy was my favorite: the 1967 Chevrolet Camaro. The first-generation Camaro came out decades before I was even born, and it wasn't until I was 10 years old that when I saw one for the first time at a classic car show with my dad. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Its sleek exterior, long hood, wide tires, and meticulous design left me speechless. As I've matured, I've discovered things like German sport sedans, but let's face it: There really is nothing like an American muscle car. Camaro comes from the French word meaning "comrade" or "pal", and that's exactly what this vehicle has been countless Americans, and someday for me, too. Jason Davis—1987 Chevrolet Sprint Turbo That's right, for me the pinnacle of Chevy's existence dates back to a rebadged Suzuki from 1987. At first glance, the turbocharged and intercooled 70 hp 1.0-liter 3-cylinder seems a little underwhelming, even by the low standards of the '80s. But, with only 1,633 pounds of car to pull around on its 12-inch wheels, this CRX-bashing go kart could go like hell and still get Prius-like mileage. The Sprint Turbo dashed to 60 about 2.5 seconds slower than the Corvette of the day, for about a fourth of the price. Its quarter-mile time was even closer, lagging the 240 hp 'Vette by only 1.5 seconds…and it recorded 37city/41 highway fuel economy. You could also argue that the Sprint Turbo helped create the 90's import aftermarket scene, too. With its tachometer with turbo light, trim-matched bucket seats, sport wheel covers, upgraded sway bars and springs, revised gear-ratios, and flared fenders and ground effects kit, the Sprint beat the rest of the aftermarket scene by a solid 10 years. Joel Arellano—2010 Chevrolet Camaro I'm the classic geek: I like books, latest tech toys, fantasy movies, and know the difference between a Trekkie and a Trekker. (I'm the latter, by the way). I also like cars, especially concepts, and the more futuristic or outlandish—or both —the more I like it. So it's no surprise that my favorite Chevy is the current, fifth-generation Camaro. To me, the Camaro is a concept car brought to life, barely changed from the 2006 and 2007 concepts when the coupe went into production in 2009 as a 2010 model. I'm not surprised when Michael Bay selected the Camaro to play a key role in the Transformers movies. Even now, I expect that Camaro gunning by my side or rapidly filling my rearview mirror to burst apart into Bumblebee. Designwise, the Camaro is quintessentially American. No foreign automaker has ever really matched the sheer boldness, the in-your-face attitude in their concept or production models. I like the expansive, blackened front grill and predatory headlamps. The Camaro is about near-straight lines and angles, from the sharply raked windshield and the long hood. I find the Camaro's rear nearly as interesting as the rest of the car, a testament to GM paying homage to the past and the future of the brand. Matt Askari—2007 Chevrolet Tahoe In 2009, I came back to the U.S. after a stint abroad in Europe. Descending into Los Angeles I was awakened by overhead announcements—seatbelts please, touching down in a few moments. I was even thanked for my loyalty (I have none, it was the cheapest ticket). Looking out the window I tried to study the city I grew up in through fresh eyes. It didn't take long to notice- there were cars and freeways everywhere! Big behemoths cruising at low-speeds stuck in the city's notorious traffic. As it was I was carless and needed to get behind the wheel, quickly. While every logical thought in my head suggested something practical, I couldn't help but view every Chevy Tahoe online. There was a mystic quality, a cool-factor, high up in those seats you would be above traffic, and the luxury of all that personal leather-covered space inside! But then I would be one of those people. A single city-slicker with no practical purpose for a truck that can seat 8, for a vehicle one would recommend to Gasolinics Anonymous. Two weeks later I was the very excited owner of a 2007 Chevrolet Tahoe LT, my paramour for the next 11months. But soon I found myself thinking all that V-8 power on a 5.3-liter was spreading rumors. He doesn't appreciate us, and of course the 4-wheel drive just rolled itself in disgusted agreement. So at my first opportunity, I went on a road trip inspired by my Chevy Tahoe! I had to find open country, I had to find dirt roads and mud and terrain. I did just that. I was driving, but it was the Tahoe taking me on the trip through the open roads and open skies of Nevada, Arizona and Utah, through rain and snow, hail and dirt. There was a thrill and a connectedness I couldn't get from a Nissan Sentra or Toyota Corolla. I don't have the Chevy anymore, and with gas prices through the roof and a changing car climate, I may never drive anything similar again. But I've still got the memories, and a few low-pixel images that will remain with me. Blake Rong—Chevrolet Corvair (all years) Occasionally in the stone-wrought bowels of Cadillac Place, General Motors did trot out a brilliant idea—rare but unforgettable, like a nuclear explosion or a Madonna album. How else could you explain an all-aluminum six-cylinder pancake motor with a single loopy fan belt, mounted deep behind the rear wheels, on a bathtub body with a wraparound rear windshield and no grille? But yet, in an age of chrome-bedecked V8-thumping dinosaurs nestled under helicopter-pad sized hoods, the Chevrolet Corvair was genuinely revolutionary. It even had slightly less chrome. All of the Corvair’s ideas were European in nature, which surely must have landed some Chevrolet executives in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee. But what was American was the Rampside pickup version—as well as the Greenbrier van, Lakewood wagon, and firebreathing turbocharged Monza coupe—a car David E. Davis once called “the most beautiful car to appear in this country since before World War II.” And unlike me, he was a man with taste. And this was back in the 1960s, a time when Don Draper was trading in his Polara for a Coupe DeVille and turbochargers were closer to witchcraft than legitimate power enhancements. Sure, there were faults. But as a symbol of a grandiose risk-taking venture, from one of the most notoriously intransigent corporations in the world, the Corvair was a car before its time, never to be seen again, and all the more tragic for it. The people who hustled it past management deserve medals. Oh, and here are the inevitable mentions of swing axles and Ralph Nader.
'65 Corvette: Most of the style of the '63 Corvette. More practicality to make up for it. Half the value on the open market. Aye, thar be some compromises!