It’s not often that someone can say their first car was a Corvette Stingray. However, that was the situation I found myself in a month before my 16th birthday. From a small child, I always knew I wanted a ‘muscle car’ and I grew up determined to get one by any means possible. My Uncle had a 1972 Buick Riveria that I would drool over every time I visited. I’m not sure if it was the elongated profile, the boattail, the 455, or the smell of the old leather, but I loved everything about it. Around this time, My neighbor 3 doors down, Jeff, had just purchased a 1976 Corvette Stingray with side pipes. I’ll never forget hearing the rumble of the pipes for the first time as an 8-year-old and then seeing what was making that noise. By the time Jeff had pulled into his driveway, all the neighborhood kids on my street had formed a crowd to check it out. We all oohed and ahhhhed for a little and eventually Jeff parked the car his garage. The years went by and although I never saw much of that Corvette again, I never forgot about it. During my tween years, I had completely caught the ‘car-bug’. I was glued to anything car-related. I constantly watched MotorTrend, FastNLoud, and Roadkill, read HOTROD Magazines in class, collected HotWheels of only 60s/70s eras cars, and had seen every car-related series offered on Netflix at least 3 times over. I made sure my Dad took me to as many car shows as possible. We went to everything from local shows up to the annual Mecum auction in Kansas City. “Car talk” was frequently banned from the nightly dinner conversations. By the time it came for me to start studying for my learner’s permit, I was a self-proclaimed expert at being able to identify a car by its year, make, and model just by looking at it. My evenings were spent hogging the family PC for hours on end looking at and bookmarking Craigslist classified ads in hopes of one day saving up enough cash to make that dream a reality. At this point, my parents were beyond sick of hearing me rant and rave about the differences between the R/S, SS, and Z/28s and which ones were more valuable. They decided it was indeed time to start looking at potential first cars. I immediately whipped out a diagram on grid paper that I had been working on. The diagram was a timeline with cars and the ideal years I was searching for. There were several cars on the diagram that were deemed acceptable by my standards but none of them were up to my parent's standards. I don’t think they realized at the time the level of obsession they were dealing with. We looked at a couple of “newer” F-bodies (1998-2002 in 2011 was new to us) and one or two New Edge Mustangs but the insurance was way too high for a new teen driver with these cars only being anywhere from 7 to 12 years old and having a V8. We talked to our insurance provider, USAA, and asked what would be the most economical vehicle to insure for me and they replied with: a 1980s Station Wagon. After hearing this news my parents started to change gears towards something older than 20 years (1990/1989 and older) but still safe and fun as I wanted nothing to do with a station wagon from the 80’s. I started to fall back in love with the cars of the 70’s and knew there were a few amazing cars that could be cheaper to insure yet tons of fun to work on. I tried not to be too discouraged as my hopes of a ‘modern pony car’ had faded but there was hope. I saw my neighbor, Jeff, outside for the first time in a while so I ran over and asked if he still had that old car. He replied, “yeah I’ve still got the ‘vette’. Wanna see it?”. Of course, I did! He opened his garage and there it was, covered in dust and still looking great. It had white bumpers and a nose cover on the front. I looked around and couldn't figure out how to open the doors. Jeff pointed me to a faint dust-covered outline of a push-in handle. I pushed down and heard the click of the mechanism and the door creaked open. I immediately climbed in to soak in the smell of stale leather and dusty gauges. I wiped the dust of the speedometer to see its mileage. It was 64,888! Before I knew what I was saying, I asked Jeff if he would be interested in selling it. He thought about it for a minute and told me to go get my parents to discuss it. I ran as fast as i could across the street to my house. I got inside and told my parents to come quickly! They came out and I dragged them to Jeff's garage to talk. Once I heard Jeff say he would be open to selling it for around $6k, I went deaf. I came to as they chatted about my Dads first car (1966 Impala) and Jeff's first car (1967 Mustang) and ended the conversation with my parents telling me that the Corvette was not a very practical or reasonable first car. That it was simply "too much car". Disappointed, I went back to the drawing board to brainstorm something more practical yet satisfied my need for cool. A couple weeks go by and my dad took me to look at a 1972 Pontiac Tempest. It was green and needed some work but it was a driver. I was jumping at the possibility of owning it on the drive home. My dad was all for it however it was ultimately up to my mother. We discussed it and she was a no go as it did not have shoulder belts and only had lap belts. Crushed again by the motherly blow of safety requirements, I started honing in my searches toward something slightly newer with more safety features. Something like a 3rd generation Camaro or Firebird from 1978-1982. I knew they were not the fastest cars, but they were old enough to still look classic, new enough to have shoulder straps, and came with a blank slate of opportunities to tune them up. I loved the shape and design of a late-model Camaro. I searched and searched for one in Missouri and finally found a 1975 Camaro not 30 minutes away from me! So it was settled, that Saturday my parents and I drove out to look at what could be my first car. We arrived and looked at a very beat-up 1975 Camaro. It was a MACCO blue color that was poorly painted on to cover a tan paint job. The interior was tan and beat up, the trunk didn't shut right, there was a hole in the hood, and the flywheel and the windshield were cracked! The seller informed us it was his sons during high school and he had already beefed it up and it got about 7 or 8 miles to the gallon. My parents were not too impressed with it being heavily modified and in questionable condition. To top it all off, the seller said they could de-tune it for more than they were originally asking, which was already above what I could afford. Plus when you add in the repairs it needed, the car was way out of the question. On the drive home, I started doing the math in my head, comparing that Camaro with my neighbor Jeff’s Corvette. The Corvette, even though I was already told no, was starting to make more sense the more we looked at other cars on the market. It had everything my parents required. Shoulder strap seat belts, automatic transmission, it needed much less work than anything else we saw, got somewhat decent gas mileage at 12-16, and even better: we knew the seller. Once we got back home, I presented my case to the Jury. They were reluctant at first but the longer I talked, the more my parents seemed to be convinced. They agreed to go over and see what Jeff would need to get rid of it, if he still would take $6k that he proposed a few months ago as it was much less the Camaro and needed much less work. We went back over to Jeff’s to talk about it and to my excitement, my parents agreed that I could purchase the car. Jeff agreed to sell it to me on one condition, that I fix it up and get it driving again. He sold it to me for $5,500. I think we settled on $3,000 now and the remaining $2,500 in payments throughout the following summer. I could barely breathe or think straight. There I was a month before my 16th birthday, and after months of searching, I finally had my car. Betsy. Now Betsy wasn’t perfect. She was missing her front bumper, hidden by a black pleather bra. A new front bumper came with the car, ready for installation sitting in a parts box adjacent to the car. The rear bumper that was on the car was just like the missing front one, bone-white fiberglass. It stuck out like a sore thumb against the pearl blue color of the body. Betsy leaked all kinds of oil, the A/C and heat didn’t work, the radio didn't work, the tires were flat, she needed a battery, and she made the whole garage reek like fuel when she was running. In other words, she was perfect. I wasn’t even 16 yet and technically didn't have my license, but did that stop me from sitting in the driver's seat for hours on end? Absolutely not. Often my parents would say if I kept polishing the car, all the paint would come off. Within a month I turned of age and was a legally insured, licensed Missouri Driver. I had 2 weeks left to proudly drive my project Corvette to school. I spent the next year and a half ‘restoring’ my Stingray back to its original glory. I wanted it to look like this beautiful ‘73 I had seen at a previous MECUM auction in Kansas City. After a push rod failure, we replaced the over-regulated 180hp L48 engine with a new Stange 2 Crate Motor from JEGS. While replacing the engine, I decided to remove the side pipes and go back to true dual exhaust. I was sick of getting 2nd degree burns on my calves and it was getting tiresome warning passengers every time they exited the vehicle to step out WIDE to avoid welding their jeans to their legs. I opted for dual Flowmaster 40 Series. I was inundated into and consumed by Corvette culture. I joined the Corvette Forum and found loads of information on there that helped with my repairs. If you are active on CorvetteForum, I still have one of the oldest and most replied to sticked post on the C3 forums: “What’s the Story Behind Your C3?” Anyway, we eventually were able to find a painter who could match the paint for the front bumper and mount and paint the rear bumper to match; Finally allowing me to ditch the LeBra for good and for the first time. After 18 months, Betsy finally matched the vision I had for when I bought her. I had installed all the missing parts, she was finally the same color, and the exhaust sounded louder than ever. This was just weeks before the start of my senior year of high school. I was on Cloud Nine. Summer ended and school started up again. Usually, teenagers dread coming back to school in the fall, but I couldn’t have been more excited to go back. Betsy was finished for the time being and I was still riding the ‘new car high’. From hanging out in the parking lots before class or tailgating before football games, senior year was going great and I was enjoying every second of it. Everything was peaches and cream until tragedy struck in October. In an effort to prevent anything from happening to Betsy, I made a rule not to leave the parking lot until a majority of cars had left. This cut down on the inevitable collisions in the parking lot from new drivers. On this particular day, I had to get over to the pool immediately following school for a Swim Meet. I didn't have time to wait like normal and had to fight the traffic to get there. I was booking it over there when I crested a hill to see another student’s F-150 stopped in the middle of the road. I quickly applied my brakes but it was too late. I ended up sliding under the back of his trailer hitch which ripped through the freshly painted bumper, headlight, fender, and hood. We pulled over and I knew in the pit of my stomach that 1. Betsy was wrecked and 2. That everyone in my high school saw it, or if they didnt see it, will drive by it momentarily. Judging by the damage I saw, I didn't think in a million years that it would be considered a total loss. And to be honest, I had no idea what that meant other than a bad title. I was beyond devastated and even more embarrassed. I called my parents, the police showed up, Betsy had to be towed to a body shop, I missed my swim meet, and everyone saw. I had no idea what was going to happen next, all I knew was I didn't have my car anymore. And toad insult to injury, I got a ticket for ‘Failure to Yield’. Betsy was evaluated and was towed back to my house while the body shop finished calculating the estimate. We then got a call from USAA confirming the worst, that she was totaled. They offered us the ability to purchase her with the damage and bad title but I couldn’t justify that after all the work we had just finished putting into it. We were then informed that insurance would be sending us a check for Betsy and then collecting the vehicle with a tow truck. I had 24 hours to get everything out of her. I took my ‘Stingray’ embroidered floor mats, center console cushion, T-Top Bags, and anything that I could. Heck, I even thought about popping off the beauty rings from the wheels and taking them. I kept the original keys as a small token to the car. I couldn’t bear to think that was the last time I would ever see Betsy. Fighting back tears I swore to myself I would find her again. The next day while I was at school, they must have taken her because I arrived home to an empty driveway. Back to the drawing board again for a new vehicle. This time, my parents wanted nothing to do with anything fast, old, or loud. I started an interest in offroading rigs and wanted to look at Jeeps. I wanted a 1998-2001 Cherokee but I couldn’t find any that fit my parameters in the time I had to replace Betsy so I ended up getting a 2001 Grand Cherokee Limited. Like Betsy, the Jeep was navy blue with a black leather interior and a V8, and I even added Flowmaster 40s to make it sound the same. I ended up driving the Jeep through the rest of high school and college. While owning the Jeep, I was always slowly upgrading and building it to keep me preoccupied. Even after I purchased the Jeep, I never stopped looking for cars. Deep down I wanted to find another Corvette to replace Betsy. Halfway into the summer after my senior year of high school, about 8 months after getting the Jeep, my mom came home and swore she just saw someone in my neighborhood driving Betsy. I was shocked and overcome with emotion at the same time. I immediately started searching to see if it was for sale. I couldn't find anything but that didn't stop me. I refreshed the pages daily until a few weeks go by and I see it. “1976 Corvette for sale” The ad shows 5 or 6 pictures of the car and in the bio it confirms it has a prior salvage title and has been wrecked before. I knew from the first thumbnail that was Betsy. I immediately made plans to go check it out and hopefully get my car back. I was headed to college in a few weeks and was in no way able to afford any additional expenses, but I couldn't let it go. The seller was just a mile or two away from me, right across the lake. I went over and sure enough, there she was. My mom wasn’t lying, she actually did see Betsy driving in our neighborhood just a few weeks prior. The guy selling it was a retired body shop guy who purchases cars at auction and fixes them in his garage each winter as a hobby. By the looks of it, he had done a pretty great job at repairing the fiberglass, and completely fixed the driver-side headlight mechanism. He was asking I believe $6500 for it and I could only scrape together $3,500. Even at $3,500, I would be completely broke. He said there is no way he can let it go that low and I agreed. I had to try at least. I told him that the car used to be mine and I wrecked it- I didn’t inform him that the engine only had maybe 2,000 miles on it. I did ask him that if he ever does end up selling it, I would greatly appreciate it if he could get me in contact with the next owner. He agreed and sadly, I said goodbye to Betsy again. Simultaneously throughout college, I was flipping cars to help pay for school and for upgrades on the Jeep. It was a fun way to make some money and drive cars I've always wanted to. I worked my way up from a $400 S10 Blazer to a 1989 C4 Corvette. The C4 was fun but I still had a Betsy-sized hole missing in my heart. None of the other cars even remotely came close to the emotion I felt while driving it. It was around my junior year when I started to get serious about tracking down Betsy. It had been about 4 years since I had seen her last. I had paid for VIN checks previously but due to the VIN number only having 12 digits, nothing ever came back other than basic decoder info. I had some alerts set for car sales in the area for 1976 Corvettes but none of the hits were my baby. I thought about the conversation I had with the seller last time I found Betsy. So I dug around old emails and ended up finding his contact information and reached out. He said he remembered me but did not keep a record of the purchaser of the Corvette. It had been over 3 years since then and I was bummed to hit another dead end. While at the DMV registering another car I was flipping, I had the idea to ask if the DMV could do a VIN search for me. My thinking was that they might have access to state records that the online searches did not have, especially with the 12-digit VIN. The lady at the DMV told me that normally they can not provide that information to the public but if was able to provide proof of prior ownership, she could help me out since she loved my story. I came back the next day with all the documents to prove ownership and she told me she could only give me a last name and the county to which the most recent registration was currently in. That’s all I needed. I rushed home and pulled up the white pages for every city in that county and filtered by the provided last name. I was able to filter it down to 60 some names. From there I went to Facebook and started searching. It took about 3 hours but I finally found her. His small profile photo featured a circle image of a blue C3 Corvette hood. I knew immediately, that I had found Betsy again. I clicked on his profile and scrolled through his photos. Sporting a black pleather LeBra once again, there she was, in all her glory. I thought about it for a while and crafted up this message to send as a chat request: 6/2016: “Hello! This may seem strange and unexpected, but I have been trying to track down my old 76 Corvette for quite some time now. I bought it when I was 15 from my neighbor. Ever since I can remember I grew up loving the car and when I was able to purchase it for my first car I worked my butt off all summer to buy it. Sadly I had to get rid of it my senior year of high school, ever since then I have been looking for it. I did multiple VIN checks and your name was the most recent name that came up. I see by your pictures you still have it. The relief I am feeling to know it is still out there and alive is incredible! I do not want to pester you but, if you are ever considering selling it in the future, PLEASE let me know. I would love to be re-united with my first car once again. I might make you an offer on it in a year or so once I start making more money. It looks incredible as the day I purchased it. Thanks for your time! I also had a few more questions if you are willing to answer them! I can also give you some more background info about the car.” 4 months of silence until one day I saw a red message notification. He had replied: 10/2016: “Hi Tim! Yes I still own the 76 Corvette. I purchased it a couple of years ago and still working on it. Love the car do not plan on selling it right away, but when i do will try to keep you in mind! What other info do you have on the car?” This started a long friendship of online pen pals between us. Lonnie was curious about history, I was curious about repairs. As time went on, I would occasionally check back in to see if he would still one day sell it to me. Lonnie always reassured me I would be the first one to know and that he would let it go for what he had in it, which at the time was around $8,000. Fast forward 5 years and Lonnie and I are still friends. I have since graduated college, moved from Missouri to Washington D.C., and am a few years into my career. Lonnie and I still chat now and again every couple of months. Still inquiring about the car when he tells me he doesn’t drive it as much, it's getting hard to work on, and he doesn’t have the time he used to have when he was younger. I am back home for the holidays and I get to thinking about how cool it would be to just go and look at Betsy again and meet Lonnie in person for the first time. My mom started getting on me about buying it back again and that I should ask about buying it. This was nowhere on my radar. It was in the middle of a pandemic and car prices were the highest they had been in decades. On top of that, I was still splitting a 1200 square foot row house with roommates and a car I was already street parking. I had nowhere to store it. I started panicking, realizing that I might not ever be able to buy Betsy back. If Lonnie decided it was time to get rid of it, there is no way I would be able to afford it as rollers were selling for low 5-figures. After explaining this to my mother, she told me to shoot my shot and that the worst he could say was “no”. I thought about it and after realizing that my EOY bonus was hitting in a few days, I could almost afford it. That is if Lonnie had not put any additional money into it since the last time I checked, in 2019. He said then that he had put $8,000 into it and would sell it for $6500 if he didn't do anything else to it. There’s no way it could be this simple, right? Lonnie had just wished me a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year not a few days prior. I opened the chat back up and sent him the following message on 12/26/2021: “Hey Lonnie, I am in town for Christmas and would love to come take a look at the car if you’re still interested in selling it to me. I’ve thought lot about it and I want to make an offer if you’re willing to let it go. I have cash and are serious about it.” Lonnie replied 2 days later saying: “Hi Timmy, okay why don’t you give me a call so we can talk about it.” I gave him a call and to my complete and utter shock, he decided it was time to let it go. Lonnie kept his word and told me he would only need $6,000 to let the car go. I was beyond ecstatic. 3 hours later I was on my way over, cash in hand, just as excited as I was when I was 16 years old. I arrived and met Lonnie for the first time. He took me over to his pole barn where he stored his Harley and Betsy. Covered in a thick layer of dust, There she sat. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was my car. It had been almost 7 years since I had seen her last. Lonnie asked if I wanted the keys so I can get in there to pop it into neutral. I smiled and reached into my pocket and pulled out the original set of keys, complete with the keychains my sixteen-year-old self put on 10 years prior. We pushed her out into the light and I was shocked to see how much of the car stayed the same. It still had the crooked American flag sticker I installed on my birthday. The doors made the exact same creaking noises. Lonnie had done his fair share of work on the car over the last 8 years. He had replaced the radio with a resto-mod unit with USB, added a speaker bar in the rear storage compartment, upgraded the steering, and replaced all of the shocks. After several jumpstarts and adjusting the distributor's timing, we were able to get her fired up and running on what felt like 5 cylinders. I took her for a quick cruise around the surrounding rural roads and was instantly taken back. After a decade of wildly vivid and realistic dreams of driving the car again, it was finally a reality. I drove a few miles down the road before turning back around as I still didn't trust the gas needle and I still needed to hopefully limp the car 30 miles home. Plus, I still had not technically paid Lonnie yet. I pulled back in and to my surprise, the car kept running and wasn't shutting off anymore. Finally, the moment of truth. I told Lonnie that I even though we agreed on $6,000 over the phone, I don't think I can pay him that for it. Since he had kept his word and not told me to get lost and sold it for market value. I owed it to him to pay him more than that. He wouldn't let me but I gave him a little more than the asking price for holding onto the car for me and selling it back to me. I paid him and we shook hands and took a few final photos of it before leaving before dusk. I drove it back home and fueled up on the way. The fresh gasoline seemed to wake some of the sleeping cylinders as I was able to spin the wheels leaving the gas station. I made it home safely and was able to park it in the garage while I started researching ways to get the car shipped out to D.C. First, I had to figure out somewhere to park it. To make things even more stressful, I had to fly back to D.C. to start work again in a few days. That didn't stop me from washing her in the cold December weather. In those 72 hours, I was able to install a new battery, detail her, and go for a cruise around the neighborhood again. It was the greatest Christmas of all time. Fast forward 4 months and it's now April 2022. I have sourced a transport available to ship Betsy from Kansas City, Missouri to Washington D.C. I also had secured a parking spot at a garage to store her. It was a little over 10 years to the day but once again, I was about to have my car all to myself again. I took delivery of her on April 28th, 2022 and have been loving and enjoying every second with her. Since then, I have joined the Corvette Club of America and attended numerous shows in the area. I was able to have the car featured in the Washington Auto Show in 2023 and 2024. I have spent several long nights and weekends fixing the car correctly. In the last 2 years, I have replaced and upgraded the distributor, upgraded the AC to r134a, replaced the exhaust with Hooker Headers that pipe into electric cutouts (this gives me the ability to have “side-pipes” without the danger of burning yourself), and have replaced nearly every necessary pump and hose that could ever leak. My plans for the car this year are to overhaul the suspension. The rear suspension is rough and that mono spring makes it ride like a C10. I also need to replace the gas tank as the liner has collapsed. My speedometer cable is on the way out too which should keep me busy for several weekends. As of right now, Betsy sits at 79,4XX miles and climbing. I am enjoying my weekends meeting fellow Corvette enthusiasts and listening to their stories. Being the youngest in the room by 30 years doesn't bother me, it allows me to connect with the older generation through our shared passion. I plan on making the pilgrimage up to Carslile for the first time tomorrow, so if you see me there, say hello! Feel free to connect with me on my Instagram account I made for the car @1976corvettestingray Wave on! Tim