As a youngster pumping high-octane gasoline for local muscle car owners in Southern California’s San Gabriel Valley during the 1960s, Mark Lundquist could only dream of owning a 1965 Chevrolet Malibu Super Sport (SS). As if to make up for lost time, however, Mark now has four Chevy SS cars (as well as a beastly “standard” 1968 Camaro) of varying vintages parked in a Joshua Tree, California, garage that inspires envy in every guest who drops in. And yes, this collection includes a ’65 Malibu SS.
Other drivers speed past this Czech oddity without a second glance, seemingly oblivious to the car’s dorsal fin and triple headlights. But as Paul swings the Tatra into a parking space in front of a favorite local bistro, it’s as if he has brought the black teardrop to a stop in the middle of a Hollywood spotlight. Here come the second glances, the puzzled questions. "What in the world is that?"
We’ve been asking–actually, begging and pleading–for a ride in this monument to Americana but James Chen always found a way to politely turn us down. He is, he says, willing to share his Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Cadillacs, but he and his family enjoy such a personal relationship with this particular car that he seldom shares it with outsiders. He finally gave in.
In 1967, Glenn's parents special-ordered a silver Saab Sonett II from a Florida dealer and, as a result, Glenn spent his childhood riding to school not in Detroit’s muscle cars of the 1960s and ‘70s but in a 1500-pound Swedish sports car with a 70 horsepower, two-stroke engine. The Sonett has followed Glenn through life. In 1980, when he was eighteen years old, Glenn bought the car from his parents for $300 and, with the help of his father, gave the car enough energy to carry Glenn through college and into adulthood.
In the late 1970s, Audi engineers started toying with the idea of pairing a turbocharged engine with the Volkswagen group’s four-wheel-drive platform. The result, in 1980, was the Ur-Quattro (Ur being German for “original”), a car that would ultimately change Group B rally racing and, in time, the way sports cars were prepared.
By the time he was ten years old, Rod had spent countless hours in the shop with his father and grandfather as they pulled bumpers, louvered decklids, and painted numbers on the sides of Porsche 356s. Eventually, family friends dubbed the Emorys “outlaws,” referring both to the cars themselves as well as to the their relegation to the parking lot during big Porsche events.