Cherry Red Dreams

My ’67 Chevy Impala wasn’t just a car, she was a time machine. Her name was Stella, a name my grandfather bestowed upon her the day he bought her new, the year I was born. He’d hold me as a babe, bouncing me on the plush bench seats, promising adventures we’d have together.

Those adventures started when I was old enough to reach the pedals. Stella and I would sneak out at dawn, the rumble of her V8 engine our secret language. We cruised down dusty backroads, the wind whipping through my hair as I pretended to steer, the world a blur of green and gold.

1967 Chevrolet, Impala Cherry Red

My '67 Chevy Impala wasn't just a car, she was a time machine. Her name was Stella, a name my grandfather bestowed upon her the day he bought her new, the year I was born. He'd hold me as a babe, bouncing me on the plush bench seats, promising adventures we'd have together. Those adventures started when I was old enough to reach the pedals. Stella and I would sneak out at dawn, the rumble of her V8 engine our secret language. We cruised down dusty backroads, the wind whipping through my hair as I pretended to steer, the world a blur of green and gold.
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lange1.............. I was wondering how fast does your Impala go?

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lange1’s DNA

Year 1967

Make Chevrolet,

Model Impala

Date Built 08/30/1967

Date Delivered 11/15/1967

Delivery Destination Anaheim

Cylinders 8

Engine number 123456

CC/HP 6997

Transmission number 12355

Transmission Yes

Original Paint Color Yes

Current Color RED

Interior White

Original Interior Color White

Current Interior Color White

Current Location Anaheim, California, United States

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Chevy Lovers

08/23/2024
Chevy Lovers Event
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lange1’s Scenic Images

1967 Chevrolet, Impala
1967 Chevrolet, Impala
1967 Chevrolet, Impala
1967 Chevrolet, Impala
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lange1’s Langeism

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My '67 Chevy Impala wasn't just a car, she was a time machine. Her name was Stella, a name my grandfather bestowed upon her the day he bought her new, the year I was born. He'd hold me as a babe, bouncing me on the plush bench seats, promising adventures we'd have together. Those adventures started when I was old enough to reach the pedals. Stella and I would sneak out at dawn, the rumble of her V8 engine our secret language. We cruised down dusty backroads, the wind whipping through my hair as I pretended to steer, the world a blur of green and gold.