The general decided to make a sports car
He wanted a two seater for a shining star
‘53 was the beginning time
He didn’t want owners to need a gold mine
He made it out of glass
He showed it off, an American dream?
Such a vehicle the people had never seen
A mighty blue flame six would power this
For the average guy to drive in bliss
He made it out of glass
Never before was there such a sleek design
All the young at heart for this car would pine
America was used to cars with lots of steel
Even racers wanted to get behind its wheel
He made it out of glass
Any man could afford a corvette on his wage
Chevy could now build upon a sporty image
Europe was the only place to build roadsters
“It just won’t last”, said all the big boasters
He made it into class
Now forty odd years have come and passed
On many tracks the Ferraris and Porches were harassed
A good idea was sure to stick
Steady improvements was the trick
He made it out of glass
Dontov and others knew of course
Even a blue oval named after a horse
Could never steal this ones thunder
This little car was no blunder
He built it out of glass
He knew that in evolution
Around the tracks in many revolutions
He had to make it the fittest
He made changes to be the winningest
He made it out of glass
Now many have tried
And some came close
But most have died
And are now just ghost
Corvette is the classic glass
By George J. Kimble
All along you had to know
This icon of yours had to go
The others would gather like a flock
From every city from every block
Like the horde they would rumble out
Over time you saw the wear
Here a chip and a scratch there
Change is certain for machine and man
Age is a wonder, time has no plan
You have changed you have no doubt
But off a distant siren calls
A yearning to return beckons all
Though we are tattered and frail
Long and winding we retrace the early trail
“A sojourn starts with just one step," you shout
Buffed and pumped our tanks are full
In gilded armor to the muster we feel the pull
Others now a circling lot
Our leader’s eyed he’s made his plot
Nervous thoughts as you ponder the long route
Like steeds of yore a caravan
We
carefully follow our leaders plan
Horsepower strains at metal and glass
Upon the road we wheel at last
Shakes and rattles are a part of age’s pout
Homecoming, what is that?
Old memories turned to fact?
Steady hands your youth did mold
To make you strong to make you bold
Every effort to render your clout
Upon arrival many in your class
Have more gracefully weathered the past
Sheltered from the hourglass sands?
Restored by deft caring hands?
Ones value is not easily seen from without
In front of the Museum an honored post
Thousands of pilgrims from coast to coast
On every face a glorious smile
The long trek to Bowling Green was worth every mile
Our collective heart holds dear what it was all about.
By George J. Kimble
Riding along in my automobile
My baby is beside me; I’m behind the wheel
Rumbling along at sixty-two
A guy on the radio is crooning the blues
When suddenly in the lane on the right
My eyes behold a beautiful sight
There is a Stingray of shinning glass
Thundering engine slipping past
I
get excited filled with glee
And the Stingray guy waves back at me
I am a Corvette fan as my friends all know
I take my Corvette to all the shows
I tuck in behind him and try to settle down
We take the exit ramp to some little town
A big discount store I won’t mention
A parking lot of ludicrous dimension
“Wholly Mackerel!” I shout out loud
I am stunned by the size of the crowd
C5’s, late models, Rays and Sharks,
Straight axles, modifieds and GS’s with red hash marks
This lot is filled with Corvettes all sparkling bright
Never before have I seen such a magnificent sight
Like fish shimmering in a trawler’s net
It’s a sparkling mass of Corvettes
It is still early, just past dark
I ease up slowly and shift my Corvette into park
I get out of my Corvette, looking pretty stupid
Like I am struck by an arrow from Cupid
I holler, “What’s going on?” to one young man,
He yells back, “We’re all part of The Caravan”
“The Nashville stop is our next to last,
“The final stop is The NCM’s 5th Birthday Bash”
I tell my wife, “This looks like fun”,
“I think I am going to join this run”
I sign some papers and some folks I greet
And quickly, this parade takes to the street
We arrive in Nashville around a quarter past eleven
“Look! Everywhere Corvettes, This must be heaven”
Hundreds, No, thousands are circling Opryland
Then, I am told of everything that’s been planned
We amble to the Corvette Lover’s Ball
This is a happening. We just had to attend
Corvette pilgrims, fill the Delta Ballroom, end to end
There is food and drinks, and a cute little girl
She is belting out country songs, to the Corvette world
I eat, I dance, I mix and mingle
The excitement and enthusiasm makes me tingle
I meet and greet and shake so many hands
And talk and talk about the greatest car in the land
In the morning there is a call to reassemble
At, Oh too early, we have to scramble
Disciples of fiberglass from across the planet
To this point, are drawn, as if to a magnet
I slurp hot coffee and a bagel, that is provided
The cars line up in rows, very evenly divided
A flash of blue light and a siren wails
Corvettes are in motion, nose to tail
We pull onto the highway called I-65
To Bowling Green Kentucky, it’s just a short drive
As far as I can see with my naked eye
A line of Corvettes under the bright morning sky
Corvettes in front and Corvettes behind
This moment forever imprinted upon my mind
On the way, slowly winding north
Great throngs of people have come forth
They wave and cheer, and many take photos
Their homage and respect paid our unique autos
But just as that thought rattled across my mind
We encounter more Corvettes from the North in a line
Now like two sea serpents off the interstate we wind
And onto Corvette Drive two long Caravans are combined
This experience assures all, it’s great to be alive
An unprecedented salute to the Corvettes we drive
We
are lucky the National Corvette Museum has survived
To grow from an idea, through infancy, to celebrate “Birthday Number Five”
By George J. Kimble
I was the essence of a nation emerging from a war
I was the heartbeat pounding from shore to shore
I met every challenge as I went about my chores
I still survive
I’m still alive
I was determination, purpose and solution
I was there in ‘53 summoned from a notion
I condensed within a form providing it with motion
I’m still alive
I still survive
I humiliated exotic invaders from every distant shore
I silenced the domestic forces who would steal my royal court
I laid waste to many foes confronted in my sport
I still survive
I’m still alive
I rode to heraldic glory with many men so proud
I prevailed in spectacles viewed by massive crowds
My name was often cursed in foreign voices loud
I’m still alive
I still survive
Through the decades I never really changed
I once grew very muscular and nearly lost my name
There was a time I lost my breath and suffered growing pains
I still survive
I’m still alive
Through all my regenerations I’ve heard them rant and rave
Many times esteemed pundits anointed me a grave
Too often now, from my chest, I’ve pulled their pointed stave
I’m still alive
I still survive
In my present form I appear very sleek
Though my body is growing old, don’t assume I’m weak
Yet another transformation soon I’ll surely seek
I still survive
I’m still alive
My future holds fulfillment of vast expectations
I will impress my will upon another generation
I shall be even bolder in my next incarnation
I will be alive
I will survive
I will be the motive force of the new Corvette “C-5”
By George J. Kimble
Automotive engineering was his dream
He wanted to be on a car design team
Facts , figures, inches and degrees
To him were not a mortal disease
He wanted to build the best racing machine
All
his friends said ,“You’ll never succeed”
“You think too much of engines and speed”
In a shed near a tall lone pine
He worked up a performance design
His heads made engines more powerful in deed !
Then with his heads and some good hearty mates
He campaigned his design throughout the States
In many races he did compete
His design was hard to beat
Here was a man that was destined to be great
His skills as an engineer became well known
At competitive racing he stood out alone
G M invited him in one day
They offered him a little pay
They turned over a project , that he took as his own
They wanted to inspire America’s young men
To really get their hearts beating again
They wanted a super sports car
To hold up like a bright shinning star
That could compete against the Europeans and win
From a shop with only some cryptic initials
He teamed up with a guy named Bill Mitchell
Though he had some factory help
The
over all effort would be by himself
Then into speed contest and races he whistled
His cars often became tattered and torn
But for his efforts there never was scorn
One design then another
Labors of love like a brother
Out of his work the Sting Ray was born
Then one night right out of the dark
He dreamed up the famous Mako Shark
What a man ,what a story
Lot of work , led to glory
And on our Corvettes he left his mark !
SALUTE: MR. DUNTOV 1910-1996