After my dad's Ford Grenada caught fire and took itself to a fiery grave, he bought a 1979 Chevy Impala coup. This car came the closest of any car that I've ever driven to being a class '70's sex machine. If any teenager but me had been driving this car, it would have been going 90 in a school zone and not stopping at the crosswalks. He bought a dark blue one, same color as the blue one below. Judging by the images that I've found, it must have been a favorite to soup up. I can attest to its potential. Even stock, that car wanted to go.
Don't ask me whether it was the 6-cylinder or the 8-cylinder. I don't know.
I got to drive this car in high school primarly because my sister was afraid of its size. It was too big for her. (These days she drives an SUV, so go figure.) That left me cruizing down to the local library in style. Too bad nobody back then appreciated it.
You can see from the images that the interior was nothing special. It was your standard, psuedo-luxury fare, meant more to feel like luxury than actually be luxury. It even had a few surviving panels of wood-like material that spoke loudly but unconvinciingly about luxury.
The only real trouble that I had on this car was after stage crew one winter night. I left from school and went to turn left at the stop sign. Little did I know that black ice lay on the intersections, so the next thing that I knew, I was going sideway. These days I would just have drifted through it, but back then I didn't know better, so I turned the week and pressed the gas, sending me off to one side and into oncoming traffic. I could have corrected, but just then a car came around the turn and I didn't want a front end collision. Turning the wheel again, I went off the road at a 90 degree angle, blammed over the curb and stopped in an empty plot. Fortunately there was no damage as I wasn't going that fast. I also completely missed those pesky telephone poles that leap out to wreck cars.
Of all the cars that I've driven, this is the only one that I would take now, just for the fun.
I can't tell you what happened to the car. I figure that dad got rid of it when it got too expensive (disposable American car that it was). His next car was a Mitsubishi of some vintage that I haven't figured out yet.