A high school buddy completely rebuilt a 68 SS Chevelle 427. Huge TRS racing pistons, cam, etc.. Had to enlarge the oil sump to keep all that high-compression hardware slick.
The night he got it back from the $5,000 (in 1972 dollars) rebuild, we took it out on the street to show it off. He hit a pothole on one of the city’s fine roads at an advanced speed and tore the bottom out of the pan. The engine seized almost immediately and $5K vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.
And I had to call my dad for a ride home.
Wow. Life does suck sometimes, doesn’t it.
My first car was a ‘69 Chenille Malibu ( the “Mali-” part fell off, so I called the car “Bu” ) coupe, in gray. It was just a car, I’m not a car guy. It was only $250. I ran it for a while, until....
I was at work on a Saturday. I parked somewhat inconveniently for the dump trucks, so I had to move it out of the way. I was slowly backing up toward a cement wall, intending to get the car as far away from all the dump truck action, and I touched the back bumper to the wall.
Died.
NEVER FREAKING RAN AGAIN. It was running perfectly until I hit the blue screen of DEATH secret kill switch on the bumper. Worked and worked trying to restart that stupid car. It quickly landed in the junk yard. I sold that horrid mess for scrap.
Coincidentally, most of my Chevrolet experiences are quite similar. I’ve had horrific luck with ‘em. Better luck with Fords, even better experience with Jeeps, and Honda products.