TurboHawking
Especially when applied to a Buick Skyhawk, an ounce of turbocharging
is worth a pound of fantasy.
BY DON SHERMAN
• Hot-rodding is a unique American institution. It is the only phase of the automotive system that thrives during good times or bad. When Detroit built pavement pounders, we bought them in great numbers and lovingly stroked them toward ever-lower ETs. One adversity after another cropped up to bite holes in factory acceleration—safety, emissions, insurance, low-octane gasoline, bumpers and now fuel economy—but this only toughened our devotion. We briefly retrenched, massed forces and came back modifying our wheels more ways than previously imaginable. Old quarter-mile warriors are now much-loved retirees, and whole new auto-alteration schemes are radiating from basic transportation’s nucleus. Self-expression has recast lowly utility vans into rolling sanctuaries. Light trucks have evolved into weekend toys. Our motor sports run the
gamut from sand drags to Formula One. Our street cars model every possible com-petition guise from bracket racer to Bonneville flyer. And the hunger for function, be it one more sleeping berth in the van or a few more revs at the end of a freeway spiral, has spawned a huge industry in America to refit machinery fresh from the assembly plant. We are the centre of an exploding automotive universe. John Thawley, proud owner of the super Skyhawk you see lavishly portrayed on these pages, has for years been a deacon of the car freak congregation. As Technical Editor of Hot Rod Magazine from 1968 to 1970, he preached the Chevrolet religion. Smokey Yunick was his patron saint and we all sang hymns of roller cams, porcu-pine heads and fire-slot pistons with this team directing the choir. Lately, Thawley’s interests have broadened and he’s built what might be considered a state-of-the-art streetster. It is by no means the radical leading edge of any movement, but rather a unique conglomeration of many trends we’ve covered here in Car and Driver. If you were to very carefully program a computer to spit out one custom-made car best suited for all of today’s enthusiast’s obligations—striking appearance, stirring performance, mechanical sophistication, deep-seated comfort, economy and afford-ability—something very close to this Sky-hawk would pop out. Of course, it’s never done that way. Hot rods are nurtured through fits of passion; burning lust for the perfect sweep of a fender line, an addiction to omni-directional acceleration and the pride of owning a jewel envied by four lanes of freeway traffic. The affair may be-gin with an intangible yearning for a car that doesn’t even exist. As the world’s car