In 1968 my grandparents walked into Val Strough Chevrolet in Oakland and traded in a 1963 Ford Galaxie coupe for a brand new light blue Chevelle Nomad station wagon. It wasn't much to write home about, a 307 V8 car with a Powerglide 2-speed automatic, but it was the car my father learned to drive in and it made an indelible impression on him. Sadly, that Nomad eventually went the way of so many low-spec cars of the era -- a hand-me-down car that broke one time too many and was left for dead. Today, one never sees a later Nomad, but the higher-spec Malibu has been saved in larger numbers.
