Voices No. 11
A lifelong passion for giving old things
a new lease on life.
august 2024
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8 minute read
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Life beyond the landfill. Welcome to the eleventh edition of Scenic Route: Voices — a series spotlighting the stories of drivers and enthusiasts from all walks of life. This month, we’re digging into Elise Talley’s childhood fascination with all things vintage and mechanical, from antique typewriters to suspiciously affordable classic Range Rovers.
Words and photos by: Elise Talley
@starlordesss
What got you into cars?” is a question that all automotive enthusiasts get at least once in their life. For most, the answer to that question is that it runs in the family. Despite popular belief, I was not named after the mid-engine Lotus roadster. In fact, nobody in my family is interested in cars or motorcycles in the slightest.
The answer to this question doesn’t come easily for me. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a fascination with mechanical things. My mom would take us to antique shops, where she would buy beautiful glass bowls and fine china dinner plates. My sister loved the old 1950s Seventeen magazines. I would buy old rotary phones, turntables, and typewriters. She would say to me, “Why do you want that? Nobody uses those anymore. You won’t be able to find the parts for it if it breaks. It probably doesn’t even work.” But that never stopped me. I bought them anyway.
“
Toys are a big inspiration
for the LNCLN WRKS
aesthetic.”
In 1991 I was given the opportunity to write a monthly column for Vette magazine. The monthly column that I was assigned to write did not require photography, but the magazine’s feature stories did. After uninspiring results by several other photographers, I decided to produce the imagery myself, and the demand for my work grew rapidly after that
In 1995 Carolyn and I sold the shop so I could turn my full attention to writing and photography, and I was soon working for scores of different publishers. I produced car features, personality profiles, event coverage, technical articles, and opinion pieces
By virtue of an amazing sequence of events, a new opportunity presented itself in 1997. One day I got a call from a mysterious man who said he wanted to ask me for a huge favor, but before he could do that, he had to know if he could trust me. Convinced it was a prank, I told the caller he could trust me with his life.
“My name is Gary Claudio,” the caller revealed, “and I’m the marketing manager for Chevrolet Racing. We have a two-car factory Corvette racing program coming and I want to borrow your L88 Corvette for a display at next year’s SEMA show, which is where we will publicly announce the program.”
In that instant I knew the call wasn’t a prank. Several years earlier, Carolyn and I had found a lost piece of Corvette racing history — the 1967 Corvette that the Sunray DX Oil company had campaigned to a GT class win in the ’67 12 Hours of Sebring with Don Yenko and Dave Morgan behind the wheel. Dave went on to earn the 1967 SCCA Midwest Division A-Production championship with the car, and in 1968 he co-drove it with Jerry Grant to the GT win in the 24 Hours of Daytona. This incredibly successful vehicle is one of only 20 1967 Corvettes that left the factory with an all-out competition package called L88, making it the holy grail to collectors. Sunray sold the car in 1969 and though it was raced until 1987, its early history faded away.
After stumbling upon it by chance, we recognized that it was something special. We bought the car and restored it to its ’67 Sebring configuration, and then commissioned artist Charles Maher to create a painting of it. In 1992 that painting was displayed at an automotive show in Detroit. Gary Claudio happened to see the show, fell in love with the painting, and tried to buy it. He was disappointed to learn that it was a commissioned work and therefore not for sale. Five years later, when planning a display of historically significant Corvette race cars for the public unveiling of the coming factory Corvette race program, he remembered the painting, contacted Mr. Maher for my name, and made that fateful phone call that changed the trajectory of my life.