Not since 10th grade have I seen such a stunning American car. Then I was just leaving a wrestling meet, confronted by a late-60s Chevy Nova alone at dusk in a Central Valley high school parking lot, its faded grey paint melting into the horizon. Seeing that Nova’s torn upholstery and crude bumper stickers felt like entering the wilderness, standing close to something different and raw. This ’64 Malibu is again a 60s Chevrolet at sunset in a Central Valley parking lot. The setting sun reflected differently on its barely curved flanks.