1971 Chevrolet Kingswood Estate
Then: So what’s the big deal? It’s just a station wagon.
Now: Holy cow! Stop the car—is that a Kingswood Wagon? It is!
Tis true. There was a time when this 1971 Chevrolet Kingswood Estate wagon was merely a mode of transportation. Nothing exciting. Just a vehicle owned more out of necessity than enthusiasm. It blended into a sea of mundane cars in the background of the soccer practice parking lot or rolled through the elementary school pickup line with a number on the windshield, probably drawn by a child on a decorated paper plate.
Indeed, the time came when driving the family wagon ranked barely a step above riding a bicycle in the eyes of teenagers dreaming of cooler rides.
I guess we’re weird. We love wagons.
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| Nothing says full-size better than this face. |
Now, as we wagon fans celebrate virtually anything with station wagon DNA, this car is awesome! A double win for us Junkyard Life nerds who love and adore junkyards. Even in its current condition, we can’t help but stop, stare, and utter, “How cool.”
How cool indeed. This model featured the first of the magical “Clamshell” tailgates. Some divisions called it the “Glideaway.” Very aptly named. Even non-car people had to admit it was pretty impressive when they saw it in action. This option, available on most full-size GM wagons, amazed buyers back then and still feels like voodoo magic today. The tailgate and rear window disappear in different directions! Yeah. Poof. The tailgate slides under the car while the glass retracts upward into the roof, leaving you with a wide-open, tailgate-party-friendly cargo area big enough to haul home a big red velour sofa (not included).
Try that with your Tahoe or Expedition.
To perform the trick, you simply insert the key into the rear quarter panel (yes, the rear-facing side), twist it one way and the glass disappears, then the other way and the tailgate vanishes.
We only spotted a few options on this example. It appears to be Placer Gold (code 53), but we’re not certain. That color sold very well in the era. If you recognize the paint code, please let us know.
Hear ye! Hear ye! No underpowered motors.
Other options seemed sparse, including a third-row seat that didn’t appear to have been used much. The Kingswood package guaranteed at least a V8—the king decrees, “No six-cylinders!” From clues like the lack of emblems and the air cleaner sitting in the front seat, this one looks like a 350. It didn’t get the optional 400 small-block, 402 big-block, or 454 big-block. It has the expected automatic transmission and what appear to be standard hubcaps (though some literature calls them “deluxe”). All four were still present, though a few were inside the car. It also had an AM radio, a roof rack, and air conditioning. No tilt wheel or power options beyond steering.
We’re pretty sure the 350 V8 got the job done. Inside, we also noticed something special: old road maps, including one of Florida. If this car could talk, it would have quite a story. It apparently began its journey at Wood Chevrolet in Birmingham, Alabama. Somewhere along the way, the famous woodgrain siding was either removed or painted over. Why? Research shows woodgrain was part of the Kingswood package, yet the rest of the car doesn’t suggest it was heavily optioned. The irony—a woodless Kingswood.
We love wagons.
So at one time, it was no big deal. Now it’s a classic with a following no one expected. Let’s hope this one gets saved and isn’t turned into Pepsi cans. It’s a huge deal to us now. Hot Rod’s Power Tour would adore this car.
Hail to the Kingswood!
Ron Kidd
– Junkyard Life: The Story Beneath the Rust
Send us details and we’re on the way!
Send emails to Jody Potter at junkyardbull@gmail.com and Ron Kidd at
kidd403rk@gmail.com
