This is a 67, the one they called "the mini-Mercedes."
According to Wikipedia, the 1971 Valiant broke sales records of the time, with more than 250,000 deliveries that year. That may account for why I ended up with two of them.
The first green Valiant was my car of the '79 gas crisis, that waited in line to buy 90 cent a gallon gas, while blasting Chuck Berry out of its four 7.5 inch speaker cones. (wipe the windows, check the oil, dollar gas). There was a great trick to starting this car if it was reluctant-- you could pop the hood, pull out the air filter and manually (digitally, actually-- with your finger) push the "butterfly" in the center of the air filter. Sometimes you had to do this a few times.
Valiants came in an amazing array of colors, but especially greens. Starting with the first Valiants in 1960, there was Chrome Green, Mint Green, Pale Jade, Emerald Green and Luminous Green. By 1963, there was Metallic Green, Valiant Light Green, Frost Green, Ivy Green, and Limelight. And the 70's Valiants came in Ralleye Green, Mist Green, Meadow Green, Forest Green, Sherwood Green, Dark Green and Amber Sherwood.
I don't remember exactly what fate that first Valiant met, but I am rather certain that it had no other owners after me.
The second 1971 Valiant, an olive sort of green known as Sherwood Green, had originally been owned by my maternal grandfather, the last car he'd had before he died. My step-grandmother drove the car for several years, and I eventually inherited it. Although considered a compact, I could extend the length of my five foot, three inch frame out in the back. This made the car extremely useful in a number of situations.
I always felt the protective spirit of my grandfather in that car, even as I drove it from West Virginia to Pennsylvania to get non-2% beer, or reeled down the streets of DC in it after a night in clubland. And it was the car I learned to change out speakers on, when the paper cones started crackling in the high frequencies.
Ironic corporate logos and tweaked bumper stickers were all the rage among my punky friends, so this car sported a large Visa/Mastercard emblem, and a 7-11 sticker that promised Freedom of Choice. This seemingly entrepreneurial display was hard to explain to a cop who stopped me once to inquire why I was driving with one headlight. Due to the vagaries of Washington DC DUI laws, this police stop also resulted in my losing the right to drive in DC for a period of time. I worked in DC but lived in Virginia. In those pre-digital days, the state of Virginia would not necessarily know when someone's right to drive was suspended in adjacent Washington. So every day I would drive to Rosslyn, pull my bicycle out of the Valiant's trunk (where it fit comfortably) and ride across Key Bridge and through Georgetown to the Dupont Circle restaurant where I mixed the veggie burgers and tended bar.
