Unusual Placement for an Impala
A classic lowrider presence, far from where I first imagined it belonged.
My friend Rico is the one who got me into classics. I grew up around JDM culture, coming of age during the era of the first Fast and Furious movies. Naturally, I was drawn to compact, sporty cars and the futuristic energy they carried. Then I saw his 1963 two-door Chevy Impala.
I think Rico helped me understand more clearly what I admire about cars. A car is a system—both mechanical and aesthetic. The kinds of cars we are drawn to are often shaped by pop culture, blockbuster films, and the friends around us who choose to spend their time and money pursuing particular models and, through them, a way of living car culture.
The quality of Rico’s build and the way the car rides made me reconsider my once-exclusive love for import cars. In contrast to the compact, angular, forward-looking machines I usually gravitated toward, the Impala feels long, imposing, and unapologetically expressive. It belongs to a completely different era of automotive design: fighter-jet inspired, large, opulent, and aesthetically playful. What strikes me most is how solid these cars remain after so many idle years.
And here is an Impala with a lowrider look, sitting in the middle of a farm in Alberta. It feels just as majestic there as it would in downtown Los Angeles, bouncing on hydraulics.
