You see them at every car show. Those massive, hulking Chevelles and Chargers that take up two parking spots and require a small crane to steer. They’re cool, sure. But there’s a specific kind of magic in the 1967 Chevy Nova SS that those land yachts just can’t touch. It’s the "Goldilocks" of the muscle car era. Not too big. Not too heavy. Just a terrifyingly fast shoebox with a V8 shoved into it.
Honestly, the '67 is the pinnacle of the second-generation Chevy II. It was the last year before Chevrolet decided to make the Nova bigger and more "corporate" in 1968. People call it the "deuce," and if you’ve ever sat behind the wheel of a true Super Sport from this year, you know it feels less like a car and more like a rocket sled.
The 1967 Chevy Nova SS: Small Car, Big Problems for Fords
Back in the mid-sixties, Chevy was in a weird spot. The Corvair was dealing with Ralph Nader’s "Unsafe at Any Speed" drama, and the Camaro hadn't quite hit its stride yet. Enter the Chevy II. It was supposed to be an economy car—a grocery getter for people who didn't want to spend much. But then someone at GM had the brilliant, slightly insane idea to offer the L79 engine option.
We’re talking about a 327 cubic-inch small-block V8.
In a car that weighs about as much as a modern Honda Civic, that engine turned the 1967 Chevy Nova SS into a giant killer. It wasn't just about the power-to-weight ratio, though that was a huge part of it. It was the look. The '67 got a revised grille and some sleek chrome work that made it look expensive, even though it was technically the "budget" choice.
You’ve got to remember that by 1967, the muscle car wars were peaking. The GTO was the king of the streets, and the Mustang was selling like crazy. The Nova SS was the sleeper. It was the car you didn't see coming until all you could see were its taillights.
What Actually Makes It a "Real" SS?
Don't get fooled by a badge. People slap "SS" emblems on base-model Chevy IIs every single day. If you're looking at a 1967 Chevy Nova SS, the VIN is your best friend. Look for the digits "118." If the VIN starts with 11837, you're looking at a genuine V8 Super Sport coupe. If it's 11737, it’s a six-cylinder SS. Yes, they made those. No, they aren't nearly as fun.
The interior was a big deal this year too. You got bucket seats. A floor shifter. A center console that actually looked like it belonged in a cockpit. It was the first year Chevrolet added a dual-master cylinder for the brakes, which was a literal lifesaver. Before that, if one brake line failed, you basically just had to pray. Now, you actually had a chance of stopping before hitting a tree.
The suspension was still... well, it was 1967.
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It used a leaf spring setup in the rear and a "high-mount" coil spring design in the front. It's quirky. It leans in corners. If you're used to a modern BMW, a stock '67 Nova will feel like you're steering a bathtub. But that’s part of the soul, right? You have to actually drive it. You can't just zone out and let the car do the work.
That L79 Engine Myth vs. Reality
Let’s clear something up about the engine options. While the 350 didn't arrive in the Nova until '68, the '67 offered a range of small blocks. The most famous is the L79 327. In 1966, this thing was rated at 350 horsepower. By 1967, for reasons that still spark fistfights at swap meets, Chevrolet officially listed it at 325 horsepower.
Was it actually detuned? Probably not.
Insurance companies were starting to lose their minds over high-performance cars. Dropping the "official" horsepower on paper was a common trick to keep premiums lower for buyers. If you find an original L79 1967 Chevy Nova SS, you've found a unicorn. They only produced a handful—some sources like the Nova Resource suggest as few as 6 to 37 were built with that specific engine in '67, though others argue the number is slightly higher due to late-year production runs. Most SS models you find today will have the 275-hp version of the 327 or, more likely, a crate motor someone swapped in during the 90s.
The Chrome and the Grit
I love the '67 because of the trim. It’s got that full-width rear aluminum plate that just screams "Sixties." The rocker moldings are thick and shiny. It’s a flashy car, but in a blue-collar way. It doesn't have the "look at me" arrogance of a winged Charger Daytona. It’s more of a "I can beat you in a race and then go buy milk" kind of vibe.
The 1967 model year also introduced some safety features that collectors actually appreciate today. We’re talking about energy-absorbing steering columns and padded dashboards. It sounds boring, but have you ever seen a non-padded dash from 1964? It's basically a cheese grater for your forehead.
Buying a 1967 Chevy Nova SS Without Getting Ripped Off
If you’re in the market, be skeptical. "Clones" are everywhere. A guy will take a 100-series Chevy II, paint it Marina Blue, throw some bucket seats in it, and try to charge you $60,000.
First, check the cowl tag. It’s that little metal plate on the firewall. It tells you the original paint code, the trim level, and the build date. If the car is red but the cowl tag says "Code G," someone changed the paint (G is Granada Gold, by the way). Originality is where the value stays.
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Second, look at the rear wheel wells. Novas are notorious for rusting there. If you see bubbles in the paint behind the rear tires, run. Or, at least, prepare to spend a fortune on metal work. The "unibody" construction of the 1967 Chevy Nova SS means the body is the frame. If the body is rotten, the car loses its structural integrity. It’ll twist under the torque of a V8, and suddenly your doors won't close right.
- Check the subframe: The front clip is bolted on. Make sure the bushings aren't disintegrated.
- The Transmission: Most came with a Powerglide two-speed automatic. It’s bulletproof but boring. A four-speed Muncie manual is the holy grail for collectors.
- Rear End: Look for the 12-bolt rear end if it’s a high-performance build. The 10-bolts are fine for cruising, but they don't love hard launches at the drag strip.
Why Collectors are Obsessed Right Now
Prices for the 1967 Chevy Nova SS have gone absolutely vertical lately. Ten years ago, you could find a decent driver for $20,000. Now? You’re looking at $45,000 for something that needs work, and well over $80,000 for a numbers-matching showstopper.
Why? Because it’s usable.
You can fit it in a standard garage. You can find parts for the 327 small block at any local auto store. It’s one of the most supported cars in the aftermarket world. You can buy every single bolt, clip, and panel for this car from catalogs like Year One or Classic Industries. You could literally build a "new" 1967 Nova from a catalog if you had a donor VIN.
But there's something else. It represents the end of an era. In 1968, the Nova got bigger. It shared more with the Camaro. It lost that "little car that could" personality. The '67 is the last of the pure, lightweight Chevy compacts.
The Reality of Owning a Deuce
Let's be real for a second. Driving a 1967 Chevy Nova SS isn't like driving a Tesla. It smells like gasoline. It’s loud. The steering feels like you're trying to turn a ship in a storm if it doesn't have power steering. The drum brakes (if it still has them) are basically just "suggestions" to the car to slow down eventually.
But when you hit a straightaway? When that four-barrel carburetor opens up and the small block screams? There is nothing like it. It’s visceral. You feel the vibration in your teeth. You smell the exhaust. It’s a time machine.
Actionable Steps for Potential Buyers
If you’re serious about getting into a '67 Nova SS, stop browsing generic car sites and get into the weeds. Join the "Steve’s Nova Site" forums. It is the gold standard for technical info. Those guys know every nut and bolt on these cars and can spot a fake from a grainy Craigslist photo.
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Before buying, hire a third-party inspector who specializes in 60s muscle. It’ll cost you $300, but it could save you $30,000 in hidden rust repairs. Focus on finding a car with a "clean" title and a solid floor pan. Everything else—the engine, the interior, the chrome—can be fixed easily.
Get a folder. Start tracking the VIN and engine casting numbers immediately. In the world of 1967 Chevy Nova SS collecting, documentation is worth its weight in gold. A car with a protected plate and original dealer invoice will always outsell a "mystery" car, even if the mystery car looks prettier.
Check the "E" code on the trim tag for Tinted Windows or the "2L" code for a 4-speed manual. These little details verify that the car was born a performer, not built into one decades later. Demand proof of ownership history if possible. A car that stayed in one family for 40 years is usually a much safer bet than one that has flipped through five dealers in three years.
Once you get one, don't just let it sit in a garage. These cars were meant to be driven hard. Change the oil every 3,000 miles (use high-zinc oil for those flat-tappet cams!), keep the timing tuned, and enjoy the fact that you're driving one of the coolest pieces of American engineering ever to roll off an assembly line.
Technical Spec Overview for the 1967 Nova SS
The 327 V8 engine came with several configurations, but the most common high-output version for '67 featured a 10.25:1 compression ratio. This requires high-octane fuel; don't even think about putting cheap 87-octane in an original L79 or you'll hear the engine knocking from three blocks away. The standard tire size was 14 inches, which looks tiny by today's standards, but fitting larger 15-inch Rally wheels is a common and period-correct upgrade that improves handling significantly.
Remember that the 1967 was the only year for certain specific interior colors like Plum or some of the weirder gold shades. If you find a '67 with a strange interior color, check the codes—it might be rarer than you think. Keep the original parts if you upgrade to disc brakes or fuel injection; the next buyer will definitely want them in a box in the trunk.