By Jim Hanna

I'm regaining my equilibrium after Consumer Reports' review of the 2014 Chevy Impala drastically reconfigured the order of the automotive universe. The new Impala just opened a can of whoop-ass that has been rusting since 1963.

This prompts a look back at the Impalas of my past: My friend James in Atlanta has a pristine '63 SS Convertible, 327, 4-speed, love-it-want-it-can't-have-it.

A guy I worked with drove a '72 he called Vlad the Impala because it sucked gas and scared villagers.

Anybody remember the '75 "Glass House"? Perfect if you couldn't decide between a Buick Electra or an AMC Pacer.

There was the '78 wagon my buddy's mom had that hemorrhaged oil so bad, we called it the Impala Valdez.

I nearly bought a '95 Impala SS but decided not to when I realized I didn't need a semi-fast 4,000 pound throat lozenge.

All I remember about the '09 LTZ we rented for a Vegas trip was the excellent AC and the fun I had echo-squealing the lousy tires in an empty parking garage. Definitely more can than can opener.

Got a fav Impala (or Caprice for you fancy pants Heineken drinkers)? Would you consider buying this new world-beater?