The Corvette Hunter. Tyler Greenblatt

      The July 1984 issue of Vette magazine featured the first of many Corvettes restored by Kevin and his team at Corvette Repair. Wild ’65 was the car that really got things started for him not only on the show circuit but also with Corvette enthusiasts everywhere thanks to the Vette feature.

       Kevin’s first shop, called “Corvette Repairs” instead of “Corvette Repair” consisted of a rented one-car garage not too far from the current facility. It sure beat working in his parents’ backyard.

       One of the many times that Kevin and “Father of the Corvette” Zora Arkus-Duntov crossed paths.

      It took him two years to complete the car, spending every minute working on it when he was not repairing trucks for the city. Finally, he finished the car to a high enough standard that the next thing to do was take it to one of the New York and New Jersey area’s largest Corvette shows, held annually at Malcolm Konner Chevrolet in New Jersey. But not before the car received its finishing touch: a vanity license plate that read “WILD-65.” The entries were judged by various experts and oftentimes Corvette Chief Engineer Zora Arkus-Duntov was in attendance.

      Kevin parked the Nassau Blue 4-speed coupe in its place and waited for the judging to begin. Sure enough, Arkus-Duntov was there along with GM Chief of Design Larry Shinoda. While Kevin was taking it all in, one of the judges approached to ask about the car. He introduced himself as Ed Mueller. Kevin recognized his name immediately from the many car magazines that featured his collection. “Young man,” Mueller said to Kevin, who was in his early 20s at the time, “this is a very beautiful car. What shop did the work?”

      “I did the car myself,” Kevin told him. Mueller was incredulous that not only did Kevin do the work himself but he did it at home and not in a professional restoration shop. Mueller handed Kevin his business card.

      “If you ever open up your own business, I want to be your customer,” he told Kevin as he handed over the card. “I’m very impressed with your work.” Kevin was flattered by the compliment from one of the best-known collectors of the day.

      The day got better. Kevin’s coupe was chosen, out of the 100 cars present, as Best In Show. “I was in tears,” he remembers. “I was so emotionally overwhelmed that out of all the cars that were there, they picked mine as the best car in the whole show. Here’s a guy who built this out of his parents’ backyard.”

      Three years later, one of the best blessings in disguise happened to Kevin, who continued to drive and enjoy his coupe. He got laid off from his job with the city. His first instinct was to go back to the Chevrolet dealership, where he had previously worked, or one of the other area dealerships that was hiring mechanics. But, although he loved working on all cars, his real passion was Corvettes. He had been doing work on local Corvettes out of his parents’ house, and the amount of work continued to increase. He decided that instead of seeking another job he would open his own shop and only work on Corvettes. The name would be simple, to the point, and effective: Corvette Repair.

      At first, the startup took the form of a rented one-bay garage near his home in Valley Stream, New York. The year was 1985, and Kevin needed to show off his work at the national level, so he took his Nassau Blue coupe to the Bloomington meet, where it was certified Gold, scoring the highest number of points awarded to a ’65 that year. It was the first Gold of many.

      Back at the small one-bay garage known as Corvette Repair, Kevin remembered Mueller telling him years ago that he would be his customer if he ever opened his own shop. With Mueller’s business card still handy, he called him. “I don’t know if you remember me,” Kevin began. “My name is Kevin Mackay.”

      Mueller did remember him. “Oh, wait a minute, you’re that young kid I met years ago. How are you doing?”

      “Well, I’m not doing too good. I lost my job, so I started my own Corvette business. I could sure use some work.” Mueller provided just that in the form of a car that needed some freshening. It was his yellow 1969 ZL1, one of two built and one of the rarest Corvettes on the planet. The car had been restored professionally, but Mueller thought that a couple of things could be perfected and that Kevin was the man to do it. Kevin did a little paintwork on the car followed by a concours-level detail job throughout the entire car.

      “When I shipped the car back to him I was nervous,” Kevin remembers. “I hoped he would like it; I put my heart and soul into that car. And he went crazy over it.” Mueller was so impressed with the workmanship that he couldn’t wait to send the next car out to Long Island.

      Every time Kevin finished a car and sent it back, Ed Mueller said, “I have another one for you.”

      “This went on for 17 years in a row. He’s one of the guys who put me on the map. Everyone knew who Ed Mueller was and that I was working for him.”

      With their working relationship quickly turning into a mentor-ship and friendship, the two spoke candidly on the phone one day. “Kevin, I’ll never forget when I met you,” Mueller started. “I met you at the Malcolm Konner Chevrolet show and I didn’t want to tell you this then because I didn’t know you, but I’m going to tell you now because I consider you like a son to me.” He paused. “I think you’re an ***hole.”

      Kevin wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. He did.

      “You’re an ***hole, but I love you, and I’m going to tell you why you’re an ***hole. You’re doing the wrong kind of cars.”

      “What do you mean?” Kevin asked, taken aback as to why a man who had just complimented him was insulting him. “I’m doing Corvettes; what do you mean I’m working on the wrong cars?”

      “Listen to me, Kevin, and you’ll understand. Whether it’s a big-block Corvette or a small-block Corvette or a Tanker or a ZL1, all these cars are basically the same. They have the same bodies, same interiors, same chassis, and the only major difference is the engine.”

      Kevin couldn’t disagree with that. He had worked on enough of them to know what Mueller was talking about.

      “So you have that 300-horse car that you did,” Mueller continued, “which is really a gorgeous car; the only problem is there’s not any value on it. Now if this car were a 396, or a ’67 435-horse car, it would be worth double or triple the amount of money. Same body, same interior, same chassis; it’s just the engine that’s different. Now if you put all your heart and soul and your passion and talent into a rarer or more desirable car, you’d be better off. Your car wasn’t worth restoring. It’s a great car, a great driver and starter, but you’ve got to take it to a different level.”

      Kevin understood completely what Ed Mueller was telling him. The next car he bought for himself was a black-on-red ’67 427/435 coupe in March 1988. The options were incredible and Kevin later discovered that car was the legendary Bounty Hunter. He treated it to a complete frame-off restoration and, although he desperately wanted to keep it for himself, he had a financial partner in his growing business who didn’t share his vision and passion for the brand. In 1991, Kevin had had enough and decided to sell the car. Ed Mueller immediately stepped up to buy it and handed Kevin $100,000 in cash. “Now you’re getting smart,” he said. It was enough money to finish buying out his partner and lead Corvette Repair on his own.

      When he wasn’t working at the shop, which wasn’t often, Kevin was at home thumbing through old magazines. He started to become interested in what he considered to be the greatest