Old friends

Old friends

Feature Article from Hemmings Muscle Machines

April, 2008 - Jim McGowan

Why are you reading HMM?

Why are you reading this column? The answer is simply because we're all about what is now referred to as "automotive history." Think about that for a minute. If our favorite muscle machine is now a historical entity, what does that make us? Whoa, I don't like the way this reasoning is going, but unfortunately, it's unavoidable: We're history too!

Not long ago, the cars of the Thirties and Forties were the historical vehicles; now it's the Sixties and Seventies. Man, that was yesterday! We had a little parade in my town last November for Veteran's Day. I saw a bunch of VFW guys with Vietnam campaign hats, medals and such. They sure looked old, and that's my generation! That's sobering.

So I went home and drove my '65 GTO for an hour to get back to reality. I've owned that car for 24 years, and it's not a car anymore--it's an old friend. Age is just a number.

In fact, I've owned another muscle car since 1986, and I feel the same about that one. You just can't have a person or vehicle, or whatever, around that long without becoming attached to it. I can't think of them as just a chunk of metal anymore: They have personalities, quirks and bad habits just like people. And they have value, not just nostalgic or sentimental, but big, heavy monetary value. The only problem with that is that I enjoy these cars too much to sell them.

Maybe when I can't turn that ignition key anymore, I'll pass them on to my two sons, who'll probably sell them anyway, but not while I'm still using up oxygen. So what they're worth makes no difference to me. Do you sell an old friend?

I often wonder when I see a really beautiful car for sale how the owner can part with it. Obviously, there are circumstances where there is no other choice, but when it isn't necessary, why? Once it's gone, it might (and probably will) be impossible to replace, so the decision to sell should be very carefully considered. If you're like me, I'm sure you have a slew of stories about the one "I never should have sold."

Here are a few tidbits from my mental filing cabinet, which is an antique itself. Sometime in the mid-1980s, I found a '70 Challenger R/T convertible in Santa Monica, California. It was a 383, power top, power steering, power brakes, a/c, auto trans car that turned out to be an R/T SE, of all things. It had leather inserts in the original seat covers and was red with a black interior and top. Needless to say, it needed just about everything, but the engine was a fairly fresh rebuild.

I drove it home after leaving a couple of grand on the previous owner's kitchen table. It sat in storage for about three years while I finished a '70 Buick GSX project. And now the plot thickens! I ran across a Mopar enthusiast at a car show. He had a '70 Challenger R/T, a 440 Six-Pack, Plum Crazy four-gear hardtop. In the course of our conversation, he fessed up to owning a '69 Pontiac Trans Am hardtop in excellent original condition. It was a rare T/A with air conditioning and was an original rust-free California car.

So we did a deal: He took the R/T as it was, and I took the T/A as it was. I have always regretted parting with that ragtop, and can't come even remotely close to affording that car today. Who woulda thunk it?

In the late Seventies, I bought a '66 Corvette roadster that was originally a 425hp, 427-cu.in., four-speed car. When I purchased the 'Vette, it had a 350/350 and a custom paint job. I found and replaced the drivetrain with the correct parts, repainted it "arrest me red," and loved to cruise it with the top down. I spent a lot of time and effort on putting that car together over several years, and except for the engine heat, it was a ton of fun. Eventually, I got the bug for something new, so I took it to a major swap meet and sold it immediately to a fellow from Lake Tahoe. That car would tear the skin off your face, and I really miss that incredible torque. Again, another big mistake, as purchasing a replacement is out of the question.

There are several more, but I'll quit with this one: A friend bought an original-owner '69 Carousel Red GTO Judge in the late Eighties. It was a Ram Air III, auto and otherwise loaded. He enjoyed it for a few years and decided to restore another GTO. So I purchased the car and loved driving it. After several years, I got the bug again to do another car, and decided to sell the Judge. It sold immediately, and I was on to something else. Somebody smack me! Another serious mistake, which seemed like the right thing to do at the time. All three of these muscle cars could have been old friends by now!

This all might sound very weird to someone who is not involved with the car hobby, but I'm sure many of you can relate. I can't see a golfer getting emotionally attached to a club, or a rock collector getting attached to a chunk of quartz, but anything is possible. It's all about the care and feeding of automotive old friends, and I think we need to consider these relationships, and their consequences, before cutting them loose.


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