Chicken's, Cuda's and the Cold War.

[DixieRestoParts]

I posted 2 stories previously about adventures in my first Charger. While digging out pics of it for my sign board for Carlisle and the Nats, I ran across pics of a 71 Cuda I used to own. It's from the same time period. I wrote the story below in 2007. I thought you guys might get a kick out of reading the story and see actual pics of the car in it's dilapidated state.

Warning, this is kinda long:

Having been into Mopars for some years now, I always get a kick when the "old timers" tell stories about owning and driving Mopars in the days they were new. I've heard some great stories, and I'm sure like fishing stories they get better with age. I got into Mopars when they were second hand used cars, and for the most part – cheap to buy. One day I may write a book about my own adventures. I may call it, "Cars I've Known and Loved", which is better than the other book I had planned to write - "Fat Chicks dig me". Especially, since my wife is nowhere near fat. That would just cause way too many questions. Until then, I think I'll just tell stories. Here's one of my favorites. But, unlike a lot of stories, this really happened.

1983, a low period in American automotive history. Even in the car loving/shine running East Tennessee Mountains, people were actually considering gas mileage over performance. My own high school parking lot was filled with VW Rabbits and Omni's. Luckily, some time earlier in the fall I had fought off all insistence that I buy a Le CAR, and had talked my parents into letting me buy a 1969 Charger R/T SE, 440, 4spd., 80K mile original car. I had fallen deeply in love with this car in all it's F3 Green ugliness and slots with 3 bar spinner glory. Boy, can I tell stories about that car! But, that's not the car this story is about. I had purchased the Charger at the start of my senior year in high school. I knew nothing about cars, and soon learned most people in my hometown knew even less when it came to Mopars. I drove this car my senior year and did such stupid things as 360's in front of the school. It was an accident - wet tires, full throttle, steering wheel turned too tight, you get the picture. Then there was the massive burnout in front of my house to prove my car's superiority to the local pickup truck club across the street. Unfortunately, this was not an accident. The police were called and it was not pretty. But, I actually survived and graduated.

May 1983, I was going into the Army in a month or so to get money for college. In the mean time, I had determined that I wanted to restore my car when I returned from the Army. I knew I would need to improve my mechanical skills before starting on the Charger. So, I decided to buy another car to practice on. Enter the car this story is about.

During this time in Dalton, Georgia there was a guy named Dale who sold Mopar and Ford cars and parts. I used to visit him a lot to see what he had. I saw my first Challenger T/A and Shaker Hood E-body there. I called him and found out he had purchased a '71 Cuda 340 and only wanted $450 dollars for it. Wow! That was perfect! A car to learn on. So, my best friend Jimmy, and I, went to Dalton and inspected the car.

It was truly beautiful. Primered front end. No grill. Steel wheels up front and rallye's in the back with tires way too wide mounted on them. They bulged over the sides like slicks. Well, actually they were slick. As a matter of fact, the cords were showing through. The Tor Red paint had faded to a faint pink with most of the Black billboard stripe still visible with rattle can touch-ups here and there on it. Surface rust everywhere. The decklid showed evidence of a AAR spoiler installed at some point. Carpet was gone, mustang bucket seats nailed to 2X4's and bolted to the floor had replaced the originals. The automatic shifter was one of those "find-a-gear" shifters that mount in the floor with no shift indicator. Originally the car was column shifted. Rally instrument cluster complete with uncracked dash pad! Under the hood, the original 340 still resided. Complete with open headers that had 1/4" plywood cutout for header gaskets (Did they seal? No, but with open headers who noticed?), Rochester quadrajet rigged to the intake so that only the primaries would open. It had the original 3.55 sure grip and rear factory sway bar still intact. What a jewel, and all mine for the paltry sum of $450. I agreed to purchase it and would return the next day to pick up my new toy.

Jimmy would only help me pick up the car if I let him drive it back. So, with that agreed upon we got in my father's 1974 Buick Electra 225 with a 455 and headed south. About 2 miles out of town and with an hour or so to go to Dalton, the exhaust system fell off my Dad's car from the exhaust manifolds back to the muffler. Yeah, it just fell off going down the highway and bounced off to the side of the road. Did we stop and pick it up? Did we go back and have it reinstalled? Are you kidding? We thought the car sounded cool with no exhaust. Ok, we were only 17. So, we roar down to Dalton to get the 'Cuda. Needless to say, my father instructed me in the error of my ways later. Oh Boy, did he ever instruct me! On a side note, he picked up the exhaust from the side of the road with a mechanic friend of his and reinstalled it.

After picking the car up we got about 50 feet away from Dale's and it died. It refused to start. The starter had burned up, but Dale cheerfully picked the front of the car up with his wrecker and changed the starter out in the turn lane for no charge. We were off again. However, the ignition switch was missing the collar and kept grounding out against the column causing the car to die. It did this several times on the way home. Every time it did it, Jimmy would start it up again in a belch of black smoke and open headered roar. He liked revving the engine with open headers, especially at stoplights. I found it amusing to join in with my Dad's open exhaust 455.

So, the two of us traveled in our open exhaust cars back towards my hometown of Etowah, Tennessee. Everything went fine until we got on a particularly dangerous and curvy section of highway called Bowater road. Many people have died on this section of highway - but that didn't scare us. At this point the 'Cuda starts to go faster and slowly pulls away. Initially, I keep up. The speed limit for this road is 55, but at 100 mph, my Dad's car starts coming out of gear. Now I'm mad. Piece of crap car. It won't stay in gear at 100 mph and I have to reduce speed to 95 mph. So, as I'm sliding the big boat through the curves at 95 and listening to the tires squeal and the body moan and creak, the 'Cuda suddenly belches black smoke and walks away from me like I'm sitting still.

I was bewildered as it pulled way, wondering how it could do that with only the primaries working? Did I mention the kick down linkage was missing? How about the brakes not working so great either? So, now I'm mad at the Buick for not being able to keep up and mad at Jimmy for driving my car like a maniac. Remember the slick tires with cords showing through, and the seats nailed to 2X4's? I was going to beat the daylights out of him if he wrecked my car before I got a chance to drive it. Providing, he survived the crash of course.

Well, some miles down the road I spotted a speck in the distance. I slowly closed the gap, coaxing the big boat to stay in gear at as high a speed as it could muster. 95-99 mph. I closed to within 30 feet or so. The 'Cuda was approaching the intersection of Highway 411. It seemed to be going to fast to stop. What was Jimmy doing? There was an old gas station from the 1920's at the intersection with a few old men sitting outside watching us. They were chewing tobacco and talking. The A/C was off and the windows were down on my Dad's car in order to squeeze out a few more horsepower. So, I heard one of them say, "He ain't gonna make it." Referencing Jimmy in the 'Cuda of course. He was right, Jimmy didn't make it. He slid right out into the middle of 411 and the car died. He jumped out of the car, arms flailing, yelling at me to help him push it out of the way before it was hit. I quickly pulled off the side of the road and ran over to him. Sure enough there was an 18-wheeler bearing down on us. This guy wasn't even slowing down. We scrambled and pushed the 'Cuda out of the way with a couple of moments to spare before the big rig sped by. We pushed the car into the old gas station. The old men were laughing and telling us about the Model A's they used to own. Real nice guys. The owner let me leave the car there until I could return to pick it up. The starter had burned up again.

Continued below:

[DixieRestoParts]

On the way home in my Dad's car, I asked Jimmy how fast he had been going in the 'Cuda. The conversation went as follows:

Me: Jimmy, how fast were you going in the 'Cuda?

Jimmy: I don't know if the speedometer is right and it was hard to see with all the chicken feathers flying around inside. I think it was used as a chicken coup at some point. How fast were you going?

Me: Well, my Dad's car was coming out of gear at 100 mph.

Jimmy: Like I said, I don't know if the speedometer is right, but it said 135.

Me: What! Are you crazy? You know how slick those tires are, they could have burst at any moment and the seats are NAILED IN!!

Jimmy: So.

Me: So, you could've wrecked my car and been killed in the process.

Jimmy: Yeah, but I didn't. Would this be a good time to tell you about the windshield fogging up from the freeze-out plugs coming out of the block?

Me: I can't believe you did that.

Jimmy: I wanted to see how fast the car would go, and I was mad at you for doing 130 in your Charger with me in it. The first time I went those speeds, I wanted to be the one driving. Now we're even.

Me: You're crazy.

Jimmy: So.

I returned the next day and pulled it home with a chain. In the course of the next month I fiddled with it and drove it around some with the open headers. Somehow, Jimmy talked me into letting him drive the 'Cuda while I was away in the Army. The agreement was he would work on it and drive it in college and upon my return; I would pay him for any parts he had purchased. But, his labor would be free. Did that work out? No, those things never do. Besides, you ever see a college student with money? One time he removed the front clip, doors, decklid, and drove the car down his neighborhood street. Stomping the gas to see what it would do, in it's lightened state it took off with such force that he fell off the (newly modified) cinder block seat. Luckily, no one was hurt. Don't get me started about the time he sanded it to bare metal and left it outside for a couple of months.

Eventually, I returned from the Army and semi-restored the car. I traded it for a nice original 383 automatic '70 Roadrunner. I really had a blast with that car! But, that's another story too. Jimmy and I lost touch for many years as our lives took different directions. We got back in contact again a few years ago. He is still the same adventure crazed nut case he ever was, but in an older, wiser, form now. Age and scars will do that. Roughly a year after high school while I was off saving the free world from the Soviets, and he was drinking beer in college and listening to Rock Music, he purchased a 70 Challenger 340 that made it's own name on our local streets for it's Chevy eating adventures. Never being the conventional type, he painted it Panther Pink before Panther Pink was cool. Not only were the Chevy's beaten by a Mopar, but a Pink one ! Oh, the HUMANITY ! Succumbing to a lack of funds, or was it bad grades? Or both? Heck, I don't remember, it's been too many beers ago. Anyway, he left college and joined me in the fight to defeat communism known as the "Cold War". I was in Germany on tanks and he was in Washington State on refueling aircraft. We both felt the "cold" in the "Cold War".


Bald tires, seats nailed to 2X4's, chicken feathers flying around inside the car, 135 mph. I still laugh about that. We must have a team of Guardian Angels looking out for us. I also still think about that 'Cuda. Like all the Mopars I've had, I wish I had it back. I found it again in the early 90's. It was sitting in a pile of weeds. The 340 had been replaced with a 440 shortly after I sold it, and it had taken on a short-lived life of street racing. It was quite successful. By the time I found it again, the guy who owned it wanted around $5000 and it was in really rough shape. I passed on it, but sometimes I wonder.....

One thing I never wonder about is, MOPAR OR NO CAR!!

P.S.

After sending this to Jimmy to proofread, he came back with the following comment:

"The car actually died at least a mile and a half before the intersection. Needless to say, the power brakes were not going to stop that car; especially with metal slugs left in the place of what used to be brake pads."

Come see me in Carlisle in Spaces J187-188 outside Building Y. Nationals R10-14.
http://www.dixierestorationparts.com/products.cfm?ci=E5445801-B7AD-B1A3-46E9385B7FF77E23

[Charger4404spd]

Nice story man! Sounds a lot like my younger years here in East Tennessee!

[DixieRestoParts]

Nice story man! Sounds a lot like my younger years here in East Tennessee!

Thank you sir. I hope everyone is getting a few laughs at these story's. I write them kind of tongue in cheek.