I enjoy hearing stories about how and when Mopar addicts become hooked.
My story began in the rural farmlands of Central Illinois when my gorgeous older sister was being pursued by just about every guy in high school back in 1969 when the muscle car era was nearing its apex. Our driveway was adorned very often with Super Sports, Cobra Jets, Bosss, and various other muscle cars of the era; all of which were being driven by spoiled 16, 17, and 18 year old farm boys.
There was one family of three brothers who frequented our house under the guise of visiting me but I knew why they were really there. The oldest one had a Yellow 69 383 Super Bee. The middle one was driving a hemi orange 69 440 Charger. The youngest, who was my school buddy, was driving a plain-Jane metallic blue 66 Satellite with a 318 automatic. My ride was a 1965 metallic green Stingray...made by Schwinn.
Needless to say, the youngest felt like he was left out when daddy was buying the boys their first cars, and never relented in begging for his muscle; and it paid off. Daddy finally succumbed under the pressure and traded his youngest sons (16 at the time) Satellite for a used (3000 mile) 1969 Bronze Fire Road Runner equipped with a 426 Hemi that was backed by a 4-Speed transmission.
I had taken rides in just about every car that showed up in our driveway during that time, and I loved them all. But when I took that first ride in a Hemi car I was hooked for life; and have been ever since. There is absolutely nothing like a Mopar and there are no rehabilitation facilities available that can cure the addiction (as if we would go).
My high school buddy and I cruised in that Hemi RR for about 2 months of weekends. The hardest part of cruising "in the day" was pulling together the $8.00 a night to feed the elephant with that wonderful smelling 102 octane gasoline available through a Sunoco Dial-A-Grade pump placed in the 260 position. Ahhh yes Sunoco 260 was the best if you could afford it at 0.35 a gallon!
But sadly on a Saturday night while going through the gears there was a missed shift that pegged the tachometer and immediately spilled the blood and guts of that Hemi on to the pavement. The Elephant was dead. Real dead!
The Road Runner was re-outfitted with a 383 and eventually sold. I can still vividly see in my mind the mortally wounded Hemi laying on its side behind a barn, forever silent; complete with the Coyote Duster dual quad air cleaner, black wrinkled valve covers, and cast iron headers connected to torch cut exhaust pipes. RIP!
Howd you get hooked?
My story began in the rural farmlands of Central Illinois when my gorgeous older sister was being pursued by just about every guy in high school back in 1969 when the muscle car era was nearing its apex. Our driveway was adorned very often with Super Sports, Cobra Jets, Bosss, and various other muscle cars of the era; all of which were being driven by spoiled 16, 17, and 18 year old farm boys.
There was one family of three brothers who frequented our house under the guise of visiting me but I knew why they were really there. The oldest one had a Yellow 69 383 Super Bee. The middle one was driving a hemi orange 69 440 Charger. The youngest, who was my school buddy, was driving a plain-Jane metallic blue 66 Satellite with a 318 automatic. My ride was a 1965 metallic green Stingray...made by Schwinn.
Needless to say, the youngest felt like he was left out when daddy was buying the boys their first cars, and never relented in begging for his muscle; and it paid off. Daddy finally succumbed under the pressure and traded his youngest sons (16 at the time) Satellite for a used (3000 mile) 1969 Bronze Fire Road Runner equipped with a 426 Hemi that was backed by a 4-Speed transmission.
I had taken rides in just about every car that showed up in our driveway during that time, and I loved them all. But when I took that first ride in a Hemi car I was hooked for life; and have been ever since. There is absolutely nothing like a Mopar and there are no rehabilitation facilities available that can cure the addiction (as if we would go).
My high school buddy and I cruised in that Hemi RR for about 2 months of weekends. The hardest part of cruising "in the day" was pulling together the $8.00 a night to feed the elephant with that wonderful smelling 102 octane gasoline available through a Sunoco Dial-A-Grade pump placed in the 260 position. Ahhh yes Sunoco 260 was the best if you could afford it at 0.35 a gallon!
But sadly on a Saturday night while going through the gears there was a missed shift that pegged the tachometer and immediately spilled the blood and guts of that Hemi on to the pavement. The Elephant was dead. Real dead!
The Road Runner was re-outfitted with a 383 and eventually sold. I can still vividly see in my mind the mortally wounded Hemi laying on its side behind a barn, forever silent; complete with the Coyote Duster dual quad air cleaner, black wrinkled valve covers, and cast iron headers connected to torch cut exhaust pipes. RIP!
Howd you get hooked?
I have owned alteast one Mopar ever since then. Current play toy in a 71 Scamp soon to get a 380 HP 360 Mag this winter.
