CHAPTER 1:

NOT FOR SALE

You’re driving through the countryside and you catch something out of the corner of your eye: The taillights of an old car peeking from beneath a tarp. You back up and find the driveway. Maybe the car is something really great. You want to take a look.

You pull up to the house and do the polite thing by knocking on the door. You wait a few moments and then the owner swings the door open and looks at you. He’s a crusty guy, and he knows why you’re here. He’s been through this before.

He says, “It’s not for sale.”

And that’s that.

While I attended college, I found this 1970 Chevelle SS sitting next to a home, and there it sat the entire time I was at school. I went back after nearly a decade and the car hadn’t moved an inch.

This was the first hidden car I ever discovered, a 1971 Plymouth ‘Cuda sitting in a car stereo shop in Chicago. I was having a radio installed in my daily driver and the ‘Cuda was sitting between the two major work areas. It sat in the same spot for over a decade.

Driving to a nearby quarry, I looked just off the road and saw this car sitting in the old barn. This 1967 Plymouth Satellite had been there for over a decade, sidelined because of a bad brake line. The car never moved from that spot in the entire time I lived in the area.

My friend informed me about this car, a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda. This car was in the garage since 1977, sidelined for long-forgotten reasons. The corner of the garage where the car sat had not been touched since the car was parked in the corner. Everything was untouched, as it was in 1977.

Shooting a yard in Iowa, this poor neglected Mustang was rotting outside—a 1966 Mustang GT with a 289 hi-po V-8.

This 1969 Dodge Super Bee was supposedly in an accident involving a concrete wall. Afterwards the owner parted it out, but left the hulk in the field for the cows to use as a rubbing post.

Out west is a landmark—the Cadillac by the barn. I had heard stories and seen pictures of it but never seen it in person until this point. I just happened to find it while on a different expedition, and the weather was perfect for the shot.

I had driven past this barn for almost 20 years. One day a nice 1970 Dodge Challenger was sitting outside. Talking with the owner, he showed me the barn was packed with cool cars, including this Chevrolet Nova SS in the corner.

In the corner of a barn, sitting for many, many years, was an original 1956 Chevrolet Nomad. A half-dozen other vintage GM products rubbed elbows with the Nomad.

This 1970 Shelby Mustang GT500 (with original 428 Cobra Jet!) has been snoozing in a barn for years, neglected off a driveway in a small subdivision in northern Illinois.

Showing up at a friend’s house, he unburied his 1970 Plymouth Road Runner just enough to get a handful of pictures. The car has been buried in the garage for years.

Over the years, I have been in that situation many times. The truth is that some collectible cars will never be for sale. You come across them sitting in junkyards, or resting in a grove of trees in somebody’s backyard. You look at the car and all you can do is shake your head. It’s sad to think of some old gem rotting away, forgotten. When you drive off, you hope that someday the car will be saved.

Every car has a history, and even the seemingly forgotten ones didn’t get stashed away by accident. There’s always a reason. Sentiment can have a lot to do with it. The car may have been somebody’s first ride, or the one the owner drove on romantic dates long ago. Perhaps the car belonged to a son who went off to war and never came home again.

My friend drove me around showing me all sorts of crazy cars sitting in fields and junkyards. This 1967 LeMans Convertible sat neglected in the field for decades, slowly rusting to the ground.

Sitting since the 1970s, this 1970 Dodge Super Bee original Six Pack car blew up its engine and the kid sold the car to a new owner. Instead of fixing up the car, he put it in the garage and it hasn’t moved since. What a waste.

As you might imagine, family and time are common reasons why particular cars seem doomed to rot away. Maybe the owner had once fussed over it, and then became preoccupied with the responsibilities of a growing family. The years rolled on, and the car sat and sat. Many owners have good intentions, and tell themselves that, one day, they will grab their tools and start a restoration of the car they loved.

Outsiders—neighbors, distant relatives, and garden-variety busybodies—may be jealous that the owner has an interesting old car and they don’t. They say the person is a hoarder, with a mental disorder that prevents the person from letting the car go. Well, we should be thankful that the cars have been saved. Most vintage muscle cars, for instance, were driven hard and eventually made their way to the crusher. They’re gone. But the select few that sit in backyards and dusty garages are survivors. We hope to see them resurrected one day, and brought back to their original glory.

Mopar guys almost always have a car or two hanging around. This gentleman actively bought and sold Mopar parts, and had this real A12 6 bbl Road Runner tucked away in the corner of his barn. Very cool.

On the other hand, some owners of old, unrestored classics keep them in plain sight because they like the attention. They know they’re not going to sell, but they get a kick out of chatting with would-be buyers, and seeing the car lust in their eyes. The car makes owners of this sort feel special. Without the car, what else do they have? So the car sits, and people keep coming to the door. Inevitably, the visitors go away disappointed.

You always have to keep your eyes open. Traveling through Wisconsin, I came across a gentleman who had a wide variety of Chevrolet products sitting around his property. One of the cooler cars was a 1967 Chevelle SS 396 sitting out back in the weeds.

It is always a good idea to ask your friends what they have lying around. One day my friend mentioned his family had a 1928 Model A Town Sedan sitting in the barn. They have had the car in the family for many generations and hope someday to restore the car to its former glory.

A 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda 340 sits in the corner of a garage, forlorn for many years and waiting for the day that its owner starts turning wrenches on her again. Thankfully this antique has been stored in a nice garage for little more than 20 years.

Family obligations are the usual reason that a car has sat for so long. This 1967 Pontiac GTO suffered the same fate as many other muscle cars—the owner got busy with life and had to put away the car for a rainy day. Some do get them out again, while others let them rot away to nothing.

This relic was originally bought new by the current owner’s grandmother. She had walked into the local Dodge dealer to buy a new Polara or Monaco, but fell in love with the Burnt Orange 70 Charger. She bought it on the spot, and it has been in the family ever since.

The reason I get close looks at a lot of amazing old cars is that I don’t walk up and ask if I can buy them. Instead, I let the owner know that I’ve come to find out about the car’s history. How long have you had it? Was it something special in your life? You’ve made a point to hang onto it. Can you tell me why?

I really want to know.

Owners are usually happy to show the car and share their stories. At the end, I always ask them to let me know if they ever decide to sell. Perhaps we could work something out.

If they decide to do a restoration, I can point them to parts and useful information. Everyone is happy, though I suppose the old cars will not be completely happy until they receive the attention they need.

Here lies a 1968 Pontiac GTO convertible, a 400-ci V-8 car with a 4-speed, originally painted a nice shade of red. The owner had it parked among a bunch of other vehicles on the property and plans to fix it up someday soon.

The 1970s and ‘80s were the height of the van craze. Customized vans could be seen on the covers of many magazines, and this Dodge Street Van would have been right there in the thick of it. It remains as an intriguing time capsule of another era.

An adventure is around every corner when you are with friends. This 1972 Plymouth Satellite Sebring Plus was well off the beaten path, but my friend had seen it while cruising the back roads. We were lucky to find it again.

This 1967 Camaro SS convertible factory 4-speed sits forgotten in a corner. The owner began restoration long ago but got sidetracked with other project cars and hasn’t touched it in decades.

Traveling the back roads is the best way to find interesting vehicles. This Oldsmobile Cutlass was just off a gravel road, and has been there for decades. The license plate is from 1976!

Not all these cars have happy stories to them. This 1970 Dodge Charger R/T was owned by a young man who unfortunately was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was shot and killed. His parents have kept the car safely tucked away in the garage ever since.

I shot this 1970 Dodge Super Bee a few years ago when it was in a lean-to next to a barn. The owner rolled it out to clean the area, and there it sat ever since. That’s a real Hemi Orange car!

Tucked away safely in an old barn, this 1969 Dodge Super Bee Six Pack car is extremely clean, though scattered in a million pieces spread the barn, waiting for the day to be put back together.

It is all about who you know. For over a year I played Telephone with a local club member about a Camaro that he had tucked away. I finally got to meet the guy—his nickname is Monk—and saw that the Camaro was a 1969 Z/28 with a 4-speed. It’s been sitting since the ‘80s.

A relic from the ‘70s, this 1970 Plymouth 340 ’Cuda was tucked safely away in the owner’s mother’s lakeside home in the early ‘80s and never un-tucked. Still sitting in the same location, the only thing that changes is the buildup of dust over time.

1964 was the 50th anniversary of automaker Dodge, so to commemorate it they manufactured several special editions of their vehicles. This 1964 Dodge Polara convertible with the 50th Anniversary package has been sitting for years.

To make more room, a loft was built over this 1968 Chevrolet Camaro RS/SS 350. The current owner bought it after a friend passed on the opportunity, believing it to be too rough. Since the new owner has a variety of other GM muscle projects in the wings, he stuck it in the corner for a rainy day.

This is one of those cars you hear about in myth and legends. My friend is an A-body Mopar expert (Dodge Darts, Demons, Dart Sports, Plymouth Valiant, Dusters, etc.) and hunted most of his life for the holy grail of nearly any muscle car make. Tucked away in a barn he found a 1968 Hemi SS Dart, bought it on the spot, and then stuck it in his barn for a rainy day.

BEER, ROMANCE, AND THE GTX

A thoughtful reader of the Auto Archaeology column I do for Hot Rod tipped me that his friend had a rare 1970 Plymouth GTX, one of just 1,471 made. The car was stored in a building not far from the reader’s home. I expressed interest, so the reader took me to his friend and introduced me to the car.

The property was in the middle of Indiana. We met the owner and then walked around to the barn where the car was safely tucked away. The barn was jammed full of stuff. We had to squeeze around lawn-care equipment and old furniture. The owner was behind us, and just as we got to the car, he threw the barn door wide open. Light came in, and we could see what he had.

It was a ’70 GTX, all right. It had come off the line with a 440-cid V-8 and a 4-speed transmission. The owner blew up the engine sometime in the ’70s and handed it to a friend for a rebuild. Weeks turned into months, and the rebuilt engine never materialized. When the owner finally asked his pal about the wait, the guy admitted that he’d traded the engine for beer! There are plenty of things a reasonable man might give up for beer—money, scrap metal, certain members of his extended family—but a friend’s engine shouldn’t be one of them!

Ever since the 440 went missing, the car has been sitting, shuffled from one storage space to another. At one point the owner threw a 383 into the engine compartment but never took the final steps that would have made the GTX a running, driving car.

I talked with the owner for a while and shot some pictures. As usual, the why question began to bubble in my brain. Why hang on to the thing? The owner confided that, well, he was pretty sure his son had been conceived in the back seat.

That seemed a good enough reason to keep the old GTX around.

LUCKY DOG

I had enjoyed traveling across North Carolina for a few days, but I needed to get ready for the Hot Rod Power Tour 2014. I wanted to relax before I got into a six-day, seven-city drive across multiple states. I was about to head out when a local friend told me his father had a lead on something I’d be interested in. We met up with Dad and then all three of us drove to a shop surrounded by storage barns and farmland. The owner took us around back. As a couple of guard terriers barked loudly, the owner let us look at a few cars sitting around in the open. He had a 1969 GTO and a rare electric ’56 Plymouth Fury toy car. A ’71 340 Duster was interesting, but the coolest item was a 1971 Ford Mustang Mach 1. The only odd thing about any of it was that one of the terriers stared at the Mach 1, barking like crazy.

The owner took us into the barn, where he kept his better cars. There was a 1973 Road Runner with a 340 and a ’68 Dodge Dart GTS with a 340. The farther into the barn we got, the cooler the cars became. There was a 1971 Dodge Challenger ragtop, a ’71 Challenger R/T with a 383, and a ’67 Plymouth GTX 440. I could hardly believe it. Tucked out of sight in this barn were some of the best muscle cars in the world. It was incredible.

Back outside we saw even more vintage muscle. A ’71 Challenger R/T with the rare wide hood molding sat in the weeds, where a tree had grown up through the engine compartment. Sitting next to it was a ’70 Barracuda.

Then there was the shed, where the owner had squirreled away a 1964 GTO with a 389 and tri-power; a 1971 Boss 351 Mustang; and a ’67 Barracuda. There was even a 1978 or ’79 Dodge Li’l Red Express Truck.

We came back from the shed and found the terrier still barking at the Mach 1. The dog suddenly darted forward and came out with a poisonous snake in its jaws. The moment before the dog killed the snake, the snake bit the dog. The owner rushed his dog to an emergency vet for treatment with anti-venom. The pup survived.

You just never know how things are going to end up on these adventures.

A FOREST IN NORTH CAROLINA

A few years back, my best friend moved from Chicago to North Carolina. When he was looking at houses, he came across something incredible: a field packed with mostly prewar Fords. My friend isn’t an old-car guy, so he waited for me to come visit before checking out the collection.

I flew out and the two of us headed to the site. My friend thought we would just cruise by and grab a picture or two; I had other ideas. The place was private property. We pulled into the driveway and met the owner, who happened to be outside. He was talkative and allowed us full access to his yard.

Closest to the drive was a row of old, open tractor sheds. Each bay held at least one car, and every car had stuff piled every which way on top of it. A lot of nifty petroliana was lying around, too, from old oil can advertising racks to complete gas pumps. Car stuff was everywhere.

As I walked, I couldn’t believe how many vintage cars were scattered around the property. Some had sat for so long that full-size trees had grown through their bodies or engine compartments, making them part of the scenery. Most of the cars were Fords dating from the 1930s to the early 60s, everything from a flathead 4-banger to a 390 big block. They had been there a long time but, all things considered, were not in terrible shape.

Here and there amidst the literal forest of cars were a few Plymouths, Pontiacs, and other makes. A 50s-era DeSoto still had its original, first-generation Hemi.

We ate up an entire afternoon chatting with the owner and shooting everything. I thanked him for letting us walk around the place. He said he was happy to see young people who appreciated the collection he had put together over decades. It was a part of him.

MUSCLE MEETS THE INSURANCE MAN

The universe works in funny ways. I was at a small-town car show in southern Wisconsin when an extremely rare 1968 Dodge Charger R/T drove in. This was an original 426 Hemi, the King Kong of engines, the “elephant” beloved by collectors. All the power went through a 4-speed manual transmission. I talked with the owner, and told him that I shoot at car shows, junkyards, and other places. He said he had a few other Mopars I might like to see.

He was happy to show off the Hemi as we drove in it to the center of town. Over the years, I had gone past the unassuming old steel-sided barn hundreds of times. I would occasionally wonder what was behind those doors. The Hemi man opened them a crack so I could see a pair of Dodge Challengers.

One was a rare 1970 SE; the other was a ’72. The ’70 was unique because, although it had a 383-cid V-8 big block and an upgraded interior, it was not an R/T. Most buyers of the day that wanted the big block ordered the R/T. But smart buyers knew that in order to get around high insurance rates, you ordered the big motor in a Challenger model slotted below the R/T. Those buyers drove off with a big-block Challenger that had everything an R/T had, without it being a high-premium R/T. Pretty smart!

The ’72 looked like a solid project. It had no engine, but rolled without issue and had no significant rust. Coming from an area where metal rusted away after just a few years, the ’72 was a very nice example.

Both Challengers had sat for years and years. The owner, a one-time employee of the local Dodge/Plymouth/Chrysler dealership, had a longtime affinity for Mopar product. He had a hoard of parts and kept a ’67 Chrysler Newport for tinkering.

But for the time being, he was happy to play around with his Hemi Charger.

THE KID HAD A BISCAYNE

In 1961, a 16-year-old boy and his mother walked into Fencl-Bogan Chevrolet in Oak Park, Illinois, and ordered a race car. Well, what they ordered would eventually become a race car. It was a 1962 Chevy Biscayne with a 350-bhp, 348-cid V-8 mated to a 4-speed transmission. The young man was too young to have a car in his name, so his mom signed off on the specifications and the sale.

Through the years, the young man made the car faster and faster, and ran it under the name The Runaway. It was so fast, it appeared on covers of programs for the infamous Chicago Amphitheater Indoor Drag Races. The kid won many races. He was on a roll when he enlisted in the 101st Airborne.

He was 20 when he got out in 1964, and took a job at Chicago’s performance-oriented Nickey Chevrolet. The dealership was famed for its backwards “K” and for performance hop-ups that put Nickey in the same class as Yenko and Chicago’s Mr. Norm.

Fast forward to 1968, when the young man wanted a change of perspective and became a Chicago cop. He was with the department for decades, and through it all he kept The Runaway, the race car his mother helped him buy, tucked safely away in storage. He began to restore the car in the ’80s, but some people working on it with him stole parts and his money. The experience soured his mood toward The Runaway, so he put the car in the corner and let it collect dust for a long time.

I was a member of a local car club, the Chicago Gearheads, and I’d been hearing about this car for years. Eventually I got together with the owner, who arranged for me to see the big Biscayne. When I came to photograph the car, the man and his wife were at work in the garage, clearing away years of boxes and lawn furniture that had buried the Chevy over the years.

I immediately told them to stop what they were doing, that I wanted to shoot the car just as it was found. They answered that unless they cleaned up at least a little, I would never have known a car was there at all.

The Biscayne was dirty but still looked intimidating. I shot it and then talked some more with the owner. As I was getting ready to leave, the gentleman’s wife thanked me for coming by. In all the years of her marriage, she had never seen the car so clean!