1973 Dodge Challenger

After I sold the MG I immediately started looking for another car, but I only had the $600 to spend that I'd just received. I was tempted by thoughts of buying a muscle car. I adored the MG, but I was constantly frustrated by the under-powered engine. I was 19 at the time, and with the self-image of a scrawny weakling I must confess that I succumbed at least somewhat to the "little man, big engine" syndrome.

Although the idea of a muscle car was becoming more attractive, I was confronted with the fact that there were scant few muscle cars that appealed to me visually. From the beginning I had a keen interest in the aesthetics of the automobiles I drove, and I decided that I would rather go without a car than to compromise. One day I spotted one of the models that I did like. It was at a transmission shop. I stopped in and asked about it. The owner happened to be there talking to the mechanic, and he told me that he had just rebuilt the transmission (regrettably an automatic), and that it was for sale. Unfortunately he wanted $1250 for it.

I got a job that Summer loading tucks that the local Coca Cola distributor. Although I never drove the trucks (except backing way too many trucks into way too little space at the end of the night), I had to join the Teamsters and I made a union wage. I survived the Summer riding my bicycle everywhere I needed to go, and with no car to sink money into and a decent income I managed to lay away a pretty good chunk of change. Towards the end of the Summer out of sheer coincidence I bumped into the seller of the Challenger. He told me it was still for sale, and would I make him an offer. Sensing slight desperation on his part I offered him $800. He said he'd take $850. Soon it was mine.

It was a 1973 Dodge Challenger. It had a 340 V8 engine with a Holly Double-pumper 4-barrel sitting on a stock intake manifold. It had headers, twin Thrush mufflers, and dual exhaust straight back. Tires were Honcho raised white letters, with 70s in front and 60s in back. The rear wheels were chrome sport rims, and the air shocks gave it a true "jacked up" look. I expected it to handle like a truck, but was pleasantly surprised to find it extremely responsive, even at high speeds (probably due mostly to the fat tires).

While I bought it for the looks and the image, I hadn't really intended to exercise its performance potential. But I experienced significant peer pressure from my friends to go hot-rodding. At first it caused me a lot of stress, but eventually I got good at it. We'd cruise the streets at night stalking other hot rods. One time we were at a red light beside another muscle car right in the center of downtown. While he and my co-pilot were trash-talking, the light turned green without the other guy noticing. I took right off, and the other guy had to peel out to catch up to me. A cop saw it all, but chose to pull over the other guy, presumably because he made more noise. If I chanced upon someone I wanted to race, I would get in front of him and crawl along at granny speeds. When we got to the edge of town I'd drop the hammer. If the guy followed along, then the race was on. We'd fly off into the night at insanely dangerous speeds. It's a miracle I never killed myself and others during that time.

I did take this car back with me to college half-way through my sophomore year, but I rarely drove it. Early the next Summer I found that I was getting real tired of putting so much money in the gas tank and that I would put it up for sale. I decided I'd get greedy and ask the $1250 for it that the guy I bought it from originally asked. One day some nice looking jock about my age showed up with his father and they took it for a drive. Afterwards the two conferred, and the father emerged saying that his son was willing to offer me $1100 cash on the spot. I said that I decided when I put it up for sale that I had no immediate need to get rid of it, and that if I didn't get my price that I'd just hold on to it. The kid looked up at me and quietly said, "How about twelve-hundred." Since I really didn't want to let this fish off the hook, and admittedly because I was somewhat won over by the kid's looks, I accepted. The whole time we were doing paperwork the father was complaining that I couldn't help them out more with the price.

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