1970 Dodge Challenger R/T - Vanishing Point

Gosh, movie theaters. Remember them?

I first saw Vanishing Point when it hit theaters in 1971. My mother took me, and I couldn't have been more than six years old. Suffice it to say, between the drug use, gratuitous nudity, anti-authoritarian attitude, romanticized CB radio culture, and that thunderous 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T, it's no surprise the movie left a permanent impression on both my conscious and subconscious.

My mother didn't do much for me growing up, but I'll always give her credit for dragging me along to see Vanishing Point. Thanks, Mom. 

A vanishing point is the point at which parallel lines, viewed in perspective, appear to converge. Why the movie is called Vanishing Point is open to interpretation, but the film itself is straightforward enough.

Released in 1971, it follows a car delivery driver named Kowalski—who I'm almost certain is called "Mitch" in one scene—whose job is to transport a brand-new Dodge Challenger R/T from Denver to San Francisco.

Why the customer couldn't simply buy a Challenger in San Francisco is never explained. There are vague references to the car being "supercharged," so maybe we're meant to assume the owner wanted work done by a favorite Denver speed shop.

Bueller? 

Kowalski has an entire weekend to make the roughly 1,300-mile trip, but instead decides to do it in just fifteen hours. Why? Because he bets his drug dealer that if he makes it on time, the handful of bennies he swallows before leaving will be free. Otherwise, he pays triple.

Now that's incentive.

His troubles begin almost immediately when a motorcycle cop signals him to pull over for speeding. Instead of stopping, Kowalski floors it, setting off one of cinema's longest police chases. Before long, law enforcement from four states—possibly five if he passed through Wyoming—is after him.

Along the way he encounters an unforgettable collection of oddballs: a Jaguar E-Type driver he drag races nearly to death, a pair of would-be hitchhiking robbers, a naked woman riding a motorcycle who practically throws herself at him, and a snake charmer he meets after blowing out one of his Goodyear Polyglas tires.

Whether it's the amphetamines or simply artistic license, Kowalski is also plagued by flashbacks to earlier chapters of his life: racing motorcycles and stock cars, serving as a police officer, fighting in Vietnam, and mourning a woman who apparently died in a surfing accident.

Oddly enough, despite being in a desperate hurry, Kowalski always stops to make sure anyone he nearly killed is still breathing. He may be strung out, but he's also a genuinely decent guy.

He's a Vietnam veteran, somehow finds time to check in with blind radio DJ Super Soul throughout the chase, and still manages to cover 1,300 miles in fifteen hours.

Brother gets a lot done in one day.

I'm no film critic, but after watching Vanishing Point again recently—for the first time in roughly fifty years—I can confidently say it's pure, unadulterated, exploitative nonsense.

Fortunately, it's glorious exploitative nonsense.

More than anything else, the movie is a shameless ninety-minute commercial for Dodge's brand-new Challenger R/T.

And honestly, that's enough for me.

Although Chrysler technically beat Ford to market with the pony car by introducing the Plymouth Barracuda two weeks before the Mustang debuted in 1964, Dodge didn't enter the segment until 1970.

When Dodge finally arrived, though, it didn't exactly show up empty-handed.

It rolled into the party carrying fresh kegs, a case of Jack Daniel's, a pound of marijuana, several strippers, and enough pizza to feed the neighborhood.

Unfortunately, the police showed up before the night was over.

People are still talking about that party.

Between 1964 and 1969, pony cars accounted for an astonishing thirteen percent of all new vehicles sold in America.

The original Barracuda never seriously challenged the Mustang or Chevrolet Camaro, and by 1970 Chrysler decided to start over. Dodge wanted its own version, so the Challenger was born.

Mechanically, the Challenger and Barracuda were very similar, with the Dodge riding on a slightly longer wheelbase. Their styling differences are subtle enough that many enthusiasts still confuse one for the other.

How did the Challenger drive?

I've never had the pleasure, but Car and Driver wasn't exactly impressed when it tested a 426 Hemi Challenger R/T in late 1969.

The magazine criticized the car's weight, pronounced understeer and oversteer, and even complained that the mighty Hemi idled poorly and felt sluggish at low RPM.

Well...it was basically a street-legal race engine. What were they expecting?

Ironically, Car and Driver found the smaller-engine Challengers to be better balanced, but those cars lacked the horsepower to keep up with lighter rivals from Ford and General Motors.

At least everyone agreed the styling was gorgeous.

Watching Vanishing Point today, you can actually see the Challenger struggling through corners.

Four cars were reportedly used during production, and in many scenes they're bouncing, leaning, and fighting for grip. Barry Newman spends much of the movie sawing away at the enormous non-adjustable steering wheel just to keep the car pointed in roughly the right direction.

Sporty?

Not exactly.

Chrysler supplied the filmmakers with four Challengers. Three were 440 Magnum R/Ts equipped with four-speed manual transmissions and Sure Grip differentials. The fourth carried a 383 V8 backed by an automatic.

Rumors persist that as many as eight cars—including a few Hemis—were ultimately used during filming, but little evidence supports those claims.

Barry Newman himself reportedly said the 440 was almost too much engine for the chassis.

The producers chose white because it photographed best against the Southwestern desert. One of the cars allegedly arrived green before being repainted for filming.

Sadly, none of the movie cars survived.

Every Challenger used in production was heavily damaged, and Chrysler reportedly scrapped them afterward rather than repair them for promotional use. Company executives allegedly weren't thrilled about having their newest muscle car associated with amphetamines and anti-establishment behavior.

You have to wonder...

Didn't anybody read the script first?

For all its flaws, Vanishing Point does a respectable job maintaining continuity. Dents generally stay dented, and damage accumulates naturally throughout the chase.

Then comes the ending.

When Kowalski's Challenger slams into the bulldozers, the exploding car is very obviously not a Challenger.

It's a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro.

Seriously.

I understand budgets and production schedules, but couldn't someone at least have swapped the steering wheel before blowing it up? That stunt car is pure General Motors.

Kowalski deserved better.

Contemporary reviews of both Vanishing Point and the Challenger itself were mixed.

Personally, the movie still feels like a collection of disconnected ideas stitched together with one question guiding the writers:

"What happens next?"

Yet somewhere along the way it became an art-house cult classic. I've never quite understood why. The entire premise rests on a highly intelligent, fundamentally decent man deciding that fleeing police across half the western United States is somehow the logical response to a speeding ticket.

Then again...

Drugs.

Perhaps appreciating Vanishing Point requires the same mindset as appreciating a 1970 Challenger R/T.

If someone doesn't understand why these cars stir the soul, no amount of explanation will convince them. They'll simply see an old car with soft suspension and plenty of body roll. The rest of us see one of the greatest-looking muscle cars ever built.

If you've never seen Vanishing Point, track down the original.

Even if the story doesn't make much sense, it's a fascinating time capsule of early-1970s America—fast cars, hippies, drugs, CB radios, anti-establishment attitudes, and wide-open highways.

Some things change.

Some never do.

There was also a 1997 remake starring Viggo Mortensen. Despite featuring a genuine Hemi-powered Challenger R/T, it's almost entirely forgettable.

Spend your time on the original instead.

1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 - A Lot of Green

As they say, it ain't easy being green. Despite my being 99.99% Irish and a fan of the New York Jets I'm not a fan of it. Especially on cars. This lovely and somewhat over restored 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 can't even sway my feelings towards green either. That's saying a lot as these cars were favorites of my woebegone, misbegotten youth. They still are. 

I take it I must be fairly alone feeling that way since this has an asking price of $25,000. That's a lot of green for a lot of, ahem, green. 

With the third-generation Camaro delayed somewhat, Chevrolet did a great job gussying up the outgoing model. Some deride the added pointless doo-dads, baubles and bits on 1979-1981 Z28's but the boy racer in me likes it all. Color be damned. 

We first find "Z28" on Chevrolet's Trans-Am race series cars in 1969. Those Camaro's, regular-production code (RPO) "Z28", had a unique, high revving 302 cubic-inch V-8, Hurst four-speed manual transmission, power front disc brakes, quick ratio steering and a "special suspension. Without knowing for sure it would seem someone in marketing thought "Z28" catchy and Chevrolet has held onto the moniker off an on for over fifty-years. The current Camaro does not have a Z28 model. Never say never about what they may have up their exhaust pipes for the future. 

Contrary to what some may think, it was the height of the insurance surcharge crazy 1970's that felled the Z28 in 1975 and 1976. Chevrolet brought it back halfway through the 1977 model year and it stayed with these second generation models through the end of its production run in 1981. 

For 1979, checking the Z28 box on the order form got you a one-hundred seventy-five horsepower 350 V-8, this one painted a period incorrect Chevrolet orange as the block should be blue, dual resonator tailpipes that looked like dual exhausts but they really weren't, special springs, shocks and rear stabilizer, white letter tires and a god's green-earth 3.73 axle with the available four-speed manual transmission. Our automatic equipped green-machine here was born with a 3.08 axle. Interestingly, the highest rear end ratio on 1979 Corvette's was a 3.55. 

One-hundred seventy-five horsepower may not sound like a lot these days but back in "my day", when all I had was a ninety-six horsepower in-line six, more than twice the power seemed decadent. My brief time behind the wheel of one of these years ago the type of earth-moving automotive experience you simply don't forget. 

Who knows how much oomph this thing has. Hopefully more than what it came with originally seeing the engine is most likely not original to the car. Note this car has a catalytic converter. Some states, like California for instance, require that if a car was originally offered with one, it has to still have it. 

You buy an old car out of state that doesn't have one and that will run you quite a bit of green to put one back in. Sorry. Couldn't resist. 

1970 Chevrolet Corvette - Well Worn

I never saw many third-generation Chevrolet Corvette's when I was a kid and when I did it was like seeing a rock star and all that entails. Much like many a rock star, charismatic people as well, if anything these cars were best at garnering attention rather than doing anything other than that particularly well. Ok. Some were actually pretty powerful but for the record, most that were sold were relatively tame powered base models like this well worn but still star struck worthy example from model year 1970. 

I believe their apparent scarcity on the part of New York's Long Island I grew up on was due to it being a working class area; a working class area that rubbed elbows with the type of wealth that dreams are made of. So, while traveling with my family in our bone-stripped '68 Ford Ranch Wagon and seeing a car like this was monumental, it was not out of the ordinary. 

If that makes any sense you're probably from the Island or similar communities around the country where us riff-raff and the riche literally sit across from one another. 

That's one of the many crazy things about Long Island - wherever you are you're never far from folks who are really wealthy. Extremely poor for that matter too. My family slotting in between the two universes albeit, frankly, way, way closer to the have not's. 

The weather sucks a good six to nine months out of the year on Long Island too so many of these, not so sure about this one, tucked away in garages and under wraps. They've never been "bad-weather cars".  

My parents knew their plot and position in the world and, I guess, as they got older wanted to "live a little". That's why in the late '70's they ditched the station wagon for a 1970 Buick Electra which was subsequently replaced with a 1972 Cadillac. They bought them very used and on the cheap too but oh, how the neighbors were impressed. Young me, of course, appalled at how pretentious the purchases were and worse yet how the neighbors seemingly bought it into it. Maybe they were just being nice. 

Purchasing a used Corvette as a frivolous toy in addition to the Buick and Cadillac? I can't even fathom how I would have felt about that had they done that; in fairness, if for no other reason than my father wasn't a "car-person". The old luxury cars were purchased for all the wrong reasons as they salved my mother's desire to appear better off than we actually were.  

That notion as off putting to me as it gets. Buy something because you like it and not for what it says about you. Trust me, do so and you run this risk of being sorely disappointed. 

This old rock star has seen better days but it's not like it couldn't be restored to its former glory. That would be expensive, though. I guesstimate you'd need thirty-grand to get this it into proper shape. That on top of the fifteen-grand that's the price of admission. 

I don't understand why someone would spend that kind of money on something like this but bless their hearts, some people do. As they say, it's better to buy something already restored than buy something and have it restored. Often times that's less expensive too. Forty-give grand or so would also buy a late model Corvette as well which does everything at a world-class level of performance that this 1970 struggled so mightily to do. 

Struggled at everything except looking like a rock star. 

Hyundai Genesis Coupe - Imagine That

Sometimes first impression are everything. Back about 1992 or so a woman I worked with asked me if I could look at her car, a first-generation Excel like the junker above, who complained that the steering wheel wouldn't return to center when she made turns. Obviously something was amiss with her power steering hydraulic system and rather than volunteer to investigate further than a brief test drive I told her to get the car to a mechanic ASAP. The worst part was the car had very low mileage and aside from literal killer-steering otherwise appeared to be in great shape. Oh, except for an innate cheapness that permeated every square inch of the damn thing from stem to stern. I thought the styling atrocious as well. The car was a complete turd and  I vowed then that no Hyundai would ever set tire in my garage. 

No Hyundai ever has since although a Hyundai Genesis Coupe like this came close fairly recently when my older son was shopping for a car. He was smitten with his aunt's husband's Genesis Coupe and part of me thinks he went with the 2017 Chevrolet Camaro he ended up buying because we couldn't find a Genesis Coupe for him to even test drive. My sister in law's husband had long given his Genesis back after the lease expired on it so there was no chance at him test driving his. Besides, they live like twelve hours away. However, when my son was looking for a car that Genesis Coupe left a strong enough impression with him that he didn't forget about it. 

I can't say I blamed him for liking the lines of the Genesis Coupe either. Frankly, I like the styling on these cars better than even the 2010-2015 retro-chic Chevrolet Camaro and even more so than the current crop of Camaro's like my son has. His '17 Camaro, incidentally, is a delightful car to drive although I think it ugly and visibility is a joke. He loves it, thinks it's cool and that's all that matters. He's making the payments on it too so I ain't got no dog in that hunt. 

These cars were world-beaters too. A 2011 Car and Driver comparison test of a Genesis Coupe V-6 against a similarly powered Dodge Challenger, Ford Mustang and Chevrolet Camaro had the editors of C&D pegging the Hyundai first. Imagine that. 

Based on the underpinnings of the first Genesis sedan, albeit with a shortened wheelbase and no V-8 engine option, Hyundai checked most of the boxes that fans of sporty or "pony" cars ascribe too. That being rakishly handsome styling with at least a dollop of performance pretense whisked in. However, that's the recipe that us oldster pony\sporty car fans remember and we didn't know better. Our ponies of yore rode and handled like squeaky old trucks compared to even performance cars from a decade ago.  Today's performance cars, even performance cars from a decade ago, perform at levels that exotic cars from when we were kids performed at. Most likely better. 

The Hyundai Genesis Coupe didn't sell well which was a shame and these days they're oh-so-rare unlike dime a dozen Camaro's, Mustang's and Challenger's. Hyundai killed off the Genesis Coupe after the 2016 model year and while they hinted at a replacement model to be launched under the new "Genesis" line, one with a turbocharged 3.3-liter turbo V-6, it never came to be. 

1963 Mercedes-Benz 190SL - Super Bowl (The) Weeknd

If you caught any playoff football recently you had to have seen at least a passing glimpse of the above Pepsi commercial pre-promoting the halftime show of the Super Bowl on February 7th. The literal game-changing show will feature Canadian pop-star "The Weeknd", real name Abel Makkonen Tesfaye, and in the ad we see him driving up to a stadium, it's not Raymond James Stadium in Tampa where the game will be played, in a "wow, what is that?!" vintage convertible.

Clearly the car in the ad is mere window dressing and not a focal point of the ad, as it it shouldn't be, but since you're here you're no doubt intrigued as to what it is. The long and short of it is it's a 1963 Mercedes-Benz 190SL. 

You could be forgiven for thinking it was the 190SL's far more famous big-brother, the famed and vaunted 300SL. While we last saw Mr. Weeknd pitching M-B's all-new EQC 400 4MATIC all-electric crossover in M-B ads a little more than a year ago, have to wonder why the producers of this commercial chose to have him in this old 190 and not a newer M-B. If they chose to use a Mercedes-Benz in the first place. Maybe this is his car? Then again, if they chose to use the EQC there would have been some some co-op dollars involved and that gets messy. In the end, this ad is a Pepsi commercial plain and simple. 

The most famous of the Mercedes-Benz SL's are these "gullwing" 300SL models that M-B produced between 1954 and 1957; they made a convertible or "roadster" version from 1957 through 1963. The 190SL was offered as a less expensive alternative to the pricey 300SL and shared the 300SL's basic styling, engineering and little else. The biggest structural difference between the two is that on the 190, Mercedes-Benz eschewed the 300SL's expensive tubular "spaceframe" using a modified version of the then current M-B "W121" chassis or platform. 

That amalgamation of then existing M-B designs and chassis' explains why the car "The Weeknd" is driving in the commercial looks like all other M-B's of the time period - while simultaneously appearing to be quite different. 

Another differentiation between the two SL's is their engines. The "190" in 190SL refers to the car's 1.9-liter, inline four-cylinder engine like the one in the 1961 190SL above left. The "300" in 300SL denotes a 3.0-liter, inline six-cylinder engine like the engine above right from a 1954 SL300. 

"SL" on both models denotes either "Sport-Leicht" or "Super-Leicht"; sport-light or super-light. I think it was meant to mean "Sport-Light" as it would be odd that Mercedes-Benz would emphasize the curb weight of these cars since, at least relative to the weight of American cars at the time, especially with regards to the 300SL, they were certainly no leicht-weights. The 300SL coming in at approximately thirty-three hundred pounds, the 190 a rather svelte twenty-five hundred. Meanwhile a typical 1955 Chevrolet sedan weighed just thirty-one hundred pounds; a V-8 powered '55 Corvette just twenty-eight hundred pounds. 

Super-leight indeed.