By Clive Branson
If King Kong’s stomach rumbled, this is what the muscular 1969 Plymouth 440 GTX’s engine sounds like when it’s idle. With its slow-wave curvature of a body, it may give an innocuous appearance but the obvious display of hood vents, dual exhausts, bucket seats, 3-speed manual transmission, and eye-popping mag-type wheels, eludes that this baby is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. With a 440 cubic inch engine of power-flexing force, the GTX savours someone with a club foot, like me, but Bernie has much more personal reasons to appreciate this car.
“In February 2006, I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma (Bone Marrow
Cancer),” explains Bernie. “At the time, the 5-year survival rate was only thirty percent. Not knowing how much time I had left, I retired and contemplated my future however long it may be.” As Bernie talks, he wipes away the lingering soapsuds from washing the car. “One thing that I had been contemplating for a few years was buying a muscle car from the 1960s. I was a teenager and a muscle car owner in the sixties and recapturing that bygone time became more and more important to me. It was in 2008, a good friend of mine in Atlanta just happened to have exactly the car I wanted. After discussing the matter with my wife, who heartily encouraged me to “go for it,” I made the decision to buy it.” He tosses the rag into a bucket, peers up and with a wry smile suggests, “let’s go for a ride.”
This car gives Bernie goose bumps thinking about those halcyon days of the ‘60s when he was an impressionable youth. Anything that screeched burned rubber and left your brain at the back of your cranium whenever a foot touched a throttle, fascinated him. “My first car was a brand new 1967 Cougar with a small 289 V8. I was proud of my new Cougar but when 1968 rolled around and the muscle car craze was in full swing, I was always left behind at the stoplights.” Bernie turns on the ignition to a welcoming rumble as the car slips out of the driveway. “Dodge and Plymouth had some of the best ads of the 60s. The Road Runners, Darts, R/Ts and GTXs were squarely aimed at the youth market. I was hopelessly hooked. In November 1968, I ordered a brand new 1969 Plymouth 440 GTX. For the next 5 years, that car consumed my life – in a good way. Every Sunday I was at the drag strip. My best time was a 13:46 at 107mph on August 20th, 1971. How can I be so precise? I still have that time card. Going to drive-ins, cruising up and down Carling Avenue, hanging around burger joints, getting from one stoplight to the next or just driving around with your girlfriend, was so cool.” We stop at a red light and the passengers in the car beside us immediately peer in unison as Bernie presses slightly on the gas.
The ground suddenly feels like a mini earthquake. “And speaking of girlfriends,” Bernie continues enjoying the recollections, “back then, your ”squeeze” sat right beside you. Since I had bucket seats with no center, my girlfriend would bring along a pillow to sit next to me. I finally broke down and bought a “buddy seat” so that she could leave the pillow at home. I even proposed to my wife in that car.” Bernie laughs to himself, “It’s not unusual for someone to strike up a conversation at a stop light. One time, a lady about my age looked at the car and then at me and said: “Oh those cars bring back so many memories”. And she winked at me before driving off. That is one of the things I enjoy most about driving this car.”
We leave the car beside us in the dirt and fly at “cruisin’ speed”. This is driving. “There is nothing quite like cruising down the highway on a spectacular summer day with classic rock blaring on the radio,” Bernie sings out. “And if I happen to get caught behind a Sunday driver, there are plenty of ponies that help me get by him quickly and safely. I like to say that the only thing it can’t pass is a gas station.” Bernie emphasizes that the car was never restored when he bought it and had all the matching numbers with its original engine and drive train. Except for a few paint touch-ups, it was in its original condition. “When I bought it, it had slightly over 79,000 miles on it. In 6 years, I put 28,000 miles on it. I bought it to drive it and enjoy.” And that’s exactly what we’re doing. We decide to photograph the car at a friend’s home. His friend installed a small cabin with an old-fashioned gas pump in the back of his property. “I added a few enhancements like front disk brakes, electronic ignition, classic Cragar S/S mags and a new interior. I have the broadcast sheet that indicates the car has the same options that it left the factory with which were radio, automatic transmission, air grabber hood, dog dish hubcaps and console. A previous owner stated that the power steering was a dealer-installed option. That was confirmed by the use of a C body power steering pump bracket. The biggest modification I made was to add a Six Pack to it. I had always wanted a Six Pack ever since they came out in ’69 but could never afford one. A friend of mine had a complete original ‘69 setup with Edelbrock aluminum intake and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I had some custom call outs made almost identical to the originals that read: 440-6. I couldn’t be happier with it.”
Bernie investigated all the previous owners except for the first, who he couldn’t locate. Each owner told him that the car was driven daily. The car was never used for racing, but one owner kept it in his garage for 10 years! The GTX had an easy life for a muscle car. And the proof is in the pudding; present condition with no restoration having been performed. We park the car in front of the cabin and gas pump. “With any 45-year-old car still having many of its original parts,” explains Bernie, “things are apt to break, usually minor things but frustratingly hard to find like a faulty fuel pump push rod.” The Limelight Green colour just gleams in the sunshine, each chrome piece sparkling.
“It may sound cliché but, for my wife and I, it’s a time machine. It allows us to recapture a part of our youth that we enjoyed so much. When we get ini, it’s like we are transported 40 years into the past. My wife says that as soon as I get in it, a broad wide grin comes over my face. And I have met so many people at car shows and cruise nights that I had not seen in 40+ years. It’s not unusual to start talking with someone only to find out that you knew them or of them “back in the day”. Often, the name doesn’t ring a bell but the type of car he drove does.” I ask him about his outlook regarding the future of muscle cars. “A very interesting question and one that fellow classic car owners and I have often discussed. Today’s young generation is more interested in what we refer to as “rice rockets”: small fast, fuel-efficient import cars that can be tuned easily with a computer. Gone are the days of young men leaning over an engine bay adjusting a carburetor, points and/or timing. If you look around at cruise nights and car shows, most classic car owners sport grey hair or no hair at all. The music being played is from the 60s and 70s. Talk revolves around cubic inches as opposed to liters, miles-per-gallon not kilometers-per-hundred-liters, carburetors do not fuel injectors. When my generation is gone, I think there will be much less interest in classic muscle cars than there is today. The rare and expensive ones will always be in demand but the “daily drivers” will decline in value due to the lack of interest. Many that were lovingly brought back to life from wreckers’ yards will again begin to wither away due to neglect. Although not a “car guy,” I am fortunate that my son, Brett, is very interested in eventually owning my GTX, so its future is secure. I think the most interesting experience is the fact that so many of my son’s friends have asked to be driven to their proms in it. Even to the younger generation, these cars still hold an attraction, so there is hope. But the kids have to experience these cars to continue the interest.”
I can sense the pride Bernie has for the car as he steers it back into the driveway giving it a final rev. We sit in the car for a while. Most owners say their cars haven’t changed them, but when I ask Bernie, I immediately receive an unequivocal nod. “This car has changed me in ways that I could never have imagined when I bought it. I now suffer from two cancers, both of which could prove fatal. This car is therapy for me. When I get in it, I leave all of my worries behind. I am transported back to a happier, less complicated time. It was a time when my disease and the pressures of everyday life were nonexistent; when life’s pleasures were simpler. This car helps me to cope with the worries and fears of living with cancer. It gives me the strength to carry on and to maintain a positive attitude that is so important when you are fighting a disease. I honestly don’t know where I would be without it.” There is a reflective silence in the air then Bernie perks up. “When I get a “thumbs up” or quick comment at a stoplight complimenting the car, my chest swells uncontrollably. It makes up for all the hard earned money spent on it to make it look as good as it does.” We look at each other, smile, and as though our minds are thinking alike, nod reassuringly.
