A homemade, zip-tied “For Sale” sign can only mean one thing for this poor little Plymouth Valiant that Hyperpack posted on the CC Cohort: It’s time to settle in, because it’s going to be a long winter. And the next stop may be a bad one.
When I was a young teenager in the early 1990s, I would raid the $3.99 cassette racks at the local Meijer (a grocery/everything store in Michigan) and occasionally at “tech” shops such as Best Buy and Media Play (the last of which I haven’t thought of in years). Always in search of 1960s music to provide background music to accompany my car-magazine reading, I ended up for a short time on a Steppenwolf kick that hasn’t been repeated since. The sad Valiant above, however, made me think of a song I hadn’t heard in 35 years—”Snowblind Friend.”
I remember that it wasn’t exactly my favorite song on Steppenwolf’s 16 Greatest Hits album, but it wasn’t bad, and I’ve always had a thing for country-tinged rock.
The song was penned by singer/songwriter/actor Hoyt Axton, whose version I think I prefer to Steppenwolf’s. Whether or not I understood the metaphor back then (I’d like to think I did), “Snowblind Friend” is about the agony of watching a friend throw his life away to cocaine. Here’s a representative stanza (it’s not exactly subtle):
He said he wanted heaven, but prayin’ was too slowSo he bought a one-way ticket on an airline made of snowDid you say you saw your good friend flyin’ low?Dyin’ slow, flyin’ low
While I doubt that the Devil’s dandruff had anything to do with the Valiant’s current predicament, its derelict state reminds me of a person with nothing left to lose. It’s never going to get restored; heck, the passenger air door on this one is rusted clean through. Poor thing. Besides, the most perfect Medium Beige V-200 sedan in Christendom will fetch what—eight grand? Maybe ten?
With a passenger door that has been completely and violently detached from its skin, perhaps by an errant plow (hence the orange cones everywhere), the snow has piled up inside the option-bereft cabin and is shrouding what are certainly chasmic holes in the floor. Although the V-200 was $126 fancier than a basic V-100 ($2,097 vs. $1,973), that was all the original owner seemed willing to spend. There’s no radio, a three-speed on the column, the same asymmetrical instrumentation that all 1963 Valiants had, and a choice of a 170- or a 225-cubic-inch Slant Six up front. But you know it’s the 170—a Valiant with the big 225 would never allow itself to get into a quandary like this.
Given the passenger side front tire’s relationship to the front wheelwell, I’d be willing to wager that the torsion bar crossmember is rotten and the Valiant is riding on its bump stops, and given the perforated panels that one can see, what can’t we see? The prognosis is not good.
Nevertheless, the Valiant is handsome, even in its outcast state. Exner gets a lot of static for his late career output, but the 1963 A-Bodies were vaguely European and stylishly simple, the horizontal taillights, quarter panel trim, and overall size reminiscent of something a little more expensive.
Is it just barely, infinitesimally influenced by a Fintail Mercedes-Benz? It’s just a whiff, but I think it’s there, more in spirit than in any definable details.
Regardless of its debatably Teutonic looks, this 1963 Valiant has bought a one-way ticket somewhere, but perhaps its future isn’t as bleak as the protagonist of “Snowblind Friend.”
While it may have turned its last wheel long ago, it may best serve as a parts source for other Valiants. Most 1963 Valiant parts are not reproduced, so for (most likely) scrap value, an A-Body fan might buy a whole car full of trim and little knick-knacks that would cost hundreds separately; any parts car has some value, after all. An owner of a gorgeous 1963 Signet Convertible such as the one pictured above would do well to have a stockpile of parts, should they have a place to put them.
The likelihood of that actually happening seems remote, but let’s rely instead upon an indomitable spirit and hope for the best. So until the day when an avid Valiant aficionado hooks up with this little Snowblind Mopar, it can simply wait for the snow to melt and afford it a better view. Fly low, my friend.
Related Reading
CC For Sale: 1963 Plymouth Valiant Sedan–Plain Brown Wrapper (by Stephen Pellegrino)
Car Show Classic: 1965 Plymouth Valiant Signet Convertible – You Are Who You Are, Until You Aren’t (by me)
Poor is right. Aside from the front and rear end trim and bumpers (surprisingly uncrunched) I have a hard time thinking that there are might be any little knickknacks left on this Valiant. I was going to say that maybe the glass would be worthwhile, but it even looks like the windshield could be cracked. This poor car needs to be put out of its misery.
Oh boy, this poor thing is the Omega to the Alpha that is today’s 1957 Cadillac. It is hard to imagine a car getting in worse condition yet somehow being mostly there. It is a rule for me that once the outside gets into a car’s inside, it is a hard no, because for an old car in snow country, a decent inside might be a car’s only worthwhile source of parts. Anything north of two figures and this car is overpriced.
Every now and then I get a slight urge to pick up a Valiant or Dart of this vintage, and I like the 63 Valiant more than I used to (the 64 has been my favorite for a long time).
I think you should definitely do it, JP. Once they’re squared away, they don’t give you much trouble, and they’re relatively inexpensive.
Of course, I am a bit of a “car pusher.” Everyone who likes old cars should have at least one. 🙂
I agree, we all need at least one old car. However this one is just about beyond the definition of a vehicle that could ever move again under its own power.
1966 would be the sweet spot for me for a nice Valiant Signet.
Aaron, I like a classic Valiant and Steppenwolf, and I love Meijer (especially their old cassette rack – the source of many purchases) and a great metaphor – all of which are featured here. But why did you have to depress me with this? Actually, at the end, you provided a scenario by which this Valiant could be sourced for parts and provide a happy ending for some other car(s). So that’s plus points.
I also totally get the Mercedes thing you see in the back of the Valiant. I don’t think I would have put that together unless you had mentioned it.
Nothing personal, Joe. 🙂
Every good car deserves its day on the internet, regardless of how far gone it is.
Oh that’s sad. I hope someone can save the good bits before it goes.
I see a very good parts car, as a Journeyman Mechanic I’m always thrilled to find unmolested junkers like this because they provide endless bits and bobs one cannot find anywhere else .
The weed / tree growing in the driver’s footwell really shows how bad this one is .
I’m sure everyone here knows Aaron was joking, one is never enough =8-) .
-Nate
I thought eight was enough, Nate, but that turned out to be wrong, too. 🙂
Yeah, tons of good parts. Straight chrome bumpers, chrome headlight rings, grille, taillights, probably front fenders to name a few.
As far as Aaron is concerned his vice is gluttony. I should talk…:)
Plus, that radio blanking plate is pretty cool, and it’s always good to have a spare MOPAR gauge cluster; I think I have a total of three for my Dart and there’s only one that doesn’t have a burned out IVR (which is in the gas gauge).
That story could be a fine beginning to a great Novel! 👍😉
Sad end to a car that outlasted the odds to get to this.
I’m used to seeing the Aussie version, which I think is even more European inspired.
At least the little Pentastar on the lower fender is still shining proud and bright.
A bit of fresh fuel and a good battery, it would probably fire right up.
When scrap prices are high, how do cars like this evade the crusher? Who couldn’t use $300 now instead of believing that the tooth fairy will magically bring them $3000 if they wait? The owner will die waiting and his heirs will sell it for scrap. Fact.