I must admit that, having spent my life owning and working on GM products almost exclusively, I don’t know my Chryslers very well. But I’m pretty sure I know what this one is.
The yard inventory had this listed as a 1965 Dart. As far as I can tell, the badgeless hulk is indeed a ’65, but it’s no Dart. Since this B-body is surely not a Belvedere, nor a Satellite, it would have to be a Coronet (CC here).
The sad thing is, by rust country standards, this thing looks somewhat savable. Too bad it had to end up here, with its VIN now permanently black-balled by the DMV and its final day of existence likely already chosen.
Would that be a 273, or a 318? No idea. (I can ID certain Chevy and B/O/P mills just by seeing a handful of the hardware removed from them, but other brands tend to stump me much easier.) Hopefully one of our resident Mopar fans will pick out the tell-tale signs and comment below with a verdict.
Though much of this car will likely meet the crusher in another month or so, rest assured that many of the parts have been going back out the door. In fact, in the time it took me to walk the rest of the yard, another guy was nearly done removing its three-speed automatic.
It was a slow week at the U-Pull. Not much in the way of new arrivals – so I took a moment to snap this rather unremarkable sight.
Camaros and Firebirds appear regularly around here, almost always thoroughly kid-beaten and on their umpteenth motor/tranny/front clip. But since the steady stream of them will likely dry up in the next few years (just like the seemingly endless procession of second gens that stopped about five years ago), I figured it was worth a shot or two.
Somehow I doubt this carbureted mouse motor started life under the hood of this Camaro. It’s conceivable that this could be the 4-barrel, 155-horse 305 that was available that year… but if I had to bet, I’d say it was just another V6 car whose owner decided to drop in something bigger.
Like many such F-bodies, this one has been subjected to multiple paint jobs, copious parts swapping, and untold amounts of hooniganism over the years. As a result, it’s a difficult to tell at a glance how the car was originally optioned.
The fact that it was just a base Sport Coupe didn’t stop the previous owner from swapping on these 16″ wheels from a ’91 or ’92 IROC, either – yet another maneuver commonly seen on this generation of Camaros.
This car had four rims earlier in the day, but now one is missing and three more are on the ground. If I had to guess, I’d say someone carted off one wheel and all the caps (to break up the set and thus reduce the appeal of the remaining three) with plans to return later for the rest. An interesting alternative to the more common tactic of stashing them in another vehicle, which itself is no guarantee of safekeeping… but hey, whatever works!
That, or they just needed one – in which case I’d have to question their junkyard etiquette.
Next week’s post will take us out of the big corporate operation you’ve been seeing so far, and into an off-the-map yard that’s a real blast from the past. Stay tuned!