One day, as I passed by a concrete plant near the yard I used to work at, I saw this distinctive shape sitting in a field that hadn’t been there last time I’d passed by. I may be terrible with names and faces, but I never forget a car. Still, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was no way I was seeing a real first gen Barracuda!
I made my way up to main building and asked about the car. A man in his late thirties stepped out of an office and introduced himself as the owner. As it turned out, it had once belonged to his grandfather who had passed away, and the car had once been a project for them. The owner had the Barracuda hauled up from down South, where it now sits in the field to this day.
I had that conversation a year ago.
It breaks my heart to see it still sitting there, moss growing on the side, and suspension slowly rusting into the ground. The man said he wants to find someone to restore it, because he knows he doesn’t have the time. One of the greatest tragedies I know of is the project car that stays in a perpetual state of “I’ll work on it someday…” because the truth is, they almost never are.
The worst thing is, this car can still be saved. It’s in very rough shape, but it deserves a better life than the one it has in my opinion. There again… sentimentality is a double-edged sword.
It’s hard to see in this picture, but this car has the rare four speed manual transmission.
What one man sees as a piece of art longing to be saved and put back on the road, the owner sees it as the memory of happier times, one that he is loath to get rid of. That’s something I understand. When my father passed away, one of the things I got out of his belongings were a few pairs of work boots. I was eight at the time of his passing, and since then, I had wanted to wear his boots. I had, in more ways than one, a big pair of shoes to fill since it was just Mom and I.
One day (I can’t remember exactly when) I tried on the boots… and they fit! I had been waiting for this day for so long! I wore them to school, happily knocking the steel toes against I could, so proud I was finally grown up enough to fill his shoes. I don’t remember much of that day, except coming home. As I stood there, on the tile entryway to the living room, Mom pointed out that the boots were falling apart. Looking behind me, and out the door, it turns out I left tiny piles of black rubber as I walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Two feelings welled up inside me in that moment. I felt horrible, because I knew I’d never get to wear them again, but happy at the same time because I had the chance to wear them, if just even once.
I can only imagine what the owner of this car feels when he looks outside. Perhaps he doesn’t see the rust, or the moss, or the 273 Commando V8 that may never run again. Maybe to him, it’s just as wonderful as the day his grandfather brought it home in the early 90’s. You see, we aren’t nostalgic for the items we hold on to. It’s not about the boots, or cars, or anything we refuse to get rid of… It’s about the memories surrounding those things. Sometimes… They are all we have left. I don’t have my father’s boots anymore, but I still have his ID card. Although I can’t remember much about the man, when I hold that old, warped, and faded-by-thirteen-plus-years piece of plastic in my hand, I feel my father in my heart.
So, as much as I’d like to see this car up and running again, like I think it deserves… Maybe he’s not ready to see it go. I’ll check by the yard every so often to see it slowly rusting away, and remind myself that we all have our boots, and must walk our path within them.
What a beautifully written reflection. Sometimes a car is just a car. But often it is much, much more than that.
This piece sort of dovetails with Jason Shafer’s piece yesterday in which he related the internal struggle he experienced before concluding that it was time to sell the car that has been in his family for so many decades. It is kind of funny/sad that the guy who has a cared-for, functioning car is going to let it go while the guy who has the rusting lawn art will not.
I thought the very same thing….
If I were to guess, it’s one of two things: a) the owner is sentimental where I am not, so he wants to keep it regardless, or b) as I’ve seen with my wife’s family and their stash of rotting cars, they still see them as being more vibrant as the day they acquired them, just a battery and some fresh gas away from being ready to hit the road again.
Beautiful metaphor and nicely written!
+1 !
Perhaps this is why so many farmers follow the old tradition of leaving their old implements outside their functioning barns to rust away. They serve as a reminder of the worth these items used to have, and the contribution they made to the operation itself. There is an emotional component to ownership of a vehicle, and a natural tendency to associate it with both good times and bad. My maternal grandmother, who never learned to drive and never participated in the choice of a family car, was always sad to see the current car replaced by a new one. Perhaps she somehow knew the value of a car as a storehouse of memories for the family. Wonderful reading, Pioneer!
does anyone here remember the commercials that Chrysler ran for Barracudas where they deliberately mispronounced the car’s name as BACK-A-RUDA? I’d like to find those either streaming or as downloads. I’ve searched the Internet to no avail. If anyone has a link to any of them, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know. Thanks.
Sorry no link but I vaguely recall the commercial instructing us how to pronounce the name. Ba-Ba Ra-Ra Cu-Cu Da-Da, I think it may be part of the same commercial spot!
That’s it man, now put it all together!
A wonderful reflection, thanks for this.
I take it you’re from the Pittsburgh area? I remember Bob Prince, broadcasting the Pirates games in the summer, and he used that deliberate mispronunciation all the time. I had always assumed that it was totally a local, Pittsburgh, Bob Prince thing.
The online radio station http://psychedelicized.com/ sometimes plays that ad.
I remember those … but didn’t George Carlin also do a routine like that? At this point I can’t always remember what was truth and what was fiction with the Barracuda name. I do remember The Hemi Under Glass. Anyway, this was a beautifully written piece – thanks!!
The commercial is part of a song by the 80s British band The Barracudas called “Summer Fun”. Here’s the YouTube link:
I have 1 for sale all original matching numbers 145000 miles she is a runner and looker
I’d rather have Jason’s Galaxie. It’s running and rust free. This looks like a money pit.
Ah – the Barracuda! These have always been among my favorites from back then. I know it was just a Valiant with a really big back window, but what a window it was!
The car looked sporty, and that was enough for many buyers. In fact, the very first “hot rod” I ever rode in was a blue 1965 Barracuda 273 4 speed. Four of us in the car, and my buddy’s brother really put the car through its paces in the neighborhood! A lot of fun and unforgettable.
Fun times, then, great memories now.
I wonder if the example above is restorable? I hope so. A car worth restoring.
Fun fact: At the time, this Barracuda had the largest piece of glass ever installed in a passenger car.
It was later surpassed by another MoPar, the Omni/Horizon fastback coupes.
Really? Those had fairly simple, almost flat, backlights. They were quite large, but no more so than many other sporty hatchbacks, not to mention the huge wraparound rear windows in ’59-’60 GM full-sizers. I recall the 3rd and 4th generation Camaros and Firebirds had large, complex, difficult to make rear glass in their hatchbacks though I’m not sure if they were larger than the early Barracuda rear glass.
This is all to the best of my knowledge and recollection. I certainly don’t have figures to back it up. I just remember reading it somewhere, long ago.
The Barracuda rear window is about 2100 square inches.
A fullsize car windshield that’s 75 inches wide at the base would have to be nearly 30 inches tall to be the same size (the windshield tapers as it goes up). The wrap around ears are relatively small.
Obviously, the Barracuda precedes other sporty hatchbacks, and the L-body coupes precede the 3rd gen F-bodies. I had a buddy who ran a restaurant and loved using his L body Duster as a truck because the hatch was so long and the car was so load that he could load it over the side.
Well written and an accurate reflection of many situations. My 67 LeSabre falls in this category. She sat outside and neglected for 12 years when a dear friend couldn’t keep her going as a daily driver. A promise by his buddy to store it inside was ignored and he ransacked it for parts while it sank into his backyard. Nice guy. When my friend died, it became my only link to him it. After jumping through many hoops I was able to take ownership and get her hauled to my shop.
10 years later things are coming together in the restoration and hope to continue. Photo shows the progress.
Somehow this Barracuda got the plain Valiant grille. The real 1966 ‘Cuda grille is busier with some crosshatching.
Loved this piece and your writing. Great read – thank you.
Lovely story. Thanks for sharing it.
Beautiful piece. I still have my father, but I distinctly remember the sound of gravel crunching under the weight of his adult shoes and wishing for the day I would be able to make the same noise.
Nicely written. If I might suggest – your local high school or trade school usually needs vehicles in the shop for the instructor to demonstrate techniques to students. If your local high school or trade school does that as well, might be able to let him know that. It probably won’t get you the car immediately, but it might save one more. It also might convince him that you are the one to keep the legacy alive.
Excellent reflection. After 27 years, I can think of at least 3 family members and 2 good friends that have passed on who were passengers in the old Jetta, and I do sometimes think of them. But I’m not letting the car rot into the ground, I’m keeping it and the memories alive, and still use it frequently.
Sorry your dad passed when you were so young, I feel fortunate to have had both parents still alive until my mid 50’s.
I’m late to read this, but I’d like to add this to the comments on the writing: sir, you have a real skill.
Thank you for sharing that skill with us here.