Despite having two members lined up for this month’s feature, life happens and I needed to cover someone’s story before the month ended. I sought a suitable replacement and it did not take long to elect myself to fill in the gap. So without further ado, here’s my story. Growing up in an old Sears-Roebuck home sitting on five acres of woods with the rusted remains of vehicles sparked the imagination of a young boy. My grandfather Herb had acquired this magnificent collection of what my family referred to as junk throughout the years of towing he did for the township. Prior to hooking up vehicles he earned the distinction of being one of Ford’s top salesmen back in the 1960s. It was during this time that his affinity for Blue Oval machines took shape and subsequently dictated what his clan would drive. From F-100s to Thunderbirds, Herb’s family was unwavering in its dedication to Ford, Lincoln and Mercury products. While I may be exaggerating a bit, it sure felt that way growing up. My first car was a ’92 Crown Victoria LX that comfortably sat six passengers and while I enjoyed driving the land yacht nicknamed Sharice, I began taking note of the classics in my back yard as well as my dad’s tastes for vehicles. He grew up driving a little bit of everything. GTOs, Chevelles, Vegas, Cudas, Chargers… you name it. The thing they all shared in common was that they didn’t last long thanks to him or one of his friend’s questionable driving feats. You can thank them for seeing less of some of these beauties. Yet, the one car that my father fondly remembered was his sister’s 1970 Plymouth Fury III which he took for a joy ride and wrecked. He would tell me often of the whipping he received from my grandfather when he found out what had happened. Three decades later, while taking a drive on the rural highways of South Jersey, he spotted a Fury in a field and came back the same day to buy it. It was at this moment that I caught the mopar bug. The car itself was a bit crusty, but the stunning lines unique to a full size Plymouth were all there. The drive home was unlike anything I had ever experienced; new sounds and smells beckoned my heart for more. During the next two summers I helped my dad with the Fury and got it to a point of dependability. So much so that we decided to embark on the three hour cruise to the All Chrysler Nationals in Carlisle, PA. For the next two years, we faithfully journeyed to Mopar Mecca and made memories drenched in sweat and the well-deserved beer. Pacing down the aisles of Chrysler’s finest, I came across the ’71 Plymouth B Bodies whose looks enamored me to the core. It quickly dawned upon me that this model was the same Richard Petty had driven to the championship in 1971. It was a no brainer, I wanted, no needed to own a 1971 Road Runner. As soon as we got home, I began the hunt for a Road Runner keeping in mind that I had a limited budget. It needed to run and drive at the very least and oh, be Corporate (Petty) Blue. That naïve mindset was quickly met with reality in that the chances of checking all those boxes was slim to none. Drop the color requirement and the options slightly grew, yet I didn’t have $25K or more to spend. Over the course of a year, it was evident that I would not buying a ’71 anytime soon and crazily, I decided I would allow 1973 Road Runners in the mix of my hunt. I journeyed to West Virginia, cash in hand to purchase a bright orange ’73 Satellite cloned into a Beeper. I quickly realized upon initial inspection that the driver side fender was being held up by six washers. Disappointed with the long drive home I now faced with no car, my parents reminded me that I was searching for a ’71, not a ’73 and that I should be patient. About two months later I had been reading the latest issue of Hemmings Motor News when I discovered a 1971 Road Runner located in Export, Pennsylvania just outside Pittsburgh. I quickly called the owner and indeed the car was still for sale. His son had purchased it four years prior for his birthday, but he was a Pontiac guy and was not too keen on the Plymouth. We made arrangements to meet and I hopped in the van with my parents for the six hour drive west. As we arrived, the F7 green Road Runner was parked in the driveway with its owner wiping off the dust that had accumulated after months of sitting. After some small talk, he handed me the keys and I was off on a test drive with my dad who beat the living crap out of the car, at a distance of course. “I think this is the one Rowl.” I grinned ear to ear as we pulled into the driveway. With game faces on, we negotiated and struck a deal. The car was mine and I was in pure bliss. That pure bliss quickly subsided as I drove the Beeper down the PA turnpike with endless issues. Back firing, dirty fuel, bad ballast resistor, this bird was struggling to make it back to it new home. Thankfully my dad had brought along some extra ballast resistors with him and we managed to diagnose the minor issues. Finally in its new home, the Road Runner was quickly subjugated to a mechanical tear down to make sure it was road ready and most importantly safe. In the course of seven years, Doug, as I named the car, underwent many trips to the garage to get out all the bugs and a trip to the body shop in 2015 for a partial restoration. Gone was the gull wing, chin spoilers and strobe stripe that the car had. Decoding the fender tag resulted in a streamlined F7 Road Runner with the addition of a factory trailer hitch purchased from fellow mopar enthusiast. The car has journeyed to Carlisle five times and continues to run strong. Friends and heroes including Steve Magnante, Tim Wellborn, Dale Inman and Richard Petty have all signed the car. It has become a member of the family as well as an extension of myself. There are days when I curse at it and then there are those days where I stare and think, boy... John Herlitz got this car right. I learn something new about these incredible machines every day thanks to my mopar family and fellow members of this registry. I have driven many classic cars in my life, but nothing comes close to my Road Runner.
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AuthorRowland George is a 1971 Plymouth B Body enthusiast and researcher dedicated to acquiring information on behalf of owners and those interested in learning more about these iconic classic cars. Archives
July 2019
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