When I was 19 I drove a 1966 Dart across the states – from Santa Cruz California to Boston, Massachusetts.
We’re not really sure wether one can retrospectively be arrested a few decades after an admission for which there is no evidence. Put it this way -I wasn’t the most responsible driver.
The car was owned by a mate who needed it brought to Beantown where he was about to study. I leapt at the chance – and made it without, miraculously, a scratch.
The Dart was the simplest, funnest, most compact American car you could imagine – still with the presence, power and angles of a proper yank – but manageable and less thirsty than the usual land-boats pumped out by Detroit. The one I drove looked almost exactly like the one below.
This was no Pinto – no child of the oil crisis and the blip of American confidence that came with Vietnam. When I see the shape it’s like a repository of my youthful memories. But that’s a whole other story. Worthy of a memoir rather than a simple blog post.
This D-Dart is something else, though – D/Dart, a special drag racing edition that was classed in the D/Stock class and featured a 273 with larger Holley carb, headers, hotter cam, and manual choke.
It would be fun, eh?
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