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In 1976, a heavily built 1967 Plymouth Barracuda Formula S with a 383 big block got its doors blown off on Gratiot Avenue — by a full-size Pontiac most street racers wouldn’t have recognized. The culprit was a rare 1966 Pontiac 2+2 running a 421 tri-power engine rated at 376 horsepower, a model Pontiac once marketed as the GTO’s big brother. Read on to see how one of the rarest Pontiacs of the 1960s humbled a genuinely fast Mopar.
In 1916, Willys-Overland was Americas second-largest automaker behind only Ford, and this Model 86 was its answer to what a flagship car could be: a seven-passenger, 45-horsepower luxury tourer loaded with then-modern features. It only lasted one model year. Heres why Overland built it, and why it disappeared just as fast.
Most 1969 Chevelle SS cars left the factory with a 396 under the hood, the engine the SS package was built around that year. An LT1-badged 350, a designation usually reserved for Corvettes and Camaro Z/28s, tells a different story entirely. Chevrolet built over 86,000 Chevelle SS cars in 1969, including a tiny handful of factory-ordered secrets, like the rare COPO 427, most buyers never knew existed.
Plymouth’s first all-new postwar design wasn’t fast, flashy, or memorable — which is exactly why a stock-looking 1950 Deluxe is harder to spot today than most muscle cars. This example keeps that deliberately plain exterior while hiding a 350 small-block and automatic transmission underneath, along with power steering, power brakes, and vintage-style air conditioning. It’s the kind of sleeper nobody notices until the engine turns over. Here’s how Plymouth’s most forgettable postwar sedan became one.
A lime-green Cougar so radically reworked that showgoers assumed it was a new model altogether — that was Mercury’s 1970 El Gato concept, unveiled at back-to-back auto shows before vanishing for good. It borrowed its fastback roofline from a Mustang, swapped its back seat for a European-style cargo shelf, and tested run-flat tire technology that failed spectacularly. Ford’s standard practice of destroying show cars means no one has documented seeing it since 1970. Here’s the story behind Mercury’s strangest concept car.
Ford’s 1934 Model 40 was cheap, practical transportation for a country climbing out of the Depression — not a performance car. Somehow it became the chassis hot rodders have chased for nearly a century. This burnt-orange build trades the original flathead V8 for a 350 small-block, air suspension, and a fully custom leather interior while keeping the shape that started it all. Here’s why this humble Ford still turns heads at every show it enters.
Plymouth sold the Fury in three trim levels sharing one C-body platform, with the Fury III positioned as the upscale, best-equipped version of the bunch. Most buyers chose comfort over speed, which makes this 383 cubic inch, 4-speed manual example a genuinely uncommon way to order a car built primarily to coddle its passengers.
Canceled by John DeLorean, revived by John DeLorean, and eventually powered by an exotic four-rotor Wankel engine that never stood a chance once the 1973 oil crisis hit — the GM Aerovette’s path to nowhere is one of the strangest stories in Corvette history. Developed by legendary engineer Zora Arkus-Duntov as the XP-882, it previewed a mid-engine Corvette layout GM wouldn’t actually put into production for another five decades.
The 1974 Pontiac Grand Prix arrived just as the muscle car era was winding down, wearing a federally mandated 5-mph bumper and an emissions-strangled 400-cubic-inch V8 that made noticeably less power than earlier versions. Pontiac leaned into comfort and styling instead, and buyers responded: despite the power cuts, nearly 100,000 Grand Prixs sold that year. It remains one of the clearer snapshots of how regulation reshaped Detroit’s performance cars almost overnight.
The 1949 Hudson Super Six hid a genuinely clever piece of engineering under its conservative styling: a lowered unibody shell mounted over a reinforced ladder frame, dropping the cabin floor below the frame rails for a lower center of gravity than most full-size American cars offered. Hudson called it Step-Down construction, and it gave the Super Six handling that outclassed rivals from Buick and Chrysler. Nearly 100,000 were built in 1949 alone — one of the more underappreciated engineering stories in postwar Detroit.
Long before this restomod’s ceramic headers and chrome mags, the 1932 Ford roadster had already become the battleground for hot rodding’s biggest debate: Ford body, Chevy heart. Once the small-block Chevy V8 proved itself in the mid-1950s, legendary builds swapped out their Ford flatheads, and this build carries that same tradition forward.
This 1965 Chevy II carries the most basic drivetrain Chevrolet offered that year: a 194-cubic-inch inline six paired with a 2-speed automatic. The same platform, though, could be ordered with a 283-cubic-inch V8 making up to 225 horsepower, or as the sportier Nova Super Sport coupe. Chevrolet built the Chevy II fast and cheap to answer the Ford Falcon and Plymouth Valiant, moving 122,800 of them in 1965 alone across a lineup that ranged from grocery-getter to genuine performance car.
Ford built the 1969 Mustang Mach 1 to close a sales gap that had opened up against the Camaro and Firebird, and the fix worked almost instantly: 72,458 Mach 1s found buyers that year against only 5,396 of the outgoing GT trim. Factory engines ranged from a standard 351 Windsor up to the 428 Cobra Jet, rated at 335 horsepower and 440 lb-ft of torque. Ford dropped the GT trim entirely the following year, letting the Mach 1 carry the performance Mustang banner alone.
This is the third of just twenty-five prototypes Oldsmobile built ahead of the officially revived 1972 Hurst/Olds, which would go on to pace the Indianapolis 500. The original Hurst/Olds partnership debuted in 1968 before going dormant for two full years, and 1971 also marked the last year Oldsmobile sold the 442 as its own standalone model. The Rocket 350 V8 under this car’s hood carried the same engineering that would define the production Hurst/Olds cars buyers could purchase in 1972.
The Hummer H2 promised military toughness but delivered a badge-heavy SUV built on the same bones as a Chevy Tahoe. Doug DeMuro isn’t the only reviewer who’s called it out for cheap interior plastics, poor visibility, and gas mileage that barely breaks double digits. Two decades later, though, the H2 has quietly become a favorite among off-road builders and collectors who don’t mind the ridicule. Is today’s punchline tomorrow’s icon?