When Motor Trend rounded up 1968’s newest supercars for a comparison test, the stripped-down Plymouth Road Runner stood out precisely because it refused to compete on comfort. Its standard 383 V-8 made 335 hp and 425 lb-ft, backed by a strengthened four-speed and basic drum brakes rather than options-list luxury. Quarter-mile results varied wildly by test — from a so-so 15.5 seconds to a sharper 14.65 — proof that even celebrated muscle cars could be inconsistent performers off the showroom floor.
Legend holds that Carroll Shelby trademarked the ‘King of the Road’ name in a hurry after hearing Chevrolet wanted it for a Corvette — securing it for his new 428 Cobra Jet-powered Mustang instead. Shelby built the GT500KR for barely two months in 1968, producing just 1,053 fastbacks and 517 convertibles — 1,570 cars total. Independent road tests of the era clocked it at 5.4 seconds to 60 mph, numbers that placed it among the quickest American cars you could buy.
A 1970 Dodge Challenger merges onto a derestricted stretch of German autobahn, and the camera rides right beside the driver’s eye while the mic sits by his ear. The result is an immersive, unfiltered POV of American muscle finally allowed to stretch its legs where no speed limit applies. It is a side of the E-body that US roads keep hidden. Strap in and hear what a fifty-year-old Mopar does off the leash.
One federal safety rule from the early 70s explains why so many mid-decade muscle cars suddenly wore heavier, less integrated bumpers. Here is the real history behind the 5-mph bumper standard and why its effects are still visible on classic cars today.
Cleaning a modern engine bay is easy, but point a hose at a carbureted 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS the wrong way and you risk never hearing it run again. In this Chemical Guys video, the Detail Garage crew tackle an exposed carburetor, open ignition, and decades of grime using a trick that costs about a dollar. It is a repeatable blueprint for anyone with a classic small-block. See how plastic bags and diluted degreaser get the job done safely.
Ford built the Boss 302 purely to satisfy SCCA Trans Am homologation rules, which required at least 6,500 street versions before the race car could compete — Ford blew past that bar, building 8,641 over two years with 7,013 of them in 1970 alone. The 302-cubic-inch V-8’s 290 factory horsepower undersold what the car could really do, and Parnelli Jones proved it by winning the 1970 Trans Am championship outright. Ford retired the Boss 302 after just two model years, its job against the Camaro already done.
Underneath this C10’s deliberately rough patina sits a 550-horsepower drivetrain that has nothing in common with its beat-up exterior, a classic rat rod sleeper built on one of the most collectible classic truck platforms around. Here is what it actually takes to build one that can back up the look.
Classic cars like this one weren’t built for efficiency; they were built to turn heads at stoplights and dominate weekend car shows decades later. Deep paint, real chrome, and body lines drawn before computers ever touched a car design tell you everything about the era before you even read the badge. The debate over which classic deserves the spotlight hasn’t slowed down since these cars left the factory floor.
Long before staging lanes bristled with cameras, street racing lived on grainy camcorder tape, and this old-school run from the summer nats is exactly that kind of footage. No graphics, no commentary, no replays, just two cars, a strip of pavement, and the raw sound. It captures a grassroots muscle-car era that has quietly vanished. Watch to see who gets to the other end first.
Lou Costabile’s camera catches a 1968 Mercury Cougar XR7-G at the Muscle Car and Corvette Nationals, a car most people would stroll right past. That single G on the badge ties it to racing legend Dan Gurney and a tiny production run built by A.O. Smith. Owner Brian Carpenter walks through the rare details and fires up its 390 big-block. Discover why Cougar collectors spend years hunting this exact model.
This 1969 Pontiac Firebird convertible was restored not by a shop, but by a parish priest and a crew of volunteers and seminarians as part of a program called V8s for Vocations. Pontiac built only about 11,000 Firebird convertibles that year, making this one-owner, 79,000-mile survivor genuinely scarce. It was raffled off in 2017 to help fund seminary education, giving the car a backstory most restorations never come close to matching.
A 16-year-old, a paper route, and a $700 1971 Plymouth Satellite Sebring: this reader-submitted story captures exactly the kind of first car that built a generation of Mopar loyalists. Here is the real history behind the fuselage-era Satellite and the mild-mannered 318 under its hood.
Long before fuel economy rules smoothed out Detroit’s shapes, muscle cars were designed to be looked at, not slipped through a wind tunnel. Here is the regulatory history behind why those bold, sculptural lines eventually gave way to the rounder, more efficient cars that followed.
This second-generation Barracuda hides one of 1968’s most underrated factory performance packages, a 275-horsepower 340 small-block Plymouth built barely a few thousand of. Here is why the Formula S 340 earned a reputation as a genuine sleeper, and how rare it actually was.
Most 1958 Pontiac Star Chiefs left the factory with a 370-cubic-inch V-8, but a rare Tri-Power option pushed output to 300 hp — with an even rarer fuel-injected version topping 310. Sales that year collapsed by roughly 60 percent for Pontiac, making surviving examples scarcer than the model’s reputation suggests. This particular car pushes well past its factory roots with a big-block swap, turning a once-overlooked flagship into a genuine hot rod.
