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For years General Motors banned engines larger than 400 cubic inches from its mid-size cars. When that rule lifted for 1970, Chevrolet immediately dropped a 454 into the Chevelle SS, and it arrived in two very different forms. The LS6 got the headlines at 450 horsepower, but the LS5 outsold it and outlasted it. Here is what separated the two engines and why an original LS5 survivor matters.
The 1970 Plymouth Superbird was not styled, it was shaped by a wind tunnel and a NASCAR rulebook, and every strange proportion on it exists for a reason. Fewer than 2,000 were built, three engines were offered, and only one of them is why collectors chase these cars today. Dealers could barely give them away when they were new. Read on to find out how a car nobody wanted became one of the most valuable Mopars ever built.
Edelbrock built its reputation on performance parts cast entirely in the USA, and this video takes cameras inside the two foundries where that happens — molding, pouring, machining, and final inspection, all in one place. Former employees who’ve worked the exact stations shown, from furnace operator to CMM inspector, weigh in in the comments with details the video itself doesn’t spell out. It’s a rare look at where a trusted name in muscle car parts actually comes from.
For a few short years at the end of the 1960s, win on Sunday, sell on Monday pushed Ford, Mercury, Dodge, and Plymouth into a genuine aerodynamic arms race, producing cars as strange-looking as they were fast — this MotorWeek retro review rounds up the Torino, Cyclone, Charger, and the wildest of them all, the wing-and-nose-cone Plymouth Superbird. One commenter still remembers passing on a Limelight green Superbird back in 1985, long before it became a six-figure collector car. Watch to see the machines NASCAR eventually had to legislate off the track.
A 1967 Ford Fairlane GT and a 1969 Plymouth GTX go head to head at Palm Beach International Raceway, and the gap between them, 11.41 versus 11.25 seconds, turns out to be closer than the numbers suggest. Both owners showed up in the comments to keep the argument going years later. Watch the quarter mile that started a rivalry neither driver has let go of since.
Backspeed Boys set out to build a 650-horsepower LS engine, and by their own account it turned into something closer to a dare than a spec sheet. Viewers who watched it come together compared the assembly to snapping together oversized Legos — until the finished engine made the chassis visibly twist under its own torque during the dyno pull. Built around a forged Eagle rotating assembly and no shortage of machine shop time, this is what happens when a familiar platform gets pushed past its comfortable ceiling.
A 1951 Chevrolet 3100 pickup looks like the simplest truck in the world until you learn that collectors can date one almost to the exact year from two small details. This was the fifth model year of a design that made every competing truck look obsolete overnight, and 1951 got changes that mattered more than their size suggests. Read on to find out what separates a 1951 from the trucks built on either side of it.
The Chevrolet Impala carries a name borrowed from an African antelope and a backstory that started as a Corvette-inspired concept car nobody expected to reach production. From a 1956 Motorama prototype to becoming America’s best-selling car by 1965, the Impala’s rise wasn’t guaranteed at any step along the way. Read on to see how a styling sketch turned into one of the longest-running nameplates in Chevrolet history.
The Rochester Quadrajet fed GM V8s for more than two decades, and it remains one of the most argued-about carburetors in the muscle car world. Its mismatched spread-bore throats look like a design error until their purpose is understood, and most of the problems that gave it a bad name trace back to a handful of details that rebuild kits never mention. This guide covers how the Quadrajet works, why it leaks, how the production eras differ, and what a proper rebuild actually involves. Read on to find out why so many owners swear by it.
A private collector’s classified ad seeking any 1968-1972 Plymouth Road Runner or GTX, project or finished, highlights just how differently these two closely related muscle cars are remembered decades later. Built on the same platform but aimed at completely different buyers, telling them apart takes more than a glance at the badge. Read on to find out exactly what separates a genuine GTX from a Road Runner, and why the distinction matters so much to serious buyers.
This 1971 Ford Custom 500 spends less time on a showroom resume and more time sliding sideways through a Southern back road, doubling as the getaway car in Burt Reynolds’ 1973 chase picture White Lightning. Stunt driving from the golden age of practical car chases, with Ned Beatty playing the corrupt sheriff chasing him down. The chase still pulls in six-figure views decades later, proof that a full-size sedan can be just as thrilling as any factory muscle car when the right driver is behind the wheel.
Ranking the greatest muscle cars of all time was always going to start an argument, but slotting a Mercedes-Benz Brabus Bullit 800 into the number three spot sent this comment section into open revolt. Viewers debate what actually counts as a muscle car, what got left off entirely, and whether horsepower numbers alone should decide the list at all. See which cars purists say are missing.
A caption claiming a 528-cubic-inch Hemi on a 1965 Plymouth Belvedere doesn’t add up as a factory spec, and that’s the tell that this convertible is a resto-mod built around a modern crate engine. Here’s what a real 1965 Belvedere came with from the factory, how Plymouth’s midsize lineup was reshuffled that year, and where a 528 Hemi like this one likely came from.
This restored 1948 Chevrolet Fleetmaster convertible wears a facelift that was mostly grille and trim, but the details underneath tell the real story: a 216-cubic-inch six, a column-shifted three-speed, and interior touches that were brand new for the model year. Only 20,471 were built. Here’s a closer look at what made the Fleetmaster Chevrolet’s flagship two years running.
No scoops, no stripes, just dog-dish wheels and a stripped interior, this 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury looks like nothing special until you learn what is under the hood: a 426 Max Wedge Super Stock V8 making an advertised 415 horsepower. One commenter says with modern tires and race gas, it would run 10-second quarter miles today. See why Mopar collectors call these early B-bodies brutes.