Cars Of A Lifetime: 1973 Dodge Dart Swinger – A Pauper in Gold Lamé

(pictures used with kind permission of oldparkedcars.com)

Some of you might remember the more “classic” American car I alluded to in my previous article. Those of you who were hoping for a 1957 Bel-Air hardtop may be disappointed. Instead I give you a rusty 1973 Dodge Dart Swinger; hey, at least it’s a hard top!

I still recall when I first laid eyes on this car. I was helping my friend Peter with his coffee cart business that was located outside our State capitol building. Our friends owned another cart in another area of the capitol and the two carts shared the same storage area.  I was putting things away when I saw my old friend Jerry who ran the other cart some of the time pull up in a gold Dart hardtop. I was a bit surprised because he had always bought beater mini trucks and busted up Japanese cars. So I asked him how he came to own it. He told me a friend of his sold it to him for three hundred dollars. I immediately asked him if he would sell it to me and he said, “no way”!  I was in love with it and I told him right there that it would some day be mine.

Well that day did eventually come. Jerry got a better more practical car and sold me the Dart. He charged me four hundred and I was glad to pay it, even knowing he paid three.

Now I did mention the rust. Most of the rear drivers side quarter panel rocker area was rusted away and there was some other small spots around the car, strangely the passenger side was just fine. It was a two-door hardtop with the 225 slant six and an automatic transmission, and the back tires may have been the original Goodyear Silverstones. The bench seats were covered in Naugahyde, the shifter was on the column,  and the ashtray was chrome;  can it get anymore classic American chic’ than that? Sure it bordered on kitsch like a 1970’s gold fleck finish Formica and chrome table. But it in my mind it was a bit more chic’ than kitsch.

Of course it had a few more issues than rust. For one thing it ran very rich, so driving with the windows down was a gas, literally. But I fixed that problem when me and my friend Bill found an old Volare in the woods on an outing. I stole pulled the carburetor and rebuilt it, fitted it to the Dart and no more rich running.  But there were also the ball joints. They were so bad that the front tires were needing to be replaced after only about a thousand miles of driving. I never did fix them though, it was to much trouble.

Despite those problems I drove it to  work and back everyday, a little commute of about twenty miles round trip. I was aware that there were more practical cars, cars that handled better, cars that had more power, cars that got better mileage, cars that were more comfortable, and cars that were all of the above. But every time I started thinking that way I would have a “hardtop experience”.

What is an “hardtop experience” you might wonder. Well it goes like this; the sun is out, the windows are down, the AM radio is playing Maybelline. I am looking for a parking spot downtown, the slant six under the hood idles around nine-hundred rpm with an unmistakable domestic basso vibrato. My arm rests on the chrome window molding receiving the warm sun on the top of my hand and a gentle breeze on the bottom of it. And I think to myself, this is allot better than driving a buzzing VW around like a little tin golf cart on steroids. That is a a hardtop moment.

And that is why I kept that old car as long as I did. Driving it, I suddenly realized why people drive American sedans. Suddenly the laurels that my previous LTD were resting on appeared to me as if a light was switched on in my head. It all came rushing in to me, the rides in the back of my Aunt’s Buick wagon to the ice cream shop, the back seat of a Checker Marathon taxi cab in Minneapolis, my Uncle’s big gold two door in the hot Tennessee sun. And for a time I lost any interest in driving any econoboxes, hot hatches, or rice-rockets.

But I am fundamentally an oxymoronic, pragmatic sentimentalist. So eventually I convinced myself that it was not practical (it was not) and sold it to get something more so. But did I get that same experience in the “new” car? No, but I did get other experiences like front tires that lasted, better than fifteen miles per gallon fuel economy, better handling, better seats, and a radio that got FM.  Yet still, I miss that old Dart. Would I buy another? Nope, I would not; I am happy to miss it. Like so many other cars (especially large American ones) it lives on better in one’s memory than in real life.