Our Cars--1968 Plymouth Sport Satellite
Our Cars--1968 Plymouth Sport Satellite
Our Cars--1968 Plymouth Sport Satellite
The year 1968 gave birth to many things, among them the Tet Offensive, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, and the Lockheed C-5 Galaxy. All of these things are well and good, but 1968 also gave birth to a fantastic automobile--specifically, my 1968 Plymouth Sport Satellite.
My great-grandmother Dorothy bought the car brand new after the death of my great-grandfather Merlin, because she believed her full-size Chrysler was too ungainly for one woman. When my grandmother went down to the dealer to select the Satellite, my great-uncle went along with her to take delivery of a brand new 1968 Plymouth Road Runner in black, with a 383 and a four speed transmission. Grandma's car was a bit more sedate however, utilizing a 383 with a two-barrel carb and the legendary torque-flite automatic.
The car had a base price of $2,822.09 and went out the door for $4,249.60. For an air-conditioned car, the windows are not tinted for some reason. There are also a couple of strange options, including Bendix 4-piston disc brakes in front, bench-bucket seats in front giving seating for 6, as well as a rear window defroster. For reasons I can't quite fathom, however, they deemed it acceptable to build a gold car with a pearl white vinyl top, pearl white vinyl upholstery, and fit it with a green carpet and dashboard. Strange, but somehow it wouldn't be right any other way.
DSCF0007-W1920 Continuing on with the story, my great-grandmother did not drive the car very often. She also kept meticulous maintenance records as well, right from the very beginning. As time went on, however, she began to get older. In 2001, at age 91, she had a small incident in a parking lot. Nothing major, however, there was a small crease running the bottom of the driver's side door. She had become fed up with the car as well, because she was always receiving offers to buy it everywhere she went. At this point in time the car had 73,000 miles on it. She decided to stop driving the car, and remembered that my father had always admired the car in the past. Little did my 9-year-old mind know that we rode home from Oregon in what was to be my car one day.
My mother drove the car for one year while her car was indisposed, but what a year it was. The car made contact with two underground garage pillars on the front fenders, and a woman in an 1980s Suburban misjudged the car's massive length and decided to hit the rear quarter panel as well. The car was then put into storage in my aunt's garage, simply because we had too many cars at my house at the time. That number is usually around 10, however it varies by around four at any given time.
Cut to 2009, when I am entering my senior year in high school. My father restores muscle cars, Chevelles, Camaros, etc. So naturally, I had my fair share of cars by that point. My first car was a 1965 Plymouth Barracuda that I bought for $700 from under a freeway in Oakland. With a slant 6 and an automatic, I wasn't winning much favor with the ladies. However, it was all mine. From the headliner held up with safety pins, to the seat covers made from red-line oil t-shirts, she was all mine.
Six months later I had bought a 1956 GMC pick-up truck, and six months after that I had a 1999 Pontiac Trans Am. I bought them all myself, slowly trading my way up. Something about that Satellite, however, had always held my mind. The one year of riding in that car when I was younger never escaped my mind, and I finally managed to convince my father that I was worthy.
042 1968 d Park Merced CAR 1-W1920 Once the car was "back at the ranch," my free time was immediately filled getting the car prepared. Three weeks later, she was ready. We cranked her over for a while after putting fuel in the tank before priming the carb, just to build oil pressure. However, on the third crank the engine started firing. There is nothing like the sound of a Chrysler gear-reduction starter cranking, and an big block doing its best to create controlled combustion. My dad said "she's ready," and two pumps of the accelerator later we were in business. She started just like it was yesterday, with absolutely no drama of any kind.
I love my car, and that year was possibly the best year of my life. I took many road trips, and the Satellite was the vehicle of choice. Sadly though, senior year ended and college was about to begin. After a long discussion, we decided that it would be better for the car to be in storage again. The mileage wasn't the greatest, if I'm honest, and the car would have gotten ruined at school anyway. It would get dinged and scratched, and leaving 42-year-old paint out all day is not a wise decision. So she is again relegated to the cave that is my aunt's garage, patiently waiting my return after college when I can give her the home she deserves.
Her name is Alice, she is a 1968 Plymouth Sport Satellite in medium-gold metallic, with a pearl white vinyl top and upholstery. She is motivated by 383 cubic inches of Detroit, fed by a 2-barrel Carter and this power is channeled through a Torque-Flite transmission to a Sure-Grip rear end. She currently has 80,000 delicate miles. With a 3.73 rear end, this highway cruiser even managed to move me through the quarter mile in 16.83 seconds. My Great Grandma Dorothy is still with us today, and she celebrated her 100th birthday this last July; although she now lives in North Carolina with my great aunt and uncle.
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