LE BARON
Power User
Sure looks like it. Took this at the 2022 Kingston Corvette Invasion.
Nice cars other than x-fire
- Thread starter 1st Vette
- Start date
Yup. That's him. Same plate.
LE BARON
Power User
LE BARON
Power User
The 1970 model year was a brutal time in the muscle car market. Insurance rates were climbing, emissions regulations were tightening, and the big three were all throwing everything they had at each other before the window closed for good. Dodge threw this.
The 1970 Super Bee came with a radical new front end featuring dual-loop bumpers surrounding twin grilles that Dodge called "bumble bee wings," a design that people either loved or hated on the showroom floor. It was the only year this specific body style existed, which makes every surviving example a one-year-only car. Today that same love-it-or-hate-it styling is exactly what stops people cold when they see one.
Three engine choices were available: the standard 383 Magnum producing 335 horsepower, the 440 Six-Pack with three two-barrel carburetors producing 390 horsepower, or the legendary 426 Hemi producing 425 horsepower. Only approximately 42 Hemi-equipped 1970 Super Bees are known to exist today, making them among the rarest Mopar combinations from the entire muscle car era.
High-impact paint colors were new for 1970, including Plum Crazy and Panther Pink. Panther Pink was the rarest color chosen, with only 39 Super Bees ordered in that shade. Even with those wild choices available, total production fell from roughly 30,000 in 1969 to just 15,506 for 1970.
After 1970, the Super Bee moved to the Charger platform and was never again built on the Coronet body. This Sublime Green hardtop is the last of its kind in every meaningful sense: the last year of the body, the last great era of unrestricted Detroit muscle, and one of the most visually striking American cars ever sold for under $4,000.
The 1970 Super Bee came with a radical new front end featuring dual-loop bumpers surrounding twin grilles that Dodge called "bumble bee wings," a design that people either loved or hated on the showroom floor. It was the only year this specific body style existed, which makes every surviving example a one-year-only car. Today that same love-it-or-hate-it styling is exactly what stops people cold when they see one.
Three engine choices were available: the standard 383 Magnum producing 335 horsepower, the 440 Six-Pack with three two-barrel carburetors producing 390 horsepower, or the legendary 426 Hemi producing 425 horsepower. Only approximately 42 Hemi-equipped 1970 Super Bees are known to exist today, making them among the rarest Mopar combinations from the entire muscle car era.
High-impact paint colors were new for 1970, including Plum Crazy and Panther Pink. Panther Pink was the rarest color chosen, with only 39 Super Bees ordered in that shade. Even with those wild choices available, total production fell from roughly 30,000 in 1969 to just 15,506 for 1970.
After 1970, the Super Bee moved to the Charger platform and was never again built on the Coronet body. This Sublime Green hardtop is the last of its kind in every meaningful sense: the last year of the body, the last great era of unrestricted Detroit muscle, and one of the most visually striking American cars ever sold for under $4,000.
LE BARON
Power User
What you are looking at has nothing in common with the street car it resembles except some sheet metal and the block of the engine. Everything else was built for one purpose.
In February 1963, Ford's car merchandising manager V.P. Motto issued a memo announcing the construction of a Special Lightweight Performance Vehicle based on the Galaxie 500. Just 212 examples would be built, every single one delivered in Corinthian White with a red vinyl interior, built at Ford's Norfolk Assembly Plant from April through June of that year.
The weight reduction program was extensive. Fiberglass replaced the steel hood, front fenders, inner fenders, and trunk lid. Bumpers and brackets were stamped from thin aluminum. Inside, the heater, radio, clock, courtesy lights, dome lights, sound deadening, and body seam sealer were all deleted. Bostrom lightweight bucket seats replaced standard units. The sun visors were replaced with pieces of cardboard.
Under that fiberglass hood sat the 427 cubic inch R-Code V8 with cross-bolted main bearings, a high-lift camshaft, cast-iron headers, transistorized ignition, and dual Holley four-barrel carburetors producing 425 horsepower and 480 pound-feet of torque. The Borg-Warner T-10 aluminum-case four-speed and 4.11:1 rear axle completed the package. In the right hands, the car ran the quarter mile in approximately 12.5 seconds.
Les Ritchey, driving his Lightweight at the 1963 NHRA Nationals in Indianapolis, took the S/S class. Popular Hot Rodding magazine then took that same Winternationals car to Pomona and logged a 12.49 second run at 116.27 mph. This Corinthian White example, sitting on those small dog-dish steel wheels exactly as it left the factory, is one of the most important drag racing artifacts American automotive history produced
In February 1963, Ford's car merchandising manager V.P. Motto issued a memo announcing the construction of a Special Lightweight Performance Vehicle based on the Galaxie 500. Just 212 examples would be built, every single one delivered in Corinthian White with a red vinyl interior, built at Ford's Norfolk Assembly Plant from April through June of that year.
The weight reduction program was extensive. Fiberglass replaced the steel hood, front fenders, inner fenders, and trunk lid. Bumpers and brackets were stamped from thin aluminum. Inside, the heater, radio, clock, courtesy lights, dome lights, sound deadening, and body seam sealer were all deleted. Bostrom lightweight bucket seats replaced standard units. The sun visors were replaced with pieces of cardboard.
Under that fiberglass hood sat the 427 cubic inch R-Code V8 with cross-bolted main bearings, a high-lift camshaft, cast-iron headers, transistorized ignition, and dual Holley four-barrel carburetors producing 425 horsepower and 480 pound-feet of torque. The Borg-Warner T-10 aluminum-case four-speed and 4.11:1 rear axle completed the package. In the right hands, the car ran the quarter mile in approximately 12.5 seconds.
Les Ritchey, driving his Lightweight at the 1963 NHRA Nationals in Indianapolis, took the S/S class. Popular Hot Rodding magazine then took that same Winternationals car to Pomona and logged a 12.49 second run at 116.27 mph. This Corinthian White example, sitting on those small dog-dish steel wheels exactly as it left the factory, is one of the most important drag racing artifacts American automotive history produced
LE BARON
Power User
Most concept cars look dated within a decade. This one debuted the same week Apollo 11 was on its way to the moon, and it still looks like it arrived from somewhere further away than that.
Codenamed RD 001 to identify it as the first product of Holden's Research and Development organisation, the Hurricane was a mid-engined, rear-wheel-drive two-seater standing just 990 millimetres tall, built by a small squad of engineers working in strict secrecy at the Fishermans Bend Technical Centre in Melbourne. It had no conventional doors. A hydraulically powered canopy swung forward over the front wheels, and the seats rose up and pivoted forward to meet the driver before lowering them into a semi-reclining position beneath the closing roof.
The technology inside was decades ahead of production. Digital instrument displays, a station-seeking radio, Comfortron automatic temperature control air conditioning, inertia-reel seat belts, and a rear-view camera consisting of a wide-angle lens connected to a closed-circuit television screen in the center console. The rear camera alone would not become standard equipment on mainstream cars for another forty years.
The Pathfinder route guidance system was essentially the world's first GPS navigation, using magnets embedded at intersections along the road network to guide the driver, with illuminated arrows on a dash-mounted panel indicating which turn to take. The satellite version of that same idea arrived in consumer cars in the late 1990s.
Under the canopy sat a prototype 253 cubic inch V8 producing 262 horsepower, a direct precursor to the Holden V8 engine program that entered production later that same year. That engine would go on to power over 500,000 Holdens across the following two decades.
The Hurricane was eventually forgotten, shelved in a warehouse, and rediscovered in 2006 covered in dust. The paint formula had been lost until someone tracked down the original mixer who still remembered it. There is only one in existence. There will never be another
Codenamed RD 001 to identify it as the first product of Holden's Research and Development organisation, the Hurricane was a mid-engined, rear-wheel-drive two-seater standing just 990 millimetres tall, built by a small squad of engineers working in strict secrecy at the Fishermans Bend Technical Centre in Melbourne. It had no conventional doors. A hydraulically powered canopy swung forward over the front wheels, and the seats rose up and pivoted forward to meet the driver before lowering them into a semi-reclining position beneath the closing roof.
The technology inside was decades ahead of production. Digital instrument displays, a station-seeking radio, Comfortron automatic temperature control air conditioning, inertia-reel seat belts, and a rear-view camera consisting of a wide-angle lens connected to a closed-circuit television screen in the center console. The rear camera alone would not become standard equipment on mainstream cars for another forty years.
The Pathfinder route guidance system was essentially the world's first GPS navigation, using magnets embedded at intersections along the road network to guide the driver, with illuminated arrows on a dash-mounted panel indicating which turn to take. The satellite version of that same idea arrived in consumer cars in the late 1990s.
Under the canopy sat a prototype 253 cubic inch V8 producing 262 horsepower, a direct precursor to the Holden V8 engine program that entered production later that same year. That engine would go on to power over 500,000 Holdens across the following two decades.
The Hurricane was eventually forgotten, shelved in a warehouse, and rediscovered in 2006 covered in dust. The paint formula had been lost until someone tracked down the original mixer who still remembered it. There is only one in existence. There will never be another
- Thread starter
- #1,688
This Was The World's Most Powerful Car In The '60s
The horsepower wars in the '60s gave us some crazy powerful cars, but none had more power than this one.
www.hotcars.com
- Thread starter
- #1,689
This Is The Rarest Ford Muscle Car Ever Produced
While the Shelby GT500 Super Snake was a rare prototype, this muscle car was the rarest to leave the Ford Motor Company’s factory.
www.hotcars.com
LE BARON
Power User
The Biscayne was Chevrolet's bottom-of-the-barrel model. No chrome, no trim, no frills, no respect. It also happened to be the most feared car on the drag strip in 1962, and that was entirely by design.
The post-coupe Biscayne two-door sedan was approximately 100 pounds lighter than the hardtop Impalas and Bel Airs it shared its platform with, and it also had greater structural integrity thanks to its fixed B-pillar. For a drag racer, those two facts mattered more than any amount of chrome trim or rear seat radio grilles. They ordered the Biscayne with no radio, no heater, no clock, no lighter, rubber floor mats instead of carpet, and a column-mounted Sun tachometer. Then they ordered the engine.
The 409 cubic inch V8 was available in two versions for 1962: 380 horsepower with a single four-barrel carburetor, and 409 horsepower with dual four-barrel carburetors. Both came with solid lifters, dual exhaust, and 11.0:1 compression ratio. A car you could buy for $2,325 at the base price with the full race engine option and zero comfort equipment was essentially a factory-sponsored drag car with a license plate.
The 409 Biscayne was the dominant force in the 1962 NHRA Super Stock season, with legendary drivers including Dave Strickler, Hayden Proffitt, and Dyno Don Nicholson running quarter-mile elapsed times in the 12-second range at terminal speeds approaching 120 miles per hour.
Total 409 cubic inch production across all 1962 full-size Chevrolets reached 15,019 units. The number that landed specifically in stripped Biscaynes with the dual-quad setup and four-speed manual was a fraction of that. This burnt orange post sedan in Florida, sitting on those plain black wheels with the poverty caps, is wearing its battle history exactly where it belongs: on the outside, for everyone to see.
The post-coupe Biscayne two-door sedan was approximately 100 pounds lighter than the hardtop Impalas and Bel Airs it shared its platform with, and it also had greater structural integrity thanks to its fixed B-pillar. For a drag racer, those two facts mattered more than any amount of chrome trim or rear seat radio grilles. They ordered the Biscayne with no radio, no heater, no clock, no lighter, rubber floor mats instead of carpet, and a column-mounted Sun tachometer. Then they ordered the engine.
The 409 cubic inch V8 was available in two versions for 1962: 380 horsepower with a single four-barrel carburetor, and 409 horsepower with dual four-barrel carburetors. Both came with solid lifters, dual exhaust, and 11.0:1 compression ratio. A car you could buy for $2,325 at the base price with the full race engine option and zero comfort equipment was essentially a factory-sponsored drag car with a license plate.
The 409 Biscayne was the dominant force in the 1962 NHRA Super Stock season, with legendary drivers including Dave Strickler, Hayden Proffitt, and Dyno Don Nicholson running quarter-mile elapsed times in the 12-second range at terminal speeds approaching 120 miles per hour.
Total 409 cubic inch production across all 1962 full-size Chevrolets reached 15,019 units. The number that landed specifically in stripped Biscaynes with the dual-quad setup and four-speed manual was a fraction of that. This burnt orange post sedan in Florida, sitting on those plain black wheels with the poverty caps, is wearing its battle history exactly where it belongs: on the outside, for everyone to see.
LE BARON
Power User
The 1956 DeSoto FireFlite arrived at precisely the right moment in American automotive history, sold more cars than it ever had before, and then watched the whole thing unravel in less time than it took to plan the next redesign.
The DeSoto outsold the senior Chrysler line in 1956 for the first time in the brand's entire history. 1956 was the high-water mark for the DeSoto brand, with sales over 42,000 units. Everything pointed upward. Nobody saw what was coming next.
Virgil Exner's Forward Look design gave the FireFlite a wide grille with twin upright bars, restrained tailfins beginning under the C-pillars and ending with vertically stacked taillamps, and a distinctive Gullwing instrument panel. The interior came with two-tone gold and tan upholstery, a self-winding steering wheel clock, and a Highway Hi-Fi record player manufactured by CBS Electronics. That last feature deserves a moment. In 1956, DeSoto was selling a car with a built-in record player. The CBS unit played special 7-inch records at 16 rpm specifically designed for in-car use. It was absurd and wonderful and completely of its time.
A gold and white FireFlite convertible was chosen as the Official Pace Car for the 1956 Indianapolis 500, with Indianapolis 500 president Tony Hulman saying the DeSoto was chosen unanimously by the track committee for its outstanding performance and superb handling characteristics. Between 390 and 426 limited-edition Pacesetter convertibles were produced to commemorate the occasion.
The 330 cubic inch Hemi V8 produced 255 horsepower and gave the FireFlite a top speed of 137 mph, backed by push-button PowerFlite automatic transmission control.
A recession in 1958, combined with upper mid-market saturation from the Ford Edsel, Buick, Oldsmobile, and competing Chrysler products, eventually shut down DeSoto production in early 1961. The brand that outsold Chrysler in 1956 was gone by November 1960. This red and white four-door in California sunshine is what the peak looked like, before anyone knew it was the peak.
The DeSoto outsold the senior Chrysler line in 1956 for the first time in the brand's entire history. 1956 was the high-water mark for the DeSoto brand, with sales over 42,000 units. Everything pointed upward. Nobody saw what was coming next.
Virgil Exner's Forward Look design gave the FireFlite a wide grille with twin upright bars, restrained tailfins beginning under the C-pillars and ending with vertically stacked taillamps, and a distinctive Gullwing instrument panel. The interior came with two-tone gold and tan upholstery, a self-winding steering wheel clock, and a Highway Hi-Fi record player manufactured by CBS Electronics. That last feature deserves a moment. In 1956, DeSoto was selling a car with a built-in record player. The CBS unit played special 7-inch records at 16 rpm specifically designed for in-car use. It was absurd and wonderful and completely of its time.
A gold and white FireFlite convertible was chosen as the Official Pace Car for the 1956 Indianapolis 500, with Indianapolis 500 president Tony Hulman saying the DeSoto was chosen unanimously by the track committee for its outstanding performance and superb handling characteristics. Between 390 and 426 limited-edition Pacesetter convertibles were produced to commemorate the occasion.
The 330 cubic inch Hemi V8 produced 255 horsepower and gave the FireFlite a top speed of 137 mph, backed by push-button PowerFlite automatic transmission control.
A recession in 1958, combined with upper mid-market saturation from the Ford Edsel, Buick, Oldsmobile, and competing Chrysler products, eventually shut down DeSoto production in early 1961. The brand that outsold Chrysler in 1956 was gone by November 1960. This red and white four-door in California sunshine is what the peak looked like, before anyone knew it was the peak.
LE BARON
Power User
By 1969, Chrysler was strangling Ford alive on the superspeedways. The Dodge Charger Daytona had just become the first car in NASCAR history to crack 200 mph, and its pointy nose cone and 23-inch rear wing were making Ford's best efforts look slow and outdated. Ford president Bunkie Knudsen had seen enough. He handed a single-page brief to Larry Shinoda, the same man who penned the Boss 302 Mustang: break 200 mph, beat Mopar. That was it
Shinoda recruited a team of designers and focused everything on the nose, recessing the headlights and sculpting a seven-foot fiberglass hood that acted as a ramp, splitting the wind and generating maximum downforce. The result looked like nothing Detroit had ever produced. The re-sculpted nose sloped aggressively downward, with dual circular headlights eerily similar to the ones on a Datsun 240Z. Under that wild hood sat a 700-horsepower Boss 429 V8 backed by a Toploader four-speed.
Then everything fell apart at once. Bunkie Knudsen got fired. Lee Iacocca took over, slashed Ford's racing budget by 75 percent, and NASCAR simultaneously raised the homologation requirement from 500 to 3,000 street cars - an impossible number for a radical machine nobody had even approved for production. The program died overnight. The design studio clays were destroyed. The fiberglass mock-ups were hidden at Holman and Moody's shop. The three running prototypes were quietly demoted to Dearborn errand cars.
NASCAR team owner Bud Moore stumbled across both surviving King Cobras in 1971 while picking up Mustangs for his Trans-Am team. He bought the pair on the spot for $1,200 total. One eventually ended up in a museum in Tennessee. The other was sold to a police officer and used as a daily driver before someone finally found it rusting in a South Carolina field and restored it back to prototype condition. Today each one commands over $500,000 at auction. Three cars built. Zero ever raced. The greatest unfinished fight in NASCAR history
Shinoda recruited a team of designers and focused everything on the nose, recessing the headlights and sculpting a seven-foot fiberglass hood that acted as a ramp, splitting the wind and generating maximum downforce. The result looked like nothing Detroit had ever produced. The re-sculpted nose sloped aggressively downward, with dual circular headlights eerily similar to the ones on a Datsun 240Z. Under that wild hood sat a 700-horsepower Boss 429 V8 backed by a Toploader four-speed.
Then everything fell apart at once. Bunkie Knudsen got fired. Lee Iacocca took over, slashed Ford's racing budget by 75 percent, and NASCAR simultaneously raised the homologation requirement from 500 to 3,000 street cars - an impossible number for a radical machine nobody had even approved for production. The program died overnight. The design studio clays were destroyed. The fiberglass mock-ups were hidden at Holman and Moody's shop. The three running prototypes were quietly demoted to Dearborn errand cars.
NASCAR team owner Bud Moore stumbled across both surviving King Cobras in 1971 while picking up Mustangs for his Trans-Am team. He bought the pair on the spot for $1,200 total. One eventually ended up in a museum in Tennessee. The other was sold to a police officer and used as a daily driver before someone finally found it rusting in a South Carolina field and restored it back to prototype condition. Today each one commands over $500,000 at auction. Three cars built. Zero ever raced. The greatest unfinished fight in NASCAR history
LE BARON
Power User
By 1973, the muscle car era was officially on life support. Washington had hit Detroit with federally mandated 5 mph crash bumpers, tightening emission standards, and horsepower figures were dropping across the board. The GTO was a shadow of its former self. The big-block wars were over. But right in the middle of all that misery, Pontiac quietly pulled off something remarkable.
The 1973 Grand Prix arrived completely redesigned with a new Colonnade pillared roof and fixed rear opera windows, all while somehow managing to hold onto that long-hood, driver-focused character that had made the 1969 original so special. And buyers absolutely responded. Total 1973 Grand Prix production soared to 153,899 units, a number that absolutely buried the record set in 1969.
But the one you really wanted was this. The $379 SJ option package brought not just the big 455 cubic inch V8, but a properly retuned suspension with special shock absorbers, front and rear anti-roll bars, and GR70-15 steel-belted radial tires, which was genuinely forward-thinking for an American personal luxury coupe in 1973. On top of all that you got the Rally gauge cluster, body-colored mirrors, custom finned wheel covers, pinstriping and Safe-T-Track limited slip differential. It was a gentleman's performance car dressed up in luxury clothes, and it drove better than most people remember.
Only 13.4 percent of Grand Prix buyers, just 20,749 people, actually checked the SJ box. While everyone else was lining up for the Monte Carlo, a handful of people who actually knew what they were doing went straight to the Pontiac showroom instead. They were right then. They are still right today.
The 1973 Grand Prix arrived completely redesigned with a new Colonnade pillared roof and fixed rear opera windows, all while somehow managing to hold onto that long-hood, driver-focused character that had made the 1969 original so special. And buyers absolutely responded. Total 1973 Grand Prix production soared to 153,899 units, a number that absolutely buried the record set in 1969.
But the one you really wanted was this. The $379 SJ option package brought not just the big 455 cubic inch V8, but a properly retuned suspension with special shock absorbers, front and rear anti-roll bars, and GR70-15 steel-belted radial tires, which was genuinely forward-thinking for an American personal luxury coupe in 1973. On top of all that you got the Rally gauge cluster, body-colored mirrors, custom finned wheel covers, pinstriping and Safe-T-Track limited slip differential. It was a gentleman's performance car dressed up in luxury clothes, and it drove better than most people remember.
Only 13.4 percent of Grand Prix buyers, just 20,749 people, actually checked the SJ box. While everyone else was lining up for the Monte Carlo, a handful of people who actually knew what they were doing went straight to the Pontiac showroom instead. They were right then. They are still right today.
LE BARON
Power User
Most muscle car buyers in 1970 were chasing horsepower numbers. Oldsmobile engineers quietly understood that the number telling the real story was somewhere else entirely.
In 1970, General Motors finally lifted its longstanding cap on engine displacement for its intermediate models, and Oldsmobile responded by making the 455 cubic inch V8 the standard engine in the 442. The base car made 365 horsepower. Then buyers could order the W-30 package, and the conversation changed completely.
The W-30 package added forced-air induction through functional hood scoops, a special air cleaner, aluminum intake manifold, a fiberglass hood to save weight, body-side paint stripes, manual front disc brakes, and raised white letter tires. The 455 produced 370 horsepower, but the number that actually mattered was 500 pound-feet of torque. Unlike most performance engines of the era, the Olds 455 was undersquare with a stroke longer than the bore, meaning the torque arrived immediately the moment you pressed the accelerator. On paper it looked slower than a 450-horsepower LS6 Chevelle. On the road it felt faster than the numbers suggested.
With refreshed styling and that combination of power and handling, the 1970 442 was selected to pace the Indianapolis 500 that year. Oldsmobile's advertising campaign featured a high-performance "mad scientist" in a white lab coat called Dr. Olds, promoting what they called the W-Machine Package. Nobody else in the muscle car market was advertising their cars with a scientist. That choice alone told you something about the kind of buyer Oldsmobile was after.
Total W-30 production for 1970 reached 3,100 cars across all body styles: 2,574 holiday coupes, 262 sports coupes, and 264 convertibles. This black hardtop, sitting clean on those chrome wheels against a pale desert sky, is from the best year Oldsmobile ever built. Everything that came after 1970 was a step back from this
In 1970, General Motors finally lifted its longstanding cap on engine displacement for its intermediate models, and Oldsmobile responded by making the 455 cubic inch V8 the standard engine in the 442. The base car made 365 horsepower. Then buyers could order the W-30 package, and the conversation changed completely.
The W-30 package added forced-air induction through functional hood scoops, a special air cleaner, aluminum intake manifold, a fiberglass hood to save weight, body-side paint stripes, manual front disc brakes, and raised white letter tires. The 455 produced 370 horsepower, but the number that actually mattered was 500 pound-feet of torque. Unlike most performance engines of the era, the Olds 455 was undersquare with a stroke longer than the bore, meaning the torque arrived immediately the moment you pressed the accelerator. On paper it looked slower than a 450-horsepower LS6 Chevelle. On the road it felt faster than the numbers suggested.
With refreshed styling and that combination of power and handling, the 1970 442 was selected to pace the Indianapolis 500 that year. Oldsmobile's advertising campaign featured a high-performance "mad scientist" in a white lab coat called Dr. Olds, promoting what they called the W-Machine Package. Nobody else in the muscle car market was advertising their cars with a scientist. That choice alone told you something about the kind of buyer Oldsmobile was after.
Total W-30 production for 1970 reached 3,100 cars across all body styles: 2,574 holiday coupes, 262 sports coupes, and 264 convertibles. This black hardtop, sitting clean on those chrome wheels against a pale desert sky, is from the best year Oldsmobile ever built. Everything that came after 1970 was a step back from this
LE BARON
Power User
In the mid 1980s, Pontiac dealerships were supposed to be selling practical performance. Fieros, Firebirds, and sporty coupes that still fit within the limits of the era.
Then the Tojan appeared. Built through a partnership involving Knudsen Automotive and based on the third-generation Pontiac Trans Am platform, the Tojan looked nothing like the cars sitting around it. The body was completely reshaped with exotic-inspired fiberglass styling, hidden lighting, dramatic proportions, and an interior that felt closer to a concept car than a production Pontiac.
And that was only the beginning. Some versions carried standard V8 power, but the truly infamous builds went much further. Certain high-end customer cars were fitted with twin-turbocharged setups developed with Gale Banks engineering involvement, producing output figures reportedly approaching 800 horsepower depending on configuration.
In 1985, those numbers were absurd. This wasn’t a lightweight European exotic with factory racing heritage. It was an American GT car built on a GM F-body chassis, capable of reaching speeds that most Ferraris and Lamborghinis of the time struggled to match. And somehow, you could actually order one through select Pontiac dealers.
That’s where the divide starts. Some will say this was one of the boldest American performance experiments ever attempted. A true low-production supercar that proved American builders could create something just as outrageous as Europe. Others will argue it was excess without identity. A heavily modified Trans Am wrapped in exotic styling and sold at prices far beyond what most buyers could justify. Because the Tojan never became a mainstream success. It became something stranger.
A forgotten supercar experiment that almost feels impossible today
Then the Tojan appeared. Built through a partnership involving Knudsen Automotive and based on the third-generation Pontiac Trans Am platform, the Tojan looked nothing like the cars sitting around it. The body was completely reshaped with exotic-inspired fiberglass styling, hidden lighting, dramatic proportions, and an interior that felt closer to a concept car than a production Pontiac.
And that was only the beginning. Some versions carried standard V8 power, but the truly infamous builds went much further. Certain high-end customer cars were fitted with twin-turbocharged setups developed with Gale Banks engineering involvement, producing output figures reportedly approaching 800 horsepower depending on configuration.
In 1985, those numbers were absurd. This wasn’t a lightweight European exotic with factory racing heritage. It was an American GT car built on a GM F-body chassis, capable of reaching speeds that most Ferraris and Lamborghinis of the time struggled to match. And somehow, you could actually order one through select Pontiac dealers.
That’s where the divide starts. Some will say this was one of the boldest American performance experiments ever attempted. A true low-production supercar that proved American builders could create something just as outrageous as Europe. Others will argue it was excess without identity. A heavily modified Trans Am wrapped in exotic styling and sold at prices far beyond what most buyers could justify. Because the Tojan never became a mainstream success. It became something stranger.
A forgotten supercar experiment that almost feels impossible today
LE BARON
Power User
In 1969, Ford had a clear star.
The Mustang got the attention. It defined the image of the era, lighter, sharper, and built to look fast standing still. That’s the car people remember. But it wasn’t the whole story. Sitting right next to it in the lineup was the Torino GT, built with a completely different philosophy. Bigger, longer, and heavier, but designed to do something the Mustang struggled with when power levels started climbing.
Put the power down properly. With engines ranging from small-blocks all the way up to the 428 Cobra Jet, the Torino wasn’t just about numbers. It had the wheelbase, the weight distribution, and the stability to actually use that power without constantly fighting for traction. That changed how the car felt on the road.
Where smaller muscle cars could feel twitchy under hard acceleration, the Torino stayed planted. It carried speed, pulled hard through the mid-range, and felt more controlled at highway pace. This wasn’t about short bursts. It was about sustained performance. That’s where the divide starts.
Some will say the Mustang was the better car because it captured the spirit of the era. Lighter, more aggressive, and far more iconic. Others will tell you the Torino was the smarter machine. Built for real-world performance, not just image, and capable of doing what most muscle cars promised but couldn’t always deliver.
Because sometimes the car everyone remembers isn’t the one that actually performed better
The Mustang got the attention. It defined the image of the era, lighter, sharper, and built to look fast standing still. That’s the car people remember. But it wasn’t the whole story. Sitting right next to it in the lineup was the Torino GT, built with a completely different philosophy. Bigger, longer, and heavier, but designed to do something the Mustang struggled with when power levels started climbing.
Put the power down properly. With engines ranging from small-blocks all the way up to the 428 Cobra Jet, the Torino wasn’t just about numbers. It had the wheelbase, the weight distribution, and the stability to actually use that power without constantly fighting for traction. That changed how the car felt on the road.
Where smaller muscle cars could feel twitchy under hard acceleration, the Torino stayed planted. It carried speed, pulled hard through the mid-range, and felt more controlled at highway pace. This wasn’t about short bursts. It was about sustained performance. That’s where the divide starts.
Some will say the Mustang was the better car because it captured the spirit of the era. Lighter, more aggressive, and far more iconic. Others will tell you the Torino was the smarter machine. Built for real-world performance, not just image, and capable of doing what most muscle cars promised but couldn’t always deliver.
Because sometimes the car everyone remembers isn’t the one that actually performed better
LE BARON
Power User
In 1971, Mercury quietly built a car that should have mattered a lot more than it did.
The Cyclone GT wasn’t some stripped-down entry-level muscle car. It came properly equipped from the factory with bucket seats, a full-length console, performance styling, and a body that leaned more toward aerodynamic thinking than most cars of its time.
But almost nobody paid attention.
Production numbers tell the story. Just over two thousand GTs were built, alongside a small number of base Cyclones and high-performance Spoilers. For a car with this level of presence and capability, those numbers are shockingly low.
And the performance was there if you knew where to look. The standard engine was a 351 Cleveland, already a strong performer. But buyers could step up to the 429 Cobra Jet, officially rated at 370 horsepower with ram air. Real-world output was widely understood to be higher, backed by serious torque and the kind of straight-line strength that defined the era.
On the track, the platform proved itself. Mercury Cyclones were dominating in NASCAR at the time, with drivers like David Pearson showing just how effective the body design was at speed. The car wasn’t just built to look right. It worked where it counted. That’s where the argument starts.
Some will say this is one of the most overlooked muscle cars ever built. A complete package with real performance, real engineering, and no attention from the market when it actually mattered. Others will say the lack of attention says everything. That by 1971, the muscle car era was already fading, and cars like this were simply too late to make an impact. Because after this year, Mercury didn’t evolve the Cyclone. They ended it.
And that decision turned every surviving GT into something it was never meant to be. Rare, not because it dominated. But because it disappeared.
The Cyclone GT wasn’t some stripped-down entry-level muscle car. It came properly equipped from the factory with bucket seats, a full-length console, performance styling, and a body that leaned more toward aerodynamic thinking than most cars of its time.
But almost nobody paid attention.
Production numbers tell the story. Just over two thousand GTs were built, alongside a small number of base Cyclones and high-performance Spoilers. For a car with this level of presence and capability, those numbers are shockingly low.
And the performance was there if you knew where to look. The standard engine was a 351 Cleveland, already a strong performer. But buyers could step up to the 429 Cobra Jet, officially rated at 370 horsepower with ram air. Real-world output was widely understood to be higher, backed by serious torque and the kind of straight-line strength that defined the era.
On the track, the platform proved itself. Mercury Cyclones were dominating in NASCAR at the time, with drivers like David Pearson showing just how effective the body design was at speed. The car wasn’t just built to look right. It worked where it counted. That’s where the argument starts.
Some will say this is one of the most overlooked muscle cars ever built. A complete package with real performance, real engineering, and no attention from the market when it actually mattered. Others will say the lack of attention says everything. That by 1971, the muscle car era was already fading, and cars like this were simply too late to make an impact. Because after this year, Mercury didn’t evolve the Cyclone. They ended it.
And that decision turned every surviving GT into something it was never meant to be. Rare, not because it dominated. But because it disappeared.