The Roar of Yesteryear: A Muscle Car Memoir

Back in 1980, the American automobile was less a vehicle and more a statement. And that statement was usually: “I have absolutely no regard for fuel economy or subtlety.“

I remember thumbing rides across the U.S. as a scruffy lad.

The cars that picked me up back then were real beasts! Chrome-clad land yachts, growling V8s, dashboards big enough to host a camp dance. You didn’t enter a 1979 Pontiac—you moved in, brought a rug, and jotted down your forwarding address. Some of these cars had hoods so long they could host a rave.

Fast forward 43 years, and what greets us on the road today? Cars with names like “Leaf” and “Bolt.” Not animals. Not weapons. Foliage! How does one hitchhike in a world where the passing Prius does not even choke out a whisper? I used to be able to hear a GTO cruising from miles away. Now I am lucky to get an impolite sniff before a Tesla scoots on by quietly as a baby’s sneeze.

And the interiors! In 1979, the dashboard featured a radio, a clock that never worked, and maybe an ashtray large enough to snuff out a cheroot. Now? Tech! Glowing, beeping, chirping screens. My Spousal Unit’s CR-V dashboard started talking to me uninvited and asked if I “wanted to pair.” I had to tell it we had just met and I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

Gone are the days when a car was held together by sheer optimism, duct tape, and a stick of Bazooka gum. Today’s vehicles have more sensors than Elon Musk’s Starship and, apparently, zero tolerance for a bit of carburetor tinkering with a pocketknife and a spit wad. Yes, I have done that too.

Yet, as I rattle along in my sporty red Civic (what, was it named after a first-year law school curriculum??), I tip my D-Back’s baseball cap to the classics. The Mustangs, the Camaros, the Road Runners—those glorious, illogical, petrol-guzzling thunderboxes that smelled faintly of triumph and filling station musubi.

Those old classics may be museum pieces now. But once, those gleaming, glorious gas guzzlers were the kings of Route 66—and occasionally, the reason I could not hear the driver speaking for miles.

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Classic Car Shows

Today, very few of these classic behemoths are still cruising the highways. Route 66 is a historic bypass now. But fear not, muscle cars are not impossible to find. There is something almost holy about stumbling across a classic car show on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

When I wander around one, I am just thinking, “Maybe I’ll just have a quick look,” and four hours later I’m ankle-deep in stories from a man named “Mr. J”, who recounts how he once drag-raced a Plymouth Barracuda against his cousin’s tractor. He admits to losing the race, yet still tells the story to anyone (me) who’ll listen.

Modern car shows are not really about the cars. Oh sure, the chrome is dazzling, the hoods are popped like a Rockette’s knees, and the engines gleam prettier than a Bob Ross landscape. Some have air suspension that allows the lowrider to buck like a wild bronco. But the real magic is in the atmosphere. It is nostalgia, elbow grease, and a faint smell of Turtle Wax all simmering in the Arizona summer sun.

I do not just admire the spruced up classics—I admire the dedicated owners, who’ve somehow kept their buggies alive longer than most of their marriages.

Every show has at least one elderly fellow in blue jeans and a beer belly standing guard beside his lovingly restored ’63 Pontiac, who is both very proud and oddly protective, as if the car might drive off and do rubber burning donuts in a Tarantino movie. And there is always one pimpled teenage lad staring slack-jawed at a Corvair like it transported miraculously out of a “Grand Theft Auto’ video game.

And the names! The names! Back then, cars were named like rock bands or warships—Firebird, Cougar, El Camino. Modern cars are named like accounting software: XLE, UX, CR-V. At a car show, the names roar. They are stitched into seat backs and embossed on fenders, like badges from an age when your car told the world you had places to go and absolutely no identifiable intentions. Get Car. Get Girl. Go!

And yet, the crowds come. Young and old. Gearheads and daydreamers. Retired misfits and slightly sunburned Cowboys sipping something potent from a red solo cup. Because deep down, we all want to remember what it felt like when the road was ours, the music was rowdy, and the seatbelt laws were a nasty rumor.

Classic car shows remind me of an America where the engines were noisy, the styling was ridiculous, and somehow, everything felt a little more possible. We did not need Wi-Fi or keyless entry. We just needed a full tank of petrol, a groovy mixtape, and a dash that rattled with a purpose.

And if I’m very lucky, I’ll spot something like a ’57 Willys Wagoneer with a 287 Chevy Engine… just like my very first car. And for just a moment, I will believe again in the healing power of a V8 rumble and a badly tuned AM radio, with its 4-40 AC System pumping in the warm Arizona air (4 windows wide open, 40 miles an hour of hot Arizona air!).

My old Willys had broken windshield wipers. In a snowstorm driving to Flagstaff my sister had to manually pull the wiper cable so I could maintain vision. I doubt I could ever get her in one of my automobiles again, but that old car maintains a high degree of fondness for me to this day.

Now I am just a tad curious, what was the model’s name of your first car? And do you have a special fondness for that model to this day?

I’ll do the ‘math’ below, but we will have to add attending a classic car show to our ‘Destination Options’ should my buddy Neville visit the States again in a couple of years. The experience is an amazing way to touch base with our inner motor head spirit!

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Rent A Classic

I sought out options to rent an American Classic Muscle Car from the ’70s and found one site that offered classics. “Turo” brokers as a third-party site for individuals willing to rent out their personal cruisers.

I did find some interesting classics on their website available to rent, but for a cross-country adventure as envisioned by Neville and I, the prices would have been steep.

Here is an example:

So, I’ll put this idea on the back-burner for now, should I win the lottery…maybe I’ll give one of the muscly Turo Classics a try.

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Modern Retro Muscle

I’m not ruling the option of renting a classic muscle car out just yet. However, being aware of the various retro-muscle cars now in the market, I decided to investigate renting one of those as a variant on the rent-a-classic option Turo offers.

Today’s Ford Mustang looks like it bench-pressed all the old classic models, chugged a protein shake, and still had time to book a session with a makeover artist. It has the same sultry stare and sloped shoulders—but now it’s wearing Bluetooth and sporting cup holders. The classic ’65 ‘Stang? That was a car with a curl in its lip and a cigarette behind its ear. No power steering, no apologies. You drove it hard, or it drove you into an irrigation ditch.

The modern Chevrolet Camaro? It is like your old high school quarterback who grew up, got a sleeve tattoo, and now runs a CrossFit gym. Still powerful, still loud, but now with ambient lighting and lane departure warnings. Meanwhile, the old Camaro SS was basically a rolling dare. It vehemently chose not to whisper sweet nothings—it growled, belched, and occasionally caught fire. And we loved it for that.

And the Dodge Challenger? Today’s version is a chrome-plated brick with a grudge against the speed limit. It looks like it should come with a warning label and a lawyer. The 1970 original had lines like a mafia hitman’s suit—sleek, menacing, and just a little too wide to park anywhere respectfully. It did not handle curves so much as confront them.

This stark contrast is even more apparent when you consider the driving experience itself. So, I bummed a ride to the airport car rental and chose a Mustang for a day. Not the growly old-school one with a carburetor and a vinyl roof that smells like old baseball mitts—but the modern kind, all leather seats and mood lighting, with a push-button start that purrs like a satisfied tiger. It was “Gotta Have It’ green with a racing stripe, because subtlety is for a Tesla.

But not the Mustang. Oh no. It hugged the turns like it was in a long-term relationship with them. The exhaust barked joyfully at every curve, like a golden retriever finally let off-leash in the forest. I grinned like a teenager with a fake ID. Somewhere between Cottonwood and Jerome Arizona, the car and I reached an understanding: I’d give it the road, and it’d give me a little piece of 1970’s freedom wrapped in 2024 upholstery.

Appropriately, I cranked up some ’70’s style Springsteen to pull me back to my prime decade.

By the time I rolled into Jerome—engine warm, heart lighter, hot latte by my side—it felt like I had traveled back in time. Not back to the ’70s exactly, but to a state of mind where everything was a little wilder, the road was always calling, and the only real plan was “take the scenic way there.”

These modern retro-classics are a thrill and a joy to drive. I had a blast. Driving a retro classic made me feel like I was back on the ’70s road, screaming down the highway. Point me to old Route 66 and do not wait up for me!

Cheers, nca

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Destination Options: Classic Car Show

Here’s a ranking for adding a Classic Car Show to a future cross-country “Nick and Neville American Trek,” with factors rated on a scale of 1 (bad) to 10 (fantastic).
• Cost Factor: 10 – Most local car shows are free to attend. This is an outstanding way to spend an afternoon. Bring a camera!
• American Experience Factor: 10 – Muscle Cars!!! Need I say more!
• Social Interaction Factor: 10 – There are a variety of interesting folks to meet at any car show. Americana on steroids!
• UK Traveler Abroad Factor: 7 – Oh yes, there are Jaguars, Coopers, and Triumphs—oh my!
Overall Rating: 37. This moves to the top of the ‘destinations’ list. Certainly a must to take Neville to when he visits the states again!

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Transportation Options: Rent a Muscle Car
For Transportation options, I have used the following rating scale, with all factors on a scale of 1 (bad) to 10 (fantastic).
• Cost Factor: 5 – See the Turo Website for prices and availability. I did not find any fantastic deals there. For a one-time thrill, yes, please sign me up. However, if I rent one of the retro-classics, like a modern Ford Mustang or Chevy Camaro, the price is much more reasonable. My trip to Jerome for the day was under £60, and I used less than a tank of gas. The Ford Mustang 5.0L V-8 GT model gets 15 mpg in the city and 24 mpg on the highway with an automatic transmission.
• American Experience Factor: 10 – This is the very essence of Americana, friends. Full marks. This factor drops a few notches for the classic retros… not quite the true muscle experience. But still very cool indeed.
• Social Interaction Factor: 4 – Unless you pick up a hitchhiker, you are all on your own. And your engine roar will scare away any live critters you do not turn to roadkill.
• Efficiency/Safety: 4 – The pre-Ralph Nader classics, uh, no. These are missiles on wheels. The rating is only this high because I included the modern retro-classics in my calculation.
• UK Traveler Abroad Factor: 4 – Any Brit who has watched the films ‘Gone in 60 Seconds’ or ‘Bullitt’ can appreciate American muscle cars. But there’s very little British comfort you’ll achieve in these bad boys.
• Earth Friendliness Factor: 3 – A few points here for the modern retro-classics, but no one is worrying about the environment when they think of driving muscle cars.
Overall Rating: 26 – I think for a day or two of indulgence on our travels through the States, this may be a terrific plan. But certainly not a top contender for a daily means of getting around the country.

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Do you have any destinations or means of transportation you would like us to explore on this blog? Let us know in the comments below. Eventually, we are going to commence this ‘American Beagle’ journey in earnest, so our plans are still in the works! If you have suggestions and ideas, let Neville or I know.

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Cheers!