Why I Loved My 'Cuda
As a teenager, I daydreamed about driving a small European sports car through a Gymkhana club course—an MGB, a Triumph Spitfire, a Morgan roadster. In college, I got a little closer to sports cars by dating guys who owned and drove small foreign-made convertibles. I dated Peter who drove a cute red MG Midget and Jeff who had a maroon Austin Healey Bugeye Sprite that he tuned for racing. We sped around the same winding roads in Minnesota that Prince navigated on his Harley in the movie "Purple Rain." The piéce de résistance was getting a chance to drive Lonnie's father's silver Corvette Stingray coupe as it slid around corners on ice in Minnesota winter (even with 4-wheel disc brakes).
Finally, it was time to find my own sports car. I had discovered a used yellow VW Karmann Ghia that had few rust holes (from street salt) and still managed to sound as though it might make it through another Minnesota winter. But my dad thought otherwise. Instead, he offered to help me pull together a payment for a newer car. My father didn't want me stranded in a Ghia that wouldn't go when it was 20 below. I wanted a convertible. After working out a deal with the local dealership, where my family bought all of their cars—Plymouth RoadRunners, Dodge Chargers and Chrysler 300s—I ended up with a 1971 Plymouth Baracuda convertible.
The Baracuda had been on the market since 1964; Plymouth made them for 10 years. It was an American muscle car. The only one available to me was a Curious Yellow '71 'Cuda with white top that was powered by a 340 engine. (Plymouth also offered the Baracuda with 318-, a 383-, and 440-cubic-inch engines in addition to the 426 Hemi.) The interior was supreme: black vinyl bucket seats, a simulated wood steering wheel and shifter knob and a 4-speed manual transmission—perfect for peeling out.
My 'Cuda was a performance model built on a new shorter version of the B-Platform. Its near-twin was the Dodge Challenger, which had a slightly longer wheelbase. This car was no MGB, but it did take design cues from the Chevrolet Camaro and it packed power. Plus it was an eye-catcher in yellow with a white top. Dan Gurney and Swede Savage raced 'Cudas with 340 "6-pack" engines (three 2-barrel carburetors) in the Trans-Am Series.
I had great times taking off from stop lights on Lake Street in Minneapolis (the drag strip between the Twin Cities) to pull ahead of Mustangs, GTOs and tricked-out Dusters. I had the 'Cuda for two years, and then sold it to my brother, so I could go off to Austria for a year of German studies. He had the car for a year and then sold it. Recently, I found a yellow model for sale on eBay with an asking price of more than $185,000—now a collector's 'Cuda. I don't expect to own another muscle car or a foreign sporty convertible in the near future—but it certainly is fun to reminisce about and I still have photos of my Banana Cuda in a scrapbook.
