Plymouth didn’t engineer the 1970 Hemi ‘Cuda to be reasonable. They engineered it to make anyone within earshot understand exactly where they stood in the hierarchy.

Plymouth built one of the rarest and most technically audacious muscle cars of 1967, shoved a 383 big-block into a car that had no business carrying it, and somehow made it work. History forgot about it anyway.

There’s a reason certain men develop what amounts to a spiritual relationship with an old American V8. It’s not about horsepower numbers or quarter-mile times. It’s about something that runs a lot deeper than that.

The debate between keeping a classic car bone stock and tearing it apart for a resto-mod isn’t really about the car. It’s about what you actually want to do with it.

There’s a whole class of American car that never made the glossy magazine covers, never got the restoration budget, and never got the respect, until somebody figured out you could get a twenty-foot land yacht for three grand and have the coolest thing in the parking lot.

An electric motor does its job perfectly and leaves you completely unmoved. A big block at idle is doing something else entirely — and I’m not sure that something has a practical name.

I’ve owned a handful of cars worth remembering and a few I’d rather forget. The one that still follows me around wasn’t the fastest or the prettiest. It just felt like something.