Oh Hollywood, you conjuror of myths, you teller of lies, you shaman of shamelessness, you inspirer and crusher of dreams, what have you done now? When entertainment and news mix so that Paris Hilton is on the local newscast while greater issues go reported only on film, when hour-long dramas feel more real than so-called reality TV, you know that the lines between fantasy and reality have done more than get fuzzy ’round the edges–they’ve passed each other and set down in each others’ camps.
Even the evocative Hollywood name, symbolic of dreams both achieved and shattered, is something of a fib: The town itself is largely a tourist trap surrounding the Kodak theater, much of its seedier underbelly having been cleaned up for tourists, while the film and TV studios themselves are dotted around the area in Culver City, Los Angeles proper and, obviously, Studio City.
So it should come as little surprise that a movie formed a dream that was quickly crushed by reality. It’s true: Austin Swanger was hooked on his DVD copy of Christine, Steven King’s story of unrequited love between a boy and his red 1958 Fury. Austin decided he needed to get him some-a that, and started researching. “I soon learned that a Fury was way out of my price range, not to mention being very rare. They never came in red either, only Sanddune white in 1957 and Buckskin beige in 1958.” So even if he could afford the right car, he’d still have to have it painted. Another Hollywood-fueled ambition, shattered?
Not quite. The good news was that Austin wasn’t about to give up so easily, or let reality get the better of him. His research turned up the notion that, in the late ’50s, there wasn’t the wide range of sizes you had even a few years later: the Plaza, Savoy and Belvedere weren’t as plush or swift or well-trimmed as the Fury, but to modern teenage eyes, they looked just as cool–and cost less to boot.
“I also learned of the many similarities the 1957 Plymouths had with the ’58s. I had never realized how many unique features Chrysler Corp. products had during those years–push-button gear selectors, torsion bars, etc.” And just like that, Austin’s prospects went from depressingly slim to fairly good.
So Austin, now 16 and in possession of a driver’s license, posted a want-ad on a couple of specialist Web sites, including www.forwardlook.net, which specializes in exactly the sort of Mopars the name indicates it might. In short order, he was contacted by an in-state owner who was looking to move his Savoy two-door club sedan along to a new home. “It wasn’t a Fury, nor was it a 1958, but it was close enough for me and close enough to home that I could get her.”
And so for the monstrous sum of $6,000, which brought home an entire Belvedere parts car, a ton of NOS parts and an extra 318-cu.in. Poly V-8, Austin had his finny, forward-look flier.
The 67,000-mile original was, as Austin tells it, “a base-model dealer lot car” and was completely original: faded Jet Black paint, the 230-cu.in. flathead Powerflow Six and a push-button Powerflite two-speed automatic, along with a radio, heater, side mirror and not much else. “She was rust-free and drove fine,” he says. “She wasn’t made for speed, but I didn’t mind.”
Two years on, the Savoy has an impressive 83,000 miles on the clock. “I drive my Plymouth every day, to school (South Caldwell High in Hudson, North Carolina), to the store, anywhere, anytime, any weather. This is my daily driver, and I always get stares and questions everywhere I go.”
One of those questions was about the blue smoke puffing out the tailpipe. “I drove the Plymouth with the flathead six for over a year; the engine basically was a 5.5-cylinder because one exhaust valve had a chunk missing, and boy, did she love oil. But I’ve never been left stranded. Once I blew a head gasket on the way to my uncle’s house, halfway into a one-hour drive…I finished the trip on three cylinders, and replaced the head gasket at his place.”
The answer? “I bought a 1964 Dodge out of a junkyard, removed the Poly 318 engine and Torqueflite three-speed transmission, and in July 2007, with the help of my uncle, we swapped out the old flathead six/Powerflite with the Poly 318/Torqueflite.” Note that, of the possible Mopar V-8 engines Austin could have stepped into–LA 318s, 360s, even an errant 273–he went with a period-correct (if not date-correct) choice.
“We also swapped the low-ratio six-cylinder rearend with a higher-ratio V-8 rear to reduce engine rpm at highway speeds and save gas,” he says. Beyond the V-8 conversion, “I kept everything as original as possible, including keeping the shifter push-buttons.”
Improvements have come slowly. “This past fall, I asked a friend to paint the car black again for me, I replaced the weatherstripping, I had the interior cloth reupholstered, and I painted the original vinyl on the seats and door panels.”
Yet for someone who can’t seem to stay still and who piles on the miles with wild abandon, Austin reports that “everyone knows me due to the fact that I have such an unusual car, especially at school.”
Sometimes, when you’re really lucky, real life surpasses reel life.
