To pass some time the day before the funeral we decided to take a drive with Aunt Helen to look at some property she owned in a scenic rural area near Gold Hill, Oregon, about 15 miles east of Grants Pass. On 10 acres of rolling land, among stands of oak and pine trees and thick blueberry bushes, was a small, secluded vacation house with a mobile home alongside. Aunt Helen kept the house for vacationing family members and at times rented out the mobile. In years gone by, while our boys were growing up, our vacations consisted of flying to Oregon and using the house and the old car Aunt Helen kept there, but that had not happened for some time. Aunt Helen herself had not seen the property for many years.
In April 1995 neither the house nor the car, still sitting in the open carport, was particularly pretty. Neither had been used or cared for in years.
The car was the 1968 Dodge Dart that had belonged to my late grandfather, Aunt Helen's brother.
Various Dart models had distinct personalities -- there was the racy GTS and the plain-Jane four-door econobox -- but my grandfather's was the businessman's Dart. It was the '270' two-door hardtop model, with just enough chrome to look 'finished' without being gaudy. The exterior was light yellow with a black vinyl top; the interior was black vinyl. Under the hood was the competent but conservative 225 Slant Six with three-speed automatic, and, appropriate for the climate of its Southern California home, factory air conditioning. Fender-mounted turn signal indicators added an upscale look.
My grandfather, a life insurance salesman, had purchased the Dart new at Reseda Dodge in the San Fernando Valley. He used it as his business car for nine years, putting some 90,000 miles on it. When he bought a new car in 1977 he sold the Dart to Aunt Helen, and from that time the Dart sat in the carport, driven only once or twice a year. As best we could figure, it had not been driven at all since 1988.
As we surveyed the property Aunt Helen observed that our son, Matt, had just turned 16 and had a new driver's license. She asked Matt if he would be interested in the Dart as a gift. Matt, whose eclectic interests run from girls to Shakespearean theatre to girls to disco music to girls to Star Wars and back to girls, thought the Dart would be the perfect car to be seen around town in. My wife and I liked the idea of Matt driving a solid, large (by today's standards) car, with the type of performance and styling that did not suggest speeding tickets and high insurance premiums. So the deal was done.
Getting the Dart running to get it back home to California was another matter. Aunt Helen felt that since the car ran "perfectly" the last time she drove it (which was during the Reagan Administration) all it should need is air in the tires. Matt and I knew better, but we smiled and nodded anyway.
The original paint looked to be in reasonably good shape under its thick coat of dust, having been stored out of the sun if not out of the moisture. There were a couple of minor dents and some parking lot rash on the right side (the boorish former tenant in the mobile home used the Dart as a doorstop for his car). The body seemed remarkably free of rust. The original vinyl seats had only minor tears in the back, and the vinyl roof was beginning to show some cracking but was still intact.
We returned to California with the Dart still in the Gold Hill carport, but now with a promise of a new life. My father lived close enough to the Dart that he was able to arrange for some basic reconditioning work, and donated the cost as a birthday gift to Matt. His next door neighbor, coincidentally, was a mechanic and weekend racer who at that time was in the process of squeezing a 440 into another 1968 Dart, so he seemed the logical candidate to do the work.
Six weeks later, with new rubber, new fluids, new radiator and battery, the Slant Six started on the first turn of the key. After a few short shakedown drives and a massage with Meguiar's and a polish rag, the Dart was ready for its return to California.
The twelve-hour drive back to L.A. on June 7, 1995, was uneventful, and surprisingly comfortable. I'm over six-foot three, and the Dart's driver's seat fit well, though I would have wished for a headrest. The factory- installed AM-only radio sounded great while cruising down I-5 with all the windows down, showing off the hardtop lines to their best advantage.
The biggest surprise was the Dart's stable highway ride, smoothing out roadway seams and irregularities like a luxury car, nothing like the busy, erratic ride of a "modern" economy car. In town, though, the car cornered like a parade float on its small tires.
For the next year Matt drove the Dart extensively, including another long-distance jaunt when we moved from L.A. to Washington State in August 1995. I cannot say the Dart was trouble-free over that year, for the ravages of time and long inactivity had taken their toll on moving parts all over the car. Wheels, bearings, axles, starter, brakes and trunk lid spring all clamored for attention, many of them repeatedly.
Most worrisome was the growing puddle of oil on the ground under the Dart's engine. We hoped it was just a large, untapped underground crude oil deposit seeping up through the asphalt at just that spot, but that seemed unlikely. Though the engine ran smoothly and strongly, it became increasingly clear that we had six slanted, corrosion-scored cylinders. Prodigious amounts of oil were being pumped out the breather and into the air filter. Finally we bit the bullet and in June 1996 we had Steve Asher rebuild the engine at his surgically-clean shop in Washougal, Washington.
Symbolic of the car's fresh start with its rebuilt engine, the odometer clicked over from 99,999 to [1]00,000 during the eight-mile drive home from the rebuild shop.
The car is still original cosmetically, except that the torn back seat and vinyl roof have now been repaired and restored to original appearance.
Parts have been relatively easy to come by, with one glaring exception. We needed a new heater control unit. This Dart was one of the few '68s built with factory air conditioning, so although we have not rebuilt the A/C (with the current unavailability of Freon, why bother?), it needed the five-button control unit, not the three- button version used on the non-air-conditioned Darts. Searches of junkyards all over the Portland Metro area were unsuccessful. The part was finally obtained from a mail order house in Ohio.
The car is running well now, and with all the work (and money) recently heaped upon it, it should continue to do so for many years. Matt still is the primary driver, but I take a turn driving it to work whenever I can.
The Dart is an heirloom of family history. I showed Matt the discoloration on the headlight switch, where I recalled that his great-grandfather had customarily parked his used chewing gum.
Someday Matt may move on and want to drive something else. Honestly, I hope he does. I want to keep the Dart!