mod@tech

“Dad was a Mopar guy,” Cedar Springs, Michigan’s Rich Straub says about his late father, Carl. “He bought a ’64 Polara new, a 383 car, then he bought a new ’65 Dodge Coronet 500. He didn’t like the ’66 and ‘67s, but when the Dart GTS came out, he really liked it.”

Dodge’s compact A-body Dart had a GT package since its 1963 launch, but this was little more than bucket seats and some trim. For 1968, the new top-of-the-line Dart GTS (or GT Sport, as it’s sometimes known) was also treated to stiffer Rallye suspension, a low-restriction air cleaner, chromed exhaust tips, a bumblebee stripe on the tail, a power-bulge hood, plus all of the other spiffs that came with the GT, including bucket seats, styled wheel covers, and full-width trunk trim brightwork.

While the original 340 is in the garage for safe keeping, this replacement 340 has been prepped for the Pure Stock drags, including 11.25:1 compression, Ross pistons, a stock-lift cam with faster ramp speed, and more.Photo by Matthew Litwin

The heart of the GTS was the new-for-1968 340-cubic-inch V-8. Well, new-ish: While the displacement was new, its bones dated back to Chrysler’s “A” engine family of the mid-’50s. Its replacement, the LA engine, launched in 1964, and weighed 55 pounds less thanks to new thin-wall casting techniques, despite having the same external dimensions and bore centers. The LA 273 and the A-series 318 “Poly” shared a crankshaft (and thus stroke — 3.31 inches). Poly heads went away, and the wedge-head 273 gave way to the 318 for the 1968 model year, retaining the 3.31-inch stroke but enlarging the bore to 3.91.

For the hot 340-cube version, Chrysler used a still-larger 4.04 bore in order to encourage deep breathing at high rpm. A suite of upgrades followed, including high-flowing heads with 2.02/1.60-inch valves, a forged steel crank, a specific carburetor on a high-rise dual-plane intake, dual-row timing chain, and a windage tray. Its light weight helped handling, and in an A-body it provided 383-B-body-sized time slips at the track. The 340 was rated at 275 horsepower, but word on the street was that it was good for 50 more than that. For the third year, a version of the B-series 383 V-8 was also available in the Dart GTS, rated at 300 hp for ‘69. Carl’s car was a 1969 383/automatic example and came with some documentation that showed that it had actually been used at the Chrysler proving grounds. “It had some miles when he bought it,” Rich recalls. “He didn’t like the whitewall tires it had on it at the dealership, so they swapped on the redline tires (and wheels) from a new Barracuda they had on the lot.” That car didn’t last long, though, and Rich was young enough that he didn’t remember it coming and going — he only knew of the Dart anecdotally. “I know that he was discouraged with it — it had some spark issues and he ended up selling it.

Photo by Matthew Litwin

He always complained about having to put plugs in it.” Decades later, “my brother and I decided we’d find him one.” Rich finally found one in Hemmings Motor News, located not far from him in southern Michigan. “It was a great candidate; someone else brought it from Southern California. We got it for $4,000. It was running poorly when we got it; the intake manifold gasket had popped into the valley. We also rebuilt the carb and four-wheel-drum brakes, and changed the cam. The interior was pretty baked from being in California, so we found a dashpad, replaced the headliner, and installed a Legendary interior. We repainted it the original B2 Blue. It didn’t have any rust. It came with bumper guards, and Dad didn’t like those, so when we got the bumpers re-chromed, they removed the guards and welded up the holes before plating. We located some NOS parts for it back when they were easier to find. It was easy to make the car presentable and to put it together.” It arrived with power steering and air conditioning, both of which were shelved thanks to their excess weight. Full wheelcovers were swapped out for a set of red-ring Dodge “dog-dish” caps on body-colored steelies.

A blue Legendary interior replaced the tatty, sunbaked original in the early 1990s and remains presentable today. Floor-shifted automatic encourages consistency.Photo by Matthew Litwin

“And Dad drove it like that for years,” Rich says, though he doesn’t mean that his father was soft-pedaling it down to the local car show. “When he raced it at the Pure Stock drags, it had the original 100,000-plus-mile 340 in it. Oh, and we put 3.55 gears in it. And he was running 14.30s at 98 mph — the transmission was soft, the engine wasn’t rebuilt, and the Pure Stock rules were stricter back then, too.” Carl was having fun, but Rich admits, “He wasn’t lighting the world on fire.” You’d think that after life with a 383 Dart, a 340 would seem somehow less, but… “Dad didn’t have an issue with the smaller engine — the plugs were easier to change! Plus, I’d built and run enough 340s that it was a well-running engine.”

After a decade or more of fun, though, including entrancing his granddaughter Adriana with rides in that very Dart, Carl found himself in a position where he needed to sell. It went to a buyer half an hour’s distance away, but save for once at a local car show, the Straubs never saw the Dart again.

Time marched on, and Carl passed away. Rich’s daughters were teenagers and rapidly approaching driving age — not to mention their growing interest in their dad’s activities at the track. It was Adriana’s idea to try and find her grandpa’s Dart to bring it back into the fold. A search, launched in 2017, was far more easily accomplished with modern technology; the Straubs discovered that the Dart was more or less where they had left it. “As it turns out, the guy who bought it from us got cancer shortly after he bought the Dart and couldn’t drive it anymore, then he passed. He’d only driven it 400 miles, and all those years later the Dart was still sitting there at his house.”

Photo by Matthew Litwin

So, in 2017, Rich made a deal and brought it home to Cedar Springs. He found himself going through a car that he’d already gone through more than a quarter-century earlier. “We ended up doing the fuel tank — it sat around long enough that the fuel system got all gummed up and we had to change things to get it running.” The four-wheel-drum brakes were also re-serviced at this time. “I wanted to assess the engine and transmission; after I drove it, I didn’t think that much had changed.”

By now, enough time had passed that a Dart GTS, particularly one with its numbers-matching driveline intact, was a valuable commodity. If Rich intended to prep it for track duty, he’d need to build an engine that took advantage of a revised Pure Stock rulebook. Out went the original 340 to be stashed; in went a prepped mill with attention paid to what Rich initially mentions in passing as “details.” When pressed, he reveals: “The new rules allow an additional 3⁄4 of a point of compression, so we got rid of the cast pistons and have a set of 11.25:1 Ross pistons; high-quality pistons are where it’s at in the swing assembly. That’s a lot of what makes it snappy. We’re also using thinner wrist pins, as well as file-fit piston rings instead of just slapping on a set of rings and hoping the end gaps aren’t too big.”

The heads were also addressed. “We did some port work and cleaned up the bowls a little. But we’re using Chevy valves instead of Chrysler valves; they’re still stainless 2.02-inch valves in the heads, but the stems on a Chevy valve are thin, plus you can open up a catalog and find 50 sets of Chevy valves to choose from. Choices for Chrysler valves are a lot more limited. And so, we also have different guides in the heads. We’re not violating the rules with any of this,” Rich says, “we’re only violating our pocketbooks.

Photo by Matthew Litwin

”Tickling those valves is a Bob Karakashian “Mr. Six Pack” camshaft. “It’s got the same profile as stock, but with a faster ramp speed. The engine responded really well to that cam.” The rear end now runs strip-friendly 4.30 gearing. For safety’s sake, the front drums have been swapped out for a set of factory-spec disc brakes.

The suspension is similarly simple but clever. “You’re not supposed to run 90/10 front shocks, so they’re just completely worn. There’s a set of 50/50 shocks in back; we loosened up the anti-sway bar so there’s no resistance in the front, so it throws the weight on the rear tires; we also pop a little weight in the trunk. We use six-cylinder torsion bars too — the thinnest bar is the one to use. It’s a little wonky to drive it down the road like this,” but Adriana’s quarter-mile time slips — 12.90s in cool air — confirm that it works on the quarter-mile.

Photo by Matthew Litwin

Along with Adriana driving the Dart, the other members of Rich’s family have gotten involved with the Pure Stock drags as well — wife Carolyn runs either a ’71 Hemi Super Bee or a survivor ’69 Coronet R/T, and younger daughter Caroline runs a ’72 Demon 340. Indeed, Rich is so busy prepping the ladies’ cars in the pits that he didn’t have the bandwidth to run a car himself in 2022. “I’m changing carb jets in one car while someone’s whispering in my ear to work on another one… I was busy enough. But watching my wife and kids having fun doing something that I’ve done forever… I don’t even care that I’m not out there racing. I enjoy watching them out there more than I enjoy doing it myself.”

When the Dart isn’t out campaigning, the Straubs are positively evangelical about the joy of old cars. “We sponsor a car show here in Cedar Springs, and the Dart is out there every other weekend. We’re always trying to get kids involved.” But tougher than getting kids into it is getting adults to believe what this Dart GTS is capable of. “It’s been to MCACN a few times, in the Pure Stock display. [Whether there or at our local show] lots of people walk away not believing how fast it is.” You can almost hear Rich shrug over the phone. “The timeslips are there. People can watch the videos on YouTube. But it’s not much to look at under the hood, I guess. A turquoise engine and exhaust manifolds just aren’t that ashy.” They’re not, but they would have made Carl, a Mopar guy, proud.

SPECIFICATIONS

PRICE

Base price: $3,226

Options on car profiled: Air conditioning (removed), $361; power steering (removed), $33

ENGINE

Block type: Chrysler LA-series OHV V-8, cast-iron block and cylinder heads

Displacement: 340 cubic inches

Bore x stroke: 4.04 inches x 3.31 inches

Compression ratio: 10.5:1 (Currently 11.25:1)

Horsepower @ rpm: 275 @ 5,000

Torque @ rpm: 340 lb-ft @ 3,200

Camshaft: 430/.444-in lift, 268/276 degrees duration (stock)

Valvetrain: Hydraulic valve lifters

Main bearings: 5

Fuel system: Carter AVS four-barrel carburetor

Lubrication system: Pressure, gear-type pump

Electrical system: 12-volt

Exhaust system: High-flow exhaust manifolds and dual exhaust

TRANSMISSION

Type: Chrysler 727 Torqueflite three-speed automatic

Ratios: 1st/2.45:1 … 2nd/1.45:1 … 3rd/1.00:1 … Reverse/2.57:1

DIFFERENTIAL

Type: Mopar 8 3 ⁄4 housing with Sure-Grip limited-slip differential

Ratio: 3.55:1 (Currently 4.30:1)

STEERING

Type: Manual recirculating ball

Ratio: 24:1

Turning circle: 38.7 feet

BRAKES

Type: Hydraulic

Front: 10-in drum (Currently 10.79-in optional disc) Rear: 10-in drum

SUSPENSION

Front: Independent, unequal length control arms, six-cylinder torsion bars, worn telescoping shock absorbers

Rear: Semi-elliptic leaf springs; telescoping shock absorbers

WHEELS & TIRES

Wheels: Stamped steel, drop-center Front/Rear: 14 x 5.5 inches

Tires: Goodyear Wide Tread, red stripe Front/Rear: E70-14

PRODUCTION

Dodge built 6,700 Dart GTS hardtops for the 1969 model year.

PERFORMANCE

0-60 mph: n/a sec

1/4-mile ET: 12.9 sec @ 106 mph*

* Source: owner timeslips

Have you ever met anyone who didn’t like The Andy Griffith Show? If so, did they seek counsel and treatment for their affliction? It would be warranted. The show aired from October 1960 through April 1968, a span of almost eight years that encompassed 249 half-hour episodes of life in the fictitious small town of Mayberry, North Carolina, loosely based on Andy Griffith’s Mt. Airy, North Carolina, hometown. Andy Griffith played the role of widowed Sheriff Andy Taylor, assisted by his bumbling but well-intentioned deputy, Barney Fife, played by Don Knotts. Andy and his son Opie (played by a young Ron Howard) lived with Andy’s Aunt Bee, played by actress Frances Bavier.

And speaking of Ms. Bavier, did you know she was a life-long Studebaker customer? She was!

Ms. Bavier passed away December 6, 1989 at her home in Siler City, North Carolina. At the time of her death, she still owned the last new Studebaker she ever bought, a 1966 Studebaker Daytona two-door Sports Sedan. Although it had deteriorated somewhat from not being driven as they both aged, the car exists today, having been purchased from her estate in 1990 by a Studebaker enthusiast.

“Aunt Bee’s” 1966 Studebaker was a six-cylinder Daytona, identified as model 66S-F8 on this Retail Sale Card from The Studebaker National Museum. Before the 1981 model year standardized 17-digit Vehicle Identification Numbers (VINs), vehicles had simple Serial Numbers. Note that Ms. Bavier’s car carried Serial Number C131698.

The car’s Production Order indicates it was Algonquin Green with a black vinyl top, the same color combination as the 1966 Daytona Sports Sedan featured in the 1966 Studebaker full-line brochure. Her Daytona, however, had a black vinyl bucket seat interior, rather than the white vinyl interior in the brochure car.

Ms. Bavier’s 1966 Daytona was built on October 18, 1965, but records indicate it remained unsold and in stock at Johnson Motor Sales in Santa Barbara, California, when Studebaker discontinued automobile production on March 17, 1966. (South Bend, Indiana, Studebaker production ended on December 31, 1963. The remaining production of model year 1964 automobiles and all 1965 and 1966 Studebakers were assembled in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.)

The Retail Sale Card indicates she bought the car from the largest Studebaker dealer on the west coast, Frost & French in Los Angeles. Unsubstantiated rumor has it that Frost & French went up and down the west coast buying leftover new Studebakers from smaller, marginal dealers after production ceased in Hamilton. The principals at Frost & French (including then-owner W. L. Bibens, who sold Ms. Bavier her Daytona) must have thought they had a good customer base who would want to buy one last new Studebaker now that passenger vehicle production was truly coming to an end.

Frances Bavier was one of those customers. She didn’t buy her Daytona until June 14, 1966, almost three months after the last Studebaker had been built. It is known that she was driving a 1962 Studebaker Lark at the time, so she may have wanted to replace it, although she apparently did not trade it in.

Regardless, she knew Studebaker was out of business. In fact, in a November 6, 1972, letter to a Studebaker Drivers Club member in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, she testified, “I’ve driven Studebakers for 40 years —all kinds, all models — and no other car. Watching the pictures of the closing of the factory, I did indeed weep!’’

Ms. Bavier, as Aunt Bee, may be seen driving her 1966 Studebaker Daytona in at least one Mayberry R.F.D. episode, the show that continued the Mayberry theme after The Andy Griffith Show ceased production. The episode entitled “The Mynah Bird” has extensive footage of her in the car… and since it is in color, the car’s hues are apparent.

Frances Bavier’s gravestone reads, “To live in the hearts of those left behind is not to die.” Those are good thoughts for today. Regarding “Aunt Bee’s” preferred automobiles, as the late Paul Harvey would say, “Now you know the rest of the story.”

My wife and I were recently waiting to board a plane to our vacation destination. As I looked around the departure lounge, I noticed a group of high schoolers in cheerleader uniforms sitting together on the floor, but none of them were talking to one another. Instead, they were staring at their cell phones. Some seemed to be playing video games judging from their twitching hand movements, and others were watching videos or gossiping with friends remotely. They were physically present, but none of them were there.

It seems that being immersed in reality these days is something to be dreaded. For some, it’s boring or scary. They think it is better to watch a movie about a gruesome murder, or eavesdrop on a fictional couple squabbling endlessly to sort out a neurotic relationship, than to be confined to an unscripted, unchoreographed world, even though it is the only one that actually exists.

We are almost all guilty of it these days—even when we are driving to work or visit friends and relatives in our hermetically sealed cocoons. The auto manufacturers have added a plethora of cheap electronic distractions to new cars, which has reduced driving to looking out the windshield now and then to make sure we are on the right road and not too close to the car in front of us. We can blast along an eight-lane freeway at 80 miles per hour with very little idea of what the external reality might be.

Elon Musk and his team of electro-wizards at Tesla are even trying to come up with self-driving cars, though they seem to have a few bugs to iron out yet. At this point you might ask, “What will that get us?” Well . . . just this: You won’t have to tear yourself away from your favorite electronic addiction to go shopping or visit your mother-in-law. You can just send your Tesla. Until then, you will still have to kiss grandma hello before turning on her TV to watch Jeopardy.

Gone are the days when my dad, in his ancient 1947 Chevrolet Fleetline, would take us for a nice sunny Sunday drive, going nowhere in particular but having a memorable adventure nonetheless. The old Chevy had no air conditioning, so we rolled down the windows and we could smell the ocean and the pepper and eucalyptus trees—maybe even reach out and pull off a few leaves, too.

Yes, there was an AM radio that took several minutes to warm up. It was used mostly to listen to the news now and then. We didn’t have GPS either, but we picked up very user-friendly free maps at gas stations. They required no electrical power, and once unfolded, were instantly readable.

Driving slowly and taking in the scenery was pleasant, and it was easy to pull off a two-lane highway to get an ice cream or hot dog. In Southern California, there was even a roadside alligator farm where you could behold those fearsome creatures, and if you were crazy enough, buy them as pets.

My father’s old Fleetline was part of the family. Of course, it needed regular attention, such as oil changes every 1,000 miles and tune-ups every 10,000 miles, but those chores were easy enough, and doing them gave you a feeling of self-reliance and security. And because the car was a family member, when you got rid of it, it was a sad day, even if you replaced it with a newer one. Though in that case, you made a special day out of it by taking pictures next to it and taking everybody for a ride around the block to celebrate.

What does all of this have to do with the old-car hobby, you ask? Just this: Many of us cherish restoring and collecting old cars because they help center us in reality, and make us look at the world as it really is and remember how it really was. Someday it may all be gone; in the meantime, we want to savor it.

So, if you will excuse me, it’s Sunday and I am going to take my wife, Bette, for a cruise along the ocean, and maybe we will stop at an ice cream shop or taco stand, grab a snack, and listen to the surf roll in. I often miss reality and want to get away from carefully crafted illusions on my iPhone, computer, or TV that intend to sell me superfluous products or ideas.

A wise individual once said: “Life is a gift. Don’t leave it unopened.” So why not grab your spouse and go for a cruise next Sunday? And if you see a black 1940 La Salle Series 52 coupe heading your way at a sedate speed, be sure to wave. We might just connect in a way we never imagined.

I think we sometimes forget that Henry J. Kaiser’s original intention when entering the automobile business after World War II was to build a small family car of high quality at a price nearly anyone could afford. Kaiser talked about building a modern Model A, a great car at a low price. Before he teamed up with Joseph Frazer to form Kaiser-Frazer Corporation, Mr. Kaiser had his West Coast-based engineers working on several small-car design projects. They weren’t automotive engineers, so some of the prototypes were strange little two-passenger jobs that looked like something you’d see at a circus or a bumper-car ring. Others were more conventional, though much smaller than a standard-size car. Kaiser’s engineers were talented, though, and they tried a variety of innovative approaches to lowering the cost of building a car. However, in the end they came to realize what the Big Three automakers already knew: When you try to take cost out of a car, its content and product appeal go down a lot faster than expenses.

So, Kaiser-Frazer ended up building medium- and high-priced cars instead, which they did successfully—at first. But the dream of building a “modern Model A” persisted, and by 1949 K-F engineers were back at it. They decided to base the new car on a prototype built by auto supplier AMP Corp. It was a stark, unappealing two-door sedan on a 100-inch wheelbase. Designer Dutch Darrin altered some of its lines to give the design more flair, though in the end writer Tom McCahill said it looked like a Cadillac that started smoking at a young age.

Back then, it was considered crucial that the new small car was priced low, because car prices had been traditionally determined by size; the bigger the car, the more expensive it was. A little car was supposed to carry a small price tag, period. It may have been of good quality, provided a smoother ride, and offered better cornering stability; regardless, if it was small it had to be cheap. Nash got around this “rule” by loading its Rambler with $300 worth of custom accessories at no charge while simultaneously offering the car in the most expensive body styles. Only later would it bring out a low-priced two-door sedan simply because it was necessary to first produce the sales volume the Rambler needed to survive.

Part of the cost-reduction problem is the difficulty of decreasing labor costs. See, installing a fender or door takes about the same time whether it’s on a Kaiser Manhattan or a Henry J. So, even though labor was a significant part of a car’s cost, the Kaiser engineers had to resort to de-contenting the car to reduce costs. On a 1950’s base car there was not much one could eliminate without hurting product appeal—remember that even heaters and AM radios were optional.

One thing the engineers did with the Henry J was eliminate the trunk lid, forcing people to access the space via the folding rear seat. That went over like liverwurst casserole on your birthday. In fact, a big cause of the Henry J’s failure was that it was cheapened too far. Missing were things most people considered essential, like the trunk lid, glovebox (buyers got little pouches on the passenger side instead), fresh-air ventilation, and gauges for amps and oil that were replaced by warning lamps. For all that, the basic Henry J was only about $50 cheaper than a full-size Chevy, which had a functional trunk lid and a proper glovebox. Additionally, the Henry J’s fastback styling soon fell out of date.

Sadly, Kaiser-Frazer stylists had mocked up a variety of Henry J proposals using the same basic body, though tweaked to provide a better appearance. There was a hardtop with a conventional trunk and Nash-style reverse slope C-pillars; a fastback sedan with a “Traveler-style” hatchback door; a neat convertible built by a dealer; and my favorite, a two-door sedan with a conventional roofline and rear trunk—it was the size of a Nash Rambler sedan, but much more handsome.

In the end, Henry Kaiser didn’t create a “modern Model A” as he’d hoped. By being forced to focus almost exclusively on cutting the price of the small car as far as they could, the small sedan was stripped of so many basic features that it was perceived as a car for poor people. And as history has shown, no car with that reputation can succeed for long. Remember the Yugo?

Overview

The story is epic. Carroll Shelby’s raw, race-ready G.T. 350 broke cover in 1965, setting the stage for a stampede of Shelby American-modded Mustangs to come. The first Shelbyfied ponies crowded winner’s circles and attracted buyers to Ford showrooms but, over the course of the Shelby G.T.’s five-model-year run, the cars transformed from racers into stylish muscle cars. One thing was clear, however, as the curtain drew to a close and the house lights came up in 1970—the audience was calling out for more Shelby G.T.s.

A cult-like following developed in the ensuing decades—curated and cultivated in no small part by diehards in the Shelby American Automobile Club—and today, all of the Shelby Mustangs through 1970 are hot commodities among collectors. Yes, the purest of the breed are the original G.T. 350s, but the later cars make up for their lack of racing chops with unmatched style and a Shelby pedigree. The best road-going Shelby Mustangs, and the ones most deserving of the grand tourer moniker? It has to be the G.T. 500s with their big-cubic-inch power and more luxurious appointments.

The G.T. 500 story began with the ’67 Ford Mustangs, which were larger, heavier, yet more polished than their predecessors. Plus, there was also more space between the front shock towers for Ford’s FE-series V-8 engines. To give the G.T. 500 more might than a 390-powered Mustang, Shelby went to the Ford parts bin and pulled out the 428, then topped it with dual carbs and some racy-looking finned-aluminum trim pieces.

But the ’67 model year also marked a turning point in the production of the Shelby-tuned Mustangs. These cars weren’t shipped to Shelby American for full makeovers with competition chassis and engines; instead, they were given some more conventional tweaks and a full-tilt Shelby styling treatment. Shelby American installed a new fiberglass hood with scoops, air intakes on the quarters reminiscent of the GT40 race cars, and an aggressive fiberglass nose with added lights as well as a ’glass tail piece. Inside, there was a roll bar with inertia-reel shoulder harnesses, a wood steering wheel, stylized interior trim, and full instrumentation that included an 8,000- rpm tach and 140-mph speedometer.

For ’68 there were refinements as well as cosmetic updates and the legendary G.T. 500 KR arrived mid-year, powered by the 428 Cobra Jet. Notably, however, production shifted away from Shelby American to A.O. Smith in Michigan and a rift between Shelby and Ford over the Mustang program widened.

The ’69 Shelby G.T.s were sort of “Shelby by association” and given a distinctive makeover by Ford stylists with custom fiberglass and plastic body parts. They were bigger and heavier than ever, and a major departure from the Shelby-American-made ’65 originals, but they definitely stood out—even in a market packed with flamboyant muscle cars. These cars also marked the end of the Shelby/Mustang line (for a while) as the ’70 editions were ’69s updated with 1970 VINs.

So where does all of this leave the aspiring ’69-’70 Shelby G.T. 500 owner today? The ’69-’70 editions might be the most approachable of the breed, but they’re still six-figure cars. We’ve seen nice-looking fastbacks change hands at auction for $100,000-$120,000 recently while convertibles have commanded $130,000-$150,000. Meanwhile, popular price guides are more optimistic setting the average price of a fastback at $150,000 and a convertible at $190,000. Over the last three years on Hemmings.com, the average asking price of a 1969 G.T. 500 (convertibles and coupes) was $155,000. The highest asking price was $220,000 while the lowest asking price was $88,000. In that same period, the average asking price of a 1970 G.T. 500 was $160,000 with a high of $200,000 and a low of $130,000.

These cars qualify as low production, which helps boost their values. SAAC data says there were 1,157 1969 G.T. 500 fastbacks and 214 convertibles built. For 1970, there were just 380 fastbacks and 90 convertibles. Despite that scarcity, these cars turn up for sale regularly. As of this writing, on Hemmings.com, there were five 1969s listed and two 1970s. Among the group was a fastback with an unusual Grabber Green exterior over white interior color combination, reported to be a one-owner, unrestored car and driven just over 26,000 miles. The listing price by a private seller was $175,000. All that said, values for these cars have only begun to regain their pre-2008 financial crash highs, and it’s hard to say how much they’ll appreciate over the coming decades. Traditional buyers of these cars are well into retirement and perhaps not as interested in owning their dream muscle car as they once were.

Still, if your pockets run deep enough to afford the price of admission, this is a great way into the cult of Carroll Shelby. The 1969-’70 G.T. 500s are beautifully styled and can offer miles and miles of quality grand touring time.

Body

The 1969-’70 Shelby G.T.s were based on the production Mustang yet, through the magic of glass fiber and resin, they looked completely different. The ducted front fenders? Fiberglass. Scooped, ducted hood? Fiberglass. Trunk lid and rear taillamp surround? Fiberglass and more fiberglass.

The custom bodywork on the Shelby made it almost 4 inches longer than a Mustang, and the makeover required about two-dozen unique parts in total. The Shelby G.T.’s roof, quarter panels, doors, and floors are shared Mustang sheetmetal stampings. So too are the inner panels in the engine compartment that serve as attachment points for the front suspension and the welded-in rear rails that tie into the boxed-in rockers. Students of early Mustangs will recognize all of these structural bits as potential areas for rot and metal fatigue requiring a lot of labor to fix properly. All of the structural pieces are available from the aftermarket (or the diminishing supply of rust-free donor cars), but it’s crucial that they be installed straight and securely.

Finding all of the sheetmetal for a 1969- ’70 Shelby isn’t difficult and the fiberglass bits are reproduced as well, which brings us to the question of authenticity—it’s a debate that’s been raging for decades (just do a Google search for “Shelby rebody”). Is a Mustang shell with tags removed from the carcass of an irrecoverably rusted or wrecked Shelby still an authentic car? Regardless of where you stand, swapping tags from one body to another opens a can of worms from a legal perspective and the resale value is murky. The best advice we can offer before buying one of these cars is to join SAAC, consult their experts, get your hands on a copy of the 1968-’70 registry, and do your homework. Buying a car with a documented history may cost more upfront, but will pay dividends down the road. (Incidentally, VIN decoders for 1969-’70 Shelby G.T.s are widely available, but the VIN should have 48 in the 6th and 7th positions denoting a Shelby and an R in the fifth position for a 428 CJ.)

Chassis and Brakes

The bad news about the 1969-’70 Shelby underpinnings? Everything was shared with the Mustang Mach 1 and nothing was particularly cutting-edge or exotic. The good news about the 1969-’70 Shelby underpinnings? Everything was shared with the Mustang Mach 1, and nothing was particularly cutting-edge or exotic. Up front, there was independent suspension with ball joints, A-arms, and coil springs mounted above the upper arm. A 15⁄16-inch front anti-sway bar was used on the G.T. 500 and adjustable gas shocks were also part of the package. Power steering was mandatory via a power ram, fed by a belt-driven hydraulic pump acting on the steering linkage. In the rear were variable-rate leaf springs with adjustable hydraulic shock absorbers. On four-speed cars the shocks were mounted in a staggered arrangement—the left shock was mounted behind the rear axle and the right shock in front of the axle. Shelbys in ’69 and ’70 all rolled on 15 x 7 five-spoke wheels—made with a cast aluminum center and steel outer rim—shod with E70-15 Wide Oval tires; F60 Goodyear Polyglas tires were optional. The standard brake package consisted of power assisted 11.3-inch discs up front with 10 x 2-inch drums in the rear. The simplicity of the Shelby’s underpinnings and the widespread availability of chassis parts— both stock-type and modified—is definitely part of the charm of these cars. The suspension wasn’t considered world-class when new, but it was rugged, functional, and perfect for red-light-to-red-light showdowns on the street or some spirited backroad driving. If you’re lucky enough to be able to restore one of these muscle-era classics, rebuilding the suspension and steering is an approachable DIY endeavor—even to very high quality with some research.

Engine

Ah yes, the bullet in the big Shelby’s chamber. The 428 Cobra Jet was rated for 335 hp at 3,200 rpm. Output was closer to 400, however, thanks to free-breathing heads (based on the 427 low-riser design), a 735-cfm Holley 4150 four-barrel carburetor, 10.6:1 compression, and a hydraulic camshaft with 270/290-degrees duration (advertised) and .481/.490-inch lift. The 428’s long 3.98-inch stroke (under a 4-inch bore) also helped it make an impressive 440 lb-ft of torque at 3,400 rpm. Ordering the Drag Pack option got you a 3.91:1 or 4.30:1 gear ratio and the Super Cobra Jet 428. (Ordering the deeper gears automatically triggered Drag Pack.) The SCJ 428 had no additional power, just beefier connecting rods, a “special” harmonic balancer (to balance the heavier rods), and an oil cooler. The 428 Cobra Jet is a legendary performance engine and still a big deal among muscle-era Ford enthusiasts. A numbers-matching engine will of course add to the value of any Shelby. On the 428 Cobra Jet, there is often a partial VIN stamped on a pad on the engine block above the bellhousing on the left side that should jibe with the car’s VIN. (The numbers are small, irregularly spaced, and it’s a very difficult place to access on an assembled car.) Sometimes VINs were stamped on the end of one of the cylinder heads. There’s plenty of information out there about rebuilding FEs and replacement parts are available. If you’re chasing concours wins, however, correct, original replacement parts and accessories for these engines can wind up costing you. For instance, if the Shelby you’re considering had a set of headers bolted on years back, and the manifolds were tossed, you could buy a set of reproduction exhaust manifolds for around $800 to return it to stock, but a correct set could set you back thousands. We spotted one set for sale recently with an asking price of $3,000 and another described as NOS with an H pipe included for $5,500. It seems like the supply of 428 CJ blocks and heads is shrinking all the time and you can expect to pay dearly for correct castings. Correct air cleaner assemblies and parts are available, but also spendy.

Transmission & Axle

The G.T. 500 could be equipped with the buyer’s choice of a Ford C6 automatic transmission or a close-ratio Toploader four-speed gearbox paired with an 11.5-inch clutch. Gear ratios packed in the 9-inch axle included the standard 3.50:1 or optional 3.91:1 and 4.30:1 (with Drag Pack). Air conditioning was available on the G.T. 500 only if the car was equipped with the C-6 automatic transmission and the mandatory gear ratio with air was a 3.00:1. Traction-Lok limited slip was an option as well. The C6, Toploader, and 9-inch axle are bombproof Ford components backed by a broad knowledge base. Parts to rebuild the drivetrain of a G.T. 500 aren’t particularly expensive or hard to locate. It’s worth noting that the Toploader paired with the 428 uses the larger 1 3/8- inch input shaft. Also, the Toploader paired with the 428 and the C6 both use 31-spline output shafts. If you’re looking for a factory-correct car, you’ll want to verify that the matching-numbers transmission is still on board (VIN stampings are typically on the tops of the transmissions) and the axle date code matches the car’s build date.

Interior

The G.T. 500’s cockpit was a Shelbyfied take on the Mustang Mach 1’s interior. There were Cobra badges in the center of the steering wheel and on the door panels, a special console insert with switches for the Lucas driving lamps, and a gauge pod with instruments for oil pressure and amperage. Fastbacks had a rubber-coated, bolt-in steel roll bar with shoulder-harness seat belts while the convertible’s bar was covered with a wide, wing-shaped molding, for a targa-like appearance. The roll bars were available back in the day from Shelby as an accessory: around $80 retail for the fastback and $90 for the convertible. Today, reproductions are available, but original bars can fetch premium money. We spotted a pair of bars (for fastbacks) for sale recently: one with an asking price of $7,000, the other, which appeared to have been purchased as an accessory from Shelby, with an asking price of $10,000. Most everything needed to make a G.T. 500 interior look like new is available from the aftermarket and of good quality, but like-new original components can raise a car’s value.

The 1969-’70 G.T.s were the end of the Shelby Mustang line for a while, but they’ve never been viewed as a dead end with enthusiasts. Values continue to be strong and will likely remain that way into the future. For the most complete information available on these cars or any early Shelby, SAAC is your best resource.

What to Pay

1969 Convertible: Low-$107,000; Average-$189,000; High-$249,000

1969 Fastback: Low-$80,000; Average-$146,000; High-$232,000

1970 Convertible: Low-$115,400; Average-$200,200; High-$262,700

1970 Fastback: Low-$73,000; Average-$132,000; High-$222,000

Parts Prices

Alternator (reproduction): $359

Coil (reproduction): $100

Center console insert: $525

Exhaust outlet port (reproduction): $450

Fender (fiberglass): $1,014

Hood (fiberglass): $1,465

Oil pan (reproduction): $185

Power steering hose: $62

Roll bar kit (convertible, reproduction): $1,470

Steering wheel (reproduction, complete): $895

Trunk lid (convertible): $735