Hemmings

On this episode, the transformation begins, as our Durango Hellcat track support vehicle begins to take shape. To accomplish this, we added two more members to our team, Dusty Andersen of Unique Fabrications in Santa Ana, California, and Brian Stevens of Delux Customs out of St. George, Utah. Look for the full episode tomorrow, followed by Part 4 on Thursday.

Date: 1978

Location: Mexico City, Mexico

Source: John S. Stec, via Society of Architectural Historians

What do you see here?

Photo by John S. Stec

Aerial combat advanced at an astonishing rate during World War I, and though it seems unimaginable today, there were no American-designed aircraft deemed suitable for battle in the skies over Europe. There was a U.S.-designed engine in the fight however: the Liberty V-12 or L-12.

The L-12 engine was America’s greatest technological contribution to the aerial war effort. Its initial assignment was powering the “Liberty Plane”—a version of the British-designed De Haviland/Airco DH-4 bomber produced in the U.S. by Dayton-Wright in Dayton, Ohio; Fisher Body Corporation in Detroit, Michigan; and Standard Aircraft in New Jersey. In addition to powering the DH-4 and a variety of other airplanes, over its long service life the L-12 powered tanks, high-speed watercraft, and land-speed racers.

An L-12 at home in the front of De Havilland DH-4 at the National Air and Space Museum. The engine weighed about 844 pounds and produced approximately 400 horsepower at a maximum rpm of about 1,800.Photo courtesy Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum

The L-12 came about because Packard’s head of engineering, Jesse G. Vincent, recognized the need for a standardized line of aircraft engines that could be mass produced during wartime. The government assigned Vincent the task of creating this engine and teamed him up with Elbert J. Hall of the Hall-Scott Motor Company. The two met in Washington, D.C., on May 29 and, with the help of volunteer draftsmen, created detailed drawings and a full report by May 31. This original design was a V-8, but in their report Vincent and Hall outlined how the engine could be configured as a four-, six-, eight-, or 12-cylinder engine.

By July 3, a
V-8 prototype assembled by Packard was running, and a V-12 soon followed. Due to its superior horsepower potential, the 1,650-cu.in. V-12 was given the nod for mass production.

An I.D. tag shows the L-12’s firing order and reveals that this example at the Glenn H. Curtiss Museum was built by Lincoln on September 25, 1918.

Not only did the Liberty engine mark a great achievement for American aviation, it was responsible for creating a landmark car company: Lincoln. Henry Leland, who founded Cadillac, and his son Wilfred started Lincoln with a $10 million government contract awarded to build Liberty engines. The Lelands left Cadillac to form Lincoln because General Motors President William C. “Billy” Durant was a pacifist and initially rejected the government’s call for GM to build L-12s. (Durant later recanted and Liberty engines were manufactured by GM.) Production numbers seem to vary for output before and after the war but in total Ford, Lincoln, Packard, Marmon, and Buick produced 20,748 L-12 engines.

The L-12 was a liquid-cooled single-overhead-camshaft V-12, rated to make 400-plus horsepower. The deep box-section crankcase was two piece—upper and lower—and cast out of aluminum. The cases were joined by bolts around the case as well as by bolts on each side of the main bearings. The cylinders were individual with welded-on cooling jackets and the cylinders extended down into the crankcase for increased rigidity. The stroke was 7 inches while the bore was 5 inches and aluminum pistons on floating pins helped pump up 5.4:1 compression. The cylinders breathed through 2.5-inch valves (one intake, one exhaust) with exposed rockers and valve springs, while carburetion was handled by a pair of Zenith model US52s.

This De Havilland DH-4 at the National Air and Space Museum is a prototype — the first American-built version of the British designed bomber manufactured by the Dayton-Wright Airplane Company. It was used for testing and never saw combat.Photo courtesy Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum

The Liberty is a fascinating engine built with many advanced features. If you’re interested in some in-depth reading, a full report about the L-12 presented in 1919 to the Society of Automotive Engineers by Jesse G. Vincent, is available as a free download at jstor.org.

As Baby Boomers exit the collector car market, and at a time when performance EVs are reshaping the landscape, but 600-plus-horsepower late-model pony cars are still commonplace, will the hottest 1960s and ’70s American muscle cars dip from all-time high values? Or at least level off?

Coming in ninth of the top 10 most expensive cars sold at Mecum’s Monterey sale was this 1971 Plymouth ’Cuda convertible, which fetched $1.1 million (including fees). It managed to edge out a Monterey, California-appropriate 1973 Porsche 911 2.7 Carrera RS (one of the 1,308 Touring-spec cars, not a one-of-200 Lightweight)— once owned by the late actor Paul Walker, which sold for $1.072 million.

This would probably come as no surprise to muscle-era Mopar cognoscenti. A ’71 ’Cuda convertible with a 440 Six Pack, like this one, is like the Venus de Milo of B-bodies, second only to a ’71 Hemi ’Cuda convertible. (Speaking of top muscle car prices: One of those Hemi cars crossed the block at Mecum’s Indy sale in 2021 and the seller turned down a high bid of $4.8 million.) Plus, this particular example has a known history in Mopar circles as it was once part of Steven Juliano’s collection. Juliano died in 2018 after battling cancer and left behind an amazing 30-year stash of rare and unusual Mopars, Shelby Cobras, petroliana, and more. His treasure trove was auctioned at Mecum’s Indy sale in 2019 where this same ’Cuda convertible sold for $1.15 million. The car crossed the block again at Kissimmee in 2021 and sold for $962,500—a loss of $187,500. Earlier this year, it crossed the block yet again at Kissimmee where it bid up to $900,000, bringing us to the most recent sale, in Monterey, for $1.1 million. If you’re playing along at home, that’s $137,000 more than when it sold in 2021, but $55,000 less than what this car sold for in 2019.

To your average magazine editor, that kind of money would buy a few cars, a big 4K flat screen to put on the back wall of the garage, a nice stainless kegerator, and who knows what else. But on a percentage basis, those aren’t enormous swings—particularly for people with a lot of disposable income. Prices of everything have gone up sharply post pandemic and collector cars have been no exception. You’d assume, then, that this ’Cuda would’ve bid up even higher in 2022 than the $1.15 million it sold for in 2019. Perhaps it’s reached a plateau? Somehow we doubt it. Price guides show that these cars fell off a cliff after the 2008 financial crisis, but they have rebounded with interest since. (The sale of this car in 2019 contributed to that average.) This could probably be said about values of almost every popular, desirable American muscle car—a scary fall from their prior-to-2008 highs and a sharp rebound less than 10 years later.

This sale was interesting to us because there’s been a lot of talk about interest in 1960s and ’70s muscle cars waning, in light of record high prices paid for trucks and SUVs, Japanese imports, and, of course, Italian and German sports cars, plus all the never-before-seen performance levels of new and late-model vehicles—electric and internal combustion. But this ’Cuda’s two seven-figure sales in a three-year span, while hardly typical because the car is so unusual, shows that muscle cars have legs— especially at the upper reaches of the market, where the most desirable examples live. There might be some ups and downs in the short term, but anyone holding out for the day when big-block 1960s and ’70s icons are affordable, might have a little longer to wait.