With nearly 2,000 cars on site, finding five personal favorites, cars that I’d bid on if I had the money to secure a bidder’s paddle, shouldn’t be difficult. Yet the preponderance of restomods and customs, done to the taste of the builder and/or a wide prospective audience, rarely resonates with me. Listen, I bought a Nissan S-Cargo. On purpose. You really think my tastes are inline with the bulk of the people who show up at Westworld? I like what I like. At Barrett-Jackson this year, from what I saw from my brief time on the ground there, these five stood out to me.
Lot 1018.1 1969 Chevy Nova SS396
The muscle car recipe–full-size car engine in a mid-size car–is one that has sustained our hobby and stoked our enthusiasm for (checks calendar…) yeesh, nearly 60 years now. But what about dropping a full-size car engine into a compact? What madness do you call this? I call it Nova SS396. So did Chevy. And this four-speed example is both super-sano and in super-sleeper mode. If someone twisted my arm and told me I needed to head out to Dove Valley Parkway for a night of recreational quarter-mile indulgence, I’d probably bring this. Dark green paint. Black bucket seat interior. When the sun goes down, you’d barely be able to see it. Hell, we barely saw it and we were standing right in front of it. Only the flashy wheels and SS in the grille are obvious; the 396 on the front corner marker is far subtler. Otherwise, no one would suspect. Good.
Lot 1278 1998 Toyota Supra
Ordinarily I’d say that a car like this last-year-Stateside Supra is a collector car for a new generation, but I’d be wrong: with multiple fourth-generation Supras achieving six-figure sales results in the past couple of years, it’s pretty obvious that this car is happening now. It’s aspirational to a new generation in the same way that a Highland Green Mustang fastback is aspirational to Boomers–and for the same reason. While plenty of these succumbed to Fast and Furious syndrome (sketchy paint, dodgy body kits, questionable underhood modifications that their long-suffering twin-turbo 2JZ engines were robust enough to account for), the ones that haven’t been beaten into the ground are the ones to look for. This one, in clean silver that shows off the body lines, equipped with the six-speed stick, and showing less than 19,000 miles on the odometer, was the one that I most wanted to hop in and drive to Vegas.
Lot 1109 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am
I (through the pages of Hemmings Muscle Machines) have long espoused the basic mechanical goodness of the ’79 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. W72-code Poncho power ratings that were actually on the upswing in an era when horsepower seemed like a dirty word, the proud availability of a four-speed stick in a world of increasingly-prevalent slushboxes, and the optional WS6 chassis pieces (including four-wheel-disc brakes for ’79) that let it handle like a Corvette for half(ish) the price are at the heart of this particular recipe. But the two versions you see most often don’t inspire me to own. The Bandit-homage black-and-gold Special Edition models feel overdone, and the silver-on-silver Tenth Anniversary Trans Am models seem just a skoshe too disco for my driveway. And so there’s this beauty: optioned how I’d like, and painted gold with a camel interior. This example has way under 1,000 miles from new; that said, I’d never be more tempted to make tracks in a low-mileage classic than with this one.
LOT 1152.1 1971 Plymouth GTX
Muscle-era Mopars are a lot like pasta. The shapes differ, and there’s a lot of ways to make them so that they’re to your taste, but the basics are the same basic blend. Spaghetti? Fettucine? Penne? Fusilli? Farfalle? Orecchiette? All made from flour, water and eggs. Belvedere? Coronet? Road Runner? Coronet? Satellite? Charger? ‘Cuda? Challenger? All made from more or less the same unit-body chassis, give or take a couple of inches of wheelbase, with a K-frame in front and leaf springs out back, and the same range of engines between divisions. So for me, it comes down to shape. And my favorite shape of the muscle car era, bar none, is the 1971-72 Plymouth B-body coupe. Paint it a bright color and install a 440 under the hood, like this one has, and that sounds just as tasty as the ziti with vodka sauce I get for dinner at local Italian hot-spot Lorenzo’s.
LOT 1586 1983 Rolls-Royce Corniche
Sometimes, I just want to get away. Sometimes, I want to revel in the silence. Sometimes I want to be alone with my thoughts. Sometimes I want to marvel at the Western scenery outside my windows as I cruise, rather than focus on the road and storm up the highway. Sometimes, I don’t want the tires to talk to me. Sometimes I don’t want to hug the curves like I’m humping their leg. Sometimes, I need a sensory deprivation tank. Sometimes, I need a Rolls. And this ’83 Corniche, with its convertible top coming apart at the seams near the rear deck and the paintwork starting to check, would let me achieve this with peace of mind–that with 118,000 miles on the clock, it’s used to running and there’s no fear of ruining the value of a pristine machine. Peace be with me.
