That changed when the fourth and final generation Dart arrived in 1967. Quite decent for a mid-1960s compact, but far from what high-performance intermediates were capable of at the time. Initially rated at 180 horsepower, it was upgraded to 235 horses in 1965. In its four years on the market, the third-gen Dart was offered with only one V8 in the form of a 273-cubic-inch (4.5-liter) unit. While the short-lived midsize version left a mark on the performance market thanks to the 413-cubic-inch (6.8-liter) Wedge V8 good for 415 horsepower, the compact that replaced it didn't have much to brag about at first. But I’ve never had any trouble with the engine It's the same engine that it was born with, and I can honestly say it drives like a dream.Born as a full-size car in 1960, the Dart became a midsize vehicle in 1962 before it was downsized again to a compact in 1963. At one point there was a hole in the floor that you could stick your foot through like the car in the Flintstones. It is quite substantially scruffier than it used to be - the upholstery is falling apart and, over the years, I have had quite a lot of problems with rust. It now takes unleaded petrol, is exempt from ULEZ charge and is still tax-free. Fortunately, because it was a Chrysler and made of sterner stuff than the Audi, and basically built like a tank, the Dodge wasn’t crushed but my mechanic had to do quite a bit of work on the body so it was out of commission for a while.ģ6 years since I acquired it, I still have my 1969 Dodge Dart GT. And then one night a few years ago I woke up to a loud crash outside and the next morning I found that someone had smashed into a brand new Audi which was parked behind me, writing it off and sending it into the back of my car, which in turn had rear-ended a white van in front of it. A very drunk man leapt out in front of me late one night on Marylebone High Street and left a dent in the bonnet (he was fine, by the way). ‘Don’t have one’ he said - ‘but you may pick any car you like to pee behind.’) (I recently went to get the brakes sorted out and asked if I could use his loo. There was Fred, a Vietnam vet from Iowa who lived in Wandsworth and specialised in American cars, and who I handed over quite a bit of money to until I discovered that he had a bad meth habit there was Steve in Shoreditch, who was a bit too slapdash for my liking, and now there’s Colin Mullan in Feltham, who is a genius with cars, has lots of space, a yard full of Pontiacs and Buicks, and is devoted to keeping my Dodge on the road. I went through a few mechanics before I found exactly the right fit. I had to get it towed back to the city, where I rented a garage for it, but I didn’t have enough money to buy a new engine and get it back to London. Deliriously happy, I drove it around the freeways of neighbouring Virginia for several hours, until the engine blew up. I had gone to the USA aged 21 especially to buy a Cadillac, which I planned to ship home. The roof was white but everything else about it was dusky pink – even the cigarette lighter and the ignition key. My first car was a 1961 Cadillac Sedan de Ville, which I bought from a policeman in Washington DC. It was garish, macho, and really fun.Ĭruising along nonchalantly one summer evening in about 1985 was a sharp and stylish beast a 1969 Dodge Dart GT, maroon in colour and with a “For Sale” sign in the window. This is when people would spend the evening driving their classic American cars around a designated route in the well-to-do suburb, just for the sake of showing off. Many years ago, on the last Saturday of every month, there was a phenomenon in London called the Chelsea Cruise.
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