Fast forward. Now, when a late 60s or early 70's mopar shows up, it typically gets put into the holding area, to covet, like a Hemicuda. You inquire since you can't even go up close to check it out, and they say "oh, thats got a poly 318 in it". Seriously, the yard work guys circle like buzzards, take the "good" stuff off for their own benefit (read: resell), and when they release the car, its already picked over. Yes, like a 4-door even. My how times change.
Anyway, today on a whim I stopped at the same local pick-a-part, walked by scads upon scads of Acclaims and Sundances. I guess they are the new Polaras and Furys. Will people be coveting THOSE cars 20 years from now?? I digress. So at the very back of the yard, there it is sitting all by itself. A 71 Plymouth Fury 4-door sedan. Bare bones. 318, 727, pwr steering, AM radio. I was besides myself - it was old times! Here was a fuselage C-body. I hadn't been to this wrecker in months. Spent 20 minutes checking her over, found some good parts. Most of which I don't need, but I cannot let good parts go to waste. Going back on the weekend. I need to savor this, it seldom happens anymore.
Oh yeah, I must mention this. In 1999 I sold the Fifth Avenue for a brand new Neon R/T (what was I thinking!!!). A few years passed. One winter, I was back in this very same Pick-a-Part, also much on a whim one winter weekend. I spotted a 79 New Yorker Fifth Ave, cream on beige, along the fence. Man does this car look like my old NYFA. Checked the back bumper for a bumper sticker I put on in 1998 "Not all who wander are lost - J.R.R. Tolkien". There it was. Seeing that car in there was so damn sad. I had fixed it up to showroom appearance pretty much. It moved me to Vegas and back in '98 plus countless road trips and adventures. And here it was now. Doors left open, snow blown in, and some idiot pulled the leather seat out of the back for stepping around mud in the yard. It met its fate because of a bad rust spot on the frame (later asked the fellow who I initially sold it to). Same yard. I guess I'm being sentimental, but its a story to share.



