Today's post, or rant, or whine, whatever you choose to call it, is going to focus on "Classic Cars", or maybe "Classic Racecars" if you prefer.
Last night, here in Charlotte NC, we had the opening social for the NRPA Congress, and for once, it was at a place that I probably would have gone even if they weren't holding the social there - the NASCAR Hall of Fame.
Located directly next to the Charlotte Convention Center, the Hall of Fame is a four story building filled with artifacts, displays, interactive challenges, and most importantly, loads of actual NASCAR cars from the past, and the present.
I really enjoyed some of the more technical displays, including a couple of cabinets filled with some of the more 'creative' ways that teams tried to fudge the rules. The old line 'it ain't cheating if you don't get caught' sure came to mind as I looked over the displays. Some were pretty simple; coil springs just a little taller than allowed; carburetors with their openings bored out a little so more fuel went in; body panels and windows shaved thin to save weight. But the best one I saw was really creative. A driver's drink bag, which is a totally legal device, usually hung on the left hand side of the car and filled with water or Gatorade, and hooked to the driver's helmet with a long tube; but this one wasn't filled with a drink, it was filled with lead! The lead filled bag, hung from the crash cage in the driver's compartment, gave the car more weight on the driver side and allowed it to 'lean' better into the turns. Just amazing!
Got a little bit of a whine to get out however. The Hall of Fame was cool, and honestly, I'd go back again if I'm in the area in the future, it's a great place.
But.....well, you know me, Mr. Mopar, I couldn't help but notice that although the Chrysler guys, both Dodge and Plymouth, won a ton of races, and a lot of championships, they were severely underrepresented here. I mean, come on, Richard Petty, 'The King', 7 time NASCAR Champion - in a Plymouth - and the only one of his cars you have is a '76 Chevy that he drove after Chrysler got out of NASCAR? There were plenty of Chevys and Fords, and even a Hudson that was driven back in the 50's, but the only MOPARS were these:

This one is the twin to Petty's famous #43 "Superbird" that won so many races (along with the Dodge Daytona), that NASCAR had to outlaw it because Ford and Chevy couldn't make a car to compete with it! These could be purchased at your local Plymouth dealer for about $4,000, and they'd easily do 190 mph right out of the showroom door! 

Here's the driver compartment of the Superbird. Notice how little there is inside; these were truly 'stock cars', manufactured on the assembly lines in Detroit, and modified to be run on the tracks. Compare that to current NASCAR rides, which are all custom manufactured as race cars, and which bear little or no resemblance to 'stock' cars. To me, that's one reason NASCAR has lost some of it's appeal. You can't tell a Chevy from a Ford from a (gasp) Toyota! My suggestion is that someone start a new circuit, called the Real American Stock Car League (RASCL - pronounce rascal), and the rules are simple:
Any rear wheel drive sedan is eligible to race. The car must come off of a mass assembly line and must be modified to meet certain minimum safety regulations. Other than that, it's run what you brung, all engine modifications and 'cheats' are okie dokie. Let's see who's really the best engine builder, the best suspension guy, and the best driver. Now...who's got a billion or two laying around to get me started?

And here's the second MOPAR, the #9 Dodge Intrepid, driven by the great Bill Elliott upon Dodge's return to NASCAR in the early 2000's. This one was special to me, because for the first time in many years, with Dodge in the game, I had a reason to watch NASCAR again. Unfortunately, Dodge again withdrew from NASCAR after the 2012 season, amazingly, just as they won the manufacturer's championship for the first time since the 70's. Well, you know Chrysler, there are some things that they just never seem to get right.