Larry Letterio's Blog

About 4 years ago, I got nostalgic and bought a 1969 1/2 M-Code A12 Dodge Superbee with the idea of putting it back to the way it was when it drove off the showroom floor. I hadn’t really dug into a restoration since my ’83 Mustang GT, but it seemed like a good time to get back at it.

Now, I’ve owned countless Fords, a Honda, a bunch of Toyotas, a Ram, a Lincoln, and a Renault. But never a Mopar. So, there was the allure of learning something new. Funny story about that Renault, though. It was the short-lived Fuego — known at the time as “the poor man’s Porsche”, and it literally had its gas tank break loose of its straps and fall onto the highway. That generated a surprising amount of first responder attention.

The body and interior of the Bee were pristine when I bought it home and we pushed it into the garage. The mechanicals were where the work needed done. For background, it has a 440 c.i. Six Pack (3 2-barrel carbs) a 4-speed stick, 4.10 rear end, and some of the worst drum brakes I can remember. It took three years to replace the clutch, shift box, various electronic components, more sets of spark plugs than I’d like to admit. And to get those three carbs to work in concert… Yikes. The center carb needed a rebuild, but the two auxiliary carbs were just fine. The engine itself was in remarkably good condition.

Then there was the wheels. I had the factory 15×6 wheels, outfitted with redline bias ply tires. They maintained the authenticity for judging at shows, but the car drove like an salmon covered in Vaseline. People actually drove on these things! So, as pictured above, I ordered a new set of 1969-style wheels and dressed them with 15×7 redline all-American, stick-to-the-road radials. The wheels were mail-ordered, with the first three sets I ordered arriving with bent lips (thanks FedEx). The fourth time was the charm and the Bee was finally complete and ready for cruising.

A funny aside about the wheels… When the car was designed, the lug nuts on the driver’s side would unscrew themselves after a couple hundred miles of driving and turning. So the engineers decided the solution was to reverse-thread the lugs; making the wheels on that side “righty-loosy, lefty-tighty”. The expression doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as the original, but it’s important to remember when you’re wielding the impact wrench or instructing those performing the state inspection.

So here we are four years later. The Bee is running like a top, attending cruises and shows regularly, and quieting my nostalgic monkey. For a car set up like it was the day it was born (February 17, 1969), it’s surprisingly reliable. And of course it’s a straight-up blast to drive.

Nostalgia is a funny thing and a beautiful liar. You tend to romanticize your memories, or as Jackson Browne said, “You forget about the losses/you exaggerate the wins.” The Bee squeaks and rattles, the trunk is obstinate, the dash is hard 1960’s vintage plastic, and (if your shorts are too short) you’ll be leaving the back of your thighs stuck to the vinyl seats on a hot day. It’s not how I pictured it when I began visualizing it in my garage.

It’s actually better.

It truly brings me back to the 1969 experience. Back when interiors weren’t laser fitted, gauges were analog, and that little triangle-shaped window on the door just won’t seal. Grabbing the walnut shift knob, depressing the creaking clutch pedal, and stomping on the floor button to get the high beams shining, it becomes less of a show car and more of a personal time machine. For a little while on a Saturday afternoon, you’re actually there. Let the Sun Shine In.