Wednesday, August 16^th, 20060816

Helena, MT

I am up at 6:00 am.  I feel better physically.  Travel always messes up my already damaged gastro-intestinal tract.  My system should be adjusting after this first week is completed.  Today is the start of the second week of the trip.  I have been awakening earlier and earlier as the trip progresses.  I actually feel like getting up.  A bit of life is beginning to creep back into my soul.  My motor skills are lagging a bit.  When returning from the breakfast area of the motel, I fell UP the stairs.  That is a first for me.  Fortunately my coffee was in a sealed travel mug.  Coffee first, walking second, coffee first, walking second, coffee first…..OK got it. 

Helena, Montana’s capital city, is a picturesque town.  Like many of the foothill towns it has the nice views created by the rolling terrain without the switchback streets of mountain towns.  People are very friendly.  We run a few errands before heading out of town.  I want to add some Lucas Oil additive to the engine in hopes of slowing the oil consumption.  Also, I am wondering if a can of Sea Foam might help with the carburetor choke issues.  I am out of lead substitute as well.  These old cars are not only more maintenance intensive, they are more maintenance research intensive.  Todd gave me a list of a dozen items that would have to be watched just having to do with the specifics of the fluids in the car.  The engine still has a squeak on warm up.  It quiets as the car warms up so I ignore it and we head north toward Glacier Park.

As we near the Kalispel area, the scenery becomes more and more picturesque.  Cheryl dozes on and off as we meander past tree lined lakes.  Tourists drive the locals crazy with their slow speed gawking and I am tailgated often despite doing 60 MPH on a winding, two-lane, forest road.  The locals have seen all this a thousand times and are impatient with anyone not driving at or above the speed limit.  I look for a speed limit sign but don’t see any.  I find out later that the limit is 70 MPH.  Passing is difficult as there are few straight and flat sections of the road.  There is often oncoming traffic when a potential passing zone is found.  The result: annoyed locals tailgating tourists.  I make my first driving error under these conditions.  Someone following far too closely at speeds near 70 MPH is pissed off when I brake suddenly and take a left into a campground.  No real danger here but I probably should have given more warning.  We are both at fault for the tension of the situation and I hear him yell something unintelligible as he accelerates back up to his previous speed.  I am angry with myself and with the other driver for creating the situation.  It bothers me more because of the high profile of the vehicle we are driving.  It has a celebrity status and now one more person will think Superbird owners are inconsiderate jerks.  Even though the other driver is equally at fault, I have a hard time letting this go.  A few miles later, the same scenario begins anew.  After being followed far too closely for far too long I have had enough.  Since there appears to be no posted speed limit, I take it up to 120.  My tailgater shrinks into a satisfying dot and then vanishes all-together.  My tachometer says this is about 6000 RPM but my tachometer also moves around like one of those drinking birds from the souvenir shops.  It is about as accurate an indicator of engine speed as a windsock in a tornado.  Cheryl is still sleeping so I can get away with this.  The car hugs the road great.  The nose and wing don’t do much until about 80 MPH when I can feel the car begin to settle down.  At this speed it feels good – too good.  Since I would like to finish the trip with no mechanical issues, I back down on the Rs and the cacophony of clatters, rattles and vibrations diminishes.  I really need to rework the heads and find some of the drivetrain vibrations if I am going to drive at today’s speeds or higher.  Replacing those stock connecting rod bolts would be a good idea too.  There is a lot going on at these speeds.  This thing reminds me of the bedroom scene from Poltergeist with all the stuff that comes alive above 65 MPH.  I expect to see individual slices of bread exiting the cooler and floating out the window laughing.

Further up the road, I pass a woodland residence with a couple of cars for sale.  One is an old Chrysler so I turn around to see what it is.  The owner is out of his house in a second.  His car is a 66 Chrysler 300 but he mostly wants to talk about the Superbird.  His name is Robin Stockton and he repairs stainless trim on the side.  We talk cars for about a half hour before heading north again.  Not far up the road, we see another cache of old Mopars and I go back for a look.  This time the owner is Jeff Bailey.  Jeff is a hardcore Mopar guy and recounts his story of how he bought a Superbird in the 70s for $1700, sold it for $2000 and thought he made out great.  We all laugh at how things have changed.

We end our day in Columbia Falls, MT.  For some reason motels are full everywhere so we are happy to get the last room at the Glacier Inn Motel.

This morning is a time for clean up.  We need to do laundry and clean the car.  There are a number of clouds this morning so we should wait to drive Glacier Park anyway.  We are both feeling a little weird and edgy still.  There really is no obvious reason for it.  It just is, so I do my best to ignore it and move on.  Tonight we will get to a motel where we will stay for four nights.  Being able to sit still for a couple days might help.

After a very good deli/bakery breakfast, we stopped at a laundry/car wash.  Cheryl started on the clothes and I washed the car.  Most of the bugs came off easily but the road tar does not.  Oh well, it is not original paint and five minutes with some diesel fuel will take care of that when we get back.  While vacuuming out the car, a visitor stopped by and told us that there was another winged car right here in Columbia falls.  He thought it was a green Daytona and told us where it was stored.  I am always skeptical of any Superbird/Superbee/Daytona/Road Runner story but decide to stop and look anyway.  Sure enough, on the hoist with engine removed is a yellow, automatic Superbird.  It is in comparable condition to mine six months ago – solid car with decent paint and some issues.  Making a muscle car run today when it is 36 years old is considerably more work than it was when the car was 12 years old.  In the early 80s, you bought a good solid but used musclecar for a couple of grand, fixed whatever engine/transmission/brake/clutch issue had sidelined it most recently and were doing donuts in the school parking lot a few weeks later.  Today, however, everything has failed from age.  If your car was outside, UV has destroyed everything it could.  Wiring has become brittle and cracks.  Mice ate everything else soft.  That tiny surface rust in the trunk ate the whole trunk.  The brakes are junk.  The seals in everything have failed.  It goes on and on and on.  When we started this semi-restoration, I told Todd that RELIABILITY was the paramount issue.  Nothing was more important.  If this thing left me by the side of the road one more time, I was going to throw a match in it and walk away.  To Todd’s credit, the car works and works well.  Thankfully, my car was virtually rust free, mouse free and UV free.  Otherwise this project would have taken a full year or more.

Our motel is in East Glacier.  When we pull in, the man in the adjacent room comes out and introduces himself.  He is Dennis Mitchel and he tells us that he grew up just a few blocks from Creative Industries when the Daytonas were being built.  This is a major flashback for him.  Dennis believes that the owner of Creative Industries kept the first Daytona and the first Superbird and that he may still have them in storage.  This makes some sense to anyone who has seen the Superbird serial number list.  That first car was also the last one to be picked up. 

Later that evening Cheryl and I relax with a bottle of Petite Syrah and all is good.

Breakfast, in my opinion, is the most important meal.  We have been getting lucky all trip by finding great little places to eat.  East Glacier is small and everything is within walking distance.  Cheryl states, and I agree, that it is time for a vacation-for-us day that does not involve the car.  The car has taken over our trip to an extent I had not anticipated.  We both need some exercise so off to hike at Many Glacier we go.  Before leaving, we answer a few questions from some very enthusiastic Canadian ex-drag racers.  A fuel stop in St Mary is typical.  We pull in and a crowd gathers.  Ed, a cook in the restaurant next to the gas station comes out and says: “That is the single most beautiful thing I have seen today.”  He tells us he was in the middle of a conversation with the head cook when he saw us pull in and all he said was: “I have to go.”

At Many Glacier we see three mother bears each with two cubs.  One set got a little too close for comfort but all was well.  There were mountain sheep grazing right next to the Hotel.  We saw numerous non-venomous snakes, a slew of chattering rodents and a continuous mountain vistas on our 7.5 mile hike.  On the way out we saw cows and could not resist a taking a photo as though they were unusual wildlife.

We were going to take a day between hikes but we ate too big breakfast and decided we needed to work it off.  This time a trip to Two Medicine Lake gave us a nice eight mile hike.  It was all we could handle after being inert and suddenly getting active yesterday.  We encountered all the same wildlife except the bears – fine with me.  I am dragging butt as we come back in.  I couldn’t outrun a three legged gummy bear if I had too. 

We enjoyed a light supper at the historic East Glacier Lodge and returned to our room.  When we arrived, we meet another motel guest Pat and two of this friends from Texas.  They had to know about the car.  We talked for several hours as though we had known each other forever.  That is what this car does.  It breaks down any resistance to interaction with others.  It has its own energy and people want to be a part of it.

I checked my messages and found I had a call from Shawn Lince of Elgin.  He thinks he knows someone who lived in Bowman when Homer owned the car.  That person may have more information.  Cell coverage is spotty out here and it is late so I opt to wait until a better time to return his call.

We slept in to recover from the hiking of the past two days.  Today we will drive through the park on the going to the sun road again.  This time we will stop for photo opportunities.  Another pristine day.  The weather has been fantastic all trip.

We choose to drive back along the road that skirts the south end of the park just to see some new scenery.  All is well until a situation develops.  We are number 3 in a line of about 10 cars, trucks and RVs.  This is a two lane mountain highway with limited opportunities to pass.  Smart people just bide their time and enjoy the scenery.  Traffic is moving acceptably fast at 55 to 60 MPH.  Some not-so-smart person in a Black Pontiac SSEi at the end of the line just can’t take it anymore and decides to try and pass the entire line of cars on a far-too-short straight section of the two lane road.  He must be doing 95 by the time he passes me.  Oncoming traffic is pulling off to the shoulder to avoid a head-on.  He hits his brakes hard enough so that I can smell them in my car and pulls in front of me.  I left him room because I could see he was not going to make it.  I should not let things like this bother me but they do.  To make him look like an even bigger idiot, a passing lane opens about 10 seconds later where he could have completed his pass without putting anyone in peril.  He decides to finish what he started by passing the last two cars in the line.  For once I am in the right place, at the right time, with the right car.  I drop to third gear and stand on it.  He passes the last two cars with me on his rear bumper.  He knows he doesn’t have a chance of outrunning me so he takes the slow lane and I blow his doors off in the passing lane.  I can almost hear the cheers of everyone behind us who saw this idiot get what he deserved.   For the next 20 miles he remains a respectable distance behind me because he knows there is no way I am going to allow him past.  I hold the speed limit with laser precision.  Eventually he passes me after someone else passes us both.  I let him go.  He got the point. 

Women hate this kind of thing.  At least on the surface they do.  Down deep, I think they like it just as much as men.  Standing up to idiots is a male imperative so I am not apologetic for my actions.  I do bring the topic up in discussion so that it does not fester and I allow Cheryl to express her thoughts.  I don’t contradict her feelings but I don’t apologize.  The issue passes with little more fanfare and I know tomorrow will be fine.

This is our day to take leave of Glacier.  I want to see the Lewis and Clark Center in Helena.  I have visited three other major Lewis and Clark interpretive centers and I have heard the one at Great Falls is on par with them all.  The drive to Helena is uneventful.  We stop to look at old cars on the way and grab a snack.  As usual, lots of people are interested in the car.  We only drove about 140 miles today.  Chapped lips are something I had forgotten about.  Non-AC cars on hot days means windows down, vents open and possibly vent windows tilted past 90 degrees for max air intake.  All this air blowing on us dries out our eyes and lips.  I had forgotten how a bug hitting the vent window splattered on the driver.

Once in Helena, we find the Interpretive Center and walk through about half the exhibit.  The Best Western turns out to be a very nice Motel and the hot tub is a savior. 

Our day began with an excellent breakfast at the Best Western Motel. 

We returned to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center to finish seeing the entire display and to watch a short film on the portaging of the falls by the Corps of Discovery.  I recommend taking in the center with either a long lunch break or overnight stay to break it up.  There is so much to see and read and it is all worth it.  I have visited three other Lewis and Clark interpretive centers (St. Louis, Missouri – starting/ending point, Washburn, North Dakota – first winter, and Fort Clatsop, Oregon – second winter on the West Coast) and this one is on par with all of them.  It is a fantastic facility.

After leaving the center, we made an attempt to find a Mopar enthusiast I had met years ago but had no luck.  One person we asked recalled a blue Hemi Superbird around the Great Falls area many years ago.  It seems everyone remembers the winged cars even if they are not sure about the details.

The drive from Great Falls Montana to Glendive Montana is a testament to just how big this country is.  The concept of world overpopulation becomes laughable once one has experienced this section of the Great Plains.  Somewhere near Jordan I took leave of my senses.  When we crest one rise, ten more await us.  I now understand the feelings sailors must have when far out to sea riding one long wave after the next.  Does it ever end?  Is there anyone out there?  There are places in Montana where you can’t even get a country music station – ON AM!!!  Cellular coverage is non-existent unless we are near a community and then it is often analog.  This is a different land and it takes a hardy and independent soul to inhabit it.  It is hot.  I drink an entire gallon jug of water and never have to stop to relieve myself.  I am wearing an elastic back brace now as it is painful to bring myself to an upright position when we get out of the car.  These seats suck!  If the statute of limitations were not certainly expired, Chrysler should have a class action product liability lawsuit on their hands.  There is no other way to put it.  They suck!  Even sitting on a pillow only helps marginally. 

As usual, we are cruising at 60 MPH.  We are passed by a couple in a Dodge mini-van doing 75 MPH in complete comfort getting between two and three time the mileage we are.  It dawns on me that if the Superbird was a new car sitting on dealer’s lots today, they would be just as hard to sell now as they were back in 1970.  If you think about it, the Superbird is the antithesis of what a car should be today except for one thing – style.

Imagine looking at a car on the car lot.  It has no options to speak of – no AC, no tilt, no cruise control, no power anything other than brakes and steering, not even a map light or tinted windows.

The gauges work but are not accurate.

It has very uncomfortable black vinyl seats that trap your sweat in your clothes so that even moderate heat soaks you to the skin.

The driving position is tolerable but shorter people can not easily see over the dash or work the pedals unless they sit on something.

It is not particularly reliable – you have to check (and fill some of) the fluids daily.

It is carbureted and the fine tune varies with atmospheric conditions.

It gets terrible gas mileage by today’s standards and only has moderate horsepower.

It is very expensive and parts are hard (or impossible) to find for it.

It is big and takes up a lot of room but really can’t haul much.

BUT IT HAS STYLE, BIG STYLE, IT IS STYLE.

The people are friendly when we stop for gas.  We stop every hundred miles just in case we end up somewhere that has no open stations.  A meal stop in Jordan helps.  After an hour we push on into the coming night in the hopes of making Glendive near the North Dakota border.  Once in Glendive we find a motel and after a single nightcap we collapse into bed exhausted from a long, hot, slow, noisy and uncomfortable drive.  The car performed flawlessly through the great expanse that is Montana but driving and riding in it are physically taxing.  I have no idea how Lewis and Clark did what they did.  Our trip was nothing by comparison.  They truly performed a heroic feat by completing their mission.

We are in the home stretch now.  Only about 200 miles of the Great Plains remain before we complete our trip.  Cheryl decided to get a few more miles of clutch time in so she took the wheel from Glendive MT to Dickinson ND.  We have both just about had it with the black vinyl seats, no air conditioning and 90 plus degree heat. 

Once again, the people have been great.  The reaction of a fellow in Glendive at the morning fuel stop summed up the overall reaction well.  After asking a few questions he said: “Thank you for sharing it.”  At the time I thought that was a strange statement and I did not know exactly how to respond to it.  Later, I realized that his comment was a very good summation of the excitement and approval we encountered everywhere on this trip.

In Dickinson, ND we stop for gas.  As always, we have two or three people stop to comment even if they aren’t buying anything.  I recall how there was a Vitamin C orange Superbird in Dickinson a few years after I bought mine.  It was for sale for $7000.  If only we knew then.

At New Salem, ND we stop to get a photo in front of the world’s largest dairy cow “Sue”.  North Dakota has a number of these large plastic/fiberglass/cement animals.  There is a buffalo in Jamestown, a sand hill crane in Steele, a dinosaur in Valley city (I think), and a giant turtle riding a snowmobile in Bottineau?!?!?

We are nearing the truck stop in Mandan where the trip began.  To complete the circle we stop for fuel and the trip is officially over.

Total miles                  2767                Note – odometer reads within 2% (fast)

Total fuel burned        256 Gallons

Total fuel cost             $860

Ave MPG                    10.7                 Note – much better MPG with low octane fuel.

In some ways I am sad to be done with the trip.  In others ways I have had enough.  I suppose it is the same with all travel.  Maybe another Superbird tour should be on the calendar for next year.

Brennan R. Cook

The car made the trip without a single wrench turned.  Only fluids added as needed.

I did not carry collector car insurance on the Superbird.  I only carried the legally required liability insurance needed to drive it on the street.  The nature of this trip would have voided the collector car coverage anyway to there was no sense in buying it.

I bought a “club” like device for the steering wheel but never installed it.  There was no need to.  Any would-be-thief would be held hostage by question asking enthusiasts.

68 Charger was the most commonly referenced car on the trip.  Apparently everyone owned one at some time.

It should be noted that we put more miles on the Superbird during this trip than I have put on it in the preceding 25 years of ownership.