Muscle Cars Now Worth Millions
By DON SHERMAN JUNE Four, two thousand six
BLAME Milton Robson, an Atlanta car collector, for the sky-high prices of muscle cars.
Four years ago, Mr. Robson, a former grocery wholesaler, placed a half-page advertisement in Hemmings Motor News to sell his one thousand nine hundred seventy one Plymouth ‘Cuda, a convertible tooled with a Hemi V-8 engine and a four-speed manual transmission. The asking price — $1 million — was an astounding sum, even considering that the car was one of just six similarly tooled ‘Cudas that Chrysler built as one thousand nine hundred seventy one models.
“When I witnessed Mr. Robson’s ad, I said to myself, ‘Well, he’s got to embark somewhere,’ ” Colin Comer, president of Colin’s Classic Automobiles in Milwaukee, said. “But he stuck to his guns and, sure enough, his Hemi ‘Cuda went to a broker who flipped it,” he said, using slang for a quick resale.
The once-astronomical price seems fairly reasonable today, as survivors of the muscle-car era inject the millionaire’s club, shouldering Bugattis, Ferraris and Duesenbergs out of the limelight. In January, at the Barrett-Jackson collector car auction in Scottsdale, Ariz., two icons of the period sold for seven-figure prices.
A one thousand nine hundred seventy Chevrolet Chevelle convertible with a 454-cubic-inch V-8, decked out in replica lettering from its days as a haul racing champ, sold for $1,242,000. A one thousand nine hundred seventy Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda convertible in dazzling orange — High Influence Vitamin C in sales brochures — brought $Two,160,000.
Two months later, a one thousand nine hundred sixty five Shelby Mustang GT350R with a history of racetrack wins just missed the mark, bringing $990,000. A Shelby Cobra racecar sold for $1.65 million at the same Amelia Island, Fla., auction.
Why would a car that cost $Five,000 when fresh thirty five years ago instruction $1 million or more today? The plain reaction is that wealthy buyers know what they want and are willing to pay for it. And years of steadily rising prices have made the purchase of a uncommon muscle car lighter to justify as an example of investment-grade wish fulfillment.
While there is no concise definition of what constitutes a muscle car, it is certain that the horsepower race in Detroit heated up considerably with the arrival of the Pontiac GTO for the ’64 model year. The one-upsmanship among carmakers continued for eight years, until escalating insurance rates, unleaded gasoline and tepid horsepower ratings shifted buyers toward individual luxury cars.
Purists insist that a muscle car is made by marrying a big engine with a four- or five-seat bod, citing the example of the original GTO. The engines are typically from three hundred eighty three to four hundred fifty four cubic inches in displacement (in the vernacular, “big-block” V-8’s), with factory ratings of up to four hundred fifty horsepower.
While sports cars like the Shelby Cobra and Chevrolet Corvette may qualify on the basis of horsepower and zero-to-60 spectacle, sticklers regard these powerful two-seaters as no more than affiliate members of their club. Imported cars were never considered for membership.
Mr. Comer, 34, was born as the muscle car era was fading. He admits that some of his affection for the cars is unspoiled rebellion. “My dad told me muscle cars were cheap kids fucktoys,” he said. “I figured that if he didn’t like them, they had to be pretty cool.”
Like prices for other types of collectibles, muscle car values are determined by well-established guidelines. In this lofty price class, experienced buyers and sellers use special language to appraise their qualities.
Rarity is a virtue. In 1969, Chevrolet made sixty nine Camaros with aluminum 427-cubic-inch V-8’s for racing. Because even that meager supply exceeded request — the ZL1 engine option cost more than the base car — many languished at dealerships. Today these are among the most sought-after Camaros. Mr. Comer recently sold one for $840,000 and expects them to top $1 million soon.
Optional equipment adds value, especially less-common factory-installed features like the model year’s most powerful engine or a heavy-duty transmission; high-performance options can distinguish a top-shelf muscle car from a Plymouth Satellite that has little more than bucket seats and a mainstream family-sedan engine. “The speculators buying lesser cars in hopes the rising tide of top-dollar muscle cars will make them wealthy are wrong,” Mr. Comer said. “Market adjustments are inescapable. When that happens, speculators who bought marginal cars will get burned.”
History matters, and documentation is crucial. What collectors call provenance traces the car to its origins by a bill of sale, paperwork tucked under the backseat by assembly-line workers, photos from previous owners, or trophies earned at the racetrack.
Included with the $1.2-million Chevelle auctioned in January were an original Fresh Jersey title, a factory “build sheet,” and a collection of magazine articles chronicling the car’s drag-strip victories. Ray Allen, who drove the car and directed its restoration, was present at Barrett-Jackson to erase any doubts about the car’s history.
A version of this article emerges in print on , on Page AU2 of the Fresh York edition with the headline: My Other Car Is a Millionaire. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe
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Muscle Cars Now Worth Millions – The Fresh York Times
Muscle Cars Now Worth Millions
By DON SHERMAN JUNE Four, two thousand six
BLAME Milton Robson, an Atlanta car collector, for the sky-high prices of muscle cars.
Four years ago, Mr. Robson, a former grocery wholesaler, placed a half-page advertisement in Hemmings Motor News to sell his one thousand nine hundred seventy one Plymouth ‘Cuda, a convertible tooled with a Hemi V-8 engine and a four-speed manual transmission. The asking price — $1 million — was an astounding sum, even considering that the car was one of just six similarly tooled ‘Cudas that Chrysler built as one thousand nine hundred seventy one models.
“When I eyed Mr. Robson’s ad, I said to myself, ‘Well, he’s got to embark somewhere,’ ” Colin Comer, president of Colin’s Classic Automobiles in Milwaukee, said. “But he stuck to his guns and, sure enough, his Hemi ‘Cuda went to a broker who flipped it,” he said, using slang for a quick resale.
The once-astronomical price seems fairly reasonable today, as survivors of the muscle-car era inject the millionaire’s club, shouldering Bugattis, Ferraris and Duesenbergs out of the limelight. In January, at the Barrett-Jackson collector car auction in Scottsdale, Ariz., two icons of the period sold for seven-figure prices.
A one thousand nine hundred seventy Chevrolet Chevelle convertible with a 454-cubic-inch V-8, decked out in replica lettering from its days as a haul racing champ, sold for $1,242,000. A one thousand nine hundred seventy Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda convertible in dazzling orange — High Influence Vitamin C in sales brochures — brought $Two,160,000.
Two months later, a one thousand nine hundred sixty five Shelby Mustang GT350R with a history of racetrack wins just missed the mark, bringing $990,000. A Shelby Cobra racecar sold for $1.65 million at the same Amelia Island, Fla., auction.
Why would a car that cost $Five,000 when fresh thirty five years ago instruction $1 million or more today? The plain reaction is that wealthy buyers know what they want and are willing to pay for it. And years of steadily rising prices have made the purchase of a infrequent muscle car lighter to justify as an example of investment-grade wish fulfillment.
While there is no concise definition of what constitutes a muscle car, it is certain that the horsepower race in Detroit heated up considerably with the arrival of the Pontiac GTO for the ’64 model year. The one-upsmanship among carmakers continued for eight years, until escalating insurance rates, unleaded gasoline and tepid horsepower ratings shifted buyers toward individual luxury cars.
Purists insist that a muscle car is made by marrying a big engine with a four- or five-seat figure, citing the example of the original GTO. The engines are typically from three hundred eighty three to four hundred fifty four cubic inches in displacement (in the vernacular, “big-block” V-8’s), with factory ratings of up to four hundred fifty horsepower.
While sports cars like the Shelby Cobra and Chevrolet Corvette may qualify on the basis of horsepower and zero-to-60 spectacle, sticklers regard these powerful two-seaters as no more than affiliate members of their club. Imported cars were never considered for membership.
Mr. Comer, 34, was born as the muscle car era was fading. He admits that some of his affection for the cars is unspoiled rebellion. “My dad told me muscle cars were cheap kids fucktoys,” he said. “I figured that if he didn’t like them, they had to be pretty cool.”
Like prices for other types of collectibles, muscle car values are determined by well-established guidelines. In this lofty price class, experienced buyers and sellers use special language to appraise their qualities.
Rarity is a virtue. In 1969, Chevrolet made sixty nine Camaros with aluminum 427-cubic-inch V-8’s for racing. Because even that meager supply exceeded request — the ZL1 engine option cost more than the base car — many languished at dealerships. Today these are among the most sought-after Camaros. Mr. Comer recently sold one for $840,000 and expects them to top $1 million soon.
Optional equipment adds value, especially less-common factory-installed features like the model year’s most powerful engine or a heavy-duty transmission; high-performance options can distinguish a top-shelf muscle car from a Plymouth Satellite that has little more than bucket seats and a mainstream family-sedan engine. “The speculators buying lesser cars in hopes the rising tide of top-dollar muscle cars will make them wealthy are wrong,” Mr. Comer said. “Market adjustments are unpreventable. When that happens, speculators who bought marginal cars will get burned.”
History matters, and documentation is crucial. What collectors call provenance traces the car to its origins by a bill of sale, paperwork tucked under the backseat by assembly-line workers, photos from previous owners, or trophies earned at the racetrack.
Included with the $1.2-million Chevelle auctioned in January were an original Fresh Jersey title, a factory “build sheet,” and a collection of magazine articles chronicling the car’s drag-strip victories. Ray Allen, who drove the car and directed its restoration, was present at Barrett-Jackson to erase any doubts about the car’s history.
A version of this article emerges in print on , on Page AU2 of the Fresh York edition with the headline: My Other Car Is a Millionaire. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe
We’re interested in your feedback on this page. Tell us what you think.