Friends Made Through A Rusty Plymouth

By Frank Adkins

One day in the fall of 2013 I got a call from my buddy Greg Rager. Greg was the founding

editor of Mopar Muscle magazine, and prior to that he had been the tech editor of one of its sister publications, Muscle Car Review. When Tom Shaw became the new editor of Muscle Car Review some years later, he and Greg forged a friendship that grew strong over time. I wrote several tech articles for Mopar Muscle during Greg’s tenure, and he knew I wanted a 1967 Plymouth GTX, preferably one with a 440 and a four-speed. Tom Shaw’s brother, Jerry, had such a car, although he had disassembled it decades earlier in anticipation of a restoration that never happened. When Jerry passed away suddenly in 2013, Tom sought to help Jerry’s wife, Rita, place Jerry’s car with an owner who would restore it properly. When Greg heard Jerry’s car was available, he called me immediately, and he gave me Tom’s number.

Soon I was on the phone with Tom, and he sent me photos of the rusty hulk. Decades earlier, the original silver paint had been covered with a now-faded orange hue, and surface rust was bleeding through in several places. The right fender and hood had been replaced with pieces from a maroon Belvedere II. While he filled me in regarding the details of the car, he quizzed me about my plans for it and the level of restoration I had in mind. As friendly as he was, he stated that there were two conditions that were non-negotiable. First was the price. It was higher than I felt the car was worth in its current condition, but it was optioned almost exactly how I would have ordered it had I been able to buy one new. Second was the understanding that once the restoration was completed, Rita would have the opportunity to drive Jerry’s car. I agreed, and then Tom put me into contact with Rita. Although the GTX was in pieces, she knew where all of those pieces were. After discussing it with my wife, I agreed to purchase the project, and I made arrangements to travel over Thanksgiving weekend to her home in Kansas City, Mo. and take possession of the car and all its parts. Jerry had dismantled several Belvederes and Satellites in the late ‘70s, and he selected only the best pieces from those cars to use on his GTX. He polished and refurbished these parts, and he stored them in an unused bedroom in his father’s home. In addition, the original engine was sitting all apart in a friend’s shop a few miles away. The original transmission and rear axle were still in the car.

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, Rita called me and said she couldn’t go through with the sale. She said it was much too soon, and her voice rang with grief. Although I was disappointed, I felt terrible for her. She apologized repeatedly, but promised to offer it to me first should she decide to sell at a later date.

Two years later, she made good on her promise. Unfortunately, by then my wife and I had already purchased another ’67 GTX. Rita listed Jerry’s car for sale, and Andrew Lowe in Waterloo, IA saw the ad. Andrew’s father Randy had owned a ’65 Plymouth Belvedere with a 383 and a four-speed in his youth, and he had the itch for another one. Although the ’67 was an updated body style compared to his ‘65, Randy was intrigued, so he and Andrew went to see it. Randy purchased it, and it took two trips to haul the shell of the long dormant GTX and all its parts to his Iowa home.

Not long afterward, Randy called me to verify that I had spoken with Tom — and that I had agreed to buy it two years earlier. Tom was also deceased by this time, so I relayed the information and history of the car he had provided me. Randy was not at all familiar with the ’67 model. He had owned his ’65 for a few years, and he and Andrew had restored their family’s ’71 GTX, but he had never worked on a ’67. As they dove into what would become a six-year restoration, Randy called on me several times for technical information. I often took photos of various components on our GTX, and I even shipped a few spare parts to him. Randy and Andrew also networked with other ’67 GTX owners, and soon parts began arriving from all over the country.

Admittedly, my plan for Jerry’s GTX was to make it cosmetically correct, but mechanically I would have taken a few liberties with it to suit my taste. I would have mothballed the original 18-spline “Hemi” transmission (which is correct in 440 applications) in favor of an overdrive four-speed, which would allow for more pleasurable highway cruising. I would have also installed a new 800 CFM Edelbrock carburetor, electronic ignition, radial tires, and possibly stiffer torsion bars and sway bar. Randy, however, chose to go the concourse restoration route. His ’71 GTX had garnered numerous awards from prestigious shows, and he was intent on making the ’67 every bit as correct.

Bob Ashton, the organizer of the Muscle Car and Corvette Nationals held every November near Chicago, was well aware of Randy’s attention to detail. The Lowe family had displayed their ’71 GTX at the MCACN show previously, and it had scored well in judging. Bob invited them to unveil their ’67 GTX at the 2022 MCACN show. Being the thoughtful and hospitable guy he is, Randy insisted that Rita be there not only to see Jerry’s completed car for the first time, but also to install the last few pieces, thus completing the restoration. He also asked me to attend. Rita was present for the show, and she installed the stickers under the hood, inside the trunk, and in the driver’s door jamb. Unfortunately, I could not join them. In its first outing, the GTX scored an amazing 994 points out of a possible 1,000!

By this time, I had met Randy, his wife Cheri, and Andrew when they brought their ’71 GTX to the All-Chrysler Nationals in Carlisle, Pa., but Rita and I had never met. There was also the last detail of the agreement between Rita and Randy that needed to be fulfilled — Rita had not yet driven Jerry’s car. And so it was that in June, Rita and I both met at the Lowes’ home. Randy and Cheri whipped up a delicious meal of barbecued ribs, potatoes, corn, and other mid-western staples. At the table on their back porch we talked, laughed, and shared stories. The next day, we took the GTX for a drive. Rita had brought the wooden box containing Jerry’s ashes, which seemed most appropriate. Randy drove first, then Rita, and then I took a turn behind the wheel. Everything about the GTX felt as it should. It drove well, stopped straight, and exhibited stellar road manners. When Randy stuck his foot deep into the carburetor, the car responded eagerly by emanating a loud induction moan from beneath the hood, lifting the front end slightly, and whisking us down the deserted rural two-lane road.

It occurred to me that the three of us, now good friends, had been brought together from three different states by what had been nothing more than a rusty old Plymouth. Although I never knew Jerry, I’m sure I sensed him smiling from the back seat.