Dave Morley searches for the definition of a muscle car. It's not as straightforward as it seems
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The bloody phone is buzzing again with another text message. Ah, it’s Editor Guido. Better save this one from the Junk folder. Terrific, he wants a definition of a muscle car. Worse. He wants it from me.
How the hell would I know? In fact, every time I’m asked something like this, I’m reminded of a book I read . Ever heard of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? Course you have. But I’ll bet you’ve never read it. Or finished it.
Bathurst specials get big ticks
The book is a rambling narrative of a bloke who gets his Calvins in such a bunch trying to answer unanswerable questions that he starts to lose the plot. Several hundred pages, multiple personal relationships, a trip to the looney bin and a few bouts of electro-shock treatment later and the fella finally has an answer to the question of what is Quality (his capital Q, not mine). And get this: Turns out, Quality is what you like. Sheesh. Crank up the amps, nurse.
But I reckon muscle cars are kind of on the same tram. There’s no hard-and-fast definition. If you reckon it’s a muscle car, then who am I to argue? But Guido’s not going to be happy with that, so I reckon I’ll break this down into two areas.
RS2000 Escort has plenty of cred
The first is what physically makes a car a muscle car. Again, it’s open to debate, but I reckon I can identify some themes here.
For starters, it has to be a mass-market car, right? Actually, this is one of the more no-brain-damage statements, because if there was one thing all muscle cars had in the day (even if it’s not the case today) it was relative affordability. (Again, whenever I’m asked what I find attractive in a potential partner, my answer is always the same: Attainability. Same goes for cars.)
This is why a Ferrari or Lamborghini will never be a muscle car. The lines get blurred somewhat when it comes to De Tomasos with their Sophia looks and Detroit hearts, but much as I want to cave in and include them as muscle cars, they were sports cars first and foremost, so I can’t. Maybe you do. Again, that’s fine.
There’s also a school of thought that says a muscle car must have offered some performance upgrade over the basic package. Um, maybe. But look at a VH Pacer. A muscle car? For sure. But with a stock 265 and a three-speed manual, there were Vals with bench seats and hubcaps that were just as quick. Still, stripes have to count for something, don’t they?
Which brings us to presentation. Is a muscle car defined by its stripes, fat wheels and black-outs? Some definitely were, but what about the stripe-delete option? Did a GT Falcon without the Superoo decals cease to be a muscle car? Don’t think so.
Maybe size plays a part. Traditionally, we think of full-sized family cars as the basis of a muscle car. But what about an Escort RS2000? It ain’t a hot-hatch and it sure as hell isn’t a grocery-getter. But is it a muscle car? I want to say yes. Yes, it is. Not everybody will agree with that.
Analogue gauges, yes please
Must a muscle car come from either the USA or Australia, then? Depends on how you look at the mass-market thing, I think. AMG Mercs weren’t supercar money, but they weren’t cheap either. Then again, neither was an HSV W1. Is an AMG C63 a muscle car? I reckon yes. So is a Jensen Interceptor or a Mk2 Jaguar back in the day (the Jag was the go-to wheels for bank robbers and bad guys across 1960s Old Blighty.) So there goes another criterion down the S-bend. Not getting far, are we?
What about the old chrome bumper ruling? Nah, that’s long gone, I reckon, and if you don’t regard HSVs and XR8 Tickfords and FPV GTs as muscle cars, then we are gonna disagree. Our hobby has to move with the times and that means embracing more modern stuff on its own technical merits not to mention the greater affordability newer, less rare, makes and models bring with them.
Maybe all this suggests that my definition of a muscle car is a lot broader than yours. But the guy who’d rather push his Ford than drive a Chevy really deserves to be walking home. And I hope he lives on an uphill driveway so two tonnes of Fairlane Ghia roll back and flatten him at the last moment. We’re a broader church than that, these days, and so we should be.
Having completely and utterly failed to define a muscle car, let’s move on to the second part of all this; the way a particular car kicks you square in the feels. There’s a romance about muscle cars, but what drives that?
AMG Euro bred muscle car
Today’s muscle car appeal almost certainly has to do with evoking pleasant memories. If you’ve ever travelled through the US, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
Suddenly, you’re driving through every movie or TV show you’ve ever seen and every song you’ve ever heard on the radio. It’s brilliant.
And that’s where muscle cars take us. Because they were the front-and-centre production cars back in the day, they’re the ones we associate with all those great memories. (And if you don’t think the good old days were, in fact, more gooder, turn on the TV news for a few minutes. Hide sharp objects first, though.)
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Bill Bourke’s 428 Cobra Jet XW
And if you think that rules out those later, plastic-bumpers jobs I was talking about, consider that there are people out there now with kids, jobs, mortgages and their own memories of good-times cars who weren’t even born when the Y2K bug was predicted to fry the graphic equaliser in your Torana at midnight on New Year’s Eve.
And, yes, depending on your point of view, hot rods, classics, sports cars and whatever other genre you care to name can do the same thing for its admirers, too. The difference being that (maybe like hot rods) muscle cars are also about a sniff of danger, aren’t they? You know, the old: “Your mother will hate it…” deal. The sort of gangsta reverse psychology thing that makes nice girls like troubled guys. And why half the country’s population is now tattooed to some extent.
Right or wrong, it’s making a statement. A slightly daring statement. A statement an MGA (great little jigger though it is) will never utter.
You can see how that works for muscle cars in pop culture. Think about films like Bullitt and Mad Max 1. The Highland Green Mustang of Frank Bullitt and Rockatansky’s brooding black XB Hardtop both gave a visceral, surreal, tough-guy image to the films in which they starred. Neither Frank nor Max would have been as convincing driving Teslas. And if you need proof that the right muscle car can toughen up a perception, keep in mind that in both those cases, both those cars had you cheering for the cops. True!
Clearly, muscle cars can make us feel like we’re one out and one back… a special breed of cat. A bit naughty. A bit adventurous. A bit dangerous to know. Maybe even a tiny bit like Max or Frank; two blokes who didn’t need tattoos. There is a reason the Wiggles sing about a big, red car, and not a Chevelle SS; you don’t wanna scare the kiddies.
The other thing about a lot of muscle cars is that they not only look, sound and smell tough, they’re also rolling artforms. It seems a bit amazing these days, but look at the time and effort Chrysler put into the Charger to arrive at a relatively low-volume car. Okay, so it was based on the meat-and-spuds Valiant, but to take the time to shorten it 13 inches (six of which were from the wheelbase) and sketch up that wild, flying buttress roofline and integrated ducktail spoiler speaks of some serious passion at head office.
And right there, I reckon, is the nub of all this: Muscle cars – for all the reasons we’ve just been talking about – inspire passion. Without that passion, most people just wouldn’t bother and would be happy driving a vanilla SUV. The inspiration takes many forms, but for folks like us who take our fun seriously, a muscle car represents all that is right and special about being an individual. Which brings me to my conclusion: That, ultimately, a muscle car is what you like. Nurse, full amps, please.
Dave’s picks
Dodge Charger 1968-1969
Say what you like, but if there’s ever been a tougher-looking car than a late-60s Charger, I’m buggered if I know what it looks like. A 440 Magnum would be nice, a 426 Hemi would be epic. But even with a 383, this is the blueprint car for a wise guy on the front line. I’ll take mine in dark metallic green with dog-dish hubcaps, a Hemi and a pistol grip. The Dodge’s little Aussie bro, the Valiant Charger should get a mention here, as well. Even though it’s a full size smaller, the local Charger plays a similar song.
HSV GTS 2001-2004
Holden’s born-again Monaro was a headline grabber of the highest order when it broke cover to everybody’s amazement late last century. But the HSV treatment elevated it to a more muscular plane thanks to the body kit and toughened-up running gear. I’ll take the GTS which got the mighty Callaway-tuned LS1 engine complete with 300kW and a six-speed manual. The AWD Coupe 4 was interesting from an engineering point of view, but it was heavier, slower and made less power. So, yeah, make mine a GTS.
Falcon XA/XB GT 1972-1976
I know the earlier GTs are the go-tos here, but as a kid growing up in the early 70s, those hippy, trippy XA and XG GTs were the business. They still look good now, yet they could not be anything other than a product of the 70s. I drift between XA and XB as my fave and the sedan and hardtop constantly fight it out in my brain for the win. This week, it’s an XA sedan in Calypso Green with a Saddle interior and wind-back sunroof. Oh yes.
From Unique Cars #473, Dec 2022
Photography: Unique Cars Archives, Getty Images