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Horological Meandering

In late '85 I ran across a guy who had just simultaneously parked his '63 Pontiac Catalina convertible . . .

 

. . . in my favorite breakfast joint's lot.  White, intact, wholly original.  Even then it was special, and I was aware of its scarceness.  


I struck up a conversation with the driver.

"Nice Poncho," said I.  "Mind if I take a look at it?"

He eyed me warily, then said, "Yeah, sure."

I walked around to the front.  On the fender was this badge:






I gulped.  The engine under the hood . . . 






. . . was a Pontiac 421 Super Duty.  The baddest ever from GM.  He had no inkling.  

I asked how he came to own the car.  He said he'd just bought it a few weeks prior from a gentleman in South Central LA for $2000.  (That was a lot of money back then for a twenty year old car.)

I popped the question: "Would you take $2500?"  

He paused for a moment before agreeing.  He gave me his phone number.

You know what happened: I never called.  I was on my way for an extended overseas trip so I'd have to store it, which would've cost a few hundred dollars a month.  I figured I'd call him when I returned.

Of course, I lost his number.

A few years later I was at a newsstand and saw an issue of a Pontiac magazine that featured an article on 421 Super Duty's.  At the end of the write-up was a list of 421 SD production.

The rarest?  '63 Catalina convertibles.  A grand total of two.

So when one of two platinum Constellations comes up for auction, you know which I'd rather have over a fistful of other delectables. 





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