May Auto Enthusiast Women of Mopar

My story was greatly abbreviated. This is the original as I submitted it without the pictures.

I have no hard feelings against Dave. He's great to work with and kept me informed over these last few months, explaining quite a few times during the magazine's transition from Mopar Enthusiast to Auto Enthusiast that he reports to a Higher Power and can only do so much. I appreciate the exposure, but I have a feeling the end product wasn't exactly what either one of us was expecting. Thanks for getting me in there Dave!


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Dave, I'm sorry that this is such a novel but after all these years of ownership it was really unavoidable in order to be complete. You and I haven't talked about how this should be written, i.e., first / third / omniscient perspective, but I can easily amend it as needed if it's too much for the editorial staff on short notice.

I'm still going through the photos. Unfortunately, my photographer's ego was more apparent than his skills were yesterday (arghhhhhhhhh!!!!!). I've got a few of the 70+ pictures that I like but am going to be taking more with a different shooter later this evening or tomorrow. It was also extremely windy and I couldn't keep the hair out of my face yesterday. I assure you that better pictures WILL be there by Friday the 20th. Here's a few hi-res teasers in the meantime. ANY AND ALL SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!! I'm a custom powder coater ... I'm not a model.











One of my favorites ... except for the slight wardrobe malfuction on my shorts tie. LOL!!!!!



Don't hesitate to give me a call if you need clarification or additional info about any of this. Thank you in advance for your and Mopar Enthusiast's consideration.

Leanna
731-613-9192


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Leanna Johnson ~ The CudaChick
Owner / Operator of Phoenix Specialty Coatings
1968 Plymouth Barracuda Fastback

I bought the car on April 9, 1991 as a total basket case, complete with the typical 'box of spare parts in the trunk.' I lived in San Bernardino, California at the time and the Cuda was in Grand Terrace, about 10 miles away. I wanted that car. Badly. It took over six months of bugging my friend Lloyd Hilton about it whenever I got over there. "C'mon Lloyd, sell me that Cuda in the driveway. You're not gonna do anything with it. It's clean now but it's going to rot. You don't wanna see that happen ... and you already have your Duster. I need a project."

The day I finally showed up with a six pack of his favorite wobbly pops and my daisy dukes in addition to the wallet was the day I finally went home with the title. Sitting on the couch, he sipped a couple beers. Then raised an eyebrow at me and said, "So you want that car huh? Okay, two hundred and fifty bucks and it's yours." I whipped out the cash and had a Bill of Sale written up for him to sign faster than he could pop open another brew. He gave me an old Chilton's Manual and a 1988 magazine with a wheel-standing Cuda on the cover too. Apparently feminine wiles, liquor and bribery can get you anywhere.

The factory 318 was long gone and most of a 360 was in its place ... except for the main and thrust bearing journal caps. (The oil pan was bolted on so this came as a bit of a surprise.) I eventually snagged a '69 340 from the local newspaper for next to nothing. As I started working on the car -- my first resto -- I developed a disease. Nothing a doctor could help with, some call it Mission Creep ... I called it "While I'm Here Disease." I just couldn't see fixing one thing on the car while everything else that part bolted to looked like hell and needed help too. So apart it came .... until it was just a bare shell on wheels. One hundred sixty eight hours was spent sanding it down by hand (didn't have a D.A. or decent compressor then) ... turned out it was six different colors and didn't have any rust at all. Another eighteen hours was spent taking the interior down to bare metal.

It went to the paint shop on December 30, 1999. In retrospect, it turned out that bodywork and paint were the only things I farmed out on the whole car except for getting the bumpers and a few other things rechromed. (Though always mechanically inclined, I'd probably attempt my own body work nowwww, but back then I wasn't too keen on practicing on my hot rod.) About that same time I bought a cheapie powder coating hobby gun and started coating some parts on my car.

In late 2000 I met a guy on the internet in a hot rod chatroom. I eventually quit my job of 7+ years, bought a dually pickup, rented a U-haul car trailer for my Cuda and moved to south Louisiana in July of 2003. A former Mopar guy himself, Billy and I had a blast putting my car together. He donated a sweet 8 3/4 sure grip setup and the Cheetah reverse manual valve body, leftovers from a Challenger project he had. Then Hurricane Katrina came along, changing everything. Except for my beloved Barracuda, its loose parts safely stashed in an inner bedroom and a few clothes, we pretty much lost it all including my daily driver 83 Mustang GT. The law firm I'd been working for since my relocation moved its offices to Baton Rouge, a mere 75 miles from home -- and I got fired the day before my 40th birthday since I could no longer travel to work. While waiting for the adjuster to show up, we cleaned up what we could and worked on my car.

The day Slimer finally ran was its own story, copied below from the November 11, 2005 archives of the Barracuda Owners Group.

Can it be true???[​

/CENTER]


Message #135108 of 174647

The day started off normal enough. Had to cash a Red Cross check (wow, that's a first), hit the hardware store for some valve cover bolts and washers, and get five gallons of gas.

On the way out of the bank the cell phone rings. Of course, it's Billy. "Did ya go to the hardware store yet? No? Well, stop by the house first. I've got a big problem here."

Uh oh ... He's at home playing with my car. I don't wanna hear about problems. Especially big ones. Finished up getting the radiator, overflow tank and fan shroud in a couple days ago. The new seats and steering wheel were installed as of yesterday afternoon (grrrrrrrr forgot to order a dang horn button), and the Fed Ex guy delivered the Optima battery at 7:35 this morning. All is good.

Today's The Day.

The "big problem" was minor, though -- a couple brass plugs for the intake just needed to be added to the hardware store list. What a crisis.

Now armed with my brass plugs, stainless bolts and washers and 93 octane, I got home to find the fan belts were on, the alternator was adjusted and the red-top battery was installed in the box -- and it looks great too. I bolted down the valve covers and put the radiator hoses on, then poured in Castrol and four quarts of ATF while Billy poured gas in the virgin tank and checked for leaks. Then I filled up the radiator and checked all the fluid levels again. Perfect!

The master cylinder was bled first (only a few drips went where they weren't supposed to), and then three of the lines. Brake fluid all over the ground on the driver's side suggested a problem somewhere. Some pedal-pumping and investigation revealed the new line-lock fitting wasn't tightening up enough. It was a quick fix with the flaring tool, and the final brake line was bled. A serious push on the pedal will throw ya through the windshield now! Gotta love those Aerospace disc brakes ... mmmm mmmmm.

While I rummaged around what's left of the kitchen and finally found the fire extinguisher, Billy hooked the battery cables up. I grabbed the keys, opened the driver's door, and was somewhat shocked when interior lights came on in the back seat. Wowwww -- I've never seen my car do that before. I had to turn around in the seat and admire them again once I got in.

Is it really happening??? Fourteen and a half years of learning about this thing inside and out, tons of hard work, mistakes, parts collecting, saving up for stuff, waiting, wishing and hoping it would turn out even half as good as it has were now coming to an end.

"Kick it in the nuts babe." I held my breath, put the key in the ignition, and rolled it a quarter turn to the right.



N o t h i n g.



He peeked around the edge of the hood and looked at me expectantly. "Wellllll???" I shook my head. He looked puzzled; then checked the MSD box and fiddled around with the distributor for a minute. "Try it again." I turned the key again. Still no response from the car. I made sure the ignition switch was wired up and anticipated a phone call to Advance Auto Parts ... but he was finding a piece of wire and a long screwdriver. (A faulty ignition switch wasn't going to foil ol' Billy Lee, nooooo way.)

I'm not one bit ashamed to admit that I cried like a friggin baby when the screwdriver touched the lead and that bad *** billeted ***** fired up for the very first time. VahhhhhrrrrrOOOOOMMMMM racketa-racketa-racketa ... 400+ horsepower came to life ... the ground shook under my feet ... the cam action rocked the car back and forth ... 68 pounds of oil pressure?!?! Ohhhhh my goddddddddddd ... SLIMER LIVES!!!!!!

Walked around to the passenger side to see 8 1/2 pounds of fuel pressure showing on the gauge, and a big oil slick forming behind the front tire. Shut 'er down!!! It lost almost a quart while figuring out the big oil filter adapter bolt didn't get tightened after the final header adjustment was made in April. Whoops. Glad I bought a whole case of that 20/50.

There were no other leaks, it ran perfectly, and fully petrified the neighbors and small animals. The smells of baking fresh engine paint and high octane were thick in the air.

Of course, I also had to honor Dana the Trim Master with a quick trip to the back to admire my 1968 tail light lenses glowing red in the now dark garage. Awesome!!!

So aside from a couple of mild chemical sacrifices (watch for me on the EPA's Most Wanted), The Day Slimer Finally Ran was a total and complete success. I would have cracked open my sole BOG beer if I had had the forethought to put it in the ice chest ahead of time. I raised my glass of chocolate milk and saluted all of you instead. It was the biggest imaginary group hug ever.

I didn't get to actually drive it anywhere yet though. My drive shaft is an inch too long, I still need a short section of linkage from the console down, there's that ignition switch problem, and I'll need some sort of exhaust system. But hey ... it runs.

To Hell with Katrina. Life is good again.

Leanna ~ The CudaChick ... who can build something that works
1968 Fastback 340​

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