FISHING FOR DADS BARRACUDA AND FINALLY SETTING THE HOOK!
WARNING: this is loooong! 50 sections! Read at your own risk… cancel any plans, put your phone on airplane mode and find a snack…
The year is 1985 and it’s my birthday! Hooray! My mom and dad were married a year earlier.
When we last left our fearless hero, my dad, he was banned from the property and the barracuda was never to be seen again. But not because he didn’t WANT to come back for the car, mind you.
the “evil stepmother” and her two handsome boys, who could do no wrong, threatened my dad with legal action, or worse, if he ever came back to the house.
He continues on with life raising me and enjoying new chapters in his life with the Camaro and balancing out husbandry… all the while wondering how he could go back and rescue the barracuda from her wrongful imprisonment, as well as his dads prized fishing boat! (I apologize, I left out crucial information that my dad and his father were commercial fisherman through this youth and teens, on and off. His dad’s boat was just as prized as his mom’s barracuda.)
The year is 1988 and my dad’s father, Jack passes away. My dad develops serious anger issues and loses touch with his mom as there is bickering between his sisters and his mom. Jacks passing makes things downright SICK between he and the “evil stepmother”… things get legal and disgusting over Jacks belongings and very, very awful things are said and done… Separating himself from the drama and developing a hostile mentality in dealing with his father’s passing and still suffering from the divorce… he finally can’t take it anymore and results to drastic measures in plotting out the recovery of his dads boat and the barracuda…
THIS is MY first encounter with the Barracuda… the year is 1989… I’m four.
My dad hops in his truck and, for reasons still unknown to any of us, takes ME with him! He drives 2 hours away to the property, backs right up to his dad’s fishing boat and starts hooking up. Btw… it’s midnight and he’s not supposed to be there… his stepmom comes out with her sons and it all hits the fan… meanwhile I’m hanging out in the pickup at 4 years old probably hearing what can only be imagined as a scene from “The Warriors” and enjoying my ninja turtles stickers… I really don’t know…
ID rather not discuss the details of that night. It’ll do nobody any good. But here’s the end result… my dad hooks up boat, dispatches of the sons (no one was permanently harmed) and he and his stepmom say the MOST vulgar and fowl things a person can say… she calls the police, he tells her that he’ll be long gone before they ever arrive, true, she threatens to send her sons after him, he responds with “I’m looking forward to it” (I know, I know… tough guy, haha) and it ends with this… “this is MY dads boat and he gave it to ME! Not YOU! You have no right and I’m taking the MFer! Oh and by the way, I’m coming back for my Barracuda so don’t even think about touching it!”
That was the last time that my dad would see his car until 2018 when I found and recovered the car( we’re getting there I promise!)
The barracuda WAS there that night .He DID see it and he was coming back for it. A side note, when he recalls now of that night, the barracuda looked like it was set up on cinder blocks and the wheels/ tires were removed. He believed that her boys had “sabotaged” the barracuda so that it could not be moved easily.
Let’s do a speed run to get to what everyone wants to know… how did I finally set the hook and catch the elusive fish?
a worthy tribute to what became MY obsession … since I was probably 10 or so, every Christmas or birthday when asked what I wanted, I would say “I want dad’s barracuda!” Keep in mind that my dad would tell me these legendary stories and the lore about his car and for years and years, more and more details would come out and it became a mythical beast with unknown whereabouts… but what was once cute and innocent commentary and inquiring about my dads car soon started to rub people the wrong way, particularly my mom and eventually, even my dad *gasp*
Here we go let’s speed this up. I develop a big interest in car culture. Started with my dads barracuda stories obviously and grew from there, hot august nights in Reno, car shows and tinkering on “things”
I get through highschool and start into the working world in my uncles chainsaw shop and get my feet wet learning mechanics basics. I’ve worked construction, paving, towing, heavy equipment and so on, finally landing as a garage mechanic and working for a great man who became a father figure as far as guidance and keeping me straight.
Roughly in 2008, During my time as a garage mechanic I enjoyed working on the 50s, 60s and 70s cars the most. On and off through the years I would dig into my dad to give me clues or any information about where the barracuda might be. He would NEVER tell me the property address where it last was and claims to have “forgotten” the location… (this was to protect me)
THIS is how it starts and ends for me. All with a phone call. I’m with a wonderful girl, later to become my wife. We’re eating lunch and after years of asking and begging my mom and dad to help me find the barracuda, my mom calls me. She says that she found the stepmothers phone number and agrees to share it with me ONLY if I agree to let the barracuda go if the car is no longer around. Young and excited I agree to her terms. I call the stepmother. She answers and I screw up from the get go.
After a few minutes of phony niceties I mention that I’m interested in finding my dad’s car and for the next 10 minutes I took the verbal ***-whoopin she would have gave my dad had he ever showed back up. It consisted of her reminding me what a POS my dad was, that she had no idea how I got her number, she only met me 3 or 4 times as a kid and was furious I even called, it ended with her telling me “your grandpas dead. I don’t want anything to do with you or your family and don’t call again. Oh and as far as your dad’s car goes I can’t remember if I sold it or crushed the Fn thing. Goodbye.”
Yikes…
I called my mom and dad and let them know what a wondering sweet woman his stepmother was… my dad is furious but more than anything, hurt. He apologizes to
me relentlessly and said that this is why he never wanted to share the location or information in seeking out the car. He knew that she would take out a lifetime of pain and hurt out on me and so I took my dad’s hit and that was it. He begged me to let it go, to accept that the car was gone and all we had now were the memories and that was enough. He begged me to forgive him for having put the legend in my head but to spare my mom anymore agony in the stress I developed in obsessing over it. (Keep in mind I’ve annoyed my mom and dad year after year about finding my dad’s car.)
I crumbled like a styrofoam cup after that. I was broken and the car got away… she snapped the line and swam off once again…
For the next 9-10 years… I’ve reached out to DMV, sheriffs, the court system and even local tow companies looking for any kind of hint in finding the car maybe on paperwork or by the license plate number… or even if anyone had ever seen one similar to my dads description of the car… sickening, I know. I even went to the district Attourneys to claim and try to prove that the car was last registered to my DAD and that it would legally still belong to him… all dead ends without a friggin VIN number…
Christmas time 2017. I had started to accept that maybe my dad was right… maybe it was all just a story now and the car was not meant to be found. Painful, but my obsession was distracting in certain ways and even my wife started to think it might be unhealthy.
Christmas Eve my mom calls me. She can’t take it anymore and says been hiding some unfortunate information from me and that I deserve to know what happened ONLY if I promise to NEVER mention my dads car to her again…
A few years prior, my mom and dad get a Christmas card from the stepmother. It says in so many words that she was agitated that they had shared her number with me and that I had called. She reiterated that Jack was dead and that she had zero interest in having anything to do with any of us and that we were not family. Charming right?
What more could I do? I had done all I could do, right? My mom and dad needed peace and I needed to grow up and move on. And so I did. And it was awful. No details needed here but I had a pretty bad breakdown letting go… it felt like a family member had died…
READY?! You made it! We’re finally here! Let’s catch this Bad Fish once and for all!
!!!April 2018!!!Unknown to me, my mom and her girlfriend take it upon themselves to drive to the property, with my dad’s blessing, to finally see if the car is or is not there to bring us all a final answer… they scout the area as not to be seen, what a mom huh?! And there in the overgrown grass, under a tattered blue tarp is my dad’s 1965 Plymouth BARRACUDA!!!! YEEESSS!!!
I get the phone call and jump up and down and thank my mom profusely. I’m ready to explode! After all these years and all the unknown the barracuda is still alive! I am beyond control and am starting to develop devious plans in GETTING that car by any means necessary. I’m gonna steal it. I’m gonna buy it. I’m gonna pick it up with a helicopter and fly it outa there!
My dad, an intelligent and wise man now, stops me. We have a very long talk about how this might go and that the “evil stepmother” could still be in the picture and reminds me of her words to us. He asks me to wait, to turn off my excitement and absorb myself. I respectfully do so.
April 29th, 2018… A few weeks after relaxing and coming to terms on what my dad meant in pursuing the barracuda for the right reasons. Almost spiritually at this point. I’m in the backyard with my wife and our two little girls… the “wind” blows… and my wife and I both, without saying a word perk up, look at each other and I ask her “did you feel that?” She responds with “you’re going to go get your dad’s car today, aren’t you?” My skin crawls recalling that moment… I swear I could hear the car whispering “come get me” … laugh all you want but I can’t explain it and don’t want to question the magic…
I hop in my truck and drive 3 hours to the property. The ENTIRE time I wrote a speech in my head and prepared myself for any and all variations how this might go… I talked out loud how I would react and try to make this all work out in rescuing the car…
I drove up to the gate and park strategically if I need to get the heck outa there quickly…
I can see the barracuda peaking at me from under her tattered tarp as I walk to the front door… we don’t know each-other but she knows we’re connected somehow through my dad… I do my best not to show my deck of cards and try to ignore her…
I walk up the steps. Knock on the door. Nothing. I keep looking back over my shoulder at the car… no longer interest in stealing it or doing anything foul… a new sense of calmness is on me now thinking of my dads words…
I can hear scrambling or rustling inside the house… I hear a cabinet or a door creek and I’m thinking “buckshot” … “run!” I’m thinking all the horrible things that the stepmother, my grandmother mind you, had said to me… how clear she made it that my dad and I were NOT welcome here… I started to panic, I turned to head down the steps, but it was too late…
There at the bottom of the steps stood a tiny, thin, 83 year old woman with curly gray hair, giant substitute teacher glasses and a pink tie dye shirt with kittens on it… my grandmother, (no names, in respect)
“Hello, can I help you?” She says in the kindest most mousy voice I’ve ever heard… before I can even mutter a word she looks me over and says “oh… I know you. You’re Vince’s son…” I FREEZE and expect the cops to be on their way soon while she decides which one of my limbs I won’t be needing anymore… but, I’ve NEVER been so proud and so thankful in being wrong.
“Yes. I am. Is it ok that I’m here or should I leave?” … “oh no no, you’re fine. I always knew one day you’d show up, haha” … she shuffles over, hugs me, looks me over and says “boy you ARE a big one huh? Just like your dad, your grandpa was tall too.”
THIS is what I really found and rescued. THIS is the treasure that we all were able to enjoy. I spent the next 4 hours sitting on the tailgate of the “evil stepmothers” truck , 3’ away from the barracuda which I had completely forgotten about… and we talked about EVERYTHING. And holy cow was my dad an A-HOLE (as a young man)
I’ll spare you the drama but as we all know, you can’t read a book skipping every other page… and so it goes… she filled me in on her side of the story. The “hows” and “whys” between her, my dad, and her son’s. I asked her why it was ok for me to be there and if she had any recollection about what she had said to me all those years ago… she laughed it off in saying she was probably at the casino and had a drink or two when I had called… as if it had never happened… she even apologized about being so ugly to my mom with the Christmas card…. She asked how my parents were doing and wanted to know all about my life… all is forgiven and she says “no one wants to grow old and die angry”
My dad’s car is cool and legendary. But how about undoing ages of bad blood, doing some yard work and gaining a badass grandma that enjoys beer and cusses like a foreman?
After making peace with one another about to part ways. I notice that her yard looks like the filming location for Jurassic Park. She tells me how she, at 83, does all of her own yard work… 1/4 acre nonetheless… she weed whips everything because her mower is broken…
I hear the barracuda whisper to me again… “come get me” … and “luck” is when preparation meets opportunity…
I offer to come back on the weekends to help her with all the yard work. She folds, cries and says “you’d really do that for me? I’d don’t think I could offer to pay you very much…” … and as naturally and as organically as my dad had explained it to me in being patient… I asked, “would you be willing to sell me my dads car?” … she laughs and says “oh sure, it’s right over there, if anybody deserves it, it belongs to you…”
I came back for many weekends after that and I did her yard work for her with a good friend/ coworker who offered to assist. We had a few beers, repaired her riding mower, sat and chatted spent hours looking through her photo albums and hearings stories from her glory days. Truly, when I say this, some of the most incredible and memorable moments of my life that I’ll take to grave with me.
Sunday, may 13th, 2018… yep… Mother’s Day… (how fitting… this was my dads moms car for the majority of its life, for whatever that’s worth) the barracudas tarp is removed and she sees daylight for the first time since 1991… (there’s some loss of facts here… my dad claims to have not seen the car since the “fight night” in 1989… my grandmother claims they DID drive the car for a short time even with the busted transmission, no reverse… then finally parking it and leaving it to sit…
We put some “wind” in the tires… ask all of the critters to leave and begin winching her up out of the grass and onto the trailer… goes smooth and my grandma even offers to help by turning the wheel to keep her true…
She gives me hugs and kisses and is genuinely happy for the story to have come full circle to me… I end up paying her $1,100 a number we came up with to be fair for some of the repairs the car had cost her in the little time she drove it… to be honest… I’m happy there was monetary transaction instead of just being given away… somehow I felt a connection between the $1 my dad paid to his mom for it at the DMV (I forgot that VERY critical part of the story I apologize) and the $1,100 I paid my grandma for it… make it right ya know?
We got the car home, invited the whole family over, my mom and my other grandma were on cloud 9 at how special this was going to be for my dad. He did not know I had already brought the car home so when they drove up my mom said he just got quiet and seemed stoic… he walked up to her, pulled the car cover off and placed his hands on the roof… I shooed everyone away so that he could have his moment… and to this day, he has never told me exactly what was “said” between them…. But I like to believe he spoke to his mom through the car maybe… or maybe just a peaceful and therapeutic “hello, old friend” I really don’t know and it’s not important… (after a few hours of mechanic magic, we even got her to turn over and run and my dads reaction was all I’ll ever need, everything else is a bonus from this day on… he hugged me and said “thank you so much for finding her and bringing her home.” I absolutely did not ever even for a second cry… pshhh… nope, not me. I hugged him back and said “I love you dad. I’m so sorry it took so long. Everything’s ok now with grandma now too, you guys should talk”
Heres what IS important. To this day, I talk to my grandma twice a month maybe more. We check in on each other and have a genuine, healthy relationship. She’s fiery and I love it. She has forgiven my dad and they have spoken lightly. Very briefly, but baby steps. She always asks how my parents are and has even started sending out PLEASANT Christmas cards to us all. My family and I moved to North Dakota shortly after in 2021 (sorry for the misunderstanding in that the car was found in ND. Nope. She came with us. Got to feel the wind in her hair at 65mph for 1,500 miles for the first time since who knows when… I’m a working man with two little girls and a wife. Joining the FABO community has probably been the most productive thing for the barracuda in the physical and mechanical sense. It’s the right environment for those of us seeking support, knowledge, acceptance , experience and wisdom. For whatever it’s worth. This is the FIRST time that I’ve shared this story publicly. The engine, trans and radiator are in the shop. The car just got her first spa day today and is now in the garage awaiting a suspension kit, shocks and brakes and so on… my two daughters help as they can and I set boundaries to keeping the time spent reasonably healthy… my dad thinks it’s sitting under a tarp on the backyard… once it’s safe and running, we plan to surprise him with it at a local car show cruise one day, pull up in front of him and my mom and let him drive it for the cruise…. And here, I’ve met some AWESOME FABO members and will be making a “parts run” soon to South Dakota and Des Moines Iowa with the family for some good finds for the build progress…
It’s truly an absolute dream to have made any of this happen. Whether strictly logic in the right place at the right time… or something of a greater nature in everything that’s transpired over the course in the magic of the barracudas story and the lives that’s she’s touched… my dads words say it all… “it’s not the car, it’s who I am through the car”
Thanks for letting me share. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my story and I apologize if this is the wrong outlet for over sharing and for the length of it all, but thanks for reading. Look for us in MOPAR magazine or HOT ROD magazine one day haha. All the best FABO and God bless.