AutoTrader Find of the Week: This 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda 440 is Sublime

Contrary to what overpaid YouTubers and snobbish televised auctions framed to appeal to red state robber barons would have you believe, muscle cars are not meant to be lavish, meticulous, precious commodities.

Yes, muscle cars can and should be eye-catching. Bright colours and cartoon character graphics are encouraged. And the sheer rarity and desirability of certain models does dictate a natural elevation of price.

But muscle cars aren’t meant to be babied. They’re meant to be driven. To be thrashed. Chassis components should show some patina. Engine bays should be good and greasy. The paint on the radiator should be hanging on for dear life.

And no, I’m not campaigning for the whole “rat rod” or “Roadkill” thing. That was played out ten years ago.

What I am saying is that restoring these cars to a condition of tasteful preservation, without going so far as to create something so pristine that it can no longer be truly enjoyed without a guilty conscience, is the way to go.

Enter this 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda 440 offered for sale on AutoTrader through the always top-notch Summit Classic collection in Toronto, Ont.

Asking price? $160,000, or about what you might drop on a 2018 Dodge Challenger Demon and about $100,000 cheaper than the going price for a new Demon 170. (You can rationalize any car purchase if you try hard enough.)

The short story on this ‘Cuda is that it’s been tastefully restored to its original spec.

The inner fender tags will let you know this is a real-deal 1970 ‘Cuda hardtop optioned with the code E87 440 “Six Pack” V8 engine mated to an as-God-intended four-speed manual transmission and sending power to the god-tier Dana 44 with 3.55 final drive ratio.

The engine is the original numbers-matching block with the correct three Holley 2300-series two-barrel carburetors. Summit claims to have recently conducted a compression test verifying the integrity of the engine. It reports “182 PSI across all cylinders,” so we can expect this engine to be at least good for the 390 horsepower and 490 lb-ft of torque Plymouth claimed in 1970.

Old muscle car fans think these cars made way more horsepower than what the manufacturers claimed. But the truth is that from the factory, they were actually pretty close to what the brochure said. Here’s a look at a 440 Six Pack in its most ideal factory spec and generous tune. It tops out at 416 horsepower. So, at the tires, 390 horsepower was probably pretty generous.

Folklore aside, given this car’s exact powertrain combo, the Internet seems to believe it is one of only about 902 cars ordered in that spec for 1970.

However, dig deeper into the fender tag, and the production numbers begin to narrow.

This ‘Cuda was ordered in the iconic Mopar “Sublime Green” (code FJ5 ), as well as optioned with the obligatory “Shaker” hood (N96) with a factory AM radio and 8-track player (R22).

While the Shaker hood isn’t uncommon for 440 cars, the Sublime Green is what really makes this ‘Cuda a rare find. Despite it readily being one of the most recognizable and infamous colours in the Mopar back catalogue, the truth is only an estimated five per cent of ‘Cudas were optioned in this colour (which was actually called “Lime Light” for Plymouth, but honestly, who isn’t going to say “Sublime”?)

Bad math says this is one of 53 cars like it produced in 1970. But… yeah, bad math. Put the pitchforks away, Mopar fans.

Despite this car’s rarity and high desirability amongst enthusiasts, and while it has been repainted to its original colour with a completely corrosion-free underside, it hasn’t been overrestored to a point you’d be afraid to drive it.

Chassis components boast some healthy road grime. That big block under the hood is good and greasy, there’s paint coming off the radiator, and overspray on the headers. It's glorious.

Muscle cars are not about perfection. Far from it, they’re a salute to imperfection. What matters here is not Concours d'elegance meticulousness. It’s an engine that pokes through your hood rumbling away. It’s a pistol-grip shifter in your hand. It’s sound and fury signifying sound and fury.

It’s pure, juvenile, unbothered fun. And sure, $160,000 is a lot of cheddar to pay for the privilege.

But at least you know you’re getting the real McCoy.