The Story of the Wrecking Yard

One day while walking through a wrecking yard, I began to survey the years and years of neglect and abuse. There were so many cars that were once somebody's pride and joy, now rotting away in a field with little hope of restoration. My eyes caught a 1967 Plymouth GTX, sitting on its frame, with major areas of rust. 'What a machine,' I thought, whose history is typical of such a car.'

Purchased right off the showroom floor, a young husband explains to his new wife that this really is a practical car, compared to some of the other models offered.
It had room for the "future" kids and it ran really smooth. The 440 cubic inches under the hood meant nothing more than the fact that it had the power to climb up steep hills if need be (surely the wife wouldn't want to be stuck on an incline with young ones eager to get to church).
The 4-speed transmission would certainly help with gas mileage when on vacation, and the dual scooped hood was there so dad could have a little fun (I mean, c'mon: this is a real sacrifice).
The wife is eventually convinced that the car needs to be purchased, the money changes hands, and the GTX rumbles down the road. It is taken home where it is quickly admired by the neighbors.

As the years go by the Plymouth serves its family well. It's reliable, it gets everyone to work (as well as getting the kids to school), and dad has some fun in it on Saturday nights.
But it doesn't seem long until the car is considered "old", and with soaring inflation and especially gas prices, it becomes an 'impractical form of transportation.'
Although it was a great automobile that served its owners well for 10 years and never let them down, the Plymouth is sold to a neighbor's teenage son for a tenth of the original price.

'Some quick changes are in order,' thought the teenager. A set of mag wheels were installed and the rear end of the car was lifted up in order to make room for some unusually large tires.
A cheap red paint job was applied over the original black paint. The exhaust was replaced and the car was now heard coming from blocks away. Whereas before, the neighbors quickly admired it, now the only time they came out to look at the car was to take notice of new dings and dents it had acquired.
It became the eyesore of the neighborhood, and had gained a reputation as a real terror on the local streets.
Eventually all this hard abuse on the GTX would take its toll, and the once strong motor began to tire and eventually died. This owner grew from a teenager to a young man, and his interest in the car soon faded, and he gave the car to his younger brother who had showed an interest in it.

The younger brother had BIG plans for the now classic musclecar (which didn't look like it at the time). He would pull the motor, have it rebuilt, go through the entire drive train, then have a good body shop repair every panel on the car and paint it black once again.
He would do this as soon as time and money permitted, but until then the car would be fine parked in the backyard, where it could brave the elements for a few short months.
Months, however, turned to years, and body work turned to major rust repair.
The hood was even sold to a passer-by who noticed it in the backyard. The GTX became such a major project that the $300.00 that it could be sold to the wrecking yard for, sounded like a fair deal.

So here it is: the motor and tranny are gone, the interior is completely gutted and the rust is rampant. But if someone had the time, the resources and the desire, it could be made like new once again, and become the very desirable classic car that it was.

The same goes for that Olds 442 a couple isles away, or how about that Mercury Cyclone that needs just a little attention and a new front clip? And look at that VW Thing: remember those?
How about an old 50's Buick convertible: wouldn't that be a cool cruiser?
Climbing on top of the roof of an old pickup, its fun to imagine all these cars in their original form, but who has the resources or cares enough about a bunch of old neglected cars?
Some of mans greatest creations, these cars, yet rotting away in places like this all across the country.

Perhaps you are like an old car, your life having been something like the Plymouth GTX. You've worked hard and have always been reliable, but yet you are still just getting older.
Where has all your hard work taken you?

Could it be that you are like a hot rod, living life in the fast lane? The fast lane, yes, it seems short and sweet at first, but as time goes on, it gets tougher and tougher to master.
Maybe, in your case this has led you down streets that you wish you had never traveled.
Then again, you may be like the GTX as it now sits: neglected and beaten from the past, stamp-set in the present, in need of a total restoration.
Just like a car, we people eventually die, too. But as you sit in life's wrecking yard, who cares enough about you to help, or even could help if they wanted to?
Where are the resources, what will they cost?
Is there really any hope?
Who can escape time and death, anyway?
There is One who can do a frame-off resto…One who can fix you up right. One who always has the time and resources to make you Concours-ready. You just have to accept it.