Then one day in the early spring I received the good news.  My car was in and it was a stunner!  Who needs a girlfriend now?

I will not forget the day I picked up Duster.  My friend George (Life! was his nick name) drove over to Villanova and then dropped me off at Cherry Hill Dodge.  He had somewhere to go so he did not stay, but no matter.  There it was right ion front of the showroom.  Resplendent in its deep red color and looking a bit perky with that white stripe.  Wait a minute! This is a muscle car!  I was so excited.  The signing of the car papers was new to me and it seemed to take forever.  Please let me just drive it away.

Finally the ordeal was over and in car dealer parlance I was delivered.  I can vividly remember driving off the lot and feeling like the master of the universe.  Duster had a nice mow rumble, a stiff ride, and a really sweet new car smell.  it is funny about that new car smell.  In the context of a rubber factory you would probably hate the odors, but sitting in a new car with those smells wafting over you it gives off a feeling of newness and perfection.  Driving Duster for the first time was a blast.  I immediately hustled over to the Palmyra tracks.  No one was there!  It was mid Saturday afternoon.  So I had a few hours to kill so I drove a big loop around town over and over.   I could have stopped by a few friends houses and awed them with the beauty of Duster but instead I could not bring myself to stop the car, shut it off and get out.   Several hours and about 25 loops later the first up town stragglers began to arrive.  I was a bit hungry at this point and most likely almost overcome by new car fumes, so I felt a bit relieved as I parked Duster in a prominent railroad track parking spot and jumped out.  I do not remember everyone who was there that fateful night but Duster was a big hit.  And one of the girls to have to honor of one of the first rides in Duster later admitted to me that she wondered how I could have afforded such a nice car.  Thank you Colleen, I took that as a compliment to Duster.  It was almost.

Soon thereafter I spent a few enjoyable hours installing my Pioneer 8 track music center and a new set of Jensen speakers.  I now had tunes.  My one other mod was to locate a set of Mopar road wheels like on two of the Dusters above and installed my blackwall standard tires on them.  I was set for big time cruising and maybe even a race or two.

The only actual racing I did with Duster that I can remember was against my friend Bill's (Buody, did everyone I know have a nick name back then?) 1966 Pontiac Grand Prix.  Of course this was no real race.  The Grand Prix had a mighty four barrel 389 but this was a big car.  Duster should make quick work of the powerful boat.  But we never did determine a clear winner.  I started with a small lead but I could not get ahead by a substantial margin before we had to shut down.  And there was a good reason for this, our drag strip was less than 200 feet long.  We were racing in the Hess gas station where Billy worked the graveyard shift.  The Hess station was at the base of the Tacony Palmyra bridge and sometimes the bridge would open on Billy's shift and there would be no car coming by for 25 minutes or so.  What a great opportunity to pass the time practicing our hole shots!  Perhaps we weren't the sharpest tools in the shed racing inches away from the gas pumps but we were young and care free!  And extremely stupid.  I think I did declare myself the winner as I had at a 1/2 a fender length lead as we roared past the pumps.

Duster was so much fun.  Way more fun than college.  Once school was out in the summer of 1973 I talked my friend George (Life) into driving down to Florida with me.  It would be fun.  We could drive straight through eating greasy hamburgers and fries all the way down.  I do not recollect if we made it without stopping, but I do remember our run-in with the police.  For those of you that do not know it always pays to be very polite to our southern law officers, especially when you have New Jersey tags. 

As we were driving through Georgia we were treated to a light show in our rear view mirror.  I was driving at the time and I slowed down hoping to let him pass, but no such luck.  Was I going too fast?  I did not even know.  I rolled down my window.  There was this huge bear of a man with mirrored sun glasses on.  "Yes officer?" I could only imagine the scowl in his eyes.  "Let me see your License and registration, son."  This was before mandatory insurance.  I handed them over.  "Stay in the car and keep your hands on top of the steering wheel where I can see them."  Crap, I thought we were pretty lean on cash.  Would I be able to mail in the money for the ticket?  Would this guy just breaks us both in half when he found out we were just poor white northern trash?

After a while officer Bear returned.  He took off his glasses and handed me my paper work.  His eye bore right through me like he was reading my soul,  "Son, you know why I stopped you?"  "No officer, was I going too fast?"  He looked at me for a second and said "This here car of your looks like it faster than a streak of shit."  "This road you are on is mine as far as you can see."  "If I catch you speeding on my road you gonna be in a heap a trouble."  "You are gonna wish you never left New Jersey."  "Now, just remember I am watching you."  "And if you ever come back through here again I'll be a waitin."  He put his glasses back on and coolly walked back to his car.  Wrote a few things on something on his dash and left us on the side of road.  All I could think of to say was "Life you wanna drive?"

The rest of trip was uneventful and Life hung out at my parents house for a while and then went t back to NJ.  I do not remember how he got back.  Fly maybe?

I was pretty tired of going to school.  I waited for a few days to settle in and then dropped the bomb.  "Mom, Dad, I want to quit school."  They took it pretty well.  They did think I was stupid.  They were right of course.  But when you are 19 don't you know everything already?  For sure.

For some reason I figured I could no longer afford Duster.  I let Dad put it up for sale. It had no A/C so it's value in Florida was lower than elsewhere in the cooler parts of the US.  But I do remember my Dad selling it very easily.  Apparently anything that looks like a streak of excrement is a hot commodity.  I was very sad to see it go.  For several years thereafter I imagined seeing Duster on US 19.  I saw several red with white stripe 340 Dusters.  Maybe one of them was mine.  I just imagine it out there right now somewhere in Florida, rusting away in somebody's back yard.  Or maybe it was junked or crushed or both.

It's funny how some cars get inside you.

My parents were kind of happy to see Duster go, I think.  Because I needed a car they made me a great deal on my Mom's 1971 Doge Swinger.  If there ever was a misnamed car this was it.  Actually it was the same basic car as Duster.  But with a edgy back roof, a slant six and an automatic.  These cars were not from the same planet.  Oh well, goodbye Duster!