The Disappearing Dart
Words by Cliff Gromer
11/8/06
ll kinds of stories have been told about Dodge’s ’69 440 Dart. Not the best handling car in the world, would be a kind way of describing this nose-heavy torque monster. But the car made up for its poor road manners by its performance on the dragstrip.
‘Course, everyone has their own favorite car story, whether it be about a 440 Dart or not, and they enjoy retelling it to the point where their listeners either fall asleep or hang themselves out of sheer frustration. One of my favorite car stories just happens to be about a 440 Dart, and since I have this space to fill every month, I'm going to tell it to you (you'll find the rope out in the back of the garage.)
This is the story of the Disappearing Dart. When car companies come out with important cars, like the new Charger or Challenger, for example, they give them to the big circulation magazines first. This works for the car companies two ways. First, more people get to read about this new car, and, second, because the "big" car magazines usually get a lot of big-buck ads from the car companies, they tend to be overly kind in their writeups -- like they never met a car they didn't like, except maybe a yellow Yugo Splat GT with the park bench interior.
But back to our story. In 1969, Chrysler comes out with the 440 Dart GTS, and the Dodge PR guy at the time, Moon Mullins, rushes the first one available on the east coast —- a dark metallic blue job with a black vinyl roof and white GTS bumblebee stripes -— to Car and Driver. Bob Brown, one of the writers on the magazine gets the assignment to evaluate the car. He takes it to New York National Speedway, in Suffolk, Long Island, and turns a 14.02 at 102 mph -- and that's with zero-traction tires. Brown then drives the Dart home to his highly rated Brooklyn Heights neighborhood and parks it on the street. Guess what? Next morning, no car.
Car and Driver’s 1969 440 GTS Dart. (photo by TheBruntBros)
Seems the car is taken by a couple of fun-loving Brooklyn street racing boys. One guy, in particular, develops a reputation for his polished skill in this area of endeavor, and he gets the name, "Joey Klepto." Joey eventually slips up and does some time in the slammer for auto theft. Anyhow, Joey and his friends take the car and set it up for their second favorite activity, street racing.
What they do is swap the dash-mounted ID plate from a '68 Dart (also hot), along with the grille, taillights and trim. They also swap "383" hood emblems for the '69's "440." Out come the side marker lights and in go the round '68 versions. Joey and Co. then take the 440 Dart a few steps further than what the factory called for by installing an Edelbrock hi-rise manifold with a 3-Barrel Holley carb. Headers are next to go on. Forget about tight clearance, they just torch out the entire inner fenders (it's not their car anyway). The boys then trash the rest of the exhaust system, all the smog stuff and the front bumper, and they mount up a set of M&H Racemaster slicks. To get that tough street racer look they crank up the torsion bars all the way so you practically need a ladder to get into the car and they spray paint the whole deal in gray primer.
Joey and his pals do pretty good on Marginal St. and First Ave. in Brooklyn. As a matter of fact they shut down all comers and the car gets an instant rep. The rep gets bigger when they take the car to New York National and cop some trophies.
The word quickly gets back to Mullins, through a car magazine buddy of mine, who I'll call Jack, that the stolen Dart is being campaigned locally, but that it is probably good to have it out there because it is winning big-time and doing more for Dodge's high performance image than victories on the high banked ovals. Mullins agrees.
About a month goes by and Mullins decides Dodge has gotten all the publicity it needs from Joey Klepto and his pals, and it's time to reel these guys in. So the Suffolk Co. cops stake out NY National and put the arm on Joey as he's motoring back on the one-lane return road.
A couple of months later, Jack is in the front seat of his buddy Charlie’s Dodge Coronet, and Joey and his partner are in the back. They're all cruisin' along when Jack hears an unmistakable sound. You know how a Chrysler gear reduction starter motor has an unmistakable sound, well, cocking the hammer on a .38 has the same unmistakable sound.
Joey puts the .38 behind Jack's ear and says, "Hey pal, I heard you were the guy that turned us into Dodge, and told them we were running out at Suffolk." Jack, who's a good talker anyhow, after he sees his life flash before his eyes, explains in a very slow and even voice how he was responsible for Dodge letting the car run, and how he told Dodge that this was a very high profile deal for them, and how Joey and his pals were doing the division a lot of good, and how Dodge should let them stay out there.
He continues explaining how he knew when Joey originally ripped off the car, and if he had wanted to turn him in, the cops would have busted up the party a lot sooner.
There's this long pause, and Jack is sweating and thinking that maybe he's met his last deadline, when Joey figures that this makes sense to him and he uncocks the .38 and puts the piece back wherever he had it. My bud’s just thankful that a Jack didn't disappear along with the Dart. 
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