In 1993, while on break from my college studies, I purchased my first 1969 Roadrunner from its original owner. I found the car one day while searching the classifieds in the Denver Post newspaper – there it was. A numbers-matching car, it was equipped with a 383 CI engine and a 727 TorqueFlite transmission. I called the owner right away to arrange for a meet up. When I arrived, I test drove it, and it was love at first drive!
I learned from the original owner that the car had lived its’ entire life in Colorado. Thinking about when I first saw the Roadrunner, the Fire Metallic Bronze color in the daylight just looked awesome. I liked the Roadrunner’s body lines, the black vinyl top, the cartoon character on both doors, trunk lid, and dashboard. I had every intention of keeping this Roadrunner forever. During school breaks, I could be found driving this car around town.
Then, one night, the life of the Roadrunner took an unexpected turn. My father had borrowed the car to go see a friend. Now, usually this is an uneventful detail, but this tale does take a twist. I awoke the next morning to a note that was left on a table from my father telling me that he had been involved in an accident. Finding out more details about what happened, apparently a biker had lost control while trying to race my father through a tight corner. The biker ended up laying the bike down and striking the rear quarter panel. So, it was time to get to work on the car.
With a little money from insurance for the damage, I began to strip the car down to bare metal with just a dual-action sander. After stripping the car, all the damaged and rusted metal was replaced with hand-fabricated panels. Back then, there were no replacements available. Finishing off the bodywork, the Roadrunner was painted back to its’ original Fire Metallic Bronze with the black hood treatment. Luckily, the front end wasn’t touched in the accident and no engine work was needed and it retained its’ own original black vinyl top.
As I returned to school in Phoenix to complete my engineering degree, the Roadrunner was stored in my brother Tom’s garage. For my graduation, Tom transported the Roadrunner to Phoenix. From there, I embarked on my professional career. After it was my daily driver for many years, financial needs arose, and I had to sell the car. Ironically, during this same time, a police officer from Munich, Germany happened to be in Phoenix searching for a muscle car and he found me.
How did the German officer find me? Well, his colleagues had mentioned to him that if he wanted a solid muscle car, that he should look in Arizona. German laws regarding car imports were strict at the time and the authorities would not let cars into their country if it had rust on them. So, looking in the southwest was a suitable location to start.
The officer arrived in the Phoenix area to look at a few cars, but was not impressed. The seller happened to have been a guy that I knew, and he told the officer about me and the Roadrunner. Shortly after, contact was made between us. As email was not at all prevalent at that time, we communicated via the phone. I honestly figured he was just going to be a tire kicker.
Nonetheless, we made arrangements to meet so he could see the car. When I opened the garage and he saw it for the first time, he exclaimed, “Ich verstehen es!” I asked him what that meant in English. He said he just uttered the words, “I’m getting it!” He loved that the car fired right up, the sound of the original dual exhaust system, and the laser straight body and mirror-like finish in the paint. You can guess what happened next – we made a deal on the car.
From Phoenix, he drove the Roadrunner to Los Angeles. He told me that the car ran strong at 100 MPH the entire way. Even I was impressed that the car ran at that speed in the hot desert without overheating issues or getting stopped by Johnny Law. Remember, we didn’t have all the technology and apps back then to warn us! At the Los Angeles port, it was placed on a boat and transported to Germany. While we kept in touch for several years after the sale, over time, I lost track of the gentleman and have never seen the car again. The last we spoke was in 1998.
By Jim Ochs
