smellyfatdude

If you really want to do up a six banger version, I'd suggest the engine from an AMT ' 60 Fleetside kit. Drops in like it belongs there. Reposition the radiator, and you're good to go. I used one in my ' 57 Bel Air. Gorgeous build, btw!

What a piece of junk! I mean that literally, of course. You really pulled off the "seen better days" look, and then some!

Sure. Here you go.

Only managed to turn out two builds again, last year. But, I like my choice of subjects. Moebius ' 65 Comet, and a Jo-han ' 68 Ambassador vert.

Sorry for the long delay, but I got sidetracked by some other projects. And of course, my pictures that were hosted on Photo*uckit disappeared, like everyone else's. Finally have the clear coat polished, and I started the foil, this morning. Since the drag kit had full side windows, I cut off the portion of the quarter windows, foiled 'em and stuck 'em in, to see how it'll look. I think the answer is . . . . . nice. And there's more story, to help put you to sleep. Of course, there were plenty of other rides in Joe's car, as the Satellite was always known. Usually, it didn't take too much convincing for gramps to grab the keys, and take Kevin along on some "errand", whenever they were visiting. Kevin thought the car was cool, and indeed it was unique. Karl knew that, though over the years all he had really told Kevin was Joe had gotten a good deal from someone he knew at Chrysler, and it was some kind of test model. Then there were the family trips out of town, to the lake for fishing. Karl would usually bring Joe's car, and grandma would insist that Kevin sit up front, with his grandpa. There were stories aplenty along the way, with the occasional murmur from grandma that Karl was telling that story yet again. As long as grandma had her knitting with her, she was usually in her own little world. That's why she really liked sitting in the back. Kevin listened intently, to every tale that his grandfather told him. Especially to the tidbits about the Satellite, and how it was the only new car Joe ever had. Once, gramps let it slip that the car had a high performance engine, and indeed over the years Kevin never did see another ' 65 Satellite with a hemi badge on the fender, like Joe's car. It was around the time he'd just turned thirteen, when he and gramps were heading to the hardware store in the Satellite, and he had mentioned that to Karl. "Well, like I told you, it was a test model. They didn't start building the Satellites with the hemi engine until ' 66. This is one they tried it out on, a year early." Kevin was even more curious now. "But gramps, how did Joe end up owning a car like that? And who gave him the deal on it?" I mean really, was the whole thing that mysterious? Karl tapped the brakes lightly, and started peering around from side to side. Kevin sensed he was looking for a place to pull over, and he motioned with his hand at the mini mall that was in the next block. Karl slowed, and pulled in. It was virtually empty, just a couple of kids in front of the convenience store, and one other car. He parked at the far end of the lot, and after a few seconds, shut the engine off. There was a long and very awkward moment where neither spoke, but Kevin sat patiently, silently. He sensed that grandpa was trying to find the words to tell him something, that wasn't easy to talk about. "You know . . . . I hope the world never has to go through anything like that, ever again. I hope you never do. That stupid war . . . . . " "The devil's curse". Kevin had hear his grandpa say it, enough times. Karl's eyes widened. The boy had actually been listening! "That's right! That's exactly what it was! What for men have to fight like that? Over land? Bahh! There's more than enough room in this world, for everybody. Now, in Europe, maybe a peaceful exchange of populations would have been the answer. I don't know, I'm not a politician. Never paid much attention to such things . . . . and that was the trouble". Karl looked out the driver's side window, then back at Kevin. "That madman! He did so many good things for our country, it's like we were all willing to turn a blind eye to the evil, that was right under our noses. But sometimes . . . . you just can't look away. That's the kind of man Joe was, you know. He couldn't stand to see anybody being mistreated. Not even an animal. Did I ever tell you the story about old Heinrich?" It seemed like gramps wanted to tell him something light hearted first, before the serious part. Indeed Karl was wearing a bit of a grin, while Kevin had reached down to push the seat a little farther back. Kevin shook his head. "He was the town drunk, back home. Used to start his every morning with a schnapps, and usually by the time lunch rolled around, he'd be plastered. Heinrich had a dog, a great dane that he used to keep tied up in his yard. But he was usually too drunk to tie a proper knot, and sometimes the dog would get loose and go running all over town. If it came back before Heinrich woke up from his nap, he would stand in his yard, yelling at the neighbors for untying his dog. If the dog hadn't come home yet, Heinrich would stagger up and down the streets, carrying his crooked old walking stick and calling out the dog's name. When the dog would finally come running, he'd drag the poor mutt by the collar all the way home, and give it a beating with that stick. Joe and I never saw him do it, but you could hear the dog yelping sometimes, and after awhile the poor thing had a bad limp. So, one evening Joe and I had taken our fishing poles, and walked about ten kilometers out of town to the creek to try our luck. It was a Saturday, but there was no pretty girls to chase, and I hadn't met your grandma yet. We were about seventeen, I think . . . . I know we had just started our apprenticeships. We didn't catch a thing, but it was a good way to relax. As we got back to the edge of town we could hear Heinrich's dog yelping, and sure enough when we passed by his house, there he was in the yard laying in to that poor mutt with his stick. Without a word. Joe thrust his fishing pole at me, tore the gate off of Heinrich's fence, walked right up behind the old man and punched him, in the back of the head. Now the dog, he starts barking and growling at Joe, protecting it's master. So I called the dog over, and held him by his collar. Heinrich might have been old, and a drunk, but he wasn't about to take that from a seventeen year old kid. He got to his feet, called Joe a bunch of dirty names, and lunged at him. Joe grabbed his arm, picked him up by his belt, lifted him over his head and threw the old man right against the side of his own house, like he was tossing an empty barrel. Old Heinrich, he landed on his back with a thud, in the flower bed. Joe picked up that stick, walked right over to him, and put his big boot square on the old geezers chest. He told Heinrich that if he ever hurt that dog again, Joe was going to take the stick and make him feel it like the dog had, only worse. Then he jammed that walking stick in to the ground so hard, it was just about stuck halfway down, and he helped the old man to his feet. I'd never seen him so angry, before that. He grabbed his fishing pole from me, and we walked home without a word. I could tell he was embarrased over losing his temper, but I didn't feel one bit sorry for that old drunk. He had it coming to him, and the good Lord just made sure someone was around to finally help that dog". Kevin could feel a new respect growing, for Joe. From the little bit Kevin remembered having been around him, he had always seemed distant, and somewhat uncaring about most things. Perhaps he'd been wrong. But now, there were even more questions.

That is a work of art. You should be proud of your efforts.

Thanks for the feedback, it's appreciated. I'm glad my meager skills were up to saving this one. The last couple of these kits I've seen go by on evilpay, people are asking a small fortune for them. This one was definitely fixable, even by a bumpkin like me who usually breaks more things than he repairs. Thanks again to moparfarmer, for the chance to acquire this little gem!

Once again, the car that American Motors never produced, but that Jo-han did. The build thread is here. The ironic thing is, interior wise this is probably the most accurate Jo-han AMC kit that I've built so far. Of a car that isn't real! The only non-box item is the side mirror.

Thank you, Charley. Last year, when I was still debating what color to paint the Satellite, I of course in the meantime acquired the Moebius Belvedere. When I found the Krylon satin Sea Glass at Michaels', I figured that color would not only look good on a 6 cyl. econobox, but possibly as an interior color, for a couple of projects. I also have this Jo-han Olds F-85 wagon, done up in the same Duplicolor bright teal. I've found some reference pics of a couple 1:1 cars that have interiors very close, to what I used on the Satellite. So, you may see these colors again.

Thanks, Curtis. I do use bmf for masking some things, like the floor mats, if they're a different color from the carpeting. For seats and door panels, I usually use Tamiya tape. Putting the clear coat on after the primary color, usually stops the tape from peeling up any paint when you go to remove it.

Here's some pics of the finished interior/chassis. The nice thing about kitbashing a Moebius kit, with another Moebius kit? The parts fit pretty good, he. No underside shots. but making the exhaust was pretty easy. I simply cut a couple of flanges from the racing exhaust in the drag kit, and drilled some holes in the centers, to attatch to the pins on the Revell exhaust manifolds. Then shorten the front exhaust pipes a little bit, and voila! I can't find the painted end of the console, and while I do have another one, I'm all out of paint. So, off to the store tomorrow I shall be. And here's the test fit. Sorry for the lack of better lighting, but I slept through the brightest part of the day. And, our story continues . . . . . Kevin saw the lights flashing, two blocks ahead, and then the crossing guards come down as he approached. He hit the brakes. Nuts! Another freight train! Slowly, he exhaled, and put the van in to park. What are you going to do? He'd be here awhile, and there was no point in getting steamed about it. Besides, there was railroad blood somewhere back in the family line. Grandpa's own dad, great grandpa Wilhelm, had been a rail worker back home in Germany. And gramps used to tell him, you had to show a little respect. "Nothing in this country would run for very long, without the railroads. If those trains stopped, the shelves in the stores would be empty, service stations wouldn't have any gas to sell. Everything depends on those men, and those big trains." Kevin reached for a cigarette. Yeah, he knew it was a bad habit, and he had promised Cindy he'd try and quit. "You have two little girs who need you to stick around. And I need you too, you know. Besides, think of all the money we'd save." How in the hell do you argue with them, when they hit you right in your soft spot, like that? But, he had promised her. You'll do it tomorrow, he told himself, while he lit his smoke and savored the sweet taste. If he had to be stuck here, alone with his own thoughts, it was the best way he knew to relax while you let your mind wander. What exactly grandma wanted to see him about, was kind of a mystery. Something to do with the car, is all she would say. Kevin reclined back in the somewhat still cold, vinyl covered seat. He shivered a bit. Cripes, I wish dad would spring for some seat covers for this thing. After a moment, he looked down the tracks once again. Still no end in sight to the train. Kevin couldn't help remember the first time he ever got to have a ride, in Joe's car. It was the summer when he was six. and grandpa had just started driving it that spring. Of course, Kevin had seen the car for years, sitting in Joe's driveway. Joe had one side of his double garage set up as his workshop, and always had whatever car he owned parked in the driveway, while he was working in his shop. "Making a mess", is what grandpa always used to call it. Before he got the Satellite, Joe had only ever owned second hand vehicles. Still he always left them outside while he was building stuff. Wasn't going to take any chances, even with a used car. Certainly not with the only new car he ever had. That was the big difference, between grandpa and Joe. While he always spoke warmly of his years with Chrysler, even grandpa wasn't what you would call brand loyal. He and grandma had a ' 62 Rambler station wagon for years, until grandpa traded it in on the ' 70 Galaxie. But Joe, he not only worked for Chrysler, he drove their cars as well. That's why it was such a surprise, the first time Kevin saw the big, shiny green Plymouth sitting under a cover in his granparents garage. He and his mom had just pulled up to the house, and grandpa was putting the lawnmower away. "Grandpa. what's Joe's car doing here? Did he forget to take it with him?" Karl smiled. The things that come out of a five year olds mouth! "No Kevin. Joe didn't have any room to store the car, at his daughter's house. He couldn't drive anymore, as it was. So, he asked me to store it for him until he could find a place to keep it. Now, you put the cover back on it. That's Joe's car, not mine". Joe had arthritis in his right leg, quite badly by that time. Kevin remembered him limping on that cane, barely able to walk before he moved away. Johanna, Mrs.Joe as she was known to everbody, had passed away earlier that year, of a sudden heart attack. Joe was lost without her, grandpa told him. And his own health was so bad, since he'd developed diabetes as well. Joe's oldest daughter lived in Phoenix, and she convinced Joe to come live with her and her family. He'd hoped the change of climate would at least help with his arthritis, and I guess it did. For awhile anyway. But it was barely more than a year later, and Joe slid downhill pretty fast. Complications from the diabetes, and probably more than a touch of a broken heart, grandpa would say. He and grandma had just barely made it to Phoenix, and to the hospital before Joe passed. After that grandpa was in mourning, and Kevin remembered even now, how they didn't go visit for awhile after. Then grandpa got a phone call one day, from Joe's daughter. Joe had left the car to him, in his will, and she promised to send him the paperwork along with a sealed letter from her dad. It was the following summer, after first grade, when he first got to ride in Joe's car. Grandpa had promised to let him cut the grass, one Saturday afternoon. Of course, Karl still had to start the mower for him. Kevin could stand right on top of the thing, with both feet, and he couldn't even budge the cord on that ancient yellow beast of a gas mower. But after only two passes, the engine sputtered and died. Karl looked in the tank. Bone dry. "Shoot! And I'm out of gas, too. We'll have to go get some. Go tell your grandma we'll be gone for a bit". Kevin ran inside the front door, and told his mom sitting at the kitchen table that he and gramps were going to get gas for the mower. She held up his coat. "Put your jacket on, if you're going out". "But, mom!" She held it up and looked right at him, with that expression that mothers use to let you know that it isn't a request. Kevin slinked in to the kitchen, and slid his jacket on. Grandma didn't make grandpa wear his jacket, just to go to the gas station! By the time he sprinted back outside, Karl had the other garage door open, and was putting his small jerry can in to the trunk of the Satellite. "We'll take Joe's car. I just changed the oil, and it needs to run a bit." Kevin stood in wonder for a moment. Joe's car was cool! It had the shifter on the floor, and everything! Karl fired up the motor, and Kevin waited as patiently as a six year old can wait, while his grandpa pulled the car slowly out of the garage, and put the shift lever in park. He opened up the long door, and slid on to the smooth, two tone vinyl seat. Karl opened up the center console, retrieved a pair of sunglasses, and put them on. "Now, I'm ready. How about you? Are you ready?" Keving grinned and nodded. Karl put the transmission in gear, and backed the rest of the way out of the driveway. And still, Kevin could remember to this day the sweet rumble the exhaust made, when they got to the end of the block, and grandpa gave it a little gas. Even just a little.

Ed, that's a great bit of history, and I thank you for sharing that in such a timely manner! The rest of my fictional story probably won't be very accurate, as far as the actual history of Chrysler. Hopefully though, it's at least entertaining. I have some pics taken of the finished chassis/interior, and the first test fit to the body. I'll post 'em up, as soon as I have the next installment jotted down.

Thanks for the interest, mrmike, regarding both. The story has been floating around in my head, for awhile now. Just had to build some more of the model, before the next update. Currently the chassis is finished, and it should be up on wheels in a day or two, with the finished interior assembled. I'll post some new pics, and another installment of my "what if" Mopar tale, once I have that accomplished. For now, I've decided on one deviation from the box art theme. And I'll explain the reason why in an upcoming chapter.

That's a beautiful replica, of a gorgeous sixties car.