Okay, before all you purists out there start sending hate mail, please hear me out. You should know this was a fun personal project and my apologies in advance for a very long story. The best models tell stories and spark memories; we build these things for ourselves, right?
I grew up on Carroll Shelby and his mighty Cobras, then watched as he helped Ford dominate global endurance racing throughout the '60s. The Ford GT40 Mk. I was the most incredible racing machine I had ever seen. I was hooked.
Fast-forward to the summer of 1970, this soon-to-be high school sophomore sought a fun project to blow his hard-earned lawnmowing fortune on. There were many interesting ideas in the want ads of Popular Mechanics. I was most intrigued by the turn-key kit car packages offered by FiberFab. Later, I learned an almost unbelievable backstory about the small company and its mysterious founder, Warren Harding "Bud" Goodwin, that involves deceit, trickery, adultery, murder, and death in jail, but that's for you to discover at a different time.
In the early '60s, FiberFab created a sports car body kit called the Centurion designed to fit Corvette C2 running gear. It was a near-dead ringer for the magic Corvette Stingray Racer that had made a massive splash at the 1959 Motorama auto show. However, GM's legal department shut it down over infringement allegations before more than a handful could be produced.
FiberFab released the Avenger GT-12 shortly after, which resembled the Ford GT40. It was designed to bolt directly into a standard VW frame and was also 40 inches tall, which is how the famous race car got its name. The main differentiator was the elongated rear overhang on the Avenger to accommodate the VW engine. Otherwise, it was a knock-off GT40 Mk. I. Astonishingly, Bud got away with it, given the company's sordid past.
I thought that was cool and ordered the Avenger GT-12 "deluxe package," which included the fiberglass body, chassis stiffeners, seats, dash, interior door panels, a Corvair windshield, and a '65 Mustang Fastback rear window. Now, all I had to do was supply the rolling chassis, engine, and everything else and find somewhere to build the damn thing.
I looked at this project as more of an adventure than anything else. I had a blast scavenging local junkyards and sneaking around our local VW dealer. One night, after everyone had gone home, I looked for a throwout bearing from one of the engineless Bugs sitting in the back lot. A flat-head screwdriver was all it took to liberate a usable bearing. I had to do whatever it took to stretch my limited budget.
I have to admit I drastically underestimated the time required. Still, after working on it most afternoons after school, a few setbacks, and a fresh coat of Emerald Green metallic, as suggested by my high school girlfriend, the Green Bean was nearly ready for the street. It took over three full years, but there would be one last delay while registering the car with the Missouri State Highway Patrol. It turns out the chassis had been stolen. No, not by me! Where the 1967 Beetle serial number should have been was a line of drilled-out holes filled with welding rod.
Finally, success and the Green Bean became my daily driver for four years. Weighing in at just over 2,000 lbs. with a center of gravity less than a foot high, the 85 HP motor pushed the Green Bean around like a go-kart gone mad. It was surprisingly quick and fun to drive but had all the safety and structural rigidity of a potato chip. The cost for the deluxe package, including shipping, was $740; the "hot" rolling chassis was $100, and the used 1500cc motor was $250. The tally sheet came to a total of $2,574 at legalization. Not bad for a wild, crazy, and fun seven-year-long learning experience.
Now, here we are, some 50+ years later; recently, while perusing the internet looking for my old car, I stumbled upon vintage 1:25-scale Avenger GT-12 kits for sale and decided to recreate the Green Bean, incorporating all of the upgrades and features of the original car. While working on an exact duplicate, only in a smaller scale, I reflected on my most curious recurring fantasy while building the 1:1 car. What would have happened if old Bud had created an exact GT40 doppelganger but as an inexpensive kit car, infringement lawyers be damned? That would be my next model project.
I took a deep dive into the parts bin and came up with a usable VW chassis and engine, but I had to sacrifice a new body and opted for the Revell GT40 kit. At least it was for a worthy cause.
I wanted to fabricate the model in a way that would seem plausible for a high school student with rudimentary welding skills, basic hand tools, tight purse strings, and insufficient time. I had to flip the 1,500cc four-banger around to maintain the correct rear overhang proportions, which made it mid-engine. My shade-tree mechanic know-how told me that would significantly improve handling. I scratch-built dual Weber carbs, headers, and other high-performance upgrades and fabricated a new rear clip using a 1/8-inch square styrene tube and assorted rods. The double-wishbone rear suspension setup would have blown my budget sky-high, but it was easiest to use leftover parts.
As long as I went this far, why not have fun and make it distinctive, humorous, yet significant? I swapped out the iconic Gulf Blue racing livery and replaced it with Tamiya TS22 Light Green to keep with the color spectrum inspired by my girlfriend and to make it obvious this was a fictitious vehicle. In hindsight, it looked too Grinchish, so I adorned it with appropriate sponsor advertising, and I gave it No. 6 and No. 9 to pay homage to the only automobile, the Ford GT40 P/1075, to win the infamous Le Mans 24—endurance race back-to-back.
I made the doors conventional and added a sunroof, as I did by taking a saber saw to the actual car. The original small round taillights always seemed like an afterthought, so I eliminated those and created a more stylized assembly stretching across the rear facia. The standard twin headlight arrangement is a shout-out to the old rusty '61 Chevy Impala buckets I scrounged from a local junkyard. The proprietor gave them to me for free because they were in such bad shape, but they worked.
I hope you enjoyed my story and this entertaining build. Thanks for looking.