I have a soft spot for the Mopar M-bodies like this Chrysler Fifth Avenue; there’s something appealing in its stubborn traditionalism. In the junkyard, the car called to me like a boxy, vinyl-topped beacon. I had to look while I could, knowing that Fifth Avenue sightings are increasingly fleeting.
The car was bigger in person than I thought it would be, this being the smallest of the American full-size offerings of the time and based upon the Plymouth Volare/ Dodge Aspen compacts. I pulled up on the door handle and saw the rose red and warm woodgrain of the interior. The button-tufted velour felt soft yet springy, undoubtedly a plush place to sit. The steering wheel was of that familiar design Chrysler used in the 80s with the two spokes pointing to the bottom of the thin rim. The shining pentastar emblem in the center made me wish Chrysler displayed it as prominently today.
Chrysler made some of the more interesting radio designs during the 80s-90s, the one in this Fifth Avenue looking slick with a shining metallic face and techy fonts. Before I shut the door, I grabbed the end of the column shifter and imagined dropping the three speed TorqueFlite into drive.
I lifted the hood which sprung up nicely; why do we bother using prop rods and hydrolics? A messy a dirty 318ci LA V8 was what I saw and what powered all of these M-bodies towards the latter end of production. It wheezed out 140hp but make up for it with 246 pound-feet of torque.
Its an imposing car; the fender louvres, shining grill, and quad headlamps with turn signals atop project sinisterness. Perhaps what really makes this car stick out is simply age. Its creased angularity, common 33 years ago when it was made, is far removed from the smooth curves of the sheetmetal surrounding it. No obvious concessions were made to aerodynamics in the pursuit of formality.
I walked away from the big, white chrysler, feeling sad the forlorn relic will never again see the road. It looked striking and dignified even as it sat doomed in the junkyard.