Doug Clark: ‘73 Dodge Dart one way to shrink footprint

One of the best things about Earth Day is that there are so many ways to enhance the planet.

You could, for example, get some friends together to watch that Al Gore movie, “An Incontinent Truth.”

One downtown Spokane bank actually turned its lights off during lunch hour.

Fortunately, no bandits took advantage.

Well, I don’t want to brag, but I spent Tuesday’s Earth Day doing more than sitting around or flipping a light switch.

I got my mom’s electric blue 1973 Dodge Dart running, licensed and registered in my name.

It’s called recycling, people.

It’s what we REAL environmentalists do.

The poor car had spent the past five years moored in her garage, collecting spider webs in the wheel wells.

There are a lot of memories in that Dart.

My dad bought it brand-new for my mom in August 1973. To this day my mother is still wild about that garish shade of blue, even though the color is not often seen outside of a comic book or Expo ‘74 emblems.

One thing’s for sure. You never have to worry about losing track of the car in a parking lot.

I tried in vain to persuade my parents to buy the sporty two-door Dart with screaming 340 motor.

These were practical people, alas. They went for the frumpier four-door.

They did, however, splurge on a 318 V8, which is plenty quick.

No fancy sound system, either. But the Dart’s solid-state AM radio still works fine.

I know what you’re thinking: another old guzzler for Clark. True. But compared to my gasaholic ‘67 Vista Cruiser, this will be like owning a Honda.

OK, I’ll admit it. My carbon footprint is 16-D.

Bite me.

As a sweet gesture, Mom gave her car to me. And Earth Day seemed like the perfect time to get that baby back rolling on terra firma.

This is not some rust-bucket clunker. This is a cream puff with just 74,500 original miles.

It’s a hybrid, too.

No, not one of those plastic jellybeans that runs on batteries and gas.

This is a merger of genuine U.S. steel and a black vinyl roof.

Ah, 1973.

That’s the year I married my lovely wife, Sherry. Our marriage is still cruising blissfully down the road 35 years later, so why not a Dodge Dart?

Sadly, the Dart starts easier than I do, although not at first. I slipped the key into the ignition to find it was deader than Richard Nixon, who, by the way, was president when this car rolled off the assembly line.

No problem. My mom’s garage is filled with all kinds of tools.

And thank God I didn’t have to hurt myself with any of them.

I just dialed the number for AAA. In less than an hour, a big lug named Roy Luttrull rumbled up in a white truck. After replacing the battery, Roy primed the engine by pouring a little raw fuel directly down into the carburetor’s gullet.

Vrooom!

An orange flame shot up six inches. The Dodge roared back into existence.

Then it was on to a mechanic for an oil change. Next stop was the licensing shop for tabs and new plates.

What, no emissions test?

Nope. A nice woman at the licensing biz told me that elderly vehicles like mine are spared from going through such an indignity.

There’d be no point in it. It’s sort of like having an old uncle who smokes foul cigars in the house. After a while, you realize he’s not going to stop stinking up the place so it really doesn’t do any good to keep nagging at him.

But this Dart may be a lot cleaner to run than some of you Sierra Clubbers might think.

Allow me to quote from the owner’s manual, which has a psychedelic magenta-and-red cover:

“IMPORTANT: Your new vehicle is equipped with the Chrysler Cleaner Air System for controlling crankcase, evaporative, and exhaust emissions. It is a highly effective method of reducing automotive air pollution.”

The good people at a major automotive industry wouldn’t lie about something as serious as air pollution, would they?