Misfit Toys: 1967 VW Dune Buggy vs 1973 Oldsmobile Toronado

Good morning, Autopians! I hope you all had a good holiday, decked all the halls, jingled all the bells, ate all the cookies, all that good stuff. Today, just in case you didn’t get any new toys (like me, but I buy plenty of toys for myself), we’re looking at a couple of sad old cars that need some love, but could be fun with a little work.

Monday’s three-cylinders were pretty evenly-matched for most of the day, and when I checked at the end of the day, the little Subaru had amassed Justy-nough votes to put it ahead. However, that lead seems to have evaporated like a Mirage, because as of this writing, the Mitsubishi has a narrow lead. Never a dull moment here on Shitbox Showdown.

Personally, I think, given the choice between these two, I’d take the Justy, mainly because it’s cheap and it would be more fun to mess with. If I still had to commute, I’d go for the Mirage, because nobody wants to drive a little shortbread tin on wheels like these in traffic, but if you have to, it should at least have A/C and some airbags.

Now then: When you check Craigslist as often as I do, you start to notice cars that don’t sell and get re-listed. Listings expire after a month, I think, but some ads seem to hang around for a year or more. I know I have seen both of these cars advertised before. They both look like viable projects, but they just haven’t found a home yet. They’re the Craigslist equivalents of ostrich-riding cowboys or trains with square wheels, I guess. So let’s take a look at them, and see if we can find at least one of them an owner who would love it.

1967 VW Dune Buggy, Meyers Manx replica – $4,000

Engine/drivetrain: 1.6-liter overhead valve flat 4, four-speed manual, RWD

Location: San Diego, CA

Odometer reading: Don’t know, don’t care

Operational status: Runs and drives, but needs some wiring finished up

I can’t think of a more pure expression of internal-combustion-powered joy than a dune buggy. Take a dirt-cheap, mass-produced economy car, strip it down to its bare essentials, plop a fiberglass bathtub on it, and go drive on the beach. It serves absolutely no purpose except to put a smile on your face, and honestly, the world needs more things like that. Bruce Meyers deserves the credit for the idea, of course, but once he did it, copycats appeared everywhere, and this is one of them. You can’t call it a Manx, but you don’t really have to call it anything but a dune buggy. People will know what you mean.

The genius thing about using VW Beetle platforms for dune buggies is that you can mix and match parts so easily that you can build whatever you want. The builder of this car started with a ’67 Beetle pan – probably shortened, most dune buggy kits require it – and added a 1600 engine, trailing-arm rear suspension, and the requisite big fat tires. It runs and drives, and has a new carb and new brakes, but it has been incompletely rewired, so that needs to be finished up. It could also use new motor mounts and some exhaust work.

“Interior” is a pretty loose term when it comes to dune buggies; there just isn’t much there besides a couple of seats and a steering wheel. But really, what more do you need? If you want tunes, stick a boom box in back next to the cooler. Climate control? No need; just drive it when it’s 80 and sunny. The dash on this one needs to be completed, but the seats look all right.

There were a ton of dune buggy kits this style available in the ’60s, and I have no idea who made this one. Again, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a good-looking vehicle, and the Mustang taillights are a nice touch. The fiberglass is in good condition, but the seller mentions a crack in the hood. Nothing a little epoxy can’t fix.

1973 Oldsmobile Toronado – $2,700

Engine/drivetrain: 455 cubic inch overhead valve V8, three-speed automatic, FWD

Location: Long Beach, CA

Odometer reading: 67,000 miles

Operational status: Runs and moves, but has been off the road for years

While the kids were having fun on the beach, their well-to-do uncles were discovering the joys of the personal luxury coupe. Why have four doors when you only typically open one? Make it big, make it powerful, make it stylish, and make sure everyone knows it’s yours. Conspicuous consumption? Well, yeah. Even now, when they’re long past their glory days, these things are more than anyone needs. And this Toronado, from just before the downsizing and de-powering of the malaise years, is even more-er than most.

Open the obnoxiously long hood of this car, and you find a gen-you-wine 455 Rocket V8, with nothing but an air pump and a PCV valve to tame its polluting ways. It’s only rated for 250 horsepower (thanks to the new-for-1972 net ratings), but it has more than enough torque to shove you back in the deeply padded seat and light up the front tires. This one runs fine, and you can put it in gear and move it around, but it has been off the road for three decades, so obviously it will need some work.

Luxury can mean a lot of things, but usually it means room to spread out, and the Toronado has plenty of that. Its front-wheel-drive layout means no transmission hump or driveshaft tunnel to intrude, and the resulting flat floor makes it feel huge inside, instead of the strangely cramped feel you can get inside some big cars. It’s actually in pretty good shape inside, it looks like; the upholstery is mostly good, and it’s more or less clean.

It’s a little rougher outside, with some surface rust on the trunk lid and missing bumper filler panels, but if you just want a cheap comfy cruiser, you could probably just leave it alone. It has a vinyl top, which of course might be hiding more rust, but I don’t think you could avoid that in 1973.

So there they are, a couple of project cars that have been languishing for a while. You could probably give either seller a lowball-ish offer and they’d take it. You can’t drive them home, but you can start them up and drive them onto a trailer, and that’s not nothing. So what’ll it be: fun in the sun, or a cruise down the boulevard?

(Image credits: sellers)