Barracuda

Barracuda (pronounced bar-uh-koo-duh)

(1) Any of several elongated, predaceous marine fishes of the genus Sphyraena, certain species of which are used for food. The large fish are notoriously voracious and are found world-wide in tropical & sub-tropical waters; the collective noun is "battery".

(2) In slang, a treacherous, greedy person (obsolete).

(3) In slang, one who uses harsh or predatory means to compete.

(3) A car produced by the Plymouth division of Chrysler Corporation in three generations between 1964-1974 (as both Barracuda and 'Cuda).

1670-1680: From American Spanish, thought derived from customary use in the Caribbean, borrowed from the Latin American Spanish barracuda, perhaps from a Cariban word, most likely the Valencian-Catalan barracó (snaggletooth), first recorded as barracoutha.  There was the suggestion barracó may come from Latin in which the word barra could be used to mean "bar", the idea being this was a reference to to the elongated, bar-like shape of the fish; the theory is thought as speculative.  Barracuda is a noun and barracudalike is an adjective; the noun plural is is barracuda or barracudas.

The plural of fish is an illustration of the inconsistency of English.  As the plural form, “fish” & “fishes” are often (and harmlessly) used interchangeably but in zoology, there is a distinction, fish (1) the noun singular & (2) the plural when referring to multiple individuals from a single species while (3) fishes is the noun plural used to describe different species or species groups.  The differentiation is thus similar to that between people and peoples yet different from the use adopted when speaking of sheep and, although opinion is divided on which is misleading (the depictions vary), those born under the zodiac sign Pisces are referred to variously as both fish & fishes.  So, for most folk, the best advice if a plural of "barracuda'" is needed is to (1) use which ever produces the most elegant sentence and (2) be consistent in use.  However, ichthyologists (and probably zoologists in general) will note the barracuda genus "Sphyraena" consists of 29 species and will use "barracuda" if speaking of many fish of the one species and "barracudas" if fish of more than one species are involved.  The danger presented by barracuda in open water is well documented.  The USN's (US Navy) heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis (CA-35) was the warship that in July 1945 delivered to Tinian Naval Base the critical components for "Little Boy", the atomic bomb (a uranium device, for decades a genuine one-off, all other nuclear weapons built with plutonium until (it’s suspected) the DPRK (North Korea) used uranium for at least one of its tests) used against Hiroshima, the ship torpedoed and sunk by a submarine of the Imperial Japanese Navy.  Due to the communications protocols applying in "designated combat areas", the sinking remained to US authorities for some four days and of the crew of 1195, only 316 survived of the 890 who made it into the water, many of the rest taken by “sharks and five-foot long barracudas”

Sphyraena barracuda (great barracuda).

The barracuda, most notably the Sphyraena barracuda (great barracuda), can grow quite large with lengths of 3-5 feet (0.9-1.5 metres) being common but specimens have been verified at just over 6 feet (1.8 metres), weighing in excess of 100 lb (45 KG) although most caught by recreational fishers tend to be around 20-30 lb (9-14 KG).  They’re a fast, powerful predator, making them a much sought-after target for the more adventurous anglers, attracted by their aggressive strikes, impressive speed, and challenging fights, most hunting done in warmer coastal waters.  The techniques employed include including trolling, casting with artificial lures and live bait fishing but because of their sharp teeth and aggressive nature, specialized equipment such as wire leaders is often used to prevent them cutting through fishing lines.  Among recreational fishers, the pursuit is often on the basis of “the thrill of the chase” because the species can pose genuine health risks if eaten because of ciguatera poisoning, a toxin which accumulates in the fish’s flesh when they consume smaller, contaminated fish.

Hofit Golan (b 1985; left) and Lindsay Lohan (b 1968; right) fishing off Sardinia, July 2016 (left).  Fortunately perhaps, Ms Lohan didn’t hook a barracuda and caught something less threatening.  Apparently also fishing for “the thrill of the chase” (right), she posted on Instagram: “Bonding with nature. I let my little friend swim away after.” 

Barracuda (1977) was US horror movie set on the Florida coast; as everybody knows, stuff happens in Florida.  The plot-line involved the inhabitants of a small town being menaced by batteries of barracuda that have become highly aggressive because of chemical intervention by a former military doctor who has gone mad while conducting secret government research into hypoglycaemia (when one's blood glucose level drops below normal; in medical slang it sometimes appears as "hypo") and its effect on human behavior.  The film was not well-reviewed and critics noted the "derivative & dubious plot, poorly executed special effects and lack of focus on the title character (the fish)".  Although the limited enthusiasm for Barracuda meant no studio was tempted to produce a prequel or sequel, the film's essential elements (mad scientist, evil government research projects, dangerous mutant animals stalking and sometime killing attractive young ladies in bikinis etc) remain Hollywood staples.  

The Plymouth Barracuda & 'Cuda, 1964-1974

While the 1964 Ford Mustang is credited with creating the pony-car market, it was actually the Plymouth Barracuda which came first, released 17 days earlier.  Ford used the approach of draping a sexy new body over an existing, low-cost, platform and drive-train and Chrysler chose the same route, using the compact Valiant as Ford were using their Falcon.  In the years to come, there would be many manufacturers who adopted the method (which had for years, on a smaller scale (in every sense), been the technique of specialist Italian and other European coachbuilders), often with great success and on both sides of the Atlantic.  Predictably, given the Mustang's astonishing success, in the US, GM (General Motor), Chrysler and even (improbably as it would in 1964 have been thought) AMC (American Motors Corporation) created their own "pony cars" and the pond Ford (most lucratively) had inhabited almost alone was by the late 1960s a thriving ecosystem.  Illustrating the benefit of "segment creation", while some of the competition's pony cars came and went (sometimes severally), the Mustang remained in continuous production and six-odd decades on, one can still be bought in showrooms in many countries.  Despite the chronology (acknowledging Plymouth's 17 day advantage), it's the Mustang that deserves credit for the linguistic innovation, the term "pony car" an allusion to the equine association in the Ford's name and a nod also to the thing being (in US terms at the time), a "smaller" car.  If was only after the Mustang had both created and defined the segment the Barracuda came to be called a pony car but had the Plymouth been the great success, presumably some of aquatic allusion would have been coined although it's hard to think of anything so catchy.  

1965 Ford Mustang "notchback".

Unfortunately for Plymouth, despite their project having been in the works for years, a sudden awareness Ford were well advanced meant Chrysler’s lower-budget development was rushed into production.  Despite the Valiant’s platform and drive-train being in many aspects technically superior to the less ambitious Falcon, the Barracuda was a bit of a flop, outsold by its competitor initially by around ten to one, the numbers getting worse as "Mustangmania" overtook the land.  While the Mustang got what was called “the body from central casting”, from the windscreen forward, the Barracuda retained the sheet-metal from the mundane Valiant, onto which was grafted a rear end certainly adventurous but stylistically disconnected from the front.

1964 Plymouth Barracuda.

It was an awkward discombobulation although, with the back-seat able to be folded down to transform the rear passenger compartment into a large luggage space, it was clever, practical design.  Although in the years to come, the notion of such lines being used for a "liftback" or "hatchback" would appear, even during the design process, it was never envisaged the rear window might be made to open.  At the time, the matter of of installing the big, heavy piece of glass and its frame was thought challenge enough without having add the necessary hinges and body-mounting points (a significant task for the body-engineers).  Although not a stressed panel, the glass did contribute to structural rigidity which was good but it also produced much heat-soak into the interior; driving an early Barracuda on a hot' sunny day could be a "sticky" experience, vinyl upholstery a standard fitting, air-conditioning expensive and more than a generation away from becoming commonplace.  

1971 Jensen FF Mark III, one of 15 built.

The novelty of the Barracuda's rear-end was a giant window which, at 14.4 square feet (1.34m³), was at the time the largest ever installed in a production car.  In 1966, even grander glazing was seen on the Jensen Interceptor (1966-1976 and styled by Italy’s Carrozzeria Touring), but there it was ascetically successful, the lines of the big trans-Atlantic hybrid more suited to such an expanse of glass.  Unlike Plymouth, Jensen took advantage of the possibilities offered and had the glass double as a giant, glazed trunk (boot) lid.  It didn't quite create one of the shooting brakes so adored by the nouveau riche (the style's origins as a machine of the gentry as much an attraction as the functionality) but did enhance the practicality of what quickly was regarded as the ultimate "dirty weekend" car. Using Chrysler's big-block V8s and (but for a handful built with manual gearboxes) TorqueFlite automatic transmission, the Interceptor was no thoroughbred but it offered effortless performance and the bullet-proof reliability for which the US power-trains of the era were renowned.  Jensen also were innovative, the Interceptor FF (Ferguson Formula) featuring AWD (all-wheel-drive, then still called 4WD (four-wheel-drive)) and and an early implementation of (mechanical) ABS (anti-lock brakes, ABS (Anti-Bloc System) the name adopted in 1966 when Daimler-Benz and the Heidelberg electronics company Teldix (later absorbed by Bosch) began a co-development of a hybrid analogue-electronic system), the latter adapted from aviation units fitted to aircraft using icy runways.  For technical reasons, the FF was only ever available in RHD (right-hand-drive) so it was never possible to achieve economies of scale, production ending after a liesurey run of 320.  The FF's replacement was the SP (Six-Pack, 1972-1973), using a triple carburetor version of the 440, a batch of which Jensen had been able to purchase because US exhaust emission rules had rendered the engine unlawful for sale in the home market.  For a variety of reasons, Jensen's SP venture didn't end well.   

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Coupe.

The extraordinary success of the Mustang nevertheless encouraged Chrysler to persist and the Barracuda, though still on the Valiant platform, was re-styled for 1967, this time with the vaguely "Italianesque" influences (more apparent perhaps in Detroit than Turin) seen also in 1965 with the release of the second series of Chevrolet’s doomed, rear-engined Corvair (1959-1969).  Although the rear-engine configuration proved a cul-de-sac, aesthetically, the later Corvairs were among the finest US designs of the era and, unusually, the lovely lines were implemented as successfully in four-door form as on the coupe, the Corvair unique in being the industry's only "compact" four-door hardtop.  Visually, the revised Barracuda didn't quite scale the heights achieved by Chevrolet but greatly it improved on the original and was offered with both notchback and convertible coachwork, as well as the fastback the Mustang had made popular but, because of the economic necessity of retaining some aspects of the Valiant’s structure, it wasn’t possible to realise the short-deck, long-hood (bonnet) the Mustang had established the pony car design language used still today.

1969 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.

GM's answer to the Mustang wasn’t as constrained by the fiscal frugality that had imposed so many compromises on the Barracuda, the Chevrolet Camaro and the visually similar Pontiac Firebird both introduced in 1966 with a curvaceous interpretation of the short-deck, long-hood idea, the relationship maintained with the GM’s then voguish “cokebottle” designs.  In a twist on the pony car process, the Camaro and Firebird were built on an entirely new platform that would later be used for Chevrolet’s compact competitor for the Valiant and Falcon, the Nova (1968-1979, replacing the old Chevy II (1962-1967).  Intra-corporate platform-sharing was of course the key to amortizing investment costs (the Nova would even provide the basis for Cadillac's original "small" Seville (1976-1979), a remarkably accomplished product given the origins and one that proved highly profitable) but, just as the dimensions of the Valiant's underpinnings had limited the design possibilities of the original Barracuda, so the Camaro’s platform imposed compromises in space utilization on the Nova, a few inches of the passenger compartment sacrificed by the need to create a "long hood".  For 1967, Ford released an updated Mustang, visually similar to the original but notably wider, matching the Camaro and Firebird in accommodating big-block V8s, not something Chrysler easily could do with the Barracuda.

1969 Plymouth 'Cuda 440.

This was however the less-regulated world of the 1960s and while Chrysler couldn’t easily install a big-block, they could with difficulty and so they did, the 1967 models offering a 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 and, in 1969, in a package now called ‘Cuda, (the name adopted for the high-performance versions) a few with the 440 (7.2 litre).  At first glance it looked a bargain, the big engine not all that expensive but having ticked the box, the buyer then found added a number of "mandatory options" so the total package did add a hefty premium to the basic cost.  The bulk of the big-block 440 was such that the plumbing needed for disc brakes wouldn’t fit so the monster had to be stopped with the antiquated drum-type and nor was there space for power steering, quite a sacrifice in a car with so much weight sitting atop the front wheels.  A fine example of how good Chrysler's basic engineering was in the era (the quality of the mechanical components not always matched by what came from the drawing boards in the styling studio), the 440 generated impressive power but the Barracuda's origins in the 1960 Valiant (not upon introduction envisaged as being offered with any sort of V8) were apparent in testing, the prototype built with a manual gearbox so frequently snapping rear suspension components the engineers were forced to insist on installing a automatic transmission, the fluid cushion softening impact between torque and tarmac.  Still, in a straight line, the things were quick enough to entice almost 350 buyers, many of whom tended to enjoy the experience a ¼ mile (402 metres) at a time, the drag-strip it's native environment.  To this day the 440 remains the second-largest engine used in a pony car, only Pontiac's later 455 (7.5) offering more displacement.

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Convertible.

For what most people did most of the time (including braking and turning corners), the better choice, introduced late in 1967, was an enlarged version of Chrysler’s small-block (LA) V8, now bored-out to 340 cubic inches (5.6 litres); it wouldn’t be the biggest of the LA series but it was the best.  A high-revving, free-breathing thing from the days when only the most rudimentary emission controls were required, the toxic little (a relative term) 340 gave the Barracuda sparkling performance and in a straight line it was quicker than the 383 and up to close to 100 mph (160 km/h) it would run with the 440; coupled with superior braking and handling prowess, critic soon were recommending the 340 as "the best all-rounder".  One of the outstanding engines of the era and certainly one of Detroit's best small-block V8s, it lasted, gradually detuned, until 1973 by which time interest in performance cars had declined in parallel with the engineers ability economically to produce them while also complying with increasingly onerous anti-pollution rules.

1968 Hemi Barracuda, supplied ex factory with un-painted black fibreglass front fenders and hood.  It was a single-purpose machine: "Super Stock" drag racing.

Of course, for some even a 440 ‘Cuda wouldn't be enough and anticipating this, in 1968, Plymouth took the metaphorical shoehorn and installed the 426 cubic inch (6.9 litre) Street Hemi V8, a (slightly) civilised version of their racing engine.  Listed as option code BO29, 50 were built (Dodge also did a run of 80 Hemi-powered Darts (option code LO23)) and with fibreglass panels and all manner of acid-dipping tricks to reduce weight, Plymouth didn’t even try to pretend the things were intended for anywhere except the drag strip.  The power-to-weight ratio of the 1968 Hemi Barracudas & Darts remains the highest of the era.  The things sometimes are described as "1968 Hemi 'Cudas" but in the factory documentation they were only ever referred to as "Hemi Barracuda" because the 'Cuda designation wasn't introduced until the next season.  

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda coupe.

The third and final iteration of the Barracuda was introduced as a 1970 model and lasted until 1974.  Abandoning both the delicate lines of the second generation and the fastback body, the lines were influenced more by the Camaro than the Mustang.  This time the range comprised (1) the Barracuda which could be configured with either of the two slant sixes (198 (3.2) & 225 (3.6)) or one of the milder V8s, (2) the Gran 'Cuda which offered slightly more powerful V8s and some additional luxury appointments including the novelty of an overhead console (obviously not available in the convertible) and (3) the 'Cuda, oriented towards high-performance and available with the 340, 383, 440 and 426 units, the wide (E-body) platform able to handle any engine/transmission combination.  Perhaps the best looking of all the pony cars, sales encouragingly spiked for 1970, even the Hemi ‘Cuda attracting over 650 buyers, despite the big engine increasing the price by about a third and it would have been more popular still, had not the insurance premiums for such machines risen so high.  With this level of success, the future of the car seemed assured although the reaction of the press was not uncritical, one review of the Dodge Hemi Challenger (the Barracuda's slightly longer but substantially similar stable-mate), finding it an example of “…lavish execution with little thought to practical application”.  Still, even if in some ways derivative (and as the subsequent, second generation Chevrolet Camaro & Pontiac Firebird would at the time suggest, outdated), the styling (the team led by John Herlitz (1942–2008)) has since been acknowledged as a masterpiece and when the "retro" take on the Challenger was in the next century released, those were the lines reprised, the new Mustang and Camaro also following the 1960s, not the 1970s.

1970 Plymouth Barracuda with 225 cubic inch (3.7 litre) slant-6 (left) and 1970 Plymouth Barracuda Gran Coupe (right).

It's the most powerful (The Hemis and triple-carburetor 440s) of the third generation Barracudas that are best remembered but production of those things (produced only for 1970 & 1971) never reached four figures.  Of the 105,000 Barracudas (some 26,000 of which were 'Cudas) made between 1970-1974, most were fitted with more pedestrian power-plants like the long-serving 318 (5.2) V8 and the 198 & 225 Slant-6, the latter pair catering to what used to called the "grocery-getter" market (which in those less-enlightened times was known also as the “secretary's” or “women's” market); the sales breakdown for the other pony cars (Mustang, Camaro, Firebird, Challenger & Javelin) all to some degree revealed the same trend; occasionally 50%-odd of Mustang or Camaro sales could be six-cylinder versions.  The Gran Coupe was the “luxury” version of the Barracuda, the engine options limited to the 225, 318 & 383 but with a better-trimmed interior, (something welcome in what was otherwise a quite austere environment of hard, unforgiving plastic) and some exterior bling including body sill, wheel lip and belt-line moldings.  The most notable fitting in the Gran Coupe was the overhead console, something earlier seen in the Ford Thunderbird.  A fairly large fitting for its limited utility (it included little more than an overhead light, low-fuel and door-ajar warning lights), other manufacturers would extend their functionality.  The overhead console wasn't available in the convertible version which was still sold as a "Gran Coupe", Plymouth using "coupe" as just another model name, applying it to two and four-door sedans and well as the blinged-up Gran.

1970 Plymouth AAR 'Cuda in "Lemon Twist" over black.

In 1970, there was a run of “AAR ‘Cudas”, a promotional model tied in with the cars run in the Trans-Am (Trans-American) series by the AAR (All American Racers) team run by US driver Dan Gurney (1931-2018).  Unlike the earlier cars produced in a certain volume in order to fulfil homologation requirements for eligibility in the Trans-Am (the Chevrolet Camaro Z28 (1967) (which in the factory’s early documents appeared as both Z-28 & Z/28) and Fords Boss 302 Mustang (1969), the AAR ‘Cudas were built in a more permissive regulatory environment, the requirement to homologate an engine within the 5.0 litre (305 cubic inch) limit dropped, teams permitted to “de-stroke” larger, mass-produced units.  The change was made explicitly to tempt Chrysler to compete, removing the expensive business of developing a special engine, exactly what Chevrolet and Ford had earlier been compelled to do and the spirit of compromise was at the time in the air, NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) recently having nudged their 7.0 litre (quoted as 427 cubic inch) displacement limit to 430 to accommodate Ford’s new 429 (the 385 series V8).  So, although homologated, the AAR ‘Cudas didn’t have as close a relationship with what Gurney’s operation ran on the circuit compared with that enjoyed by the earlier Z28 Camaros and Boss Mustangs.

Underbody of 1970 Plymouth AAR 'Cuda in "Lemon Twist" over black.

The much admired side exhausts emulated the look of the (unlawful) "cut-out" systems some hot-rodders used but the AAR units were ducted using special mufflers with inlets & outlets both at the front.  Something of an affectation and probably a structural inefficiency in terms of gas-flow, they were undeniably a sexy look and AMG in the twenty-first century would adopt the "cut-out" look for the Mercedes-Benz G55 & G63 although without the convoluted path.

Even if the relationship with what was under the hood was by 1970 not quite as close as in earlier seasons, the AAR machines certainly looked the, equipped with a black fibreglass hood (complete with lock-pins and a functional scoop), rear & (optional) front spoilers and a very sexy “side exhaust system” exiting just behind the doors.  Uniquely, the 340 in the “Trans-Am” cars ran a triple carburetor induction system (unlike the actual 5.0 litre race cars which were limited to a single four-barrel) rated at 290 (gross or SAE (Society of Automotive Engineers) HP (horsepower), a somewhat understated figure apparently settled on because the modest number was quoted also for the 302s in the Camaro Z28 and Boss 302 Mustang.  The engine genuinely was improved, the block a “special run” using an alloy of cast iron with a higher nickel content and including extra metal to permit the race teams to install four-bolt main bearings (none of the AAR road cars so configured).  Just to make sure buyers got the message, the front tyres were fat Goodyear E60x15s while the rears were an even beefier G60x15, a mix a first for Detroit that produced a pronounced forward rake still much emulated.  So, even if the AAR ‘Cudas really weren’t exactly “race-ready”, they looked like they were which was of course the point of the whole exercise and they proved popular, Plymouth making 2724 (all coupes), 1604 of which were fitted with the TorqueFlite 727 automatic transmission, something not seen on the Trans-Am circuits but ideally suited to drag strips and street use.  Dodge’s companion “homologation special” was the Challenger T/A in an identical configuration and of the 2400 coupes made, 1411 were automatics.

1970 Plymouth AAR 'Cuda with dealer-fitted (or re-production) front "chin" spoiler (option code J78) (left) and 1970 Plymouth AAR 'Cuda with standard rear "ducktail" spoiler (mandatory option J82) (right).

The black ABS plastic rear "ducktail" spoiler (mandatory option code J82) was standard on the AAR 'Cudas (and differed from the "wing" style unit optional on other 'Cudas) while the pair of front "chin" spoilers (J78) were optional.  The chin spoilers were not fitted by the factory but supplied as a "dealer-install kit" and shipped in the car's trunk (boot), the result being some variations in the mounting position so cars so configured.  The chin spoilers are available as re-productions (some even including the original Mopar part-number) and because they were dealer-installed it can be hard to tell if they're original equipment, the slight variations in the positioning of in dealerships further muddying the waters.  For the “originality police” for whom “matching numbers” is the marker of the highest form of collectability, the small ABS protuberances are thus a challenge because while a rare dealer receipt or shipping list from 1970 can prove the provenance, an alleged authenticity can be difficult to disprove because there are now documented techniques by which plastic can be “aged”, a la the tricks art forgers once used to make a recent painting appear centuries old, one especially skilled cheating even Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945), something that seems hardly an offence.  Scientific analysis presumably could be applied to determine the truth; there’s no record of the originality police ever having resorted to that but it may yet happen because in the collector market the difference in value between “original” and “not original” can be significant.

1970 Plymouth Barracuda Option M46 detail sheet (left) and 1970 Plymouth Barracuda with M46 (or re-production) rear (non-functional) quarter-panel (sill) scoop (right).  In appearance, the part is similar to the duct on the mid-engined Lamborghini Miura (1966-1973).

The reproduction of obscure and once rarely ordered options has meant there doubtlessly are more AAR ‘Cudas with the chin spoilers than were ever left the dealer in that form and even the less desirable Barracudas are serviced by the industry.  In 1970 there was option code M46 which included (1) an Elastomeric (elastomer a rubbery material composed of long, chain-like molecules (or polymers) capable of recovering their original shape after suffering an impact) rear quarter-panel (sill) air scoop in front of the rear wheels, (2) matte black lower-body trim with white and red pinstripes, (3) a rear-panel black-out (similar to that used on the ‘Cuda), complemented with chrome trim from the Gran Coupe and (4) blacked-out front & rear valences.  Offered only for 1970 Barracudas, Chrysler’s records indicate fewer than 450 were built but the reproduction scoops are sometimes seen even on later models, including ‘Cudas on which they were never available.  Unlike the AAR’s chin spoilers, option code M46 was factory-fitted so authenticity can be verified by the fender tag.  Unlike the spoilers (that would have had some aerodynamic effect), option M46 was purely a “dress-up”, the quarter-panel scoop “non-functional” and only emulating the “rear-brake cooling ducts” sometimes used on race cars or exotic machines.  

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda Convertible.

Circumstances conspired to doom the ‘Cuda, the 426 Hemi, the Challenger and almost the whole muscle car ecosystem.  Some of the pony cars would survive but for quite some time mostly only as caricatures of their wild predecessors.  Rapidly piling up were safety and emission control regulations that were consuming an increasing proportion of manufacturers’ budgets but just as lethal was the crackdown by the insurance industry on what were admittedly dangerously overpowered cars which, by international standards, were extraordinarily cheap and often within the price range of the 17-25 year old males most prone to high-speed accidents on highways.  During 1970, the insurance industry looked at the data and raised the premiums even higher and late that year, were it possible to buy insurance for a Hemi ‘Cuda and its ilk, it was prohibitively expensive and sales flopped from around 650 in 1970 to barely more than a hundred the next year, of which but a dozen-odd were convertibles.  Retired with the Hemi was the triple carburetor option for the 440; 1971 was the last time such a configuration would appear on a US-built vehicle.

It was nearly over.  Although in 1972 the Barracuda & Challenger were granted a stay of execution, the convertible and the big-block engines didn’t re-appear and the once vibrant 340 soon was replaced by a more placid 360 (5.9).  Sales continued to fall, soon below the point where the expensive to produce E-body was no longer viable, production of both Barracuda and Challenger ending in 1974.  From a corporate point-of-view, the whole E-Body project had proved a fiasco: not only did it turn out to be labour-intensive to build, it was only ever used by the Barracuda & Challenger, a financial death sentence in an industry where production line rationalization was created by "platform-sharing".  Even without the factors which led to the extinction however, the first oil-crisis, which began in October 1973, would likely have finished them off, the Mustang having (temporarily) vacated the market segment and the Camaro and Firebird survived only because they were cheaper to build so GM profitably could maintain production at lower levels; later in the decade, GM would be glad about that for the Camaro and Firebird enjoyed long, profitable Indian summers.  That career wasn't shared by the Javelin (1968-1974), AMC's belated entry in the pony car market; although more successful than the Barracuda, it outlived it by only months.

1971 Hemi 'Cuda Convertible at 2021 auction.  Note the "gills" on the front fender, an allusion to the "fish" theme although anatomically recalling a shark more than a barracuda.  

It was as an extinct species the third generations ‘Cudas achieved their greatest success... as used cars.  In 2014, one of the twelve 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda convertibles sold at auction for US$3.5 million and in 2021, another attracted a bit of US$4.8 million without reaching the reserve.  In the collector market, numbers do "bounce around a bit" and while the "post-COVID" ecosystem was buoyant, by 2026 things are more subdued but, like Ferrari's Dino 246 GT & GTS, the 1971 Hemi 'Cuda convertibles remains a "litmus-paper" car, regarded as one of the weather-vanes of the state of the collector market.  The next time one appears on the auction circuit, the fall of the hammer will be watched with interest.

Even by 1970 it was noticed Detroit’s intra-corporate self-cannibalization was blurring the distinctions between a company’s divisions, something that a decade earlier had at least in part contributed to Ford axing Edsel and Chrysler shuttering the much older DeSoto brand.  However, in 1970, Chrysler still retained four operational divisions (Imperial, Chrysler, Dodge & Plymouth) and although there was now some overlap in pricing, their “market positioning” remained distinct, albeit not as sharply defined as in the 1950s.  That was in the home market but in the overseas operations things were different; through corporate M&A (mergers & acquisitions) activities, during the 1960s, Chrysler had acquired four brands in the UK (Humber, Sunbeam, Singer & Hillman) and two in France (Simca & Talbot) and while that lasted for a few years, when in 1970 Chrysler in France and the UK introduced the 180 (1970-1982 ( “large” in European terms; a “sub-compact by US standards)) it was sold as a “Chrysler”, presumably an indication of future plans, Singer, Sunbeam and (soon) Humber already doomed.  In Australia there was another variation, Valiants there sold as “Chryslers” with the big Dodge Phoenix (actually a Canadian Plymouth with Dodge badges) offered as a "prestige" model.  That sounds like "Marketing 101" except between 1967-1971, the Valiant Wayfarer (the “ute” version of the sedan, sold in South Africa as the “Rustler” and in 1971 re-named “Utility” for Australasian sales) was also available in a cheaper, utilitarian form with lower equipment levels and sold as a “Dodge”.

Ecurie Chrysler's 1970 Hemi 'Cuda.

In 1970, things were simpler in France, the relative handful of Plymouths sold there all badged and registered as “Chryslers”.  Although never making much of a blip on the French sales charts, one 1970 Hemi ‘Cuda sold there enjoys the distinction of being the most successful of the breed in competition (other than in drag racing).  In series-production racing, there were relatively few categories for which the Hemi ‘Cuda would have been eligible but what there were in France, the car imported by Ecurie Chrysler (Chrysler's French Competition Group) at times dominated, between 1971-1973 winning 45 FIA-sanctioned circuit races and hill-climbs, securing the French Group 1 (Touring Class International Category) Circuit Championships in 1971, 1972 & 1973 and the 1972 Hill-climb title.  Painted the traditional FRB (French Racing Blue, a shade of “duck-egg blue”), it would have been a spectacular sight as rapidly it depleted the nation’s fossil fuel reserves and the stellar record in hill-climbs should not be unexpected; were a racing driver to choose, most would probably suggest a Hemi ‘Cuda would be at close to its best going uphill; certainly, it might be a better experience than a fast downhill run, under brakes.  Still, it gained multiple victories at storied circuits including Montlhery, Paul Ricard, Magny Cours, Dijon, Nogaro and Croix en Ternoix, reflecting the extensive development programme untaken by the engineers responsible for Matra's (Ecurie Chrysler's Joint Venture Partner) racing team (victorious in the Le Mans 24 Hour endurance classic in 1971, 1972 & 1973).  Probably, no other Hemi ‘Cuda ever went so well around corners.

Director

Director (pronounced dih-rek-ter or dahy-rek-ter)

(1) A person or thing that directs others or other things (Director of Engineering, Director of Sales etc).

(2) In corporate law, one of a group of persons chosen to control or govern the affairs of a company or corporation, usually as a member of a board of directors and sometimes also including executive functions.

(3) The person responsible for the interpretive aspects of a stage, film, or television production; the person who supervises the integration of all the elements, as acting, staging, lighting etc.

(4) In musical or other artistic productions (stage, art galleries, opera etc) one in charge of all artistic (and sometimes administrative) matters (in larger operations the roles sometimes specialized: sound director, script director etc).

(5) The manager or chief executive of certain schools, institutes, government bureaux etc.

(6) In military use, a mechanical or electronic device that continuously calculates firing data for use against an airplane or other moving target, configured usually graphically to display (in real-time) the targets of a weapons system.

(7) In chemistry, the common axis of symmetry of the molecules of a liquid crystal.

(8) In music, a synonym for conductor (US use, now less common).

(9) A counsellor, confessor, or spiritual guide (now less common).

1470-1480: The construct was direct(us) + -or.  A borrowing in the sense of “a guide” from the Anglo French directour & the French directeur the agent noun from the Latin dirigere (set straight, arrange; give a particular direction to) and its source, the Late Latin directorem, from the Latin dīrectus, the perfect passive participle of dīrigō (straighten, direct), the construct being dis- (asunder, in pieces, apart, in two) + regō (to direct, to guide, keep straight; make straight; rule), from the primitive Indo-European root reg (move in a straight line).  The -or suffix was from the Middle English -our, from the Old French -eor, from the Latin -ātor and reinforced by the Old French -or and its source, the Latin -tor & -tōrem.  It was used to create an agent noun, often from a verb, indicating a person or object (often machines or parts of them) that do the verb or part of speech with which they are formed.  In electrical engineering it has the specific use of being appended to the names of members of classes of components, especially those that have an extensive property name of the same root suffixed with -ance (eg to convey the sense that resistors possess resistance and inductors possess inductance).  The alternative spelling directour became rare in the late eighteenth century and is long obsolete.  Director, directorate & directorship are nouns, directing is a verb, directed is a verb & adjective, directorial is an adjective and directorially is an adverb; the noun plural is directors.  The feminine forms of the noun (directress & directrix) were always rare and are now thought extinct (and by some probably proscribed).

Lindsay Lohan with Spanish fashion designer Estrella Arch (b 1974), on the catwalk, Emanuel Ungaro's Spring-Summer show, Paris, October 2009.  Ms Lohan was employed as a creative director at the House, founded in 1965 by French fashion designer Emanuel Ungaro (1933–2019).

The noun director (corporate sense of “one of a number of persons having authority to manage the affairs of a company” was known as early as the 1630s; the theatrical sense of “the leader of a company of performers” dates from 1911 and it was from here the use was picked up by those in charge of the artistic or technical aspects of movie-making.  The noun directorship (condition or office of a director) has been in use since the 1720s, the adjective directorial known since 1770.  The noun directorate was used first in 1834 of “a body of directors” and may immediately have be used individually of the “office of a director” but this was certainly first documented in 1837.  Director is a word defined both by its history of use (film director, director of football etc) and law (company director) so although titles like supervisor, head, manager, leader, administrator, chief, boss etc certainly implies “one who directs”, they’re traditionally not used as direct synonyms because “director” is a “loaded word”.  It’s also modified as needed (art director, managing director, sub-director etc).

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with "Mobile Director Package"; note the rearward facing front passenger seat.  

Although the brand had since the 1920s been used for some of Chrysler's more expensive lines, between 1955-1975, the corporation re-created Imperial as a separate, stand-alone division (albeit with some intra-corporate sharing of engines, transmissions and certain other components), the way Ford positioned Lincoln (GM's (General Motors) Cadillac then still with unique engines although much else was shared).  In the early years, the approach yielded some success (most notably with the dramatic 1957 models) but the separation didn’t survive the troubled decade of the 1970s (by which time the platform and body-shells were shared with the other divisions and much of the earlier distinctiveness had been surrendered); a couple of subsequent, half-heated, revivals proved abortive.

Bowing to economic reality, the Imperial in 1967-1968 had switched from the separate frame used since 1955 to the unitary construction of the full-sized ranges offered by other divisions but maintained a certain degree of difference by virtue of a unique body, albeit one with dimensions slightly reduced (not seen by all as a virtue at a time when things were again trending larger).  While styled with an elegance derived from its simplicity of line, the Imperial continued to not quite match the timeless modernity of the Lincoln or the indefinable but incomparable allure of the Cadillac and although sales did improve in 1967, volumes were only ever a fraction of its two competitors.  The basic engineering though was sound, the TorqueFlite 727 transmission as responsive and robust as any (although it didn’t quite slur as effortlessly between ratios as the Cadillac’s TH400 Turbo-Hydramatic 400) while the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 was a notch better, something the others wouldn’t match until 1968.  Significantly, reviewers at the time often were prepared to acknowledge the Imperial was the more capable road car although, given it operated in a market where quietness and isolation from the environment were afforded more of a premium than handling prowess, among potential buyers, any perception of real-world advantage probably was marginal.

The more stylish if less roadable opposition: 1967 Cadillac Coupe DeVille (left) & 1967 Lincoln Continental Coupe (right).

In those years however, the Imperial did offer something truly unique.  The “Mobile Director Package” was available exclusively on the Imperial Crown Coupe and reflected (within the limits of what the available technology would then permit) what Chrysler thought a company director would most value in an automobile being used as a kind of “office on the move”, including (1) an extendable walnut-topped table (secured to the floor by a stainless-steel stanchion) able to be unfolded over the rear seats, (2) a Tensor high-intensity lamp with a gooseneck mount enabling the light to be directed anywhere in the cabin and, most intriguingly (3) a front passenger seat mounted on swivelling base enabling it to rotate 180°, the apparatus permitting someone comfortably to use the table and interact with those in the rear.  Conveniently, in a sign of the times, the car was supplied with four cigarette lighters and the lamp could be plugged into whichever was closest to need.  The package was available only for those two seasons and in its first years cost US$597.40 (some US$6,000 adjusted for 2026 values) but only 81 buyers ticked the option box and even reducing the price the next season to US$317.60 did little to stimulate demand; only 70 ordered as a dismal swansong.  Even if the threat of new safety regulations hadn’t been looming, it’s doubtful the Mobile Director Package would have appeared on the option list for 1969 when the new “fuselage” Imperials debuted.

Imperial's advertising always emphasised the "business" aspect of the package but the corporation also circulated a photograph of the table supporting a (presumably magnetic) chessboard and another with silver compote holding a shiny red apple and a bunch of grapes, dangling seductively.  The latter may have been to suggest the utility of the package when stopping for a picnic with one's secretary; at an advertising agency, once someone suggested using the motif of "forbidden fruit", nobody would have been able to resist.

The advertising copy at the time claimed the package was “designed for the busy executive who must continue his work while he travels”, serving also as “an informal conference lounge”.  The Imperial was a big car (previous generations had been larger still) though “lounge” was a bit of a stretch but “truth in advertising” laws were then not quite as onerous as they would become.  More accurate were the engineering details, the table able to “pivot to any of four different positions, supported by a sturdy chrome-plated pillar and in the forward position, it can convert into a padded armrest between the two front seats while extended, it opens out to twice its original size with a lever on the table swivel support to permit adjustments to the height”.  It was noted “a special tool is used for removing the table and storing it in the trunk” the unstated implication presumably that in deference to the secretary’s finger-nails, that would be a task for one’s chauffeur.  The US$597.40 the option listed at in 1967 needs to be compared with the others available and only the most elaborate of the two AC (air conditioning) systems was more expensive.

Imperial option list, 1967.

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  Note seatbelt mounting point.

The publicity material associated with the Mobile Director Package did suggest the rearward-facing seat would likely be occupied by a director’s secretary and, as one might imagine, the configuration did preclude her (in 1967, secretaries almost always were women) using a seatbelt but she would always have been in arm’s reach of at least one cigarette lighter so there was that.  The (male) end of the front seatbelts sat on the sill panel, adjacent to the seat’s squab (back), a placement dictated by the need not to restrict access to the rear-compartment and that worked well for the standard coupe but, obviously, rendered the belt useless when the seat was rotated.  While Chrysler can be criticized for not providing rearward-facing secretaries with what’s now regarded as an essential safety feature, the rest of the US industry and legislatures (federal & state) were in 1967 little less cavalier.  While some state registration authorities had during the decade mandated the provision of seatbelts for front-seat passengers, no US jurisdiction then compelled their use.

The familiar modern three-point (lap & sash) seatbelt evolved in the late 1950s with much input from US designers but it was Swedish manufacturers that first made them universal (Scandinavia being often dark and icy, drivers sharing the roads with large elk).  The modern seatbelt design (conceptually unchanged to this day) is credited to Swedish mechanical engineer Nils Bohlin (1920–2002) who was employed by Volvo, the company making them a standard fitting in 1959, following the example of Saab that had added them the previous year.  During the 1960s, US states gradually imposed a requirement they be fitted until federal law mandated they be installed in all passenger vehicles produced after 1 January, 1968.  The laws requiring people actually to use the things proved more difficult to implement but other countries quickly made both fitment and use compulsory, initially only for those seated in the front but eventually this extended to all passengers.  Although examples existed early in the twentieth century (fitted often by those with experience in aviation) rudimentary seatbelts first appeared in US production cars during the 1950s but the manufacturers must have thought the public indifferent because their few gestures were tentative such as in 1956 when Ford had offered (as an extra-cost option) a bundle of safety features called the “Lifeguard Design” package that included:

(1) Padded dashboards (to reduce head injuries).

(2) Recessed steering wheel hub (to minimize chest injuries).

(3) Seat belts (front lap belts only)

(4) Stronger door latches (preventing doors flying open in a crash)

(5) Shatter-resistant rear-view mirror (reducing injuries caused by from broken glass).

In Western popular culture and advertising, there have been many friendly bears, including this one happily buckled-up with a “Ford seat belt. One third stronger than required for airliners.”

The standard features included (1) the Safety-Swivel Rear View Mirror, (2) the Deep-Center Steering Wheel with recessed post and bend-away spokes and (3) Double-Grip Door Latches with interlocking striker plate overlaps.  Optional at additional cost were (4) Seat Belts (single kit, front or rear, color-keyed, nylon-rayon with quick one-handed adjust/release aluminium buckle) (US$5).  There were also "bundles" (always popular in Detroit), “Safety Package A” consisting of a Padded Instrument Panel & Padded Sun Visors (US$18) while “Safety Package B” added to that Front-Seat Lap Seat Belts (US$27).  On the 1956 Thunderbird (with a significantly different interior design) the options were (1) the Lifeguard Padded Instrument Panel (US$22.65), (2) Lifeguard Padded Sun Visors (US$9) and (3) Lifeguard Seat Belts (US$14).

Years later, internal documents would be discovered revealing conflicts within the corporation, the marketing department opposed to any mention of "safety features" because that reminded potential customers of car crashes; they would prefer they focus on new colors, higher power outputs, sleek new lines and such.  So, with not much done to promote the “Lifeguard Design”, public demand was subdued and soon the option quietly was deleted.  At the time, apart from improving the quality of roads (resulting in higher average speeds with obvious implications) the government had done little about either safety or vehicle emissions but both the rising highway death toll and the worsening air quality in cities was attracting attention, meaning things would change, decades of legislation soon to unfold.  The first decisive step came as a provision in FMVSS 208 (Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standard No. 208) requiring all passenger cars manufactured from 1 January, 1968 onward be equipped with seatbelts at the designated seating positions though this was a federal manufacturing requirement, not a law requiring motorists to buckle up, something not imposed until 1984 when New York made their use mandatory, other states following the lead.

FMVSS emerged from the US NHSB (National Highway Safety Bureau (that in 1970 became the NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration) under the newly created DOT (Department of Transportation), established by an act of Congress on 15 October, 1966 and beginning operation on 1 April, 1967).  That alphabet soup of activity in a field previously little explored by government came in the wake of the publication of Ralph Nader’s (b 1934) book Unsafe at any Speed (1965) documenting the flaws in the design and construction of US automobiles and industry’s indifference to the consequences.  Regulation ever since has been a growing industry, something emblematic of a theme in Western political culture since the end of World War II (1939-1945): The erosion of personal freedom in exchange for perceived (or dictated) benefits (in the case of the FMVSS, safer cars; other agencies gave us cleaner air).  All of this is fought out in various fora (legislatures, the streets, social media, Fox News etc); sometimes the state giveth, sometimes the state taketh away.

The profound recent shift in this mechanism is not the process but the participants: As “big tech” became dominant, that collective gave much to consumers who benefited from what appeared substantially to be “free” while surrendering much that was once by philosophers and political scientists thought precious but which clearly is regarded by many as an abstraction, the loss of which is a price worth paying for TikTok, Instagram, generative AI (artificial intelligence) and such.  In that, big tech’s model is essentially the same as that of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and that seems to have worked well so we should imagine, as the twenty-first century unfolds, we’ll get “more of the same”.  In political theory, what the social contract theorists at big tech are doing is right because we all have clicked on the boxes agreeing to their 30-plus pages of terms and conditions and have certified we have read and understood every clause.  The political process handling this societal overlay is neither static nor lineal; structurally it follows much the same pattern as earlier contests between power and individuals: As governments react to pressure groups by seeking to curb the worst of the consequences, fixes, work-arounds and obfuscations will interact with a flow of money into the coffers of governments, parties (and, now and again, pockets) in a way that will permit most of what big tech plans to do while giving the appearance things are being done to stop them doing at least some of what many people think they should stop doing.  To anyone who remembers the maneuvers and compromises that for more than a decade would flow around the best-laid plans of the NHTSA, it will all be familiar.

1968 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  The seatbelt (lap only) was now attached directly to the frame.

Imperial’s designers were compelled by the law to be more imaginative than most.  For the swivelling front seat in the 1968 cars, the seatbelt mounting points were integrated directly into the steel frame of the seat base itself, rather than the vehicle's floor pan.  To achieve the necessary strength, (using techniques borrowed from the seats in airliners), the engineers had both inboard and outboard lap-belt ends bolt directly to reinforced anchor points on the lower structural framing of the seat.  This made seat, mechanism and belts wholly self-contained (a la a military aircraft’s ejector-seat!) and permitted the 180^o swivel effect, belts rotating seamlessly with passenger.  Chrysler did however obtain from the authorities a partial-exemption.  While FMVSS 208 required front-seat shoulder belts, that would have been difficult to implement for the swivelling seat (not impossible because ejector-seats have frame-mounted shoulder-belts) so the restraint system was limited to the two-point lap-belt (admittedly an improvement over what she'd been provided in 1967: nothing).  Secretaries on the move presumably were grateful but the safety feature didn’t see sales improve, despite the slashing of the price.

1966 Chrysler 300X show car.

In 1966, the “swivelling seat thing” must have been exerting a powerful influence in Chrysler’s design offices because also shown that year was the 300X, based on a 300 Convertible (and despite the appended letter, a vehicle not in the tradition of the just-retired “letter series” 300s (1955-1965), the “X” believed a reference to eXperimental) and although mechanically unchanged, the cockpit was packed with “futuristic” ideas, some of which did eventually enter mainstream use (although the swivelling front seat remained one of history’s unwanted orphans).  Rather than a conventional steering wheel, the driver used handgrips and the “steering unit” included button controls for lights, wipers, turn signals, and door locks, enabling use of all functions with a finger or thumb, all the while keeping a both hands on the mechanism.  Door handles were replaced by a keypunch card used also for the ignition while a truck-lid mounted TV camera and monitor on the dashboard replaced the rear-view mirrors.  Rear-seat passengers (and the front-occupant when “swivelled”) were able to enjoy watching a small television, mounted on a bracket allowing it to be stowed away when not in use. Construction of the 300X was out-sourced to the prolific customizer and fabricator Roger Winfield (1927–2025) whose creations became well-known from their appearances in film and television including Blade Runner (1982) and Get Smart (1965-1970).  The 1965 Sunbeam “Tiger” be built for Get Smart was actually a visually almost identical Sunbeam Alpine, chosen because its compactfour-cylinder engine left sufficient under-hood space for the “special accessories” (including a retractable machine-gun) whereas the Tiger’s Ford V8 filled the space to the brim.  To solve the “aural deficit”, the distinctive burble of a Tiger’s V8 was added during the editing process.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

The most obvious thing that might puzzle those first seeing the Mobile Director Package is why it was available only in a two-door model when four-door coachwork would seem to make the configuration more obviously functional.  Had Imperial in 1967 sold several thousand of the things it’s at least possible Chrysler would for 1968 (or even mid-way through 1967) had extended availability but that would have been a more demanding process than it may appear, the existing swivelling mechanism unable to be used.  The difficulty was the four-door models (both sedan and hardtop) had respectively a full or partial B-pillar, the latter ending at the belt-line where the greenhouse begins, the structure required to provide a secure anchor point for the rear door's hinges.  The coupes used doors longer than front units on the four-door models, meaning the B-pillar sat further forward than the trailing-edge of the coupe’s door; there was thus a sufficient aperture for the seat to rotate when the coupe’s door was open but the gap would have been too narrow on the four-door cars.  So to offer the package in the four-door body it would have been a matter either of re-designing the doors or the swivelling seat and while the former would have been an expensive exercise (prohibitively so if the only justification was to accommodate a low-volume option), the seat and its base could have been re-engineered but after finding only 81 buyers in 1967 and 70 the next season, investment would have been hard to justify.

1960 Facel Vega Excellence EX1 (left) and 1959 Lancia Appia Series III (right).  Facel Vega produced France's finest cars of the post-war era but while undeniably glamourous, the flaws in the design of the Excellence's door-latches were never resolved and by the time the factory was shuttered in 1964, total Excellence production stood at 148 EX1s (Series One; 1958-1961) & 8 EX2s (Series Two; 1961-1964).  Lancia perfected pillar-free body engineering, using doors with sturdy window frames, permitting latch points at both sill and roof, the configuration offered on a number of sedans including the Ardea (1939-1953), Aurelia (1950-1958) & Appia (1953-1963).  The locking mechanism was intricate but the engineering was simple and proved reliable.  It's sad the company's later attachment to FWD (front wheel drive) ultimately doomed Lancia because in every other aspect of engineering, few others were as adept at producing such fine small-displacement vehicles.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

Ford's 1969 Aurora II Concept Car gave an indication of quite what what would have been required to make the Mobile Director Package conveniently functional on the platform of what was then the standard "full-size" four-door US automobile.  The "wrap-around" rear seat was an idea borrowed from the Ford Thunderbird, contemporary reviewers praising the visual impact but noting that as something for humans to sit on it was less comfortable than a conventional design; in the Aurora it probably worked better and certainly lent the cabin the desired "lounge-room" vibe.  The problem of providing (1) space for the seat to swivel and (2) allowing elegant ingress & egress was of course afforded by the the four doors (in "suicide" configuration) and elimination of the B-pillar.  That combination provided unprecedented ease of accessibility but its doubtful it could successfully have been implemented in series-production.  The French concern had earlier tried the approach with their Excellence model but, despite retaining a vestigial hump where a B-pillar would have attached to the sill, the company never solved the problem of the door-locking apparatus "springing open" while the car was in motion, usually when the mechanism was subject to lateral forces such as when cornering.  Because these forces could be exerted at high-speed, having doors suddenly "flying open" was an obvious safety concern.  Lancia in the 1950s solved the problem of doing without a fixed central pillar buy using doors with conventional, full-height frames, thereby enabling locking mechanisms to be fitted top & bottom.  Curiously, the Aurora was based on the LTD Country Squire that came only with fully-framed doors so Lancia's approach could have been adopted but there's no indication Ford ever contemplated series-production, the "concept car" created just to generate interest on the show circuit.

1967 Imperial Crown Convertible (with subsequently added Mobile Director package).

Imperial over two seasons might have managed to sell only 151 of the Mobile Director packages but one owner of a 1967 Crown Convertible was so smitten they cannibalized a coupe to create a unique (if wholly fake) "convertible Mobile Director".  Exactly emulating what the factory did would not have been as simple as it may appear because the floor under the passengers swivelling seat needed to be strengthened with additional bracing and a "baffle" was welded to the transmission tunnel where the table's stainless-steel stanchion was attached (off-set to the driver's side to avoid the drive-shaft).  Although apparently as significantly pointless as the original, it's a novelty that would attract interest at events like "cars & coffee" and may even be more functional in that it would seem an ideal place comfortably to sit and enjoy one's picnic while watching something like polo (on the model of the way the Country Life set re-purpose the tailgates on their Range Rovers).  That said, had the factory in 1967-1968 made the package available on the convertible, almost certainly it would have been just as unsuccessful as the coupe. 

Stewart-Warner's desk-based DataFax (circa 1958).  The process of miniaturization in electronics was by 1966 still embryonic but enough shrinkage had been attained to make a fax fit in Imperial's show car.  Unlike fax machines, the pencil skirt never goes out of style.

The specification of Chrysler's package as it appeared in showrooms for the 1967 season was actually modest compared with the “Mobile Executive” car the corporation sent around the show circuit a year earlier; that Imperial had been fitted with a telephone, Dictaphone, writing table, fax machine, reading lamp and stereophonic sound system; a typewriter and portable television also used in many displays although neither were "fitted".  Also a Crown Coupe, the 1966 show car was much more ambitious, anticipating advances in mobile communications that would emerge over the next quarter-century.  At the time, car phones were available (the first service in the US offered in certain cities in 1946) but they were expensive and the nature of the bandwidth, combined with a lack of data compression, meant the range was limited as was capacity, only several dozen calls able simultaneously to be sustained.  In the 1966 car, there had even been the novelty of a Stewart-Warner Datafax, able to send or receive a US Letter-sized (slightly smaller than A4) page of text in six minutes.  That sounds unimpressive in the 2020s (or compared even with the 14.4 kbit/s for Group 3 FaxStream services of the 1990s) but the appropriate comparison is with the contemporary alternatives (driving, walking, a courier, or using the US Mail) and six minutes would have been a considerable advance.  While more expensive than a stamp and envelope, for the target market the costs would anyway have been a legitimate business expense and thus "a deductible".  As it was, the tempting equipment awaited improvements in infrastructure such as the analogue networks of the 1980s and later cellular roll-outs, these technologies contributing to an extent of use delivering economies of scale that eventually would make possible the smartphone.

The 1966 car that toured the show circuit demonstrated the concept which, in simplified form, would the next year appear on the option list but things like telephones and fax machines anticipated the future by many years (although fax machines in cars (Audi and Toyota among the handful to offer them) never became a thing).  The Dictaphone did however make the list as one of Chrysler's RPOs (regular production options) in the early 1970s and the take-up rate was surprisingly high although the fad quickly passed, dealers reporting the customers saying the hardware worked well but they "never used them".  In the collector community, a surviving Dictaphone in something like a Plymouth 'Cuda is a minor attraction; while not increasing value as would something like and original Hemi V8, it is a legitimate "period piece".

Glovebox-mounted fax machine in 1995 Toyota Celsior (the JDM (Japanese Domestic Market) Lexus LS).

The problem with the scaled-down Datafax was even had it been possible to produce the things at a manageable cost, in 1966 the solid-state electronics that would have made the thing reliable when subject to constant vibration and jolts were still years away (Chrysler’s Bendix “Electrojector” fuel injection in 1958 had fewer moving parts and that didn’t end well).  However, even if reliability could have been "engineered in", there is no guarantee demand would have existed whatever the price-point.  In the 1990s, despite it being installed with Toyota’s typical neatness and attention to detail, there were few buyers for the "fax machine in the glovebox" and if the notion was going to catch on anywhere, it would have been in that nation of early adopters.  While there were many features in the 1966 300X truly that were "ahead of their time", the Mobile Direct Package was a genuine cul-de-sac, at least as implemented in a conventionally sized car (and certainly a two-door coupe).  In 1966, rearward-facing seats had for some years been seen in the "vis-à-vis" arrangement used in some LWB (long wheelbase) limousines and as child-seats in the rear-most compartments of station wagons but those seats had been either fixed or folding and although the Ford Aurora II presumably dazzled a few impressionable souls, the industry showed little inclination to follow Chrysler's swivelling lead.

2021 "Maybach-Look" Mercedes-Benz Metris.  The passenger compartment is a similar configuration as the 1966-1967 Imperials (two forward facing seats, two rearward ("fold-away" rather than swivelling)) and there were folding tables as well as features unimaginable in the 1960s (seat massage, starlight-pattern headliner, flatscreen TV, internet connectivity, touchscreen infotainment system and a Burmester sound system with subwoofers).  Unfortunately, a fax machine wasn't part of the build but by 2021, they were close to extinct even in bricks & mortar offices.   

Flawed though Chrysler's implementation in 1966-1967 may have been, in the twenty-first century, production-line economics made it possible to realise the concept's implications, "big-box" vans able to be outfitted as genuinely functional mobile offices from which communication can be maintained with just about any part of the planet.  Of course, based on the same body used by plumbers, Amazon delivery drivers and such, the Metris doesn't have quite the gravitas of the Mercedes-Benz 600 Grossers of old (it's debatable whether the faux "Maybach-Look" stuff makes things better or worse) but there's more interior space and room for a big-screen TV so it's all a matter of what one wants from life.  Noting that, some operations have fitted-out interiors as offices or luxury transports which eschewing the exterior bling, some (often wisely) preferring to travel as inconspicuously as possible.