Decadence

Decadence (pronounced dek-uh-duhns or dih-keyd-ns)

(1) The act or process of falling into an inferior condition or state; deterioration; decay.

(2) Synonyms: decline, retrogression, degeneration

(3) Moral degeneration or decay; turpitude.

(4) Unrestrained or excessive self-indulgence.

(5) The decadent movement in literature (often with an initial capital and extended sometimes to the visual arts).

1540–1550: From the early fifteenth century French décadence, from the Medieval Latin dēcadentia (decay), from the Late Latin dēcadent-, stem of dēcadēns (falling away), the present participle of the Vulgar Latin dēcadere (to fall away; to decay), an etymologically restored form of the Latin dēcidere (to fall away, fail, sink, perish”), the construct being de- (apart, down) + cadere (to fall (from the primitive Indo-European root kad- (to fall)).  The meaning “process of falling away from a better or more vital state” dates from the 1620s while the use to define epochs is traced by some historians to the sense used of “decadent” in 1837 by Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881): “…in a state of decline or decay (from a former condition of excellence)”, decadent from the from French décadent (a back-formation from décadence).  The use to refer (disparaging) the perceived corruption of literary values began in the 1850s and thirty years later was common in both French and English criticism.  The addition of the sense of decadence being “a form of self-indulgence” seems not to have emerged until the late 1960s when it was applied (negatively) to the counter-culture but modern commerce soon re-packaged to use it of products marketed as “desirable and satisfying”; creamy desserts were often so labeled and the cake “Chocolate Decadence” became a generic term, the recipes varying greatly in detail.  Originally, the term “decadence” was used of “a period of historical decline, particularly of empires or civilizations” but, from the late nineteenth century, it shifted to become a literary & artistic word describing a movement and later a type of moral or cultural behavior, particularly human behavior that is seen as self-indulgent or excessive.  Finally, it became the name of a chocolate cake, something (vaguely) linked to association philosophers and historians would make between the decline of civilizations declined from periods of greatness into moral and structural decay, often with a focus on materialism and indulgence.  Decadence & decadency are nouns, decadent is a noun & verb and decadently is an adverb; the noun plural is decadences.

The related adjective deciduous was from the Latin dēciduus (falling down or off), from dēcidō (fall down) and is now most familiar from the arboreal branch of biology where it describes trees which shed their leaves (variously in winter, the fall (autumn) or the dry season.  However, in the technical language of anatomy it’s used of body parts which fall off or are shed, at a particular time or stage of development (ie not the result of injury or disease) and more generally can be used figuratively of things transitory or ephemeral, this mostly as a literary device.  Obviously also related is the noun decay, from the Middle English decayen & dekeyen (to decrease, diminish), from the Anglo-Norman decaeir (to fall away, decay, decline), from the Vulgar Latin dēcadere.  Decay describes the process or result of being gradually decomposed; rot, decomposition and is widely used of qualities such as (1) a deterioration of condition; loss of status, quality, strength, or fortune, (2) civic, societal or moral decay and (3) systemic decay.  It was also once used of overthrows of governments and even now has a technical meaning in computer programming.

Lindsay Lohan arriving at the Maddox Gallery to attend the Tyler Shields (b 1982) Decadence exhibition private view, London, February 2016.

Despite the spelling, unrelated is the noun “decade”.  Decade (the spelling decad long obsolete) was from the Middle English decade, from the Old French decade, from the Late Latin decādem ((set of) ten), from the Ancient Greek δεκάς (dekás), from δέκα (déka) (ten).  In English, the reference to a “span of ten years” was originally a clipping of the phrase “decade of years”, that seeming tautology existing because over the centuries there have been also “decades of soldiers” (ie ten men), “decades of days” (in history a period of ten days, particularly those in the ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and French Revolutionary calendars, “decades of books” (a work in ten parts or books, particularly such divisions of Roman historian Livy’s (Titus Livius; 59 BC–17 AD) Ab Urbe Condita (literally “From the Founding of the City” and in English usually styled as History of Rome), “decades of prayers” (in the rituals of the Roman Catholic Church, a series of prayers counted on a rosary, typically consisting of an Our Father, followed by ten Hail Marys, and concluding with a Glory Be and sometimes the Fatima Prayer), “decades of stuff” (things which existed as a group, set or series of ten),  The dominant, modern sense of “a period of ten years” dates from the seventeenth century while the notion it “usually” is one beginning with a year ending in 0 and ending with a year ending in 9” was (more or less) formalized in the nineteenth.  In technical use “decade” has been re-purposed in some specialist fields including the Braille language (to refer to the various sets of ten sequential characters with predictable patterns), electronics (of devices or components used to represent digits and physics & engineering (of the interval between any two quantities having a ratio of 10 to 1).

For what most people do most of the time, a decade is “a period of ten years beginning with a year ending in 0 and ending with a year ending in 9” (ie the 1980s, 1990s etc) bit it remains correct that a decade can be any period of that duration (such as 1994-2003).  May style guides don’t approve of this, not because it’s technically wrong but because it can tend to confuse if things are not carefully phrased.  That seems wise advice although the suggestion terms like decennium or decennary can be a substitute for “non-standard” ten-year periods is unlikely to catch on.  Words nerds note that the computation protocol for something like “the 1970s” is xxx0-xxx9 whereas for “real” decades it’s xxx1-xxx0, following the practice for centuries and millennia, something which creates the certain anomalies because there was no “year 0”, the Western calendrical shifting directly from 1 BC to 1 AD.  “Decadence” and “decade” do however sometimes mix: the Japanese term Lost Decade (失われた10年) (Ushinawareta Jūnen) coined in the late 1990s to describe the period of national economic stagnation in precipitated by the collapse of the asset price bubble (notably Tokyo commercial floor-space) which began in 1990.  The phenomenon though endured and economists responded in subsequent decades by adding 失われた20年(lost 20 years) and 失われた30年 (lost 30 years).  The 2020s are showing little indication of a return to high growth and given Japan’s structural challenges (debt rations and an aging & declining population, there’s an expectation 失われた40年 will appear in the late 2020.

The other chocolate cake: Chocolate Decadence Soap by Heritage Downs: Aus$6.50 (inc GST) per cake; the gift for the chocaholic who has everything.

In the history of art or literary theory, “decadent” was in the nineteenth century iused to describe a period during which the output was “qualitatively in decline” compared with the (perceived) excellence of a former age.  Historically, it was applied to the Alexandrine period (300-30 BC) the period after the death of Augustus (Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus (known also as Octavianus (Octavian)); 63 BC-14 AD, founder of the Roman Empire (27 BC-476 AD) and first Roman emperor 27 BC-14 AD).  In modern use it’s applied to the late nineteenth century symbolist movement in France (the poetry a particular target).  The movement emphasized the autonomy of art (exemplified in the contemporary phrase l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake), the need for sensationalism & melodrama, egocentricity, the bizarre or (wholly or partially) artificial, and the superior “outsider” position of the artist who was “in” yet not quite unambiguously “of” society; a critic rather than a participant (which of course was a reference to middle-class (or bourgeois society).  What is now classified as “decadent” poetry was preoccupied with personal experience, self-analysis, perversity, the suffering of artists and elaborate and exotic sensations.

View of Amalfi (1844), pencil, ink & water colour by John Ruskin (1819-1900).

In France the exemplar of decadence was the poet & critic Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867) whose book of lyric poetry Les Fleurs du mal (The Flowers of Evil; the first version published in 1857) is regarded still a manifest of the movement (though some conservative critics prefer “cult”) and the deconstructions who trace the changes in tone (he continued to add material until his death) regard it as something of a “journal” of the times.  In English translation, Les Fleurs du mal is some 300 pages and, in the way of the movement, the poetic forms are not “traditional” and some of the imagery is as suggestive as the thematic motifs of eroticism, suffering, sin, evil and death which will delight some and repel others and the latter wishing to explore the movement might find more accessible the novel À rebours (Against the Grain (published also as Against Nature); 1884) by the French author & art critic Joris-Karl Huysmans (pseudonym of Charles-Marie-Georges Huysmans (1848–1907)); it’s a slimmer volume which English poet & critic Arthur Symons (1865–1945) would later describe as the movement’s “breviary” (in this context “a brief summary”).  There were many notable figures who devoted their lives to proving their allegiance to this aesthetic cult and the preoccupation with decay, ruins sadness and despair was appealing to nihilists and neo-Romantics, linked even with twentieth century German fascism which was styled (however misleadingly) as a revival of purity and a return to Classical roots.  It never caught on in quite the same way in the English-speaking world the influences are clear in the work of “excessively civilized” & “troubled” figures like the Irish writer Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) and English aesthete John Ruskin.

Chocolate Decadence Cake by Vegan Peace (Striving towards peacefully sharing our Earth).

Ingredients (wet & dry to be mixed separately)

1½ cups whole wheat pastry flour (or gluten-free all-purpose flour) (dry).
1 cup organic white sugar (not powdered) (dry).
3 tablespoons cocoa powder, sifted if lumpy (not Dutch process cocoa) (dry).
1 level teaspoon baking soda (dry).
¼ teaspoon sea salt (dry).
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (wet).
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (wet).
1½ cup oil (sunflower, non-virgin olive, melted coconut, or safflower) (wet).
1 cup chocolate soymilk (wet).

Freaky Frosting Ingredients

5 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon non-hydrogenated margarine.
2¼cups plus 4 teaspoons organic powdered (confectioner's) sugar.
5 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon cocoa powder (sifted if lumpy).
2 teaspoons vanilla extract.
Pinch of sea salt.
½ cup chocolate soymilk.

Directions

(1) Preheat oven to 350° F (175° C).

(2) Oil 9 x 9 inch (230 x 230 mm) pan or a dozen muffin cups.

(3) Mix wet & dry ingredients separately ensuring each is lump-free and well-mixed.

(4) Gently combine wet-mix & dry-mix do not “over-mix” (the batter will at this point taste strange but this will disappear in the baking process.

(5) Pour mix into oiled baking pan or muffin cups and bake until the point where a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean (ie no trace of liquid or semi-liquid batter).  For cupcakes, this should take about 20 minutes; for the pan between 30-40 minutes.

(6) Remove from oven and allow cake to cool before frosting.

Frosting Directions

(7) Using electric beater, whip margarine in a large bowl until fluffy (do not over-whip.

(8) Slowly add in remaining ingredients one at a time, in the order listed.  Beat at high speed until very fluffy, using a rubber spatula to scrape down the sides of bowl as needed.

(9) Refrigerate frosting until cake has cooled.

(10) Frost cake, ideally after allowing frosting to warm to room temperature before serving cake.  A chocolate decadence may be decorated with edible flowers, raspberries, strawberries, chocolate shavings or whatever else seems to suit.

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 regarded 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 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 US Navy's heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis (CA-35) was the warship which 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) and it was torpedoed and sunk by an Imperial Japanese Navy submarine.  Because of wartime circumstances, the sinking remained unknown 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.”

Barracuda (1977) was US horror movie set on the Florida coast.  The plot-line involved the inhabitants of a small town being menaced by batteries of barracuda which have become highly aggressive because of chemical intervention by a former military doctor who has gone mad while conducting secret government research into hypoglycaemia 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)". 

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 seventeen days earlier.  Ford’s 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 sub-compact Valiant as Ford were using their Falcon.  In the years to come, there would be many who adopted the method, often with great success and on both sides of the Atlantic, there other manufacturers would create their own "pony cars".  Despite the chronology, it's the Mustang which deserves the 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. 

1965 Ford Mustang "notchback".

Unfortunately, despite the project having been in the works for years, a sudden awareness Ford were well advanced meant Chrysler’s lower-budget development was rushed.  Despite the Valiant’s platform and drive-train being in many aspects technically superior to the less ambitious Falcon, Plymouth’s Barracuda was a bit of a flop, outsold by its competitor initially by around ten to one, numbers which got 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 which was 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 that the rear window might be made to open.  At the time, the matter of of installing the big, heavy piece of glass and its edging was thought challenge enough without adding the engineering the necessary hinges and body-mounting points.  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 and air-conditioning expensive and 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, 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 gentry but it did enhance the practicality. 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.

1968 Plymouth Barracuda hardtop.

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 (noticed probably more by Americans than Italians) seen also in 1966 with the release of the second series of Chevrolet’s doomed, rear-engined Corvair.  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.  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 look with which the Mustang had established the pony car design motif used still today.

1969 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.

General Motors’ (GM) answer to the Mustang wasn’t as constrained by the fiscal frugality which had imposed so many compromises on the Barracuda, the Chevrolet Camaro and the substantially similar Pontiac Firebird both introduced in 1966 with a curvaceous interpretation of the short-deck, long-hood idea which maintained a relationship 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 which would later be used for Chevrolet’s new competitor for the Valiant and Falcon, the Nova.  Just as the pedestrian platforms had restricted the freedom to design the Barracuda, so the Camaro’s underpinnings imposed compromises in space utilization on the Nova, a few inches of the passenger compartment sacrificed to fashion.  For 1967, Ford released an updated Mustang, visually similar to the original but notably wider, matching the Camaro and Firebird in easily accommodating big-block engines, not something Chrysler easily could do with the Barracuda.

1969 Plymouth 'Cuda 440.

However, this was the 1960s and though Chrysler couldn’t easily install a big-block, they could with difficulty and so they did, most with a 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 and, in 1969, in a package now called ‘Cuda, (the name adopted for the hig-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.  The prototype built with a manual gearbox frequently snapped so many rear suspension components the engineers were forced to insist on an automatic transmission, the fluid cushion softening the 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 (which included turning corners), the better choice, introduced late in 1967, was an enlarged version of Chrysler’s small-block V8 (LA), 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 performance in a straight line not markedly inferior to the 440, coupled with markedly improved braking and cornering prowess.  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 the increasingly onerous anti-pollution rules.

1968 Hemi Barracuda, supplied ex factory with un-painted black fibreglass.

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.  Fifty were built (though one normally reliable source claims it was seventy) 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 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 name 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 and it was wide enough for any engine in the inventory.  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 which was 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 ‘Cuda’s 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 released in the next century, 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 which 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 cubic in (5.2 litre) V8 and the 198 & 225 (3.2 & 3.7) Slant-6, the latter pair serving 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 revealed the same trend to some degree.  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 Grans pair.

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

In 1970, there was a run of “AAR ‘Cudas”, a promotional model which tied in with the cars run in the Trans-Am series by the “All American Racers” (AAR) 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, the 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 their, the NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) recently having nudged their 7.0 litre (quoted as 427 cubic inchs) 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.

They did however look the part, equipped with a black fibreglass hood (bonnet) 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) and was rated at 290 (gross or SAE (Society of Automotive Engineers)) horsepower, a somewhat understated figure arrived at apparently because that was what was quoted for 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 which was a first for Detroit and produced a pronounced forward rake.  So even if the AAR ‘Cudas really weren’t “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 which was ideally suited to 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 whether they are original equipment, the slight variations in the positioning of the originals 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.  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 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).

The reproduction of obscure and once rarely ordered options has meant there doubtlessly are more AAR ‘Cudas with the chin spoilers than were ever sold 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 (the “luxury” version of the Barracuda which, despite the name, was available also as a convertible) 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 (which 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 which 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 adjusted the premiums.  By late 1970, 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 after 1971 and the once vibrant 340 was soon replaced by a more placid 360.  Sales continued to fall, soon below the point where the expensive to produce E-body was 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 that market segment and the Camaro and Firebird survived only because they were cheaper to build so GM could profitably 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, American Motors’ belated pony car which, although actually more successful than the Barracuda, outlived it only by 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 2024 it appears things are more subdued but, like Ferrari's Dino 246GT & GTS, the 1971 Hemi 'Cuda convertibles remains a "litmus-paper" car which is regarded as indicative of the state of the market.  The next time one is offered for sale, the fall of the hammer will be watched with interest.

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.” 

Heptadecaphobia

Heptadecaphobia (pronounced hepp-tah-dech-ah-foh-bee-uh)

Fear of the number 17.

1700s: The construct was the Ancient Greek δεκαεπτά (dekaepta) (seventeen) + φόβος (phobos).  The alternative form is septadecaphobia, troubling some the purists because they regard it as a Greek-Latin mongrel, the construct being the Latin septem (seven) + deca, from the Latin decas (ten), from the Ancient Greek δεκάς (dekás) (ten) + the Ancient Greek φόβος) (phobos) (fear).  Heptadecaphobia deconstructs as hepta- “seven” + deca (ten) + phobos.  The suffix -phobia (fear of a specific thing; hate, dislike, or repression of a specific thing) was from the New Latin, from the Classical Latin, from the Ancient Greek -φοβία (-phobía) and was used to form nouns meaning fear of a specific thing (the idea of a hatred came later).  Purists use the spelling heptadekaphobia to avid the mix.

There are a variety of theories to account for the Italian superstition which had rendered 17 the national “unlucky number”.  The most accepted is that in Roman numerals 17 is XVII which, anagrammatically, translates to VIXI (Latin for “I have lived” (the first-person singular perfect active indicative of vīvō (to live; to be alive)), understood in the vernacular as “my life is over”.  That would have been ominous enough but Romans noted also that Osiris, the Egyptian god of, inter alia, life, death, the afterlife and resurrection, had died on the 17th day of the month, 17 thus obviously a “death number” to the logical Roman mind and the worst 17th days of the month were those which coincided with a full moon, an intensifier in the same sense that in the West the conjunction leading to a Friday the 13th is so threatening.  Mashing up the numerical superstitions, that 17 is an “unlucky number” shouldn’t be surprising because it’s the sum of 13 + 4, the latter being the most dreaded number in much of East Asia.

Just because a “fear of a number” is listed somewhere as a “phobia” doesn’t mean the condition has much of a clinical history or even that a single case is to be found in the literature; many may have been coined just for linguistic fun and students in classics departments have been set assessment questions like “In Greek, construct the word meaning “fear of the number 71” (the correct answer being “hebdomekontahenophobia”).  Some are well documented such as tetraphobia (fear of 4) which is so prevalent in East Asia it compelled BMW to revise the release strategy of the “4 Series” cars and triskaidekaphobia (fear of 13) which has such a history in the West it’s common still for hotels not to have a thirteenth floor or rooms which include “13”, something which in the pre-digital age was a charming quirk but when things were computerized added a needless complication.  The use of the actual number is important because in such a hotel the “14^th” floor is of course the 13^th (in the architectural sense) but there’s little to suggest there’s ever been resistance from guests being allocated room 1414.

Some number phobias are quite specific: Rooted in the folklore of Australian cricket is a supposed association of the number 87 with something bad (typically a batter being dismissed) although it seems purely anecdotal and more than one statistical analysis (cricket is all about numbers) has concluded there's nothing “of statistical significance” to be found and there’s little to suggest players take the matter seriously.  One English umpire famously had “a routine” associated with the score reaching a “repunit” (a portmanteau (or blended) word, the construct being re(eated) +‎ unit) (eg 111, 222, 333 etc) but that was more fetish than phobia.

No fear of 17: Some Lindsay Lohan Seventeen magazine covers.  Targeted at the female market (age rage 12-18), the US edition of Seventeen is now predominately an on-line publication, printed only as irregular "special, stand-alone issues" but a number of editions in India and the Far East continue in the traditional format. 

Other illustrative number phobias include oudenophobia (fear of 0), (trypophobia (fear of holes) said to sometimes be the companion condition), henophobia (fear of 1) (which compels sufferer to avoid being associated with “doing something once”, being the “first in the group” etc) , heptaphobia (fear of 7) (cross-culturally, a number also with many positive associations), eikosiheptaphobia (fear of 27) (a pop-culture thing which arose in the early 1970s when a number of rock stars died messy, drug-related deaths at 27), tessarakontadyophobia (fear of 42) (which may have spiked in patients after the publication of Douglas Adams’ (1952–2001) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979-1992), enenekontenneaphobia (fear of 99) (thought not related to the Get Smart TV series of the 1960s), tetrakosioeikosiphobia (fear of 420) (the syndrome restricted presumably to weed-smokers in the US), the well-documented hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of 666), heftakosioitessarakontaheptaphobia (fear of 747) (though with the withdrawal from passenger service of the tough, reliable (four engines and made of metal) Boeing 747 and their replacement by twin-engined machines made increasingly with composites and packed with lithium-ion batteries, a more common fear may be “not flying on a 747”).  Enniakosioihendecaphobia (fear of 911) (presumably, in the US, sometimes a co-morbidity with tetrakosioeikosiphobia or suffered by those with a bad experience with a pre-modern Porsche 911 which, in inexpert hands, could behave as one would expect of a very powerful Volkswagen Beetle) and the rare condition nongentiseptuagintatrestrillionsescentiquinquagintanovemmiliacentumtredecimdeciesoctingentivigintiquattuormiliatrecentiphobia (fear of 973,659,113,824,315) (that one created presumably by someone determined to prove it could be done). There’s also compustitusnumerophobia (fear of composite numbers), meganumerophobia (fear of large numbers), imparnumerophobia (fear of odd numbers), omalonumerophobia (fear of even numbers), piphobia (fear of pi), phiphobia (fear of the golden ratio), primonumerophobia (fear of prime numbers), paranumerophobia (fear of irrational numbers), neganumerophobia (fear of negative numbers) and decadisophobia (fear of decimals).  The marvellous Wiki Fandom site and The Phobia List are among the internet’s best curated collection of phobias.

The only one which debatably can’t exist is neonumerophobia (fear of new numbers) because, given the nature of infinity, there can be no “new numbers” although, subjectively, a number could be “new” to an individual so there may be a need.  Sceptical though mathematicians are likely to be, the notion of the “new number” has (in various ways) been explored in fiction including by science fiction (SF or SciFi) author & engineer Robert A Heinlein (1907–1988) in The Number of the Beast (1980), written during his “later period”.  More challenging was Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by English schoolmaster & Anglican priest Edwin Abbott Abbott (1838–1926) which was published under the pseudonym “A Square”, the layer of irony in that choice revealed as the protagonist begins to explore dimensions beyond his two-dimensional world (in Victorian England).  Feminists note also Ursula K Le Guin’s (1929–2018) The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) in which was created an entirely new numerical system of “genderless" numbers”.  That would induce fear in many.

Lindsay Lohan's cover of Edge of Seventeen appeared on the album A Little More Personal (2005).  Written by Stevie Nicks (b 1948), it appeared originally on her debut solo studio album Bella Donna (1981).

In entymology, there are insects with no fear of the number 17.  In the US, the so-called “periodical cicadas” (like those of the genus Magicicada) exist in a 17 year life cycle, something thought to confer a number of evolutionary advantages, all tied directly to the unique timing of their mass emergence: (1) The predator satiation strategy: The creatures emerge in massive numbers (in the billions), their sheer volume meaning it’s physically impossible for predators (both small mammals & birds) to eat enough of them to threaten the survival of the species. (2) Prime number cycles: Insects are presumed to be unaware of the nature of prime numbers but 17 is a prime number and there are also periodic cicadas with a 13 year cycle.  The 13 (Brood XIX) & 17-year (Brood X) periodic cicadas do sometimes emerge in the same season but, being prime numbers, it’s a rare event, the numbers' least common multiple (LCM) being 221 years; the last time the two cicadas emerged together was in 1868 and the next such even is thus expected in 2089.  The infrequency in overlap helps maintain the effectiveness of the predator avoidance strategies, the predators typically having shorter (2-year, 5-year etc) cycles which don’t synchronize with the cicadas' emergence, reducing chances a predator will evolve to specialize in feeding on periodical cicadas. (3) Avoidance of Climate Variability: By remaining underground for 17 years, historically, periodical cicadas avoided frequent climate changes or short-term ecological disasters like droughts or forest fires. The long underground nymph stage also allows them to feed consistently over many years and emerge when the environment is more favorable for reproduction.  Etymologists and biological statisticians are modelling scenarios under which various types of accelerated climate change are being studied to try to understand how the periodic cicadas (which evolved under “natural” climate change) may be affected. (4) Genetic Isolation: Historically, the unusually extended period between emergences has isolated different broods of cicadas, reducing interbreeding and promoting genetic diversity over time, helping to maintain healthy populations over multiple life-cycles.

In automotive manufacturing, there was nothing unusual about unique models being produced for the Italian domestic market, the most common trick being versions with engines displacing less than 2.0 litres to take advantage of the substantially lower tax regime imposed below that mark.  Thus Ferrari (1975-1981) and Lamborghini (1974-1977) made available 2.0 litre V8s (usually variously in 2.5 & 3.0 litre displacements), Maserati a 2.0 V6 (a 3.0 in the Maserati Merak (1972-1983) although it appeared in 2.7 & 3.0 litre form in the intriguing but doomed Citroën SM (1970-1975)) and Mercedes-Benz created a number of one-off 2.0 litre models in the W124 range (1974-1977) exclusive to the Italian domestic market (although an unrelated series of 2.0 litre cars was also sold in India).

US advertisement for the Renault 17 (1974), the name Gordini adopted as a "re-brand" of the top-of-the-range 17TS,  Gordini was a French sports car producer and tuning house, absorbed by Renault in 1968, the name from time-to-time used for high-performance variants of various Renault models.

One special change for the Italian market was a nod to the national heptadecaphobia, the car known in the rest of the world (RoW) as the Renault 17 (1971-1979) sold in Italy as the R177.  For the 17, Renault took the approach which had delivered great profits: use the underpinnings of mundane mass-produced family cars with a sexy new body draped atop.  Thus in the US the Ford Falcon begat the Mustang and in Europe Ford got the Capri from the Taunus/Cortina duo.  Opel’s swoopy GT was (most improbably) underneath just a Kadett.  It wasn’t only the mass-market operators which used the technique because in the mid 1950s, Mercedes-Benz understood the appeal of the style of the 300 SL (W198, 1954-1957) was limited by the high price which was a product of the exotic engineering (the space-frame, gullwing doors, dry sump and the then novel mechanical fuel-injection), the solution being to re-purpose the platform of the W120, the small, austere sedan which helped the company restore its fortunes in the post-war years before the Wirtschaftswunder (economic miracle) was celebrated in 1959 with the exuberance of the Heckflosse (tailfin) cars (1959-1968).  On the W120 platform was built the 190 SL (W121, 1955-1963), an elegant (it not especially rapid) little roadster which quickly became a trans-Atlantic favourite, particularly among what used to be called the “women’s market”.

Only in Italy: The Renault 177.

Using the same formula, the Renault 17 was built on the underpinnings of the Renault 12, a remarkably durable platform, introduced in 1979 and, in one form or another, manufactured or assembled in more than a dozen countries, the last not produced until 2006.  Like the Ford Capri, the 17 was relatively cheap to develop because so much was merely re-purposed but for a variety of reasons, it never managed to come close to match the sales of the wildly successful Ford, front wheel drive (FWD) not then accepted as something “sporty” and Renault's implementation on the 17 was never adaptable to the new understanding of the concept validated by FWD machines such Volkswagen’s Sirocco GTi & Golf GTi.  Like most of the world, the Italians never warmed to the 17 but presumably the reception would have been even more muted had not, in deference to the national superstition about the number 17, the name been changed to “Renault 177”, the cheaper companion model continuing to use the RoW label: Renault 15.