Hang

Hang (pronounced hang)

(1) To fasten or attach a thing so that it is supported only from above or at a point near its own top; to attach or suspend so as to allow free movement.

(2) To place in position or fasten so as to allow easy or ready movement.

(3) To put to death by suspending by the neck from a gallows, gibbet, yardarm, or the like; to suspend (oneself) by the neck until dead.

(4) To fasten to a cross; crucify.

(5) To furnish or decorate with something suspended.

(6) In fine art, to exhibit a painting or group of paintings.

(7) To attach or annex as an addition.

(8) In building, to attach (a door or the like) to its frame by means of hinges.

(9) To make an idea, form etc dependent on a situation, structure, concept, or the like, usually derived from another source.

(10) As hung jury, hung parliament etc, where deliberative body is unable to achieve a majority verdict in a vote.

(11) In informal use, to cause a nickname, epithet etc to become associated with a person

(12) In nautical use, to steady (a boat) in one place against a wind or current by thrusting a pole or the like into the bottom under the boat and allowing the wind or current to push the boat side-on against the pole.

(13) To incline downward, jut out, or lean over or forward.

(14) To linger, remain, or persist; to float or hover in the air.

(15) In informal use (to get the hang of), the precise manner of doing, using, etc, something; knack.

(16) In computing, as “to hang”, usually a synonym for “freeze”.  Nerds insist a hang refers only to a loss of control by manual input devices (mouse; keyboard etc) while the machine remains responsive to remote control whereas a freeze is a total lock-up.

(18) In chess (transitive) to cause a piece to become vulnerable to capture and (intransitive) to be vulnerable to capture.

(19) As “hang up”, to end a phone call, a use which has continued even though many phone handsets no longer physically “hang up”.

Pre 900:  A fusion of three verbs: (1) the Middle English and Old English hōn (to hang; be hanging) (transitive), cognate with the Gothic hāhan (originally haghan); (2) the Middle English hang(i)en & Old English hangian (to hang) (intransitive), cognate with the German hangen; and (3) the Middle English henge from the Old Norse hanga & hengja (suspend) (transitive), cognate with the German hängen & hangēn (to hang).  The ultimate source of all forms was the Proto-Germanic hanhaną (related to the Dutch hangen, the Low German hangen & hängen, the German hängen, the Norwegian Bokmål henge & Norwegian Nynorsk henga), root being the primitive Indo-European ḱenk- (to waver, be in suspense).  Etymologists compare the evolution with the Gothic hāhan, the Hittite gang- (to hang), the Sanskrit शङ्कते (śáṅkate) (is in doubt; hesitates), the Albanian çengë (a hook) and the Latin cunctari (to delay).  From the Latin cunctari, Modern English retains the very useful cunctator (a procrastinator; one who delays).  Hang is a noun & verb, hangman, hanger & hangee are nouns, hanging is a noun, verb & adjective, hanged is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is hangs.  In practice, while it's correct to say someone executed is “the hangee”, the usual practice is to refer to them as “the hanged” and in the case of multiple, simultaneous hangings, depending on the sentence structure it can correct to say “the hanging” or “the hangings” (if referencing the event) or “the hanged" (if referring to the unfortunate individuals).

Past tense: hung and hanged

Hang has two forms for past tense and past participle, “hanged” and “hung”.  The older form hanged is now used exclusively in the sense of putting to death on the gallows by means of a lawful execution, sanctioned by the state.  Even in places where capital punishment is no longer used, it remains the correct word to use in its historical context.  There are two forms because the word “hang” came from two different verbs in Old English (with a relationship to one from Old Norse).  One of these Old English verbs was considered a regular verb and this gave rise to “hanged”; the other was irregular, and ended up as “hung”.  Hanged and hung were used interchangeably for hundreds of years but over time, hung became the more common.  Hanged retained its position when used to refer to death by hanging because it became fossilized in both statute and common law; it thus escaped the development of Modern English which tended increasingly to simplified forms.  Even the familiar phrase hung, drawn and quartered originally used “hanged”, a change reflecting popular use.  The only novel variation to emerge in recent years has been to use hanged to describe executions ordered by a state and hung when referring to suicides by hanging although this remains still a trend rather than an accepted convention of use.  Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) held it wasn't necessarily erroneous to use "hung" in the case of executions but in standard English it was certainly less customary although most style guides acknowledge the distinction still exists while noting the use of hung is both widespread and tolerated.  The consensus seems to be it’s best to follow the old practice but not get too hung up about it.

Portraits: hung and not hung

A tourist admiring a piece of (very) modern art, hung in the Louvre, Paris, 22 February, 2026.

Works of art being stolen from art galleries is a not uncommon crime and such acts tend now to receive wide coverage only if what was taken was worth millions, in some way interesting or the execution of the heist was especially audacious, as recently was the case in a well-planned operation at the Louvre.  However, smuggling something into a gallery to be hung is unusual and on 22 February, 2026, briefly, the Louvre gained an exhibit, a framed copy of the now famous image of a seemingly stunned Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (b 1960, formerly Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Admiral etc) slumped in the back seat of a police car after his arrest in connection with matters relating to his relationship with Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019).  The cunning stunt was organized by the “anti-billionaire” activist group “Everyone Hates Elon” which, emulating the gallery’s protocols, placed a label beneath the hung image reading, “He’s Sweating Now — 2026” and the group later posted on-line that the display was intended as “a call for accountability”.  According to press reports, photograph and caption remained hung “for about 15 minutes” before being removed by museum staff.  Everyone Hates Elon is a UK-based collective devoted to political campaigns using the modern techniques of the social media age.  It was formed in 2025 explicitly to oppose businessman Elon Musk (b 1971), prompted by his (possibly ill-conceived) involvement in politics as an advisor to Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) although its remit quickly extend to other billionaires and such.  In any other context, Mr Mountbatten Windsor might have seen the humor in what students of Andy Warhol (1928–1987) would have labelled “15 minutes of fame from being 15 minutes in a frame” but it’s doubtful he laughed.  The “He’s Sweating Now” text was a reference to the “train-wreck” of an interview the then prince/duke/admiral etc in 2019 agreed (against professional advice) to undertake for the BBC’s Newsnight programme, one memorable assertion being his claim that for some physiological reason he was at the time “couldn’t sweat” and thus his accuser (Virginia Giuffre (1983-2025)) was lying when she said she'd seen him perspire while both were in nightclub.  More men have talked themselves into difficulties than have ever talked their way out of them.

The photograph of Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, while under arrest.  Analysts of such things suggest that, aware of the photographers, he was attempting to "make himself invisible to their lens".

The instantly famous image of a seemingly stunned former prince slumped in the back seat of a police car after his arrest was snapped by Reuters staff photographer Phil Noble who gleefully admitted capturing the moment was “more luck than judgement” and a case of being “in the right place, at the right time”.  Like the “blood shot” & “bullet shot” taken by Doug Mills in Butler, Pennsylvania on 13 July 2024 when an assassin’s bullet grazed right ear of Donald Trump, had either photographer been standing even a few inches to the left or right or had pressed the button a second earlier or later, the moment would have been missed.  As Mr Noble put it: “The photo gods were on my side.  Is it the best photo I've ever taken?  No.  Is it up there with most important? 100%.”  Digital technology also did its bit, six images shot in rapid succession, two of which showed only police officers, two proved blank and one was out of focus, none of which mattered because the one that went around the work was about as perfect as a news-photo can be.  Although publications routinely use software to “edit out” the “red eye effect” (caused by a reflection from the camera’s flash), on this occasion it was left untouched, better to capture the immediacy of the moment when the former prince's thoughts may have been focused on the fate of Charles I (1600–1649; King of England, Scotland & Ireland 1625-1649).

Hangman the game.

Both played for fun and used as an educational tool for children, Hangman is a guessing game in which letters or numbers are chosen to enable a word, name or phrase to be completed.  Originally for two or more players, one charm of the game is it demands nothing more than pencil & paper although there are now electronic versions suitable for single-user play.  In Hangman, one player draws on the paper dashes (and, if need be, spaces) which correspond with the word or phrase and the other(s) tries to guess it by suggesting letters or numbers within a certain number of guesses.  In its simplest form, six guesses are allowed, corresponding to the six body parts of the stick figure to be hanged (1 x head, 1 x torso, 2 x arms & 2 x legs) with those parts drawn on the gallows with each wrong guess.  To make it easier to solve or when long, obscure or complex text is used, other body parts (feet, hands, ears etc) and even the elements of the gallows can be added.  Perhaps surprisingly in these more sensitive times, Hangman hasn’t be cancelled and is still widely played although it's recommended by some that if used with young children, the alternative version “Snowman” might be a better choice, the rules exactly the same.

Mandy in underpants (presumably his but who knows?).  There is no suggestion Mandy engaged in inappropriate or improper conduct with this unidentified young lady.

When, particularly with younger children, Hangman is used as an educational tool, it can be helpful at certain points in the game to provide a clue and for the example above one might furnish the photograph from the Epstein files of Lord Peter “Mandy” Mandelson (b 1953) in his underpants, speaking with an unidentified woman.  The photograph was taken in the New York apartment of convicted paedophile sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein and when asked about the image, his lordship responded by saying he “did not recall” the circumstances.  Some were uncharitably cynical about that (lack of) recollection but it does seem plausible given (1) Mandy doubtless spent much time wandering Epstein’s apartment while in his underpants and (2) because Epstein had so many “acquaintances”, Mandy could hardly be expected to remember them all.

Most politicians, usually by virtue of uninterest, leave the arts to others but there are exceptions and while Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) wasn't unique among politicians in regarding himself as “an artist” he was untypical and his credentials were reasonable because in pre-World War I (1914-1918) Vienna he’d earned a modest living as a painter of the streetscapes in which there’s now a somewhat controversial trade.  Critics seem prepared to concede Hitler was a competent artist when depicting buildings and even the natural environment but all concurred with the examiners who denied him entry to art school on the basis he had not enough talent to handle the human form, a judgment some historians, political scientists and amateur psychoanalysts have over the years mapped onto his political career.  With that, even he may have agreed because the people in his paintings are almost always small, un-detailed blotches, there merely to lend scale to the buildings which were his real love but, after taking power in 1933, he didn’t let that stop him establishing himself as the Reich’s chief art critic and he’d judge portraiture as harshly as any landscape.  He certainly thought an “artistic temperament” was vital for a politician to achieve greatness, rejecting the idea of Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) succeeding him as Führer because the head of the SS was “totally unartistic” and it was Hitler’s self-identification as “an artist” which in the first decade of his rule protected many painters, sculptors and others from persecution.  In his clandestine prison diary (Spandauer Tagebücher (Spandau: The Secret Diaries) (1975)) Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) noted that for Hitler their political views were “…a matter of supreme indifference…” because “…he regarded them one and all as politically feeble-minded.”

Speer recalled a lunch in 1938 at Munich’s Osteria Bavaria (Hitler’s favorite Italian restaurant) during which a senior Nazi functionary brought to the Führer’s attention a Communist Party proclamation (pre-dating the Nazi regime) which had been signed by a large number of artists; the apparatchik wanted all these artists banned from any government work but Speer recoded how “Hitler replied disdainfully, ‘Oh, you know I don’t take any of that seriously. We should never judge artists by their political views.  The imagination they need for their work deprives them of the ability to think in realistic terms. Artists are simple-hearted souls. Today they sign this, tomorrow that; they don’t even look to see what it is, so long as it seems to them well-meaning.’”  It was an indulgence to freedom of expression Hitler granted few others and a contrast also with what would have been the likely reaction of comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) to revelations of dissent.  Comrade Stalin’s three preferred ways of dealing with such problems were: (1) have them taken outside, put up against a wall and shot, (2) have them sent to the Lubyanka (KGB headquarters on Moscow's Lubyanka Square) to be tortured to death or (3) have them sent to the Gulag to be worked to death.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper.

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper (1609-1672) to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Although certain about the afterlife, Cromwell was a practical politician with few illusions about life on earth.  Once, when being driven in a coach through cheering crowds, his companion remarked that his popularity with the people must be pleasing.  The lord protector replied he had no doubt they’d be cheering just as loud were he being taken to the gallows to be hanged.  Of course, to someone dead, in a practical sense it ceases much to matter whether they’d been hanged, struck by a meteorite or murdered by the Freemasons; dead is dead.  However, the method of dispatch does carry connotations and a hanging has always been thought to be the marker of punishment for some dishonourable crime whereas as to die before a firing squad, on the executioner’s block or under the blade of the guillotine can have a whiff of respectability.

Soviet cartoon: Caricature of the defendants and the anticipated Nuremberg judgment (1946) by the Soviet artists known as the Kukryniksy: Porfiry Krylov (1902-1990), Mikhail Kupriyanov (1903-1991) & Nikolai Sokolov (1903-2000).

As the trial wore on, at least two of the defendants were recorded as requesting shirts with “larger collars” and on one occasion one removed his tie, explaining it was “suddenly feeling tight”.  The famous quote “Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully” appears in volume 3 of The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. (1791) by James Boswell (1740-1795) (a biography of the English writer and literary critic Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)).

The defendants before the IMT (International Military Tribunal) trying the major Nazi war criminals at Nuremberg (1945-1945) certainly felt that, both the military men (Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; head of OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the armed forces high command)) and Colonel-General Alfred Jodl (1890–1946, chief of the OKW operations staff 1939-1945) sentenced to death petitioning the judges requesting they be shot rather than hanged; the request was denied.  Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) cheated the hangman by committing suicide shortly before he’s been due to be led to the gallows but previously had indicated he’d have accepted execution had it been by a firing squad on the basis that was “an honorable death for a soldier”; whether or not he’d any way have killed himself will never be known but his view was indicative of the way hangings are thought something for “common criminals”.  Some were more sanguine about their lives ending dangling from the hangman's, Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland) observing: “I expected it, I deserved it” but the most bizarre reaction to the dozen death sentences handed down came from a man who didn’t receive one.  Grand Admiral Erich Raeder (1876–1960; head of the German Navy 1928-1943) was given a life sentence and, his rationale being “better a quick death than a slow one”, requested he be shot.  On technical grounds (related to its authority to increase sentences) the IMT declined the offer and although it seems nowhere discussed, it’s assumed Raeder would have preferred to die in prison rather than undergo the indignity of being hanged.  As it was, in declining health, in 1955 he was released.

Three of the galleries at the Lindsay Lohan Retrospective by Richard Phillips (b 1962), Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street, New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.

Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition was said to be "an example of the way Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush, large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  The curator explained the retrospective was conducted as an example of the way collaborative forms of image production can reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format used to render them realist portraits of "...the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  That seemed to explain things.  Some of the images hung in the gallery come from Richard Phillips' short film Lindsay Lohan, hosted (courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery) on Vimeo.

Bad Teddy and Good Theodore: Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903), oil on canvas by Théobald Chartran (left) and Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) oil on canvas by John Singer Sargent.

Nobel Peace Prize laureate Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US President 1901-1909), famous also for waging small wars and shooting big game, after being impressed by Théobald Chartran’s (1849–1907) portrait of his wife (Edith, 1861-1948), invited the French artist to paint him too.  So displeased was he with the result (which he thought made him look effete), he refused to hang the work.  Later, he would have it destroyed, turning turned instead to expatriate American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925).  The relationship didn’t start well as the two couldn’t agree on a setting and during one heated argument, the president suddenly, hand on hip, took on a defiant air while making a point and Sargent had his pose, imploring his subject not to move.  This one delighted Roosevelt and prominently it was hung in the White House.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.

In March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately take it down.  In a post on his Truth Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before.  The artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older.  In any event, I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it!  I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”

At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the Republicans assembled.  If FoxNews had on staff an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.  

Intriguingly, it was one of Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator (Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed, within “a few hours”.  Ms Boardman’s painting must have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions.  Whether or not it’s of relevance in the matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality, character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...”  Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite subjects those “whose faces show the tracks of real life.”

Portrait of Winston Churchill (1954), oil on canvas by Graham Sutherland.  Never hung, the painting was later tossed onto a bonfire to be destroyed.

Another subject turned disappointed critic was Sir Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  In 1954, a committee, funded by the donation of a 1000 guineas from members of both houses of parliament, commissioned English artist Graham Sutherland (1903–1980) to paint a portrait of the prime minister to mark his 80^th birthday.  The two apparently got on well during the sittings, Churchill himself a prolific, if undistinguished, amateur painter and it’s clear he enjoyed their discussions.  He was unimpressed though with the result, telling Sutherland that while he acknowledged his technical prowess, he found the work “not suitable”.  To his doctor he was less restrained, calling it "filthy" and "malignant".  Churchill was a realist about his abilities with the brush and when comparing his works with a few of painted by one of the detectives assigned to him, admitted the policeman's were "better than mine", sympathizing with the man that celebrity was valued more than skill.  Churchill in 1948 published the slim volume Painting as a Pastime which had first appeared as a two-part essay in the December 1921 & January 1922 editions of Strand magazine respectively titled Hobbies and Painting as a Pastime (both reprinted in Pall Mall magazine in 1925).  The pieces led something of an afterlife, excerpts over the next few years appearing in several periodicals before both were included in the anthology The Hundred Best English Essays (1929).  The author himself re-cycled the content (again in the Strand’s two part format) in Thoughts and Adventures (1932) and the single volume edition in 1948 appeared apparently at the instigation of Churchill’s US publisher who had decided his post-war notoriety was sufficient to stimulate interest in works then more than a quarter-century old.

Portrait of Laurence Olivier in the role of Richard III (1955), oil on canvas by Salvador Dalí, Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí (Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation, Figueres, Spain).

It had been intended the painting would be hung in the House of Commons but Churchill had no intention of letting it be seen by anyone.  An unveiling ceremony had been arranged and Churchill demanded it not include the painting, relenting only when a compromise was arranged whereby both subject and artwork would appear together but rather than being hung in the Commons, it would instead be gifted to him to hang where he pleased.  Both sides appeased (if not pleased), the ceremony proceeded, Churchill making a brief speech of thanks during which he described his gift as “…a remarkable example of modern art..”, praise not even faint.  It was never hung, consigned unwrapped to the basement of the prime minister’s country house where it remained for about a year until Lady Churchill (Clementine, 1885–1977)), sharing her husband’s view of the thing, had a servant take it outside where it was tossed on a bonfire, an act of practical criticism Sutherland condemned as “vandalism”.  Not anxious to repeat the experience of his brush with modernism, Churchill declined the offer of a sitting before the Spanish surrealist Salvador Dalí (1904–1989), the result of which might have been interesting.  It's not known if Churchill ever saw Dali's interpretation of Laurence Olivier (1907-1989).

Two photographs of Winston Churchill (1941) by Yousuf Karsh.

Theodore Roosevelt’s pose is one favored by politicians but the expression adopted matters too.  The famous photograph taken in Ottawa in December 1941 by Armenian-Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was actually one of several but those where Churchill shows a more cheerful countenance are not remembered; they didn’t so well suit those troubled times.  The scowl, although immediately regarded as emblematic of British defiance of the Nazis, had a more prosaic origin, the photographer recalling his subject had appeared benign until it was insisted the ever-present Havana cigar be discarded lest it spoil the photograph.  That changed the mood but, the moment captured, he relented and permitted a couple more, including the now obscure ones with a smile.

Superbird

Superbird (pronounced soo-per-burd)

(1) A single-season (1970) version of the Plymouth Road Runner with certain aerodynamic enhancements, built to fulfil homologation requirements for use in competition.

(2) A one-off Falcon XA GT built by Ford Australia for the motor show circuit in 1973.

(3) A series of 700-odd XA Falcon Hardtops (RPO77) built by Ford Australia in 1973.

1969: The construct was super + bird.  The Middle English super was a re-purposing of the prefix super-, from the Latin super, from the Proto-Italic super, from the primitive Indo-European upér (over, above) and cognate with the Ancient Greek ὑπέρ (hupér).  In this context, it was used as an adjective suggesting “excellent quality, better than usual; wonderful; awesome, excellent etc.  Bird was from the Middle English bird & brid, from the Old English bridd (chick, fledgling, chicken).  The origin was a term used of birds that could not fly (chicks, fledglings, chickens) as opposed to the Old English fugol (from which English gained the modern “fowl”) which was the general term for “flying birds”.  From the earlt to mid-fourteenth century, “bird” increasingly supplanted “fowl” as the most common term.  Superbird is a noun; the noun plural is Superbirds and an initial capital is appropriate for all (standard) uses because Superbird is a product name.  If used as hoc for some other purposes, it should probably be without the initial capital.

Of super- and supra-

The super- prefix was a learned borrowing of the Latin super-, the prefix an adaptation of super, from the Proto-Italic super, from the primitive Indo-European upér (over, above) and cognate with the Ancient Greek ὑπέρ (hupér).  It was used to create forms conveying variously (1) an enhanced sense of inclusiveness, (2) beyond, over or upon (the latter notable in anatomy where the a super-something indicates it's "located above"), (3) greater than (in quantity), (4) exceptionally or unusually large, (5) superior in title or status (sometimes clipped to "super"), (6) of greater power or potency, (7) intensely, extremely or exceptional and (8) of supersymmetry (in physics).  The standard antonym was “sub” and the synonyms are listed usually as “on-, en-, epi-, supra-, sur-, ultra- and hyper-” but both “ultra” and “hyper-” have in some applications been used to suggest a quality beyond that implied by the “super-” prefix.  In English, there are more than a thousand words formed with the super- prefix.  The supra- prefix was a learned borrowing from the Latin suprā-, the prefix an adaptation of the preposition suprā, from the Old Latin suprād & superā, from the Proto-Italic superād and cognate with the Umbrian subra.  It was used originally to create forms conveying variously (1) above, over, beyond, (2) greater than; transcending and (3) above, over, on top (in anatomy thus directly synonymous with super) but in modern use supra- tends to be differentiated in that while it can still be used to suggest “an enhanced quality or quantity”, it’s now more common for it to denote physical position or placement in spatial terms.

Superbirds of the northern & southern hemispheres

1969 Dodge Daytona (red) & 1970 Plymouth Road Runner Superbird (blue).

The Plymouth Superbird was a "homologation special" built only for the 1970 model year.  By the mid-1950s, various race categories sanctioned by NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) had become popular with both competitors and audiences, something which induced the manufacturers, more or less openly, to provide resources to the teams running their products.  This had started modestly enough with the supply of parts and technical assistance but so tied up with prestige did success become that some created competition departments and, officially and not, ran teams or provided so much financial support that effectively they functioned as factory operations.  NASCAR had begun as a "stock" car series in the literal sense that the first cars used were "showroom stock" with only minimal modifications but that didn't last long, cheating soon rife and in the interests of spectacle (ie higher speeds and thus more crashes), certain "performance enhancements" were permitted although the rules were always intended to maintain the original spirit of using cars which were "close" to those sold from the showroom floor.

Lindsay Lohan, as a superbird: generative AI (artificial intelligence) rendering by Stable Diffusion.

Despite NASCAR's efforts, the cheating didn't stop although the teams became more adept in its practice and one model produced by Chrysler's Dodge division typified the way manufactures worked within the homologation rules to game the system.  The rules (having to build and sell a minimum number of a certain model in that specification) had been intended to restrict the use of cars to “volume production” models available to the general public but in 1956 Dodge did a special run of what it called the D-500 (an allusion to the number which had to built to be “legal” under NASCAR regulations).  Finding a loophole in the interpretation of the word “option” the D-500 appeared in the showrooms with a V8 rated at a then impressive 260 HP (horsepower).  Distinguished by crossed-flag “500” emblems on the hood (bonnet) and trunk (boot) lid, the model was Dodge’s high-performance offering for the season and had things been left at that, it wouldn't have been in any way exceptional.  However, the trickery lay in the option list, knowledgeable buyers able to "tick the box" for the D-500-1 (or DASH-1) option, which made one's D-500 close to race-ready and, to ensure eligibility in NASCAR’s various competitions, it could be ordered as a two-door sedan, hardtop or convertible.  In its default configuration with dual four-barrel carburetors, the D-500-1's 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8 thought to produce around 285 HP but more significant was the inclusion of heavy-duty suspension and braking components, more valuable on the circuits than additional power.  It was a successful endeavour which both triggered an "arms race" between the manufacturers and intensified the ongoing battle with the NASCAR regulators who did not wish to see their series transformed into something contested by specialized racing cars which bore only a superficial resemblance to the “showroom stock”.  Well before the 2020s, it was obvious NASCAR had surrendered to the inevitable but more than a decade, the battle raged.

Evening (The Fall of Day) (1869–1870), charcoal, crayon), oil & graphite on canvas by English-born US artist William Rimmer (1816–1879), Museum of Fine Arts Boston, Massachusetts.

That someone ran a Stable Diffusion prompt to depict Lindsay Lohan with wings is in the long tradition of winged humans, something in the imagination at least since the tale of Ικαρος (Icarus) was told in the mythology of Antiquity.  In the best-known version, Icarus was the son of Daedalus and one of Minos' slaves called Naucrate and it was when Daedalus explained to Ariadne how Theseus could find a way to escape the Labyrinth, so enraged was Minos he imprisoned Daedalus and his son in the structure.  Undeterred, Daedalus took fallen feathers and fashioned wings for them both, applying wax to fix them to their shoulders; a cautious parent, Daedalus warned Icarus to fly neither too close to the ground nor too near the sun.  Icarus however was headstrong and, finding the power of flight intoxicating, soared higher and higher until he was so close to the sun the heat melted the wax, disintegrating his wings; no longer a superbird, he fell into the sea around the island of Samos and drowned.  As a tribute, the sun god Helios called the body of water the Ικάριο Πέλαγος (Ikario Pelagos) (Icarian Sea), the name still used of the stretches of the Aegean between the Cyclades and Asia Minor (the modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye, still often referred to as Turkey)).  Other versions from Antiquity have him drowning in nautical accidents but generally his name is used as a cautionary tale about the consequences of not heeding the advice of those who know better although, curiously, there’s also the odd reference to him having invented woodwork and carpentry.  In Rimmer’s evocative drawing, the model has always been presumed to be the doomed Icarus but the artist may also have had in mind the fallen angel Lucifer, the imagery of a prideful descent perhaps influenced by John Milton’s (1608–1674) Paradise Lost (1667) or Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)).

LP (long playing) album label for Led Zeppelin’s Presence (1976), issued by Atlantic Recording Corporation on the Swansong label.

The English graphic art production house Hipgnosis (best known for album covers which were (in the pre-CD (compact disc) era) for a quarter century-odd a vibrant part of the pop-art world) used Rimmer’s Evening as a model for the logo of Swan Song Records, set up in 1974 by the English band Led Zeppelin (1968-1974) after the expiration of their distribution contract with Atlantic Records (which anyway handled the distribution of Swan Song’s products).  The idea was to combine the imagery of Rimmer with the wings of a white swan and the notion of “songs”.  At the time, the popular music business substantially was controlled by the major labels and Swan Song was one of a number of (usually short-lived) labels created in an attempt to give musicians who could not secure a recording contract a way of having their output reach audiences.  Although the label remains active for the purposes of re-issuing older material, after the surviving members of Led Zeppelin disbanded in 1980, there were only spasmodic releases until in 1983 it was announced active operations would cease and no new contracts would be executed.

1970 Plymouth Superbird (left) and 1969 Dodge Daytona (right). Despite the obvious conceptual and visual similarities, it's when two are seen in close proximity (especially in profile) that the differences become more obvious, the Superbird's nose-cone less pointed, the rear wing higher with a rake more acute.  

By 1969, NASCAR's regulators had fine-tuned their rules restricting engine power and, further to "equalize" things, had mandated minimum weights.  Scope for innovation was thus limited so manufacturers turned to the then less policed field of aerodynamics, ushering what came to be known as the "aero-cars" and it was an era when the discipline had become suddenly fashionable, wings and spoilers sprouting on the cars used in Formula One and the Can-Am (the wonderful series for (Group 7) unlimited displacement sports cars) although initially, Chrysler's approach had been a modest "tweaking" rather than a radical alteration of the lines.  When the aerodynamics of the sleek-looking 1968 Charger proved to be unexpectedly inefficient, Dodge for 1969 modified the most suspect areas at the front and rear, "smoothing out" the air-flow and labelling the result the "Charger 500" in a nod to the NASCAR homologation rules which demanded for eligibility the production of 500 mechanically identical cars.  However, unlike the quite subtle modifications which proved so successful for Ford’s Torino Talladega and Mercury’s Cyclone Spoiler, what was done to created the 500 did not resolve the issues so production ceased after 392 were built.  Dodge solved the problem of the missing 108 needed for homologation purposes by subsequently introducing a different "Charger 500" which was just a trim level and nothing to do with homologation but, honor apparently satisfied on both sides, NASCAR turned to the telescope the same blind eye chosen when it became clear Ford with the Talladega and Cyclone Spoiler had also "bent the rules" a bit.

The rear wings (like the nosecone, the units on the Daytona and Superbird were not interchangeable) genuinely were there for the aerodynamic advantage they conferred but there were possibilities for repurposing.  Most of the photographs (left) of “washing hanging out to dry” from a wing were staged for comic effect but, between events, racing drivers really would use the structure as a place to air sweaty race overalls while for photographers, amateurs and professionals alike, the wings also proved an irresistible prop which could be adorned with decorative young ladies.  Had OnlyFans existed in the era, it can be guaranteed some content providers would have been juxtaposed against a Superbird’s wing.

Not discouraged by the 500's aerodynamic recalcitrance, Dodge recruited engineers from Chrysler's aerospace & missile division (which was being shuttered because Richard Nixon's (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974) détente era had arrived and the US & Soviet Union were beginning their arms-reduction programmes) and quickly created the Daytona, adding to the 500 a protruding nosecone and high wing at the rear.  As successful on the track as the scale-models had been in the wind-tunnel, this time the required 500 really were built (a reported 503 leaving the line).  Not best-pleased, NASCAR responded by again moving the goalposts, requiring manufacturers to build one example of each vehicle for at least half their registered dealers (exclusive or shared) so, there at the time being a reported 3832 franchised Plymouth dealers in the US, duly the company built a reported 1935 Road Runner Superbirds (although NASCAR apparently stopped counting once they'd verified the existence of the 1920 which satisfied their rules).  It was an exercise probably more expensive for Plymouth than Dodge because it's believed neither division made any profit on their "homologation cars" and some claim each was invoiced to dealers at a loss.  Now more unhappy than ever, NASCAR lawyered-up and drafted rules which included restricting the aero cars to an engine displacement of 5.0 litre (305 cubic inch) while permitting the rest of the field to run the full 7.0 litres (427 cubic inch); this rendered the aero-cars uncompetitive and their brief, shining moment ended.

Blondes have more fun: Emelia Hartford (b 1993) and her 1970 Plymouth Superbird at the Goodyear San Angelo Proving Grounds.  Before her restoration efforts, it had for 30 years sat neglected.

The estimable Emelia Hartford both builds and races cars and in 2025 she took a fully-restored NASCAR race Superbird to the high-speed test track at Goodyear’s San Angelo Proving Grounds facility in Texas.  Although in 1970 the boffins at Chrysler had studied their slide-rules and calculated that, in NASCAR-spec, a Superbird could not, even under ideal conditions, achieve 220 mph (354 km/h), it was an age of empiricists and nobody would be convinced until the rubber hit the road.  The numbers really did come from slide-rules and pencil & paper because, although engineers were by then using computers (they took up entire rooms), for many calculations, the old ways produced results more quickly.  Ms Hartford has a presence on YouTube and among her viewers must be some of Goodyear’s staff because somewhere in the corporate memory was jogged the recollection of the day, all those years ago, when a NASCAR Superbird had not quite hit the 220 mph mark.  Goodyear thus extended Ms Hartford an invitation to the proving grounds to see if it really was possible; it transpired the slide-rule operators had, more than a half century earlier, been right, the restored Superbird achieving 211 mph (340 km/h).

1969 Ford Torino Sportsroof (left), 1969 Ford Torino Talladega (centre) and 1970 Ford Torino Sportsroof (left).  What Ford did for its aero cars was much less dramatic than what Chrysler's missile engineers concocted but the modifications proved remarkable effective.  The 1970 Torino (the design language of which Ford Australia adopted for the Falcon Hardtop (1972-1978)), although it look sleek and the racing teams were promised “specific efficiencies”, proved less slippery than the Talladega so team managers for some time continued to use the older platform.

Given more power than they had when run in NASCAR spec, the aero cars could go faster but Ford’s experiments had proved what their calculations had suggested: above 190 mph, it would take an additional 50 HP to achieve an additional 3 mph (5 km/h) but an even greater increase would be realized simply by slightly altering the shape of the nose, lowering the leading edge by about an inch (25mm).  Under the rules, it was impossible to gain 50 HP but the rhinoplasty, although at a glance imperceptible to the untrained eye, successfully delivered the improved performance of the Talladega and Cyclone Spoiler.  The point was emphasised when in 1971 one of the Daytonas just rendered unlawful by NASCAR was taken to the Bonneville Salt Flats where it was used to set 28 USAC (United States Auto Club) & FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile, the International Automobile Federation) world speed records.  Although modified to produce more power and fitted with low-drag tyres and a very tall (ie numerically low) final drive ratio, even under Bonneville’s ideal conditions, the top speeds recorded were 216.465 mph (348.367) over a flying mile and 217.368 (349.820) over a flying kilometre.  Ms Hartford's 211 mph run was thus both impressive and in line with expectations but more may have been possible because, as the NASCAR teams discovered, fitting simple "smooth" fibreglass covers atop the A-pillars delivered a precious 1 mph (1.6 km/h).

The graphic for the original Road Runner (1968, left) and the version used for the Superbird (1970, right).  The image was used under licence from Warner Brothers, as was the distinctive "meep-meep" tone of the horn (the horn button on the steering wheel actually read "beep beep"), the engineering apparently as simple as replacing the aluminium strands in the mechanism with copper windings.  The fee for the cartoon character was US$50,000 with the rights to the "beep-beep" invoiced at a further US$10,000; both proved sound investments.  

Discounted Superbird, 1970.  When new, the seriously weird looking machines often lingered on lots and deals had to be done; nobody could have anticipated what they'd become a half-century on.

So extreme in appearance were the cars (at certain angles, distinctly they were ungainly) they proved at the time sometimes hard to sell and as well as being heavily discounted, some were converted back to the standard Road Runner specification by dealers anxious to get them out of the showroom (a generation on, some Volkswagen dealers resorted to the same approach after US buyers proved less attracted to the Harlequin Golfs than Europeans had been to the Harlekin Polos).  Views changed over time and they're now much sought by collectors, the record known price paid for a Superbird being US$1,650,000 for one of the 135 fitted with the 426 Street Hemi.  Despite the Superbirds having been produced in some four times the quantity of Daytonas, as collectables, they're treated as interchangeable with the determinates of price (all else being equal) being (1) engine specification (the Hemi-powered models the most desirable followed by the 6-BBL Plymouths (there were no Six-Pack Daytonas built) and then the 4 barrel 440s), (2) transmission (those with a manual gearbox attracting a premium) and (3) the usual combination of mileage, condition and originality.  Mapped on to that equation is the variable of who happens to be at an auction on any given day, something unpredictable.  That was demonstrated in August 2024 when a highly optioned Daytona in the most desirable configuration achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction in Monterey, California.

1969 Plymouth Road Runner advertisement.

The US$3.36 million achieved generated headlines on sites where such things are discussed, but what attracted the interest of amateur sociologists was the same Daytona had in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum in an auction at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.  The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive between purchase and a return to the auction circuit.  That’s how the collector market works, the cars now essentially the same sort of commodity as certain paintings; it's not that cars are art (although New York's MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) has a few on permanent exhibit including an early Jaguar E-Type (XKE, 1961-1974)) but the market structures and dynamics are more similar than they are different.

1970 Plymouth Hemi Superbird in TorRed over Black vinyl.  Between 2022-2025, its realized value fell by some US$1.2 million.

Still, it's a volatile market and some who “overpaid” by buying in a “peak market” have booked considerable losses when compelled to sell at a time when demand proved less buoyant.  Although the aero-cars are among the more collectable Mopars, they remain a traded commodity and about such things, all that can be guaranteed about their value is: “it will fluctuate”.  In 2025, a Hemi Superbird sold at auction for US$418,000 which, given its condition and specification, was at the lower end of expectations but in 2022, the same machine had gone over the block for US$1.65 million.  The loss booked was thus US$1.2 million-odd or around 75%, neither of those numbers encouraging for collectors and immediately, the conspiracy theorists began offering explanations involving the interplay of tax deductions, charitable donations and such.  There are of course cases where losses even greater in magnitude can be imagined; the early 1 Gb USB sticks sold for US$199.00 and were an immaculate, unused example still in its original blister pack to be offered for sale in 2026, the nominal loss would be greater than 75%.  Still, “vintage” USB sticks are not (yet) a collectable and most who buy Superbirds don’t expect to suffer depreciation.

The Buick Skylark Grand Sport which in 1965 didn't become a Superbird.

Plymouth paid Warner Brothers US$50,000 to licence the trademarked image of the bird but “Superbird” was free to use which must have been pleasing, the avian reference an allusion to the big wing at the rear.  Curiously, had Buick a half-decade earlier decided to pursue what seems in retrospect a “sales department thought bubble”, Plymouth would have had to come up with something else because in 1965 Buick did run a one-off advertisement for their new Skylark GS (Grand Sport, the marque’s well-manicured toe in the muscle car water) with the copy headed “Superbird”.  It may seem strange Buick had been tempted by the muscle car business because, by the time the rungs of Alfred P Sloan’s (1875–1966; president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946) "Sloan ladder" were in the 1940 finalized, Buick was second only to Cadillac in the five-step GM (General Motors) corporate hierarchy with Chevrolet at the bottom, followed by Pontiac and Oldsmobile.  However, the unexpected success the year earlier of Pontiac’s GTO had proved an irresistible temptation: there were profits to be made.  As it was, Cadillac was the only GM division in the era not to sell a muscle car.

1936 Buick Century.

Debatably, the Buick Century was the "first muscle car" and although in the mid 1930s some fanciful names appeared, it's unlikely anyone within GM would have thought of "Road Runner" or "Superbird", "Century" (denoting the 100 mph (160 km/h) speed all were able to achieve) thought both distinctive and informative.  The definition of “muscle car” is by some contested with the only consensus seemingly that none accept it can encompass FWD (front-wheel-drive), despite Cadillac in 1970 rating the Eldorado's 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 at at stellar 400 HP which was 25 more than Ford claimed for the Boss 429 Mustang which used a slightly detuned racing engine.  Ford of course had reasons to under-rate the stated output of the Boss 429 but it remains an amusing comparison.  The definition most prefer is: “a big engine from a big, heavy car installed in a smaller, lighter car” and although in 1936 the improvement in the economy remained patchy (and would soon falter), Buick rang in the changes, re-naming its entire line.  The new Century was a revised revised version of the model 60, created by replacing the 233 cubic inch (3.8 litre) straight eight with the 320 cubic inch (5.2 litre) unit from the longer, heavier Roadmaster.  Putting big engines into small cars was nothing new and during the interwar years some had taken the idea to extremes, using huge aero-engines, but those tended to be one-offs for racing or LSR (land speed record) attempts.  In Europe, (slightly) larger engines were sometimes substituted and British manufacturers often put six cylinder power-plants where once there had been a four but their quest was usually for smoothness and refinement rather than outright speed and the Century was really the first time a major manufacturer had used the concept in series production.  Many now acknowledge the Century as the LCA (last common ancestor) of the muscle cars which in the 1960s came to define the genre.

1970 Buick GSX 455 Stage 1.  It was available only in two colors and of the 678 built, 491 were Saturn Yellow and 197 Apollo White, the names topical because the Apollo moon missions of the era missions were launched using Saturn V rockets.

The model which in 1965 Buick seemingly flirted with promoting as the “Superbird” was the Skylark Grand Sport, built on the corporate intermediate A-Body shared with Chevrolet, Pontiac & Oldsmobile.  In its first season the Grand Sport was an option rather than a model and it used the 401 cubic inch (6.6 litre) Buick “Nailhead” V8 which technically violated GM’s corporate edict placing a 400 cubic inch displacement limit on engines in intermediates but this was “worked around” by “rounding down” to 400 for purposes of documentation and for that there was a (sort of) precedent; earlier Pontiac’s 336 cubic inch (5.5 litre) V8 contravened another GM rule and PMD (Pontiac Motor Division) solved that problem by claiming the capacity was really 326 (5.3) with the GM board again turning a blind eye for as long as it took for the foundry to organize the downsizing.  The Grand Sport option proved a success and for 1967 the package was elevated to a model as the GS 400, Buick’s new big-block engine a genuine 400 cid (there were also small-block Skylark GSs appropriately labelled GS 340 and later GS 350) and on the sales charts it continued to perform well, but, being a Buick, its appearance was more restrained than the muscle cars from the competition (including those from other GM divisions) so it tended to be overshadowed.  In 1968, that began to changed when the “Stage 1” option was introduced as a dealer-installed option.  What this did was increase power and torque, optimizing the delivery of both for quarter-mile (402 m) sprints down drag strips and as a proof-of-concept exercise (in terms of market demand), it worked and in 1969 the Stage 1 package appeared on the factory’s official option list.  When tested, it performed (on the drag strip) so well it was obvious the official output numbers were under-stated but things really clicked the next year when Buick enlarged the V8 to 455 cubic inches (7.5 litre), delivering 510 lb⋅ft (691 Nm) of torque, the highest rating in the industry.  It's often claimed Detroit wouldn't top this until the second generation Dodge Viper (ZB I, 2003-2006) debuted with its V10 enlarged to 506 cubic inches (8.3 litres) but the early 472 (1968) & 500 (1970) cubic inch (7.7 & 8.2 litre) Cadillac V8s were rated respectively at 525 lb⋅ft (712 Nm) & 550 lb⋅ft (746 Nm).

1970 Buick GSX brochure.

Buick in 1970 made available the GSX “Performance and Handling Package” which added a hefty US$1,100 to the GS 455’s base price US$3,098, a factor in it attracting only 678 buyers, 400 of whom ordered the “Stage 1” option.  In this context, use of the word “stage” was unusual but, like the color choices, that too was an allusion to the space program, the big Saturn V rockets divided into “stages”.  Although Buick buyers had for years overwhelmingly purchased cars with automatic transmission, the GSX was a Buick of a different flavor and this was reflected 199 of them being sold with the optional four-manual; clearly the GSX was attracting the much sought “conquest buyers” (ie those who usually purchased another brand).  Presumably, whether or not “conquests” most buyers presumably were content because the straight-line performance was impressive; while the GSX didn't possess the ability of genuine race-bred engines like the Chrysler Street Hemi, Ford Boss 429 or the most lusty of the big-block Chevrolets effortlessly to top 140 mph (225 km/h), on the drag strip, the combination of the prodigious low-speed torque and relatively light weight meant it could be a match for just about anything.  The use of “Stage 1” of course implied there would be at least a “Stage 2” (a la Pontiac’s Ram Air II, III etc) but the world was changing and only a handful of "Stage 2" components were assembled and shipped to dealers.  While both the GSX and Stage 1 would live until 1972, 1970 would be peak Buick muscle.

1967 Dodge Coronet R/T advertisement.

Another footnote to the tale is that in 1967, months before Plymouth released the Road Runner, Dodge (Plymouth’s corporate stable-mate) published an advertisement for the Coronet R/T (Road/Track) which must have been ticked off by the legal department because cleverly it included the words “road” and “runner” arranged in such as way a viewer would read them as “Road Runner” without them appearing in a form which might have attracted a C&D (cease & desist letter) from Warner Brothers.  Obviously, the tie-in with Road/Track was the idea of a machine suited both to street and competition use and the agency must have congratulated themselves but the satisfaction would have been brief because within hours of the advertisement appearing in magazines on newsstands, Chrysler’s corporate marketing division instructed Dodge to “pull the campaign”.  By then, Plymouth’s plans for the surprise release in a few months of the appropriately licensed “Road Runner” were well advanced and they didn’t want any thunder stolen.  The Dodge advertisement remained a one-off but the division must have wished they’d thought of using “Road Runner” themselves because the Super Bee (their later take on the Road Runner's "stripped down, low cost" concept) only ever sold a quarter of the volume of Plymouth’s original; it pays to be first but a flaky name like “Super Bee” can’t have helped.  Subsequently, the names Road Runner & Roadrunner (the latter which, without the initial capital, is the taxonomic term for the bird (genus Geococcyx and known also as chaparral birds or chaparral cocks) Warner Brothers' Wile E. Coyote could never quite catch) have been used for products as varied as a Leyland truck, sports teams, computer hardware & software and a number of publications.

Don't mess with popular and respected birds.

However, just because Chrysler’s lawyers dotted the i's and crossed the t's with Warner Brothers didn’t mean their involvement with the Plymouth Road Runner was done.  Shortly after the Road Runner was released late in 1967, the corporate office became aware “...certain Chrysler-Plymouth Division dealers in the Southwest [were] using live Roadrunner birds in local sales promotions and offering cash rewards for the capture of live specimens.”  That would at the time have seemed to dealers just a clever marketing gimmick but consulted, the legal department determined it was “...against Federal Law to hunt, capture kill, sell or offer to purchase a nonautomotive Roadrunner.”  Further to clarify, it was added Roadrunners were “…none-game birds classified as national resources and protected by Federal and International law.”  Who knew?  In the C&D letter Chrysler-Plymouth's public relations manager circulated to all dealers, the cultural significance was also mentioned, the Roadrunner described as a “...popular and respected bird... particularly in New Mexico where it is honored as the state's official bird.”  Accordingly, the corporate directive banned “...any future use of live Roadrunners in promotional activities.”

1970 Plymouth Road Runner with a Warner Brothers' interpretation of the genus Geococcyx in fibreglass.

So using live examples of the “popular and respected bird” was out but the marketing department wasn’t deterred and for promotional purposes later arranged production in fibreglass of large representations of the cartoon bird, designed to emerge, grinning and wide-eyed through the hood (bonnet) scoop which Chrysler called the “air-grabber” because it did what it said on the tin: funnelled desirable cold air straight to the induction system (while "air grabber" might seem a bit brutish, in 1971 Plymouth briefly had called a variant of the idea the "Incredible Quivering Exposed Cold Air Grabber" but that didn't last (IQECAG one of history's less mnemonic initializms) and the hardware the improbable moniker described has only ever been known as the "shaker").  Being advertising, the large fibreglass birds owed much to the Warner Brothers depiction of the creature and little to how evolution had produced genus Geococcyx.  Some of the fibreglass promotional props survived to be exhibited protruding through a Road Runners air-grabber and die-cast models of the ensemble (car plus “popular and respected bird”) sometimes are available.

Australia's Ford Falcon Superbirds

1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird, built for the show circuit and first shown at the Melbourne Motor Show in March 1973. 

Based on the then-current XA Falcon GT Hardtop, Ford Australia’s original Superbird was a one-off created for display at the 1973 Sydney and Melbourne Motor Shows, the purpose of the thing to distract attention from Holden’s new, four-door HQ Monaro model, a range added after the previous year’s limited production SS had generated sufficient sales for the “proof-of-concept” to be judged a success.  Such tactics are not unusual in commerce and Ford was responding to the Holden’s earlier release of the SS being timed deliberately to steal the thunder expected to be generated by the debut of the Falcon Hardtop.  Despite the SS in 1972 being so successful a second batch was needed to meet demand, for some reason GMH (General Motors Holden's) decided that when added as a regular-production model, it would use the "Monaro GTS" name which, since 1968, had been used exclusively of two-door hardtop coupés.  So, despite Chevrolet in the US having for a decade built an enviable "brand recognition" for the SS badge, Holden opted not to take advantage of being able to inherit the aura and instead dilute the value of the Monaro brand.  Even at the time it seemed a strange choice and tellingly, within a few years, after production of the Monaro coupés ended, the four door models were renamed simply "GTS".       

1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird with model in ankle-length, sleeveless floral sheath maxi dress.  The model was Jill Goodall who in the 1970s appeared on the covers of Australian fashion magazines and in television & print advertising.  She worked also as an actor, including a role as a “harem girl” in the James Bond film The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).

Although it featured a new wool fabric (described in the press-kit as a "rough-blend") for the upholstery and a power-steering system with the rim-effort increased from 4 to 8 lbs (1.8 to 3.6 kg), mechanically, the Superbird show car was something of a “parts-bin special” in that it differed from a standard GT Hardtop mostly in the use of some of the components orphaned when the run of 250-odd (Phase 4) Falcon GTHOs in 1972 was cancelled after a Sydney tabloid newspaper had stirred a moral panic with one of their typically squalid and untruthful stories about the “160 mph [258 km/h] supercars” which soon would be sold to males aged 17-25 (always a suspect demographic in the eyes of a tabloid editor).  Apparently, it was a “slow news day” so the story got moved from the sports section at the back to the front page where the headline spooked the politicians who demanded manufacturers not proceed with the limited-production specials which existed only to satisfy the homologation rules for competition.  Resisting for only a few days, the manufacturers complied and within a week the nation’s regulatory body for motor sport announced the end of “series-production” racing; subsequently, the "production" cars used on the track would no longer need to be so closely related to those available in showrooms.

1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird with model in ankle-length, sleeveless floral sheath maxi dress.  The XA Hardtop's styling motifs were borrowed from the second generation Ford (US) Torino (1970-1971), a machine which, like the 1968 Dodge Charger, looked slippery but, when used at speed on the ovals, was found to induce rather more drag than had been hoped. 

The Falcon GT Superbird displayed at the motor shows in 1973 was a harbinger in that it proved something a “trial run” for future ventures in which parts intended solely for racing would be added to a sufficient number of vehicles sold to the public to homologate them for use on the circuits.  In that sense, the mechanical specification of the Superbird previewed some of what would later in the year be supplied (with a surprising amount of car-to-car variability) in RPO83 (regular production option 83) including the GTHO’s suspension settings, a 780 cfm (cubic feet per minute) carburetor, the 15” x 7” aluminium wheels, a 36 (imperial) gallon (164 litre) fuel tank and some of the parts designed for greater durability under extreme (ie race track) conditions.  Cognizant of the effect the tabloid press has on politicians, none of the special runs in the immediate aftermath of the 1972 moral panic included anything to increase performance.  However, while the details of the mechanical specification delighted the nerds, it was the large orange Superbird logo on the flanks which attracted most comment, the press-kit handed to journalists mentioning the "unique black shadows" which "highlighted its appearance".  Although nicely done, the black shadows professionally were hand-painted and not included in the full-sized decal which became available from Ford dealers in white (part-number XA-19C 600), black (XA-19C 600 B) & orange (XA-19C 600 C) at Aus$59 which may sound reasonable but the ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) reports that in the March quarter, 1973, average MFTWE (male full-time weekly earnings) were Aus$102.50.  Demand for the decal in any color was subdued and it was not long available.

Toned down: 1973 Ford Falcon 500 Hardtop with RPO77 (Superbird option pack) in Polar White with Cosmic Blue accents over white vinyl.

Most who saw the Superbird probably didn’t much dwell on the mechanical intricacies, taken more by the stylized falcon which extended three-quarters the length of the car.  It was the graphic which no doubt generated publicity in a way the specification sheet never could and as a "stick-on transparancy" it could be ordered from Ford dealers but so low was the take-up rate it was decided instead to capitalize on the success of the show car by releasing a production Superbird (known internally as RPO77) with the graphic scaled down to a mere 18 inches (450 mm) in length, applied to the rear quarters with an even smaller version on the glovebox lid.  In keeping with that restraint, RPO77 included only “dress-up” items and a 302 cubic inch (4.9 litre) V8 in the same mild-mannered state of tune as the versions sold to bank managers and such.  It was a much more modest machine than the Melbourne Motor Show car with its high-compression 351 (5.8) V8 so although not quite a "caged budgerigar compared to a hunting falcon", the messages conveyed by the respective avian graphics were in accord with the hardware.

1973 Ford XA Falcon Superbird in the Lime Glaze & Jewell Green combo over black vinyl.  The other available color combinations were Polar white / Cosmic Blue and Yellow Fire / Walnut Glow.

Still, as a package which offered a bundle of options at an substantial discount (nominally about 11%), RPO77's cost breakdown attracted buyers and did succeed in stimulating interest in the two-door Hardtop, sales of which had proved sluggish after the initial spike in 1972.  It seems of the 750 planned, some 700 were built and that all but 200 were fitted with an automatic transmission was an indication of the target market.  In Australia, the surviving Superbirds are now advertised for six figure (Aus$) sums while the surviving three Phase 4 GTHOs (the fourth was destroyed in a rally which sounds and improbable but it was said to have been competitive, only the sheer weight of the thing meaning the tyre's sidewalls were subject to frequent failure) command over a million.  Although RPO77 was purely an “appearance package”, the Superbird is a footnote in the homologation of the hardtop body for racing, Ford using the specification sheet provided to state motor vehicle registration authorities in their submission to CAMS (Confederation of Australian Motorsport, then the nation regulatory body for the sport).  The advantages in citing the Superbird as a base were (1) being built between March-May, 1973 the structure benefited from the changes to the rails and braces which didn’t appear on the earlier cars and (2) at 2910 lb (1320 KG), it was up to 210 lb (95 KG) lighter (depending on configuration) than the Falcon GT Hardtops which were basis of the vehicles actually used in racing.  Whether CAMS was deceived or was just anxious to accommodate isn’t clear but the certification was granted with the designation “Superbird” appearing in their published documentation.  That’s why it was common in press reports at the time for the racing RPO83 XA Hardtops to be referred to as “Superbirds” even though not one was based on a RPO77 Falcon.  

The original Superbird, unused image from a publicity photo session, Melbourne, 1973.  Built in August 1972, the Superbird was painted "Pearl Silver" and road-registered (LHA 614) in Victoria.  It was re-painted in its original "Wild Violet" before being sold (without the graphic).

As a nerdy footnote, the 302 V8 used in the RPO77 Superbirds was exclusive to Australia in being based on the Cleveland (335) engine which in the US was the basis only for 351 and 400 (6.6) versions.  The rationale for the Australians developing their unique "302 Cleveland" was one of production-line standardization, the local operation having never produced the Windsor line of V8s which by 1969 provided the US market with both 302 & 351 versions.  According to the convention in use at the time, the Australian engines could have been dubbed "302 Geelong" & "351 Geelong" (Geelong the city where the Ford foundry was located) but that was never adopted and both tend to be called "Australian Clevelands".  Creating the 302 Cleveland wasn't challenging or expensive and both the Australian engines were (with detail differences between them) a single-configuration compromise optimized for use on the street, eschewing use of the components which delivered improved top-end power (as fitted to some of the US engines) which worked well at high speed but was not ideal for street use where a progressive curve of low and mid-range torque is the most desired characteristic.

For the Superbird photo-shoot, as well as the floral maxi, Ms Goodall also donned some dresses with a shorter cut.  She had studied graphic design in Melbourne and after retiring from modelling, worked as a studio manager and photographer.  Now based in Germany and known professionally as Jill Seer, she has exhibited her work in European galleries.

What the Australian engineers did for their 351 was was combine the large (61-64 cm³) combustion chambers from the US "4V" heads (ie "4 venturi" indicating their use with a four barrel carburetor) with the smaller "2V" intake ports, the arrangement producing a good quench and air/fuel swirl through the ports, enhancing the low-to-mid range torque output.  The short-stroke Australian 302 was different in that it used a 56.4–59.4 cm³ combustion chamber in conjunction with the high-swirl, small ports.  That combination ("closed" combustion chamber & small ports) turned out to be a "sweet-spot" for street use which has made the Australian 302 heads a popular item for those in the US modifying 351s, the swap made possible by the shared bore and bolt pattern.  While in "heavy duty" use the Cleveland (335) suffered from fundamental flaws (excessive weight and limited lubrication channels), the canted-valve heads were right from day one, the reason why the 1969 Boss 302 (which put efficient Cleveland heads on the lighter, well-oiled Windsor block) was so highly regarded.  Although its sounds oxymoronic, Ford Australia really did market its 302 as "an economy V8" but that phrase needs to be read as something comparative rather than absolute, both the 302 & 351 even then regarded as "thirsty".