Monday, September 7, 2026

Barracuda

Barracuda (pronounced bar-uh-koo-duh)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sphyraena barracuda (great barracuda).

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

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

The Plymouth Barracuda & 'Cuda, 1964-1974

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

1965 Ford Mustang "notchback".

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

1964 Plymouth Barracuda.

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

1971 Jensen FF Mark III, one of 15 built.

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

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Coupe.

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

1969 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.

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

1969 Plymouth 'Cuda 440.

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

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Convertible.

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

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

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

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda coupe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The black ABS (acrylonitrile-butadiene-styrene,  a class of composite plastics) 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.  Except for a handful of display or press-fleet cars, the chin spoilers were not fitted by the factory (reputedly because of concerns they might be dislodged or damaged during shipment) but supplied as a "dealer-install kit" (a cardboard box found in the trunk (boot)), the result being some variations in the mounting position.  The chin spoilers are available as re-productions (some licensed versions even including the original Mopar part-number!) and while in theory all the dealer-fitted originals should have been mounted in the "correct" location because two paper templates (left & right) were supposed to be part of the kit, it's clear either some kits lacked the sheet or, for whatever reason, it wasn't used as intended.  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 with which plastic can be “aged”, a la the tricks art forgers once used to make a recent painting appear centuries old, one especially skilled exponent cheating even Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945), something that seems hardly an offence.  Scientific analysis presumably could be applied to determine the truth and while there’s no record of the originality police ever having resorted to that it may yet happen because in the collector market the difference in value between “original” and “not original” can be significant.

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

The reproduction of obscure and sometimes rarely ordered options has meant there doubtlessly are now more AAR ‘Cudas with the chin spoilers than ever left the dealer so configured and less valuable variants are also serviced by the industry.  In 1970, there was option code M46 that 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) scoop (mounted on the sill in front of the rear wheels), (2) matte black lower-body trim with white and red pinstripes, (3) a rear-panel black-out (similar to that used on the ‘Cuda), complemented with chrome trim from the Gran Coupe and (4) blacked-out front & rear valences.  Offered only for 1970 Barracudas, Chrysler’s records indicate fewer than 450 were built but the reproduction scoops are sometimes seen even on later models, including ‘Cudas on which they were never available.  Unlike the AAR’s chin spoilers, option code M46 was factory-fitted so authenticity can be verified by the fender tag.  The spoilers were functional in that there would have been some aerodynamic effect but option M46 was purely a “dress-up”, the scoop merely emulating the “rear-brake cooling ducts” sometimes used on race cars or exotic machines.  

1971 Plymouth 'Cuda Convertible.

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

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.” 

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

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

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

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

Ecurie Chrysler's 1970 Hemi 'Cuda.

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

Saturday, September 5, 2026

Kindleberger

Kindleberger (pronounced khin-dil-berg-ah)

A family name of Germanic origin.

As “Kindleberger Moment” & “Kindleberger Trap”, two related terms describing different aspects from an underlying problem in international political economy and named after economist Professor Charles P. Kindleberger (1910-2003) whose writings inspired their coining.  Professor Kindleberger’s middle name was “Poor” and while that may seem more appropriate for a monk than an economist, it didn’t appear to hamper his career.

The surname Kindleberger is of German origin, functioning as a habitational or topographic name, the construct being Kind(l)- + -berg + -er.  Kind (kid, child, young person) was from the Middle High German kint, from the Old High German kind, from the Proto-West Germanic kind, from Proto-Germanic kindą & kinþą, from the primitive Indo-European ǵenh- (to give birth); there were many local dialect variations.  Berg (mountain, hill) was from the Middle High German bërc, from the Old High German bërg, from the Proto-West Germanic berg, ultimately from the Proto-Germanic bergaz; it may be compared with the Dutch berg, the German Low German Barg, Berg & Biärg, the West Frisian berch, the English berry & barrow, the Danish bjerg and the Swedish berg.  The –er suffix (in this context) was appended to indicate inhabitant or person from a specific locality.  The “-berg” element thus in general was used in the names of those living near a specific hill or a place named with those combined linguistic roots and Kindleberger would likely have began with someone who was the (probably male) offspring of someone named “Berg”, “Berger” or such.  As a compound surname, it may in some instances have referred not to individuals living near mountainous regions but those (likely female) who were known for their roles as caretakers of children; the etymological structure can indicate a connection between familial roles and the natural landscape.  The name dates from at least the Late Medieval period (when surnames became hereditary) and records of use exist in several German-speaking regions, clusters found concentrated in areas like the Rheinland-Pfalz (Rhineland-Palatinate) region that, while not characterized by alpine peaks, does have a topography noted for rolling hills, low mountain ranges, and deeply carved river valleys.  As internal migration increased (notably within the Holy Roman Empire), like many European surnames, variations like Kindleberger and Kindelberger spread and this occurred internationally during the nineteenth & twentieth centuries; outside of Europe, the Kindleberger name is most likely to be found in the states of the north-eastern US (the largest concentrations historically in West Virginia, Ohio & Pennsylvania).  Kindleberger is a proper noun; the noun plural is Kindlebergers.

A red meteor observed by US-born astronomer Stephen James O'Meara (b 1956) in the skies above Maun, Botswana.

Asteroid 42354 Kindleberger was named after the professor.  Originally listed by the International Dark Sky Discovery Center in Fountain Hills, Arizona on 12 February, 2002 (and provisionally allocated ID 2002 CK43), it was discovered by Charles Juels (1944–2009) and Paulo Holvorcem (b 1967), both amateur astronomers.  Paulo Holvorcem (b 1967) is a mathematician based in Brasília (one of a handful of “created” capital cities), Brazil while Charles Juels (1944–2009) was a US psychiatrist practicing in Phoenix, Arizona; after retirement, he became one of the planet’s most prolific discoverers of asteroids, minor planets and such.  The naming conventions administered by the IAU (International Astronomical Union) permit those who discover minor planets to submit potential names, once the orbit officially is confirmed.  Professor Kindleberger was honoured in recognition both of his academic contributions to the discipline of economics and the role his books (especially Manias, Panics, and Crashes: A History of Financial Crises (1978) played in explaining such phenomena to a non-specialist audience.  The choice (within certain limitations) is in the hands of the discoverer(s) and other economists have had asteroids named after them.  Red-tailed asteroids are rare but do exist, 3200 Phaethon's (provisionally 1983 TB) vivid tail made of sodium vaporized from the rock by the heat of the Sun, inducing  fluoresce an orange glow.  Definitely the next red-tailed asteroid should be named after Lindsay Lohan.

The World in Depression, 1929-1939 (1973) by Charles P. Kindleberger.

A “Kindleberger Moment” is a critical point in global history when the world’s dominant power (of late typically a hegemon) ceases providing economic leadership and no other country is able or willing to assume the role.  MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) Professor of Economics Charles P. Kindleberger illustrated the concept during his study of the Great Depression of the 1930s, arguing the global economy “crashed” (ie suffered a significant decline in economic activity, employment, trade etc) because (1) the economy of the previously dominant power (the UK) had been too weakened by the First World War (1914-1918) to be able to provide the necessary leadership and corrective mechanisms and (2) the rising power (the US) was both also greatly affected by the downturn and anyway uninterested in becoming entangled in international affairs.  A Kindleberger moment can be considered a “global power vacuum”, the previous leader withdrawing from maintaining and contributing to global rules, trade agreements, and international organizations with no successor available.  At such moments, competing rising new powers tend to focus only on their own interests instead of supporting global stability, meaning the international system faces heightened risks of financial collapse, trade wars, political instability and related chaos (mass irregular migration, border conflicts etc).  Of late, there has been renewed interest in the Kindleberger moment as doubts have been raised about the ability of the US to continue in the rule it has fulfilled since 1945 at a time when the PRC (People’s Republic of China, 1949-) is becoming increasing powerful and assertive but has neither the capacity nor (apparently) the inclination to be the world’s “indispensable nation” (ie “global policeman and banker”).

Professor Kindleberger in his office at MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

As an economist discussing the smooth operation of the international economy, Kindleberger didn’t attach to the concept of “hegemon” the negative connotations vested famously by the Italian Marxist theorist Antonio Gramsci (1891-1937) who had used to idea in a predictably Marxist way (of a “ruling class & ruling culture” able within a society to exert control and maintain power for its own economic benefit).  For Kindleberger, a hegemonic power was a highly desirable element in an inter-connected world economy that in the absence of such an authority would inevitably descent into conflicts that likely would spread.  A Kindleberger moment occurs when there’s hegemonic absence (or even significant deficit) in which the international system lacks a power willing and able to supply essential stabilising functions including:

(1) Maintaining an international trading system in which markets were free, open and transparent.

(2) Providing a system in which international capital flows were regulated to the extent of ensuring stability.

(3) Maintaining a stable monetary system by providing a stable, convertible reserve currency, able to be used by trading nations.

(4) Acting as a lender of last resort.

(5) Coordinating international responses to economic and other crises.

The related “Kindleberger Trap” (a term dating only from 2017) describes the structural dilemma that can arise from the world entering a “Kindleberger Moment”.  Were there always a nice symmetry in that as one power withdrew from the role, another took over on a “business as usual” basis, it would be a smoothly run world but in international relations things tend to be more messy and depending on the dynamics, things can take decades or even centuries to be resolved (for better or worse).  As a rising power acquires sufficient economic, military and geopolitical weight, it might be expected to contribute to maintaining the international order (from which, by definition, it has gained that strength) at a time when the established hegemon simultaneously is reducing its capacity or willingness to carry the burden but history suggests conflict is more likely than cooperation.  The twist in the “Kindleberger Moment” theory is that in a situation where the existing hegemon is in decline but the rising power is unwilling or unable to assume the role, a “trap” begins to open.  That trap is created by the rising power “probing” often regional weaknesses in the hegemon’s strategic architecture and the response to that often is localized tactical violence (often called “containment”), something that can exacerbate the decline of the authority of the established power while doing little to curb (and likely even encourage) the assertiveness of the rival.  Once the hegemon is so engaged, the trap has closed and the point is the “trap” is likely a process rather than a singer decisive event.  Deliberately the phrase echoed the better-known “Thucydides Trap” (the name from the Ancient Greek general & historian Thucydides (circa 460-circa 400 BC)). Describing the idea that when a rising power threatens to supplant the established one, the result is often war (pre-emptive or preventive depending on the spin chosen), either through a fear of being attacked or in an attempt to “contain the upstart”.  So, conceptually, a Kindleberger moment is the situation; the Kindleberger Trap is the recurring structural predicament that can lead to it.

Manias, Panics, and Crashes: A History of Financial Crises (1978) by Charles P. Kindleberger, fifty years on, still the standard work and now in its eighth edition (2023) and, there being no indication there'll not be more manias, panics, and crashes, a ninth edition can be expected, updated to document the latest crises.

The consensus among specialists seems to be the world is not at this point in a Kindleberger Moment because structurally the PRC is not yet able to assume the global role the US has evolved to fulfil since 1945.  These was nothing unique about the shift in 1945, just as the US replaced the UK, the UK had replaced the Netherlands, the Netherlands had replaced Spain and Spain had replaced various Italian city-states.  What however now makes the situation potentially unstable is that the PRC does not accept the existing US-led order, but is not only unable to replicate the global role but uninterested in doing so.  The PRC’s preferred model is “spheres of influence” on a grand scale administered on a “Westphalian basis” (ie non-interference in each other’s spheres).  In that, Beijing’s vision differs from spheres of influence approach during the Cold War in that the earlier model was one of conflict disguised as peaceful co-existence; the PRC’s regarding their mode; as beneficial for all.  Unlike those running the early Soviet Union (1922-1991), the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) has no interest in exporting its system of governance to other states; the lessons have been well-learned from the US attempting to “impose democracy” in places where historically it has never taken root.  The modern CCP does not wish to attempt to transform other places to clones of the PRC; what is wants is for them become good, reliable suppliers and consumers and whether they are run as democracies, theocracies or dictatorships is an “internal affair”.  What matters is peace, good order and a common system of “non-interference”.  The CCP’s collective view is not unknown in the annals of the US State Department, the diplomat and historian George Kennan (1904-2005) in one of his long (and mostly ignored) reports from Moscow in 1945 noting the US should “…remain true to its ideals but should not try to foist them on peoples with entirely different national traditions.”

Leviathan (1651) by Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).  The etching used for the frontipiece of the original edition was by the French printmaker Abraham Bosse (circa 1604–1676) “with input from the author”.

The One comparison that can be made is between the notion a world hegemon is necessary for a generally stable world economy and the idea the very clever and deliciously wicked English philosopher Thomas Hobbes explored in Leviathan (1651): A strong sovereign (to whom individuals must cede certain “natural rights”) is essential for a peaceful, stable society.  Although striking, there are limitations to the extent the hegemon in Professor Kindleberger's model can be thought an international analogue of the grim vision in Leviathan; it is not a direct application of Hobbesian political theory.  Hobbes argued the fundamental problem in the “state of nature” (ie in which the earliest “societies” came to be formed) was the lack of a sufficiently powerful common authority to prevent individuals from pursuing their interests against one another.  In that model, because each person (at least theoretically) possesses roughly equal capacity to threaten others, rational individuals have an incentive to seek security by establishing a sovereign and one not there merely to coordinate but also with coercive power.  What the existence of a powerful sovereign offered was that in exchange for restrictions on individual freedom (at the most basic, not killing one’s opponents), collective security would be guaranteed.  Because all in the society would be subject to the same authority (and thus the same loss of certain freedoms) the arrangement would come to be accepted, if for no other reason than the alternative(s) being worse: “nasty, solitary, brutish and short” Hobbes’ memorable phrase.

Kindleberger's argument was developed in his book The World in Depression, 1929–1939 (1973) and concerned something analogous to what Hobbes described but at the international economic level.  His thesis was that (1) with an economy damaged by involvement in World War I and the consequent “difficulties” of the following decade, the UK was no longer able to provided the international economic leadership it had delivered before the war while (2) the US was unable or unwilling to assume the role.  With no stabilising hegemon, nations resorted to acting in short-term self interest, leading to reductions in trade, wealth and employment; Professor Kindleberger's key insight was that whatever their granular nature, in international economics these things must be thought public goods but, of course, individual countries each had incentives to have others bear the cost of maintaining them, thus the famous “Kindleberger Problem”: Who pays for the system?  That the UK was not prepared to go deeper into debt and the US preferred to focus on its own problems he held to be the major factors that made what might have been a sharp but relatively short recession into the Great Depression of the 1930s.  It was the leadership vacuum that created the conditions leading to the collapse of the international economic order.

The limitation in pursuing the analogy is of course that neither the UK in the nineteenth century nor the US since 1945 were the sovereign of the international system in the Hobbesian sense; Hobbes’ sovereign had juridical and coercive supremacy over subjects while the international hegemon does not because, although in the modern age state sovereignty is no longer the fabulous beast it was once claimed to be, individual nations remain still independent with some (though much varied) capacity to resist a hegemon.  In other words, Kindleberger's hegemon can help to provide order through preponderance in economic, political and political capabilities whereas the Hobbesian sovereign, within their territory, enjoyed absolute authority.  So the problems can be seen as similar but the solutions differ, Hobbes describing a rigid hierarchy and Kindleberger a leadership that administers anarchy by making it “managed chaos”.

US National Debt: US$40 trillion by August 2026.

All the history and economic theory is of course of interest but of immediate concern is (1) whether a Kindleberger moment is to hand (protagonist and antagonist being the US and PRC) and (2) whether the consequences of soch a moment will be economic disruption (of unknown extent or duration) or armed conflict (of unknown extent or duration).  The world is in a most unusual situation in that although the US continues of operate as hegemon, debatably it shouldn’t be able to because of its US$40 trillion debt (about 123% of GDP (gross domestic product)) and other problems.  While it’s true US debt was nudging 120% immediately after World War II (1939-1945), the US position at that time (vis-à-vis the rest of the planet) was unique and the debt trend was downwards whereas now it’s upwards.  There are those who argue things have changed and the US$40 trillion number is no longer an expression of “debt” in the conventional sense of the word but merely a way of describing the “new” mechanism of managing the US money supply.  The notion the US Treasury could at any time mint a single US$40 trillion coin, add it to the balance sheet and declare a net-debt free status has been offered as one example of why “deficits don’t matter” and while not all accept that, just about the whole world is now dependent on the US sustaining the existing system with this ever-growing debt so, in the absence of another country (or “demi-country” such as the EU (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957)) able and willing to fulfil the role of hegemon, the world economy and the US remain engaged in what some fear is a kind of economic danse macabre and there seems no way to use the numbers to predict if it's a debt level of US$50, 75, or 100 trillion that risks triggering a crisis.

Presidents Xi (left) and Trump (right).  With sufficient (1) goodwill or (2) amorality, the art of the deal can be done.  With enough of the latter, the former may one day emerge.

Of course the ultimate wild card (others might prefer “joker”) is that Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) is in the White House and while his idiosyncratic methods of governance intrigue political junkies, so marvellously unpredictable are his actions that it’s hard to map onto the dynamics a well understood concept like the Kindleberger Moment.  At heart a CEO (chief executive officer) rather than a democrat operating within constitutional norms, it’s suspected that left to his own devices, Mr Trump would sit down at the map table with comrade Xi Jinping (b 1953; General Secretary of the CCP and paramount leader of the PRC (People's Republic of China) since 2012) and divide up their respective spheres of influence.  Like Mr Trump who wants as little as possible to do with the internal affairs of America’s suppliers and customers (ie other countries), Mr Xi has no wish to waste effort or resources on “pointless squabbles” and not since a couple of horse-traders like Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) & comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953), needing nothing more, than pencil, paper and limitless cynicism divided up the Balkans into bite-sized spheres have two great powers been headed by a pair as suited to “doing the art of the deal”.  Of course, for those in places like the “renegade province of Taiwan”, there would be a cost but as at was demonstrated at the Yalta Conference (February 1945), somebody “always has to pay the price” and that may be a better trap to spring than risking the jaws of a Kindleberger Trap.