On a summer night in the early 1970s, a teenage Bob Jennings was stopped on the side of Interstate 64 with friends when, in a moment of crystal clarity, he saw it: “There was this orange thing that looked like Halley’s Comet bearing down on me like a laser pointer in a fog sequence light show,” Bob recalls. “As my mouth gaped open, this winged beast flew by me, and I instantly knew what it was. A 1970 Plymouth Superbird, in the flesh, had just blown by our car.”
That was the first big life goal Bob remembers setting: that one day he would be the owner of a Superbird.
Now as he looks back, Bob says he’s a very lucky guy.
“I was lucky enough to marry an incredible woman 50 years ago, and I am lucky enough to own a bunch of Superbirds and Daytonas,” he says.
On his way to realizing his dream, Bob put himself through college by working and taking courses at night. He learned the automotive industry while employed at local auto dealer Walt Bales’ Chrysler-Plymouth dealership in Jeffersonville. Bob later became a CPA and started a national education company for tax professionals, Taxspeaker. He kept muscle cars in the back of his mind while raising his family.
Then, 20-something years ago after Bob had to have open heart surgery, his wife urged him to accomplish his goal and buy his Superbird, ‘the weirdest Plymouth of all,’ as Bob describes. Built for Nascar racing under the reign of “The King,” Richard Petty, with a production run of only one year — 1970 — these cars were now rare, legendary, and ‘garishly ugly on the street,’ Bob says. “They were a hand-slap in the face of conventional car fans and [served] my desire to flip off conventional thought and authority.”
When at last Bob bought his first Superbird, which had been locked away in a museum, he knew it was not going to sit in his garage. First, it needed some work. “It looked good, but every mechanical thing was not good,” Bob says. Over the next several years, Bob, his son, and a friend got his lifelong dream into dependable driving condition.
“By late 2013, I drove that ’Bird everywhere in good weather and was greeted with throngs of people wanting a picture with the car or to talk about the car,” Bob says. “These cars are memories of a time gone past, a carefree look into a different, maybe more friendly time, or a return to childhood memories like the Cars movies.”
That’s when the idea hit him — why not take it somewhere where no one had seen a Superbird?
Bob has now driven his white Superbird to Alaska twice and to Key West, Florida, once. And he’s added to the flock: He now owns eight Superbirds and two Daytona Chargers. Last fall he drove his black ’Bird even further — to the Arctic. All along the way, when he stopped at car shows, rest areas, or roadside stands, people would clamor to see the car.
Bob has realized his role with these beloved vehicles: “I am a deliveryman of dreams, not a collector of old cars,” he says.
By Jessica Alyea and Anita Oldham
P.S. Check out what they’re passionate about and how they are Bonding Over Birdies.
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