Louisville’s most obnoxious muscle cars and the maniacs who drove them
1. The Purple Plague — 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda 440 Six Pack
Owner: Dale Ray Scoggins, Okolona
Dale Ray’s ‘Cuda was painted a purple so vivid it gave you a headache before the exhaust note finished the job. The unique quality of this beast was the horn, which Dale had rewired to play the first eight bars of “Free Bird” at approximately 140 decibels. He claimed it was “for safety.”
The legend of Dale Ray was cemented one summer evening in 1987 when a Jefferson County sheriff attempted to pull him over on Bardstown Road for what witnesses described as “driving too purple.” Dale Ray didn’t run, exactly. He simply made a right turn into the Tumbleweed parking lot, drove through the kitchen loading dock, emerged on the other side, and was eating chips and salsa at a booth by the time the deputy walked in the front door. The officer sat down, ordered a margarita, and told Dale Ray he’d get him next time. He never did.
2. The Waffle House Rocket — 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396
Owner: Brenda Faye Crutcher, Shively
Brenda Faye was a third-shift waitress who saved her tip money for three years to buy what she called “the loudest ‘no’ I ever said to a man.” The Chevelle was banana yellow with a black racing stripe, and its unique quality was a set of headers so poorly tuned that the car would backfire approximately every nine seconds, with the regularity of a metronome.
One frozen February night in 1991, Brenda Faye was idling at a stoplight on Dixie Highway when a young man in a Trans Am pulled alongside and suggested she might not be able to handle all that horsepower. Brenda Faye smiled, lit a Virginia Slim, and when the light turned green, she left two parallel strips of rubber for approximately 200 yards while the Trans Am stalled out. She never looked in her rearview mirror. She didn’t need to.
3. The Sermon — 1968 Dodge Charger R/T
Owner: Pastor Vernon “V8” Mullins, Valley Station
Pastor Mullins believed that the rumble of a 440 Magnum engine was, in his words, “the voice of the Lord telling sinners to get right.” His Charger was flat black with a single chrome fish emblem on the trunk, and its unique quality was a PA system mounted to the roof through which Vernon would broadcast Bible verses at traffic.
The defining moment of Vernon’s ministry occurred during the 1983 Kentucky State Fair when he led Louisville Metro Police on a low-speed chase down the Watterson Expressway while reciting the entire Book of Revelation over the loudspeaker. He wasn’t fleeing arrest, he later explained. He was “spreading the Word at maximum velocity.” The officers let him finish Chapter 22 before writing the ticket.
4. The Alimony — 1971 Ford Mustang Boss 351
Owner: Cheryl Denise Rapier, Middletown
Cheryl bought this car three days after her divorce was finalized, using funds her ex-husband had hidden in a bass boat he thought she didn’t know about. The car was Grabber Blue, and its unique quality was that Cheryl had welded her wedding ring to the gear shift knob. “Every time I grab third,” she told the Courier-Journal in a 1978 interview, “I remember what I’m running from.”
Her moment of glory came one Sunday afternoon when her ex-husband spotted her at a gas station on Shelbyville Road and attempted to follow her to “discuss some things.” Cheryl led him through three subdivisions, across a golf course (she waved at the foursome on the ninth hole), and finally down a boat ramp into the Ohio River, stopping approximately four inches from the water while he locked up his brakes and slid into the shallows. She offered him a towel. He declined.
5. The Gravedigger — 1970 Buick GSX Stage 1
Owner: Leonard “Lenny Gears” Poston, Portland
Lenny earned his nickname not from mechanical aptitude but from a nervous habit of grinding his teeth whenever he drove, which was always. His GSX was Saturn Yellow and possessed the only factory-rated 510 lb-ft of torque available in 1970. Its unique quality was the rear seat, which Lenny had removed and replaced with a refrigerator. He sold cold Ale-8-One and bologna sandwiches at car shows for $2 apiece.
The legend of the Gravedigger stems from a night in 1975 when Lenny accepted a challenge from a Corvette owner at Seneca Park. Lenny won by three car lengths, but more importantly, his refrigerator door flew open at the finish line and deposited a shower of Ale-8-One bottles across the pavement. The Corvette owner spun out on green glass and ended up in a drainage ditch. Lenny stopped, sold him a sandwich, and helped push him out.
6. The Divorce Attorney — 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge
Owner: Herschel Wayne Blevins Jr., St. Matthews
Herschel was not a divorce attorney. He was an electrician. But his GTO had appeared in the parking lot of Bardstown Road Family Law so many times during his own protracted custody battle that everyone in the office started calling it “the divorce attorney.” The car was Carousel Red with “The Judge” graphics still intact, and its unique quality was a cassette deck that only played one tape: Merle Haggard’s “Okie from Muskogee,” on infinite repeat. The eject button had been broken since 1977.
Herschel’s defining moment came in 1982 when he arrived at family court, revved his engine in the parking garage until the building’s fire alarm went off, and emerged to find his court date postponed due to evacuation. He won the rescheduled hearing. He credited Merle.
7. Sweet Linda — 1970 Chevrolet El Camino SS 454
Owner: Delbert “Big Del” Marcum, Fairdale
Big Del named his El Camino after his first wife, his second wife, and his third wife, all of whom were coincidentally named Linda. The car was forest green with wood paneling on the bed walls—a custom touch Big Del called “sophisticated”—and its unique quality was a bed-mounted hot tub that could be filled via garden hose. It held four people uncomfortably or two people memorably.
The legend of Sweet Linda was born during the 1979 Gaslight Festival when Big Del, having filled the hot tub with warm water and invited three people from the beer tent to join him, drove the length of Bardstown Road at approximately seven miles per hour while his passengers waved at onlookers like homecoming royalty. A police officer pulled alongside, stared in silence for roughly fifteen seconds, and drove away. There was no applicable ordinance. Big Del had checked.
