Sometimes, you have to surprise yourself. Otherwise, those who read what you write are unlikely to be inspired. Peter “The Axe” Lundström’s 1969 ½ Plymouth Road Runner A12 gives me that opportunity, so I’m taking it. Welcome to a slightly different kind of car article.

Standard questions like “Tell me about the 440 engine” or “Why did you buy a Road Runner?” often serve a purpose. Every owner and car builder has their story, and it’s unique.

I thought for a moment about what Lundström said when I was photographing his Plymouth – that he wasn’t really interested in being interviewed. Or at least not being part of an article based on standard questions.

I open Outlook and see the email he sent. Dated “Stockholm 08-04-2024 in the middle of the night.” The subject reads “Some details about the A12” in all caps.

Lundström writes that a VIN number with the letter M in the fifth position from the left meant “Special order” in 1969. In this case, it meant a Road Runner with a 440 6-BBL, aluminum intake, and the special A12 hood. For Dodge’s equivalent, the Super Bee Six Pack, other letters and hoods apply.

Yes, that’s what he owns, an A12. It was only available for sale for less than half a year, hence the designation “1969 ½.” Of course, it comes with basic steel wheels and a complete lack of luxury extras. After all, this is a Road Runner we’re talking about, the prototype of muscle cars with a raw, stripped-down attitude.

The fact that Plymouth’s beast has more than enough muscle is hinted at by the automaker’s choice of rear axle. A12s always come with a Dana 60, with “crisp 4.10:1 gear ratio” to use Lundström’s own words. For a more authentic and slightly unruly driving experience, Lundström has fitted wobbly Redline tires on the steelies. Wobbly indeed. I take a test drive on the Norrortsleden north of Stockholm, and the Road Runner occasionally feels like it’s taking happy little sideways hops. The key is to stay calm and go with the flow rather than start lining up the car with the steering wheel.

Lundström continues his email by writing that what stands out about the A12 is the carburetors, three two-barrel Holleys. The total flow capacity for the three is 1,350 cfm, which is a lot for a 440. In the middle is the 350 cfm Holley, and it’s only under heavy throttle that the two 500s at the front and rear start working.

“It’s a regular 440 engine, but according to the specification, there are a few things that set it apart from a standard one. The lifters are made of different material, and it has a better camshaft. Pistons, rods, valve springs and the oil pump come from a HEMI^® V8. But these are mostly small things,” Lundström writes.

He then notes that this particular Road Runner has an unmarked replacement block, meaning it’s not matching numbers. “But it’s the next best thing since these cars usually got warranty replacement blocks if something broke,” Lundström writes.

Speaking of engine swaps, my thoughts suddenly wander back in time to the days before I received Lundström’s late-night email. When we were standing next to a building facade that looked like it was built from guard rails. Lundström pointed to the metal in front of the windshield where the ventilation grilles are located. It’s smooth and fine, but apparently, that’s not always the case with A12s.

“On some, the metal was slightly dented from the factory. This happened during the engine swap. The Road Runner originally had a 383. When A12 was on the order sheet and VIN tag, the car was rolled off, and a 440 was installed. Rumor has it that the mechanics braced their knee against the metal when they lifted the engines in and out during the swap. True or not, who knows?!” Lundström says with a grin on his face.

One of the most significant parts, besides the 440 engine, that sets a Road Runner A12 apart from a standard bird, is the hood. A so-called “lift-off” fiberglass hood that’s secured with four hood pins, and where especially proud A12 owners sometimes manifest this by placing four metal bars on the hood pins, then placing the hood on top of these. So, it almost looks like it’s floating. Well, at least if you squint and have a good imagination.

Lundström chuckles and says it’s a bit funny that there are more A12 hoods today than there are A12 cars. However, his own is supposed to be the real deal, albeit slightly weathered.

“I guess the hood was meant to scare other drivers back in the day. Now, everyone has hoods like this. Aftermarket stuff. This was the original when it came out. At least, that’s how I understand it,” Lundström says.

Aftermarket stuff, he said. It makes me wonder how many folks, a few years after buying their A12s, got tired of the steelies. The 15-inch, “heavy-duty” wheels with redline tires that the cars came with from the factory. The ones that make the Plymouth Road Runner A12 the matriarch of all steel-wheeled cars in the muscle car universe.

Lundström says he loves the “saga” that the A12 couldn’t be ordered with hubcaps. The tale of the ultimate muscle car with “the most horsepower for the least amount of cash,” no frills attached. Here, however, he’s only 99.9 percent right. The cars actually came with the luxurious option of “chrome lug nuts.”

I continue reading Lundström’s email and come to the part where this specific A12’s history is recounted. The car was bought new by a Gary Garver in the USA. He was one of three brothers, and all three bought a Road Runner each at the same time, but Gary went all out and invested in the coolest version. After a while, the car was sold and parts were stripped off. Lundström says it’s unclear what parts left the mothership, but they are said to have ended up on one of the brothers’ Plymouths. The car was then sold back to Gary, only to be sold again after some adventures with a friend of one of Gary’s brothers, who restored it to its original condition. However, it’s also unclear here with which parts – maybe original, maybe not.

Later, a guy from Stockholm imported the car to Sweden. The year was 1982. After that, there were two more owners until Lundström bought the car in early March 2007.

“So, I’m the fourth owner in Sweden since the A12 came here. I’ve talked to all the previous owners and even visited them,” Lundström says.

He then adds that he has deliberately left out all names except the first owner in the email.

Before it’s time to wrap up, Lundström recounts the story of the 1969 ½ Plymouth Road Runner A12 in numbers. A total of 797 cars were built, 422 with manual transmissions and 375 with automatics (like Lundström’s Road Runner).

“I saw in the numbers that there were always more manual transmissions built than automatics. Do you want more figures on the A12s, like totals? Super Bee A12 and coupe, HT, etc.? Is that maybe too much? Who can handle that as a reader? Well, as I understand it, there are only three A12s in Europe. But let’s say a handful, like five, so we avoid an outcry… Yes, and two handfuls, or maybe a few more, like ten or so, of Super Bee A12s in Europe,” Lundström adds.

So, the email was read. Considered. Marinated. Partially reproduced. The accompanying SMS conversation some time later as well. I note that Lundström writes that Urban “Ubbe” Lindström at Urban’s Garage in Vikarbyn in Sweden has restored the A12. I also note that the job is well done and that the Road Runner is incredibly beautiful in the afternoon light with its “Jamaica Blue Metallic, Color Code B7” paint.

But above all, I read the last words in our SMS conversation again. They say, “Write well and put the pedal to the metal”.

That’s poetry in motion.