1942 Willys Americar Gasser

This car, Lot F139, sold for $66,000, including buyer’s premium, at Mecum’s 29th Original Spring Classic sale in Indianapolis, IN, on May 17–21.

This 1942 Willys Gasser may be the perfect embodiment of what separates hot-rodders and drag racers from everyone else. Appropriately enough, this beauty is even wearing the same facial expression most people will have when you tell them it was damn near stolen at sixty large. Try it. Tell me their mouths don’t go all slack-jawed as they try to determine whether or not you’re crazy.

Just look at this thing. It is likely horrendously loud, terrifying to drive, and an absolute bear to keep tuned properly. But if you’re anything like me, you’re running through a mental checklist of personal possessions you’d be willing to liquidate to make this monster your own.

Analog overkill

I find it difficult to look at this car without equal parts admiration and astonishment — the former for the purposefulness and simplicity of a time long past, and the latter for the sobering recognition of how absolutely bananas this car really is.

There probably weren’t many men or women who could’ve raced this car safely back in the late ’60s. I can absolutely guarantee there are even fewer today. With big power, evil handling and odd ergonomics, this is not a car for rookies or Cars & Coffee burnout wannabes. Do not tap the glass. Do not feed the animal.

There is a lot of ink and digital blogosphere space dedicated to the modern muscle and supercars of today’s renaissance of automotive performance. But if I’m completely honest about it, none of that is really all that exciting to me. Maybe I’m growing jaded with age, or maybe I’m just sick of everyone and everything telling me what I can or should do — or guessing what I intend to do. I don’t want my car to read my emails to me. I don’t want my car to politely remind me that I’m backing up. Maybe that’s why I love this Willys so much.

This car will kill you if you check your email while driving it. This car barks like a junkyard Rottweiler at everyone within three square blocks when you’re backing up. If ever there were a vehicle capable of reducing a man and his ego to a smoldering pile of rubble, this bad-boy would be damn near the top of the list.

Chasing the speed monster

How nuts is this thing? Just look at that brake-to-throttle-to-shifter configuration. And that steering column. Who thought that was a good idea? I’ll tell ya who — a mad man who made a deal with the Devil, sucker-punched him, and then took his lunch money for taking too long to forge the document. I imagine the original build plan looked a little something like this:

1. Locate throttle pedal where only acceptably comfortable position results in immediate wide-open condition — check.

2. Position steering column at sufficiently steep angle as to initiate instant self-preservation instinct upon engagement — check.

3. Consume all remaining available floor space with brake pedal — check.

Functional, yes. But would you really want to let that Cammer loose while pawing at that wheel to keep the short-wheelbase chassis out of the wall? How about while simultaneously working the brake with your left foot and the gas with your right?

None of these items are out of the ordinary for a legit gasser from the era. It took equal parts engineering, driving skill and fearlessness to win in those days, and while a car like this may be too hairy for a lot of us today, you can’t deny its cool factor.

Right money for the right stuff

I won’t deny that $60,000 is a lot of money to spend on a nightmarish, OG hooligan machine that can’t be trusted farther than you can throw it, but it really feels like a deal. There’s very little in the way of industry-accepted pricing for items like this, but there’s plenty here to justify the expense.

First off, an original steel Willys body is easily one of the top five most iconic body styles in the history of hot rods and street rodding. In fact, it’s one of the few bodies that collectors and enthusiasts have been so smitten with that they’re readily willing to accept fiberglass imitations as suitable replacements. With two-thirds of the original body intact and in solid condition and a mostly complete interior to boot, this old girl has a leg up on 95% of the Willys I’ve seen in the past couple of decades.

Second off, we haven’t even begun to talk about that Cammer. I’ve been doing my best to avoid waxing poetic about that giant lump of mechanical aphrodisiac for fear I won’t be able to stop once I start. The 427 SOHCs are super rare, often outrageously expensive, and are almost universally viewed as top-shelf collectibles. I’ve heard rumors of complete, stand-alone engines selling for more than the price paid here, so our buyer is likely in good shape even if the rest of the car is nothing more than a glorified engine stand.

The downside to this ride, if there is one, is that there simply is very little in the way of authenticated history in the sale literature. I’d love to assume that this car is a very original snapshot of one of the most influential periods in American automotive history — and it certainly looks the part — but we just can’t know for sure based on the information we’ve been given.

For some, that’s a deal breaker. In this case — and at this price — I think lack of pedigree is easily compensated for by the authenticity of the presentation. This car has the right body and the right engine to take us back to that time when short-wheelbase monsters roamed the Earth, and that is a feat worth celebrating. Well bought.

(Introductory description courtesy of Mecum Auctions.)