In 1969 a talented European race car technician named Robert Solorzano found himself pondering a purchase that most of his coworkers considered ludicrous: an American muscle car. Though constantly surrounded by some of the continent's finest high-strung and expensive race cars from Ferrari, Lola, and Jaguar, Robert couldn't help gravitating back toward the cars he'd lusted after in his youth.
Robert was born and raised stateside and cut his teeth building and tuning Fords, Chevys, and Dodges. His talent scored him a job offer full of promise--provided he was willing to relocate to Europe. For a while, he did fine, adjusting to the banshee shriek of 12 tiny cylinders versus the deep, primal percussion only eight big bores can provide, but the often overly complex and finicky engines left him longing for the simpler, large-displacement V-8s. One car in particular crossed his mind more than any other: the Dodge Charger. He'd always wanted one, and the comparatively large, slab-sided, blunt-nosed body was the ideal antithesis of everything Robert was surrounded by. No one would understand it, but it didn't matter--that would actually be half the fun. Ignoring derision from friends, he ultimately decided to make the leap, bought one, and had it shipped to Italy.
When it arrived, Robert was pleased with the big B-Body and all the stares it garnered, but just like any red-blooded gearhead, he immediately began making a mental list of modifications he wanted to do. Getting American parts would be difficult and costly, but he already had a plan: He'd use what was at hand and incorporate parts and ideas taken from the race cars he worked on. Most would come from the Ferrari marquee, but he'd also borrow from Lola and Jaguar.
At least that's the yarn Steve Strope spun for the real Robert Solorzano over a cup of coffee in his office at Pure Vision Design in Simi Valley, California, to help explain the mental picture he had been developing for his proposed project car. Robert soaked in the concept as he stared at the rendering Steve had commissioned. He loved it; the car was exactly what he had been waiting for.
Robert had first come to Steve after falling in love with his work on Hammer, the '70 Plymouth Road Runner Steve built for Eric Reed. Initially he'd been saving and planning to build his Charger into a General Lee clone, but Hammer's artful blending of European elegance and flair with classic Detroit iron caused a 180-degree spin in thought. Robert visited Pure Vision with a small silver model of a Charger in hand and asked Steve to help him flesh out his new vision. Pure Vision had previous obligations at the time that would backlog the shop for the next couple of years, but Robert was resolute in his decision. He put down a deposit and asked Steve to put his Charger in line and let him know as soon as he could begin. Honored by Robert's determination, Steve made extra effort to get the Charger in as soon as possible.
Far from pristine, Robert's faded yellow 440-equipped '69 RT/SE Charger had plenty of wear and tear and rust holes that would require some quality time at the body shop. Starting with a different car would have been much easier, but this one had been Robert's object of obsession for 10 years. It took a two-year search to find it and Robert smiled ear-to-ear while driving it home, despite nearly passing out from exhaust fumes floating up through the floorboards. Robert survived that first trip, but the Charger never cranked again. He'd spent his last dime on it and decided to just tuck it away and start saving money again. Now, a decade later, with a burgeoning new performance parts company called Purpose Built (www.purposebuilt.com), Robert was finally ready to clean out the Christmas decorations and empty beer cans and remove the Charger from its "garage black hole," as he likes to call it.
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