My first Hagerty column, published in March of 2019, was titled “How to Score a Derelict Project Car from a Skeptical Stranger.” Well, here we are again, huddled around one such car. I’m older, allegedly wiser, and my advice is pretty much the same: make friends with the owner. One other bit of advice that I might add: Master the art of mindful apathy.

In this manner, I’ve been passively looking for an AMC Eagle for the past 23 years. Very passively.

The Eagle has always fascinated a strange corner of my already strange brain. There is something appealing about a car that tries to do everything, albeit none of it expertly. The Sundancer convertible version is probably the best example I can think of—a Malaise predecessor to the Murano Cross Cab. I want that AMC Eagle extra, extra badly. I never really searched for one because I figured the right Eagle would eventually find me.

Recently, one came my way at a price I absolutely could not refuse. It all happened while my family and I were away visiting my parents up at their lake cabin in Virginia, over the Fourth of July holiday. How fitting. USA! USA!

As I was sitting on the porch, sipping coffee and catching up on the Foundry/car commune “news” (aka security camera footage), one member, Sam, put out an APB in our group chat that an ’81 AMC Eagle—which we had all witnessed appear once at the shop—was currently for sale.

The price? $1500. I considered it for a brief moment, ogling it in my mind’s eye. A kind of mental test drive. I was the first to respond. Sold!

Why exactly was this particular wagon, lifted and standing on its tippy-toes, so attractive when I had previously sworn to the Car Gods not to buy any more cars? For starters, it was capable of driving to the shop right away, without the assistance of a tow. Secondly, did I mention it was lifted two inches and rode on 31-inch tires with steel wheels?

You already know where this is going.

I arranged to meet the owner on the Monday after the holiday. I spent much of my vacation week hankering for said Eagle.

On the drive home, our toddler seemed to be transforming into a demon, not to mention I was dealing with the looming dread of everything I had forgotten to put away before leaving home. Then there was the home’s empty fridge, the impending bad weather… I pushed the Eagle meeting back a couple of hours.

Around the time I had finished cleaning up a bag of red potatoes that had liquefied in dry storage, the heavens opened up. When my wife was satisfied with the quality of my cleanup—and my agreement to do all of the grocery shopping after the Eagle transaction was complete—I was released.

In the meantime, I had dispatched a shop gremlin to sample the AMC. The Eagle dutifully validated its driving abilities amid a pitch-black and rain-soaked test drive, thereby proving its lighting, defroster, and wiper systems. When I arrived at the shop, the whole crew was already there—not waiting for the Eagle, but rather anticipating Thomas’ resurrection of a 1970s two-stroke Kawasaki dirt bike. The Eagle was merely a sideshow.

When it pulled up to the shop in the deluge, I got the full rundown.

The owner, Patrick, had accepted a job in Virginia and had to move on from the car. Over the three years he owned it, he re-geared it to 3.55s, lifted it, painted the trim black, and stripped off the faded woodgrain. In looking over what he had elected to do with the car, I was pretty impressed. We’re talking about a grand-and-a-half American Motors product here, I know, but everything he touched or repaired was done nicer than it really needed to be.

The crew informed me of an oil leak, but those can usually be overcome (read: lived with) via enthusiasm. Something, something “rear main seal,” but I wasn’t really paying attention. I had other things to worry about. Just check out that minty interior—and the tiny bear-shaped bottle opener on the bumper!

I hadn’t really anticipated anything beyond an oil-hemorrhaging 4.2-liter straight-six, but it actually looked quite tidy. The big, long blue engine had a new battery, a brass heater shutoff valve, a Motorcraft 2100 carburetor conversion… even a mild camshaft. The standard single-speed transfer case had been replaced with a manually shifted two-speed unit from a Wagoneer, hooked up to the 904 TorqueFlite transmission.

I waited until daylight the next day to bring it home and introduce it to my wife and nearly 2-year-old car-obsessed son, August.

August seemed most interested in the tiny bear-shaped bottle opener on the bumper, and my wife seemed neutral about it. Maybe even positive, should I elect to change the wheel-and-tire combination. It may have had something to do with me threatening to buy a Daihatsu Charade that I found in Virginia… as long as it’s still parked where I last saw it in 2006.

So now what? I’m happy to have such a practical family wagon. It runs, drives, stops, and seemingly needs very little to enjoy. Maybe just an A/C service and a rear main seal, to start.

I’m also pleased to report that the Daihatsu hasn’t moved in 20 years. Maybe it’s time to leave a note.

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