These Conjoined Plymouth Voyagers Are Confusing on Every Possible Level
What in the world?
Even if you aren't the right age to remember when Nickelodeon's Catdog was on TV, the show's name alone kinda gives away its premise: a pair of characters—one a cat and the other a dog—with a single body and diametrically opposed personalities. It's a dynamic not often explored in the medium of animation, and one even less frequently so in that of the car. But out in Wilmington, New York, there's a Plymouth Voyager for sale that does just that, with conjoined front ends ready to pull it in either direction at entirely too high a speed.
As made evident in its listing on Facebook Marketplace, this Plymouth was assembled from a pair of Voyager minivans' front ends, each with their own separate engine and transmission. Both powertrains, however, share a single fuel tank, exhaust, and ignition system, so firing one to life brings the other online as well. Each drivetrain seems to be controlled independently, however, as the seller says the car "goes both ways."
While interior photos show column-mounted automatic shifters, these don't make it easy to guess which engine(s) power this peculiar Plymouth. Its ad states it to be a 1986, though it's clearly made from two second-generation Voyagers, which were sold across the 1991 to 1995 model years. A mix of 1991-only jutting door handles on one half and dual front airbags—a 1994 revision—on the other make it still harder to identify the engines, as they could be any combination of the four available with automatics in that period.
Messaging the seller has yet to pay off with any insight on this car's makeup or purpose, though digging into the emblems on its body may shed some light on its history. While there definitely is no Cairo Highway Patrol, the logo on the hood is definitely that of the Shriners Hospitals for Children—you know, those dudes in fezzes who ride around on tiny cars at every Labor Day parade. Contacting the organization's national HQ directed us to the Cairo Shriners, a division based not out of the upstate NY hamlet, but the not-so-nearby Rutland, Vermont.
Not only would that explain the paper "Vermont" plate on the Plymouth's front bumper, it may also explain why the car exists in the first place. Just some silly promotional vehicle made for parades, potentially from cars written off by insurers.
That'd also explain why its seller says it "is not eligible to be road legal"—not that a car with a steering wheel at either end is the safest to drive on the streets in the first place. As is, it's little more than a novelty, and as novelties go, it's not priced particularly affordably at $6,500. Then again, it's not every day you see what's practically a ready-made demolition derby or 24 Hours of Lemons car (the two are sometimes interchangeable) come up for sale.
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h/t: Rafi Ward
