Her presence left men speechless, and she became an unforgettable icon for America’s car enthusiasts.
But who was Jungle Pam Hardy, and why is her legend still alive today?
Even though her time in drag racing lasted only four years, Jungle Pam’s name has stayed famous for almost four decades.
Jungle Pam Hardy was more than just a pretty face in 1970s drag racing. Known for her beauty and charm, Pam brought a special style to the track that fans loved just as much as the roaring engines.
In a time when drag racing was about real skill and thrilling excitement, she captured the spirit of the era. She was part of the golden age of drag racing—when drivers controlled their cars, not computers. Many believe she added a level of beauty to drag racing that no one else has matched.
Backing up the famous Jungle Jim’s race car in her signature shorts and tank top, Pam excited fans as much as the cars did back then.
**Road to Stardom**
You can’t talk about Jungle Pam without mentioning her legendary partner, Jim Liberman, the daring drag racer known as “Jungle Jim.”
Liberman, who started driving at age 12, was famous for his showmanship and was a big name in U.S. drag racing. Many still say he was the best showman on the drag strip.
Pam’s story begins in May 1972—just two weeks before she was set to graduate high school.
Liberman saw the beautiful young woman hitchhiking while driving his yellow Corvette, and that’s where it all started. Pam had plans to attend West Chester University of Pennsylvania to study business. But instead, she fell for Jim and joined him on the road.
“I ditched the college that had accepted me, and it drove my mother nuts,” she later recalled.
Touring the country together, Jim and Pam became a powerful team in the drag racing world, with his bold showmanship and her magnetic presence. Jim Liberman originally wanted Pam to position his funny car at the starting line, knowing it would grab the audience’s attention — and it certainly did.
“Well, sex sells,” Pam told *Competition Plus*. “You see it on TV all the time, but back in the ’70s, Jungle and I thought it would be worth trying, so we did. It didn’t hurt his reputation at all. In fact, more pictures were taken of his car as long as I was standing next to it.”
Pam was not only stunning but often braless, usually wearing a tank top or skimpy halter with extremely short jean shorts.
**Most Famous Figure on the Drag Strip**
Before long, she went from being unknown to becoming the most famous woman on the drag strip. Her rise was so impressive that she even appeared on the cover of *Hot Rod Magazine*, the first woman ever to do so. The cheers when Pam walked onto the track often surpassed the applause for the top drivers.
“I’m kind of amazed by all the attention,” she said in 1974.
But Pam was more than just a pretty face, as some might think. She staged the car, checked it for fluid leaks before each run, filled the block with water and eight quarts of 70W oil, packed the parachutes after every race, and helped Jim position his car after burnouts.
Her presence left men speechless, and she became an unforgettable icon for America’s motor enthusiasts.
But who was Jungle Pam Hardy, and why does her legend continue today?
Even though her time in drag racing lasted only four years, Jungle Pam’s name has remained iconic for nearly four decades.
Jungle Pam Hardy was more than just a pretty face in 1970s drag racing. Known for her charisma and beauty, she brought a unique flair to the track that captivated fans as much as the roaring engines.
In an era when drag racing was all about raw talent and excitement, Pam embodied that spirit. She was there during the golden age of drag racing—when drivers controlled their cars instead of computers. Many say she brought a kind of beauty to the sport that has never been matched.
Backing up the legendary Jungle Jim’s race car in her signature shorts and tank top, Pam thrilled fans as much as the cars did.
**Road to Stardom**
You can’t talk about Jungle Pam without mentioning her famous partner, Jim Liberman, the flamboyant drag racer known as “Jungle Jim.”
Liberman, who started driving at 12, was a huge name in U.S. drag racing. Many still believe he was the greatest showman the drag strip has ever seen.
Pam’s story began in May 1972—just two weeks before she graduated high school. Liberman spotted her hitchhiking while driving his yellow Corvette, and fate took over. Pam had plans to attend West Chester University to major in business, but instead, she fell for Jim and joined him on the road.
“I ditched the college that had accepted me, and it drove my mother nuts,” she recalled.
**A Dynamic Duo**
Touring the country together, Jim and Pam became a dynamic duo in the drag racing world, with his showmanship and her magnetic presence. Jim had Pam stage his funny car at the starting line, knowing it would grab the audience’s attention — and it did.
“Well, sex sells,” Pam told *Competition Plus*. “Back in the ’70s, Jungle and I decided together that it was worth a shot. It didn’t hurt his reputation at all, and he got more pictures of his car as long as I was standing next to it.”
Pam was not only stunning but often braless, usually wearing a tank top or skimpy halter and tiny jean shorts.
**Most Famous Figure on the Drag Strip**
Pam quickly transformed from unknown to the most famous woman on the drag strip. She even appeared on the cover of *Hot Rod Magazine*, the first woman to do so. The cheers Pam received when she stepped onto the track often outdid those for the drivers.
“I’m amazed by all the attention,” she said in 1974.
But Pam wasn’t just a pretty face. She staged the car, checked it for leaks before every run, filled it with water and oil, packed parachutes after each race, and helped Jim position the car after burnouts.
“We put on a good show,” Pam said. “It wasn’t about me. It was about us.”
Pam was described as “a stroke of genius,” and many were impressed that Jim had turned her into a true racing enthusiast, helping raise the profile of the sport and Jim’s team.
In the world of drag racing, Jim and Pam stood out. While Jim won several championships, he was best known for his vibrant personality and, of course, his stunning girlfriend.
“Our relationship was a flash in the pan, a bolt of lightning. It just worked,” Pam told *Fox Sports*.
But everything changed on September 9, 1977.
**Jim Dies**
Three days before his 32nd birthday, Jim was racing his 1972 yellow Corvette at 250 mph when he crashed into a bus.
He died instantly, and it took rescuers 45 minutes to remove his body from the wreck.
“It was my mother who called me because she didn’t want me to hear it on the news,” Pam told *CompetitionPlusTV*.
The tragic accident shook the motorsports community. Afterward, Pam made the hard decision to leave drag racing, vowing never to work with another driver again
Yet, Pam quietly dedicated herself to keeping Jim Liberman’s memory alive. She often participated in memorial events honoring her late boyfriend.
“All that showmanship was his real personality,” Pam said. “He didn’t just turn it on at the track and become normal at home. He had that flair even when we were just at the house or out somewhere. You could always feel his presence wherever he was.”
On a personal level, Pam moved on. Being a racing lover, she later married Funny Car owner Fred Frey. After their divorce, she married Bill Hodgson, who tunes George Reidnauer’s Excalibur Corvette Nostalgia Funny Car.
**The Truth Behind the Photos**
Looking through old drag racing photos from the 1970s is like stepping back in time. These pictures capture not just the loud engines and bright colors of the era but also the spirit of a community united by a passion for speed and excitement.
Jungle Pam broke new ground, showing that women could earn respect in a male-dominated sport while bringing smiles and joy to many. She had a life that just doesn’t happen anymore—a woman of undeniable class, living life on her own terms. What more could anyone ask for?
Neighbors Made Me Put up a Fence to Hide an ‘Ugly’ Car in My Yard – A Week Later, They Begged Me to Remove It
I didn’t quite see my neighbors’ vintage ’67 Chevy Impala the same way, but to me it was more than just a rusty heap. What was supposed to be a fight over a “eyesore” developed into something none of us saw coming. It altered our peaceful suburban street in ways we never would have imagined.
My dad left me an ancient, beat-up 1967 Chevy Impala. I saw it as a project I wanted to restore and a reminder of my father, even though most people just saw it as a rusted automobile. My garage was piled high with tools and spare components, so the automobile sat in my yard. I’d been trying to save money and find time to work on it, but I knew it looked awful.
But my neighbors were far more concerned about this than I was. I was out inspecting the Impala one bright afternoon when I suddenly remembered something. Gus, my dad, was demonstrating how to change the oil. He smiled, his thick mustache twitching. “You see, Nate? It isn’t complicated science. Simply perseverance and hard work,” he had stated. A piercing voice jolted me back to reality as I was lost in thinking as I ran my fingers over the worn paint. A man leaning against a vintage car’s front end.
Please pardon me, Nate. Could we discuss about that? I turned to see my next-door neighbor, Karen, pointing disgustingly at the Impala. Hello, Karen. What’s going on?” Knowing where this was going, I asked.”That vehicle. It is aesthetically offensive. With crossed arms, she remarked, “It’s destroying the appearance of our street.” I exhaled. “I realize it appears rough right now, but I intend to fix it. It was my dad’s, but Karen cut him off, saying, “I don’t care whose it was.” It must be removed. or at the very least remain unseen. She pivoted and marched back to her house before I could reply.
As I watched her leave, I noticed a knot in my stomach. I vented to my girlfriend Heather over dinner later that night. “Do you think she’s real? “It seems as though she is unaware of the significance this car holds for me,” I remarked, picking at my salad. Squeezing my hand, Heather reached across the table. “I understand, sweetie. However, would you try working on it a little bit more quickly? simply to demonstrate to them your progress? I nodded, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that easy. Time was of the essence, and parts were costly.
When I returned home a week later, I discovered a notice from the city hidden beneath the wiper on my “offending” car. As I read it, my stomach fell. The general idea was to either remove the car or conceal it behind a fence. I clenched the piece of paper in my hand, feeling a surge of rage within. This was absurd. I required guidance. I picked up my friend Vince, who also loves cars. “Hey, buddy, have a moment? I’d like your opinion on something. Okay, what’s going on? Vince’s voice came across the phone crackling. I described the circumstances, becoming more irritated as I spoke. Before he spoke, Vince was silent for a while.
He spoke carefully and added, “Build the fence, but add a twist.” “What do you mean?” I curiously inquired.”You’ll discover. This weekend, I’ll be here. This will provide for some enjoyable times. Vince arrived that weekend with a truck full of paint and wood. For the next two days, we worked on erecting a towering fence to enclose my front yard. Vince told me about his strategy as we worked together. “We’re going to decorate this fence with a mural of the Impala. Every rust mark, every ding. We’ll make sure they remember the car if they decide to hide it. Loved the idea, I smiled. “Let’s get started.”On Sunday, we painted. Even though none of us was artistic, we were able to replicate the Impala on the fence really well.
For added effect, we even made some of the flaws seem worse. I was satisfied with my work when we took a step back to admire it. I decided to find out what the neighbors thought of this. It didn’t take me long to learn. There came a knock on my door the following afternoon. When I opened it, a cluster of neighbors surrounding Karen as she stood there. Their expressions were a peculiar mix of desperation and rage. “Nate, we need to talk about the fence,” Karen said in a tight voice. Hiding my delight, I leaned against the doorframe. How about it? I followed your instructions.
The automobile is now hidden.An older man called Frank, one of the other neighbors, raised his voice. We understand that we requested you to conceal the car, but this mural is simply too much, son. I arched an eyebrow. “Too much? In what way? Karen let out a deep sigh. “It’s more awful than the car itself. It appears as though you’ve transformed your entire yard into… “A show of art?” Unable to control my sarcasm, I made a suggestion. “A disgrace,” Karen firmly concluded. “We would prefer to see the actual car instead of this… monstrosity.”Maybe a little too much, I enjoyed their anguish as I crossed my arms. Now, allow me to clarify. You made me spend money on a fence after complaining about my automobile, and now you want me to pull it down? They all gave bashful nods.
After giving it some thinking, I decided to remove the fence—but only under one condition. As long as I’m working on fixing the car, you guys promise to quit whining about it. Alright?They glanced at one another before grudgingly agreeing. I could hear them whispering to each other as they left. I started tearing down the fence the following day. Some of my neighbors were seeing me work with interest. Even Tom, one of them, stopped over to talk. “I never really looked at that car before, Nate,” he remarked, pointing to the Impala. However, after getting a closer look, I can see that it has potential. Which year is it?I grinned, always up for a conversation about the car. It’s a 1967. When I was a little child, my dad purchased it. Tom gave a grateful nod. Good. My brother has a thing for vintage autos.
In the event that you require assistance with the restoration, I might contact him. I took aback at the offer. That would be fantastic. Regards, Tom. In the ensuing weeks, word of my initiative grew. To my astonishment, a number of neighborhood auto aficionados began dropping by to examine the Impala and provide guidance or assistance. I was working on the engine one Saturday morning when I heard a familiar voice behind me. “So, this is the well-known vehicle, huh?” I turned to see Karen standing there, intrigued yet seeming uneasy. I wiped my hands with a cloth and remarked, “Yep, this is her.” Karen moved in closer, staring at the motor. “I must admit that my knowledge of autos is quite limited.
How are you spending your time? Startled by her curiosity, I gave the bare outline of the project I was working on. More neighbors flocked around to listen and ask questions while we conversed. My yard quickly became the scene of an unplanned block party. A cooler full of drinks was brought out, and individuals started talking about their early automotive experiences or their recollections of owning vintage automobiles. I was surrounded by my neighbors as the sun was setting, and we were all conversing and laughing. Karen seems to be having fun as well. Looking at the Impala in the lovely evening light, it seemed better than ever, while still being rusty and battered up.
I couldn’t help but think about how much my father would have enjoyed this scene.Speaking to the group, I remarked, “You know, my dad always said a car wasn’t just a machine.” It was a narrative reimagined. Considering how many stories this old girl has brought out today, I believe he would be quite pleased. There were lifted glasses and murmurs of agreement. I noticed something as I turned to face my neighbors, who were now my pals. Despite all of the difficulty it had caused, this car had ultimately brought us all together. Though the restoration was still a long way off, I sensed that the voyage ahead would be much more pleasurable. Who knows?
Perhaps a whole neighborhood full of vintage vehicle lovers would be eager to go for a drive by the time the Impala was ready to hit the road. I lifted my cup. “To wonderful cars and good neighbors,” I uttered. Everyone applauded, and while I was surrounded by smiles and lively chatter, it occurred to me that sometimes the greatest restorations involve more than simply automobiles. They also care about the community. How would you have responded in that situation?
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