Welcome to This Week on Hagerty Marketplace, a recurring recap of the previous week’s most noteworthy cars and significant sales from the Hagerty Marketplace online auctions.

It was another busy week on Hagerty Marketplace, but this trio of rides—one of the last great Packards, a brown-over-brown Lincoln Continental Mark III, and a delightful example of Volkswagen’s droptop Cabriolet—piqued our curiosity. Let’s explore each offering a bit further.

1956 Packard Four Hundred Hardtop Coupe

Sold for $16,168

By 1954, the once-great Packard car company was forced to merge with Studebaker to survive. Following the merger, Packard sought to redefine itself with bold new models for 1955–56, penned by young designer Richard Teague. The new cars featured full-width grilles, expansive front glass, tri-color paint schemes, and more. The Four Hundred Hardtop Coupe was the company’s ritziest ride but ultimately failed to reverse the firm’s downward trend, selling just 3224 units in 1956.

The example seen here is one of the last aspirational Packards to leave an assembly line. It was the 849th Four Hundred model produced in 1956. Power comes from a 372 cubic-inch V-8 that made 290 horsepower. The two-tone Dover White and Scottish Heather paint still looks fantastic, especially for a car that reportedly was stored for 20 years and saw rare use. Once the new owner handles some necessary prep work, this should be a delightful cruiser for years to come.

1970 Lincoln Continental Mark III

Sold for $8,828

When Ford President Lee Iacocca commissioned Ford’s Advance Design Office to create a two-door personal car for the luxury space in 1965, he wanted to see something resembling the handcrafted Continental Mark II of the 1950s. The resulting luxury coupe, which debuted in 1968 with a long hood, short rear deck, lavish grille, and integrated spare tire was an immediate hit with buyers, immediately outselling the Cadillac Eldorado. By 1970 the Mark III received a handful of upgrades such as new wheel covers, concealed windshield wipers, genuine walnut veneers on the instrument panel, and more.

Seen here is an example of that light update. This brown-over-brown car seems purpose-built for our in-house Lincoln and brown car aficionado, Senior Editor Sajeev Mehta. (We checked and can confirm that he is not, in fact, the new owner of this car—much to his chagrin.) This Mark III shows just 29,097 miles on the clock, meaning there’s lots of life left for this 460 cubic-inch V-8. It, too, sat for around 20 years, so it will need a once-over before it’s ready to waft about once more. Still, from a dollar-per-square-inch, or dollar-per-horsepower standpoint, it’s hard to beat this cruiser for value.

1989 Volkswagen Best Seller Wolfsburg Limited Edition Cabriolet

Sold for $17,758

Filling shoes as big as those left by the Volkswagen Beetle is a tall task, but in 1980, the newly-debuted Volkswagen Rabbit Convertible attempted to do just that. It was an immediate hit, soldiering on for five lovely years before a name change that came from the Golf replacing the Rabbit here in the U.S. The convertible model was henceforth referred to as the Cabriolet.

Following a 1988 facelift, a few trims were offered, but the most sought-after was the Wolfsburg Limited Edition, which was based on the Best Seller trim. Wolfsburg-trimmed Cabbies received special Star Blue Metallic paint, a unique “Helios” blue velour interior, and a dark blue soft top, creating a one-year-only color combo that quickly became collectible.

Looking at this example, listed with 68,852 original miles, it’s not hard to see why these little charmers were so desirable. The 1.8-liter, 90-horsepower inline-four isn’t what we’d call a rocket, but this lithe car didn’t need much power to be enjoyable. Features include a heated glass rear window in the soft top, dual remote control side mirrors, a folding rear seat with trunk access, and more. Though the paint, which is believed to be original, shows a few nicks and signs of patina, we’d reckon there aren’t many more enjoyable ways to take in the summer sun.

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The post This Week on Hagerty Marketplace: Post-Merger Packard, Maximum Brown Continental, Charming Cabriolet appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Put yourself in the shoes of a product planner at Ford during the 1980s. It must have been a great gig by the time 1985 came around, when this particular Lincoln Continental was in production. After all, your company’s stock price has tripled since the beginning of the decade. People wanted to buy these fresh-faced Fords over their competition, and your role at the company can take some credit for it.

Every year since 1981 had been a smashing success, and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew it. The 1981 Ford Escort “World Car” was a gamble that paid off with over 400,000 units sold in 1985 alone. The 1982 Continental was a brilliant blend of cost-engineered downsizing and flagship Fox Body engineering, with sales five times higher than the outgoing Versailles. (An admittedly low bar, but still a noteworthy accomplishment.)

The 1983 Thunderbird was a bellwether for the revolution of aerodynamic design and European-ish road manners, while the 1983 Ranger sold over a quarter million units in its freshman year. This was definitely a good time to work in Dearborn.

The hits kept coming. In 1984, something on par with the Ranger’s success happened for the Lincoln brand. The Continental Mark VII didn’t necessarily set the world on fire, but it provided a new baseline for how a personal luxury coupe should look and perform. To compare the Mark VII to a 4.1-liter Cadillac Eldorado is disingenuous. It’s an insult to mention one and the same breath as a K-car based Chrysler LeBaron. It was closer to a Mercedes SEC (C126) than anything from America.

Continuing that Ford truck analogy for Lincoln in the 1980s, if the composite-headlight Mark VII was a fresh-faced Ranger, then the wildly popular Town Car was akin to the iconic F-150.

That puts the 1984-87 Continental and its retro Rococo styling in a difficult spot, as its 1984 redesign wasn’t terribly different than the now-dated, neoclassic 1982 model. It threaded a difficult needle, getting lost in all the hype and fame given to other Fords of the era.

This is where I mention Project Valentino, as it has parts from a yellow-ish beige 1984 Continental donor car. The 1984-87 body style never did it for me, but it certainly possessed items that I needed for a restomod. The later Fox Contis are odd mix of give and take from my jaded viewpoint, likely best explained in a list of attributes. So here are the items Lincoln added to the redesigned 1984 Continental:

• Four corner, computer controlled air suspension
• Rear anti-roll bar
• EEC-IV engine computer
• Power front vent windows
• Power trunk pull-down
• A front end almost as ramp-like as the rear
• Bumpers that look suspiciously similar to the Mark VII
• Multi-function overhead console
• New door trim with (optional) real wood veneers
• Power recliners and (optional) seat heaters
• Rear seat heat ducts
• Push button electronic climate control

To aid the transition, here’s what they “took” from the 1983 model:

• Aluminum hood
• Engine temperature gauge
• External, backlit thermometer
• Spring-loaded chrome fender trim (to give the bumpers a wraparound look, but emerge unscathed in a frontal or rearward impact)
• Aircraft style, adjustable reading lights for rear passengers
• Bespoke cast iron front wishbone suspension

Those front wishbones were then donated to the European-influenced, turbocharged 1984 Mustang SVO. Knowing that fact brings some irony to the following Motorweek Retro Review: While it’s about the 1985 Continental, the video starts with the Mustang Vignale show car based on said SVO.

Was this brilliant work of foreshadowing actually an editing choice on the part of Motorweek’s Social Media team? Do they love 1982-83 Continental engineering as much as yours truly, or is this all just coincidence?

All joking aside, Motorweek host John Davis pushes hard on advancements “that few foreign cars can offer.” That might be a stretch to some, but he proved the point by discussing the innovative air suspension and spent an inordinate amount of time on the unique ABS brakes for 1985. The latter included everything from detailed explanations to brilliant B-roll footage of ABS in action.(Some literature suggests anti-lock brakes were a mid-year upgrade to 1985 Continentals and Mark VIIs, and only if they were not equipped with the BMW-Steyr turbodiesel engine. I suspect this Motorweek video was filmed closer to 1986, when the Corvette also received ABS as standard equipment.)

But the 1985 Conti’s hardware was never tuned for blatant high performance, so explaining all the interior gadgets that owners can show off to friends with flagship BMW and Mercedes products (with more austere interiors) was a smart play. Motorweek also noted the clumsy AOD transmission performance, and called the styling “neo-nauseous.”

Considering this is the era of the ballyhooed Ford Taurus, such a phrase is a journalistic sick burn worthy of a TikTok throw down. And Motorweek likely got away with it by Ford’s judgmental eyes, as the deck lid emblem on this particular 1985 Continental Givenchy designer series suggests it came from a Lincoln-Mercury dealership. (Continentals in Ford’s press fleet wouldn’t have an emblem on the driver’s side of the trunk.)

Watching this Motorweek Retro Review reminded me how the air-sprung 1984-87 Continentals had the potential to be so much more. It was a wasted opportunity for Lincoln, as 1985 could have been the year to add a legit “touring suspension” to the Continental. It could have blown away other efforts to add performance to the American luxury sedan, thanks to the magic of being based on Ford’s Fox Platform.

Witness the 1984 Continental Valentino in the photo above. It was a safety car when the radical Mark VII PPG Pace Car was made for the paint-company-sponsored IndyCar race series. Someone had the bright idea to make a souped up Continental with color-matched BBS wheels for the sake of safety. If only someone at Ford did this for the sake of mass production!

Indeed, there were a firmer set of air springs, shocks, sway bars, and wider alloy wheels for better handling just lying around in the Mark VII LSC parts bin. Not to mention a faster steering ratio for the superior road feel available on the Thunderbird Turbo Coupe. And don’t forget the high output 5.0 engine with tubular exhaust headers, dual exhausts, and dual intake snorkels already in production for the Mustang GT and Mark VII LSC. That provided a respectable 165 horsepower: Ten more ponies than a 380SE Benz and only eight less than the spritely BMW 733i. The motor’s extra punch could be multiplied by Ford’s selection of quicker axle ratios for that Fox body rear axle, not to mention a readily available “Trac-Lok” limited slip differential for aggressive corner carving.

Imagine you are that product planner from the beginning of the story, and the calculus it took to not make a high performance Continental the year after its lukewarm redesign. Sure, there’d be some validation testing and corporate hoops to overcome, but all the parts were just lying there at your disposal.

I coulda built a contenda I tells ya!

I couda scared Mercedes and BMW owners if Ford had the nerve to let me!

Considering the gravity of the risks taken elsewhere at Ford in the late Malaise Era, making a Hot Rod Continental feels like another no-brainer. It’s a shame that missed opportunities are just that, and that we can’t always get what we want. But now you know another reason why Project Valentino came to fruition, as wrongs must be addressed: Better late than never!

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The post The 1984–87 Continental Was a Missed Performance Opportunity appeared first on Hagerty Media.

In the early 2000s, I was working as general counsel for an auto transport company.  We had a contract with the St. Louis Cardinals to move the players’ cars the hell out of St. Louis at the end of the season—mostly to South Florida. Back then, the dominant whip among major league ballers was not what you’d expect. Corvettes, Benzes, Bentleys and Ferraris barely registered. Neither did the thinly disguised Yukon Denali that was the first generation Cadillac Escalade. No, what everyone from juiced sluggers to ballboys wanted was the Lincoln Navigator. But that quickly changed as soon as Cadillac introduced the second-generation Escalade, the one made famous by everyone’s favorite North Jersey sanitation executive, Tony Soprano. The next-level swagger of the new 2002 Escalade turned the Navigator into the MySpace of luxury SUVs—going from first to market to also-ran, in record time.

As the first-mover in the segment, the battle was Lincoln’s to lose. The original 1998 Navigator was a supremely nice rig that was generally well-reviewed by the magazines of the day. Motor Trend was particularly effusive in its praise: “This Lincoln goes almost anywhere the biggest, ugliest, member of the current crop of beastly off-roaders goes with impressive levels of mechanical refinement and interior comfort, yet it still looks smart parked in front of The Ritz.” What really set the Navigator apart was the fact that unlike the 1999 Escalade with its uninspired badge engineering, the Navigator looked the part. Although it was based on the Ford Expedition, the only body panels that it shared with that vehicle were the roof and doors.

Uncharacteristically, GM learned from its mistakes quickly, and the now iconic, Ed Welburn-supervised design of the second-generation Escalade was an instant classic. Car and Driver in its initial test said that the Escalade went from worst to first in one fell swoop. But even more importantly, the magazine made this particularly prescient observation: “Someday, when—and if—Cadillac has successfully completed its renaissance, we may look back on this vehicle as the beginning of the comeback, the vehicle that marked the restoration of America’s one-time standard for the world to the first rank of prestigious transportation providers. Wow, huh?”

Wow, indeed.  In response, the refreshed 2003 Navigator was pretty meh. Car and Driver noted that even owners of the original Navigator would be hard-pressed to recognize this as a new model. That, sports fans, is a serious foul for a new vehicle in a hotly competitive segment. So was giving up about 50 hp to the 6.0-liter Escalade, and even though acceleration isn’t the point of an SUV, taking almost 2 seconds longer than the Caddy to get to 60 was also hard to ignore. An incalculable number of style points went to the Cadillac as well.

An overly conservative refresh with no gains in power, and only modest gains in performance effectively squandered the lead established by the first Navigator. By the time the second-generation Escalade came out, the Navigator was also getting trounced in the ever-important pro ballplayer market. Lincolns had all but disappeared from the fleet of that annual Cardinal exodus to South Florida. And in perhaps the ultimate addition of insult to injury, when a Navigator appeared in The Sopranos, it was owned by a rat, Fabian (Febby) Petrulio whom Tony finds hiding out in Maine. The game had been Ford’s to lose, and they had truly snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

The Escalade, on the other hand, has done what several generations of super-sedans couldn’t do for Cadillac—make the badge relevant again and get younger people into Cadillacs in large numbers. Car and Driver’s prediction had come true; the 2002 Escalade really was the cornerstone of the revival of the brand, which in the coming years saw more exciting models like the CTS-V, ATS, and CT5-V join the lineup. Conversely, you could argue that the second-gen Navigator, introduced for 2003, was the opposite. It preceded the general neglect that the Lincoln brand still suffers from.

There are many instances of Ford Motor Company putting out a hit new car or opening up a whole new segment, leaving General Motors to play catch up. The Mustang and the Bronco are two of the most famous. In the case of luxury SUVs, though, GM’s upstart challenger got it just right and has continued to be more culturally relevant and desirable than its FoMoCo rival.

With the Sopranos-era Escalade already approaching some form of collectibility, it’s just something to ponder when you light a cigar, cue up Alabama 3’s “Woke up this Morning” and transit the toll booths on the Jersey Turnpike, while pondering whether Tony got whacked or not in the finale.

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One of the cars I most miss in today’s lineup of mostly trucklike new vehicles is the Lincoln Town Car. For most of my life, they were there—as personal cars, as limos, as the bad guys’ cars on TV and in movies. I’ve always loved Lincolns. My Grandpa Bob drove them for decades before I was born, and as a kid I well remember riding in the back seat of his navy blue ’77 Mark V and peering through the oval opera window in the C-pillar. One might say I was preordained to love them.

And it always seemed a given that the big, luxurious Town Car sedans would always be available. I remember about 15 years ago having a discussion with my Uncle Dave about how there really were only three truly distinctive new cars at that time: Volkswagen’s New Beetle, the Jeep Wrangler, and the Lincoln Town Car. Most everything else faded into the background.

Today, all that’s left is the Wrangler! No more Beetles and no more Town Cars. And the world is just a little more drab as a result. Indeed, Lincoln has since deleted ALL sedans from its line, despite having two excellent choices in modern luxury in the now-departed MKZ and Continental. But I’m digressing. Time to get back on track.

The 1989 Town Car was the end of a lot of traditional cues, though the redesigned 1990 model was a fine car in its own right. Indeed, if I didn’t already have my 2004 Town Car Ultimate, I’d love to find a nice 1995–97 Cartier to keep forever, having driven many as lightly used, late-model cars. But 1989 was the last year for the landau top—or “coach roof,” as Lincoln called it—complete with opera lamps on the B-pillar, the last year for genuine wire wheels, and all those cool little chrome accents and details, inside and out. And the bladed front fenders!

Just doing a casual walkaround of these cars, you will note all manner of Lincoln ornamentation: stand-up hood ornament, crests in the opera windows, embroidered on the seats, accenting the headlamp bezels. There was also a factory full carriage roof option, turbine alloy wheels, lacy-spoke alloy wheels, and wire wheel cover options. Plus a power moonroof.

And these were big cars for their time, though they are eclipsed by the previous 1975–79 Town Cars and Continentals. But today, next to Malibus, Camrys, and such, they look big. Overall length was 219.2 inches, with a 117.3-inch wheelbase. It was available as a sedan only, the coupe having disappeared after the 1981 model year.

The 1989s were much the same as the ’85s, when the original new-for-1980 bodyshell got a mild “aero” facelift, with more flush front and rear bumpers, a new grille, and revised, sloped rear tail treatment.

The ’89s can be identified by the new “Lincoln” logos on the lower right side of the grille and the trunk lid, replacing the block-style font that had been seen on ’88s, and indeed, on Lincolns going back at least to the mid-’70s.

A total of 128,533 were built for the year. Three trim levels were offered: the Town Car for $25,205 (about $63,079 today); the Signature Series, which added the floating-pillow style seating as seen here, among other finery, for $28,206 ($70,589); and the top-of-the-line Cartier Designer Series, available only in Silver Frost Clearcoat Metallic over Pewter Clearcoat Metallic, for $29,352 ($73,457).

All Town Cars, regardless of trim or equipment level, had the tried and true 302-cubic-inch V-8 under the hood, with a 4.00 x 3.00 bore and stroke and 150 horsepower. Other Lincoln models available in ’89 were the Mark VII luxury coupe, available in Bill Blass and LSC versions, and the V-6, front-wheel-drive Continental.

But the Town Car reigned supreme in sheer size.—and popularity, as total production of Mark VIIs and Continentals that year were 29,658 and 57,775, respectively.

There were lots of color choices too, as in 1989 people actually bought cars in colors other than black, gray, and silver. Selected choices included Bright Currant Red, Sandstone, Rose Quartz, Pastel Adobe, Twilight Blue, Cinnabar, and Arctic White, as seen on today’s featured car.

Speaking of, this car was seen at the LCOC Mid America meet in Springfield, Illinois, last fall. It was a great show, and I took far more pictures than strictly needed. I’ve already written about the ’83 Mark VI Pucci Designer Edition that was also at this show, and I’ll almost certainly be writing up others from this event in the future.

This car wasn’t strictly in the show, as it was in the general parking and not on the show field, but it immediately caught my eye with its triple-white color scheme (with the fantastic red dash and carpeting matching the white leather inside) and factory optional, genuine wire wheels. It even had the moonroof.

Another reason I’m attached to these cars, and the ’89s in particular, is I remember my grandmother taking me to South Park Lincoln-Mercury back and my getting brochures on the Town Car and Continental. I still have both brochures today. In fact, I used the very same brochure I got in ’89 while writing this article.

My grandparents never did get a Town Car of this generation, but they did have a Rose Quartz Metallic 1987 Continental—the one with the bustle-back styling. And a family friend, Dick McCarthy, had one of these, an ’86 Signature in silver-blue metallic with a navy coach roof and interior. He drove it for years, until he finally replaced it with a gunmetal gray ’95 Town Car Executive in about 1997. I even drove that car once, at a company event in Springfield.

It was about 20 years ago, and I was helping Jerry Morescki with the ICC booth at the trade show. Dick came down too (he was involved with the company as well; indeed, he and my grandfather got it started), and one night we all went out to Gallagher’s, a supper club not far from downtown. And the hotel? The Crowne Plaza, where the LCOC meet was held! It was de ja vu! In a great way!

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Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the machine that got him into cars: the 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join us as Sajeev restores this Ford enigma to its original glory… and then some! —Ed. 

Eight years is a long, long time for a simple headlight installation. And even though they look finished, the electronics behind the façade are all whacked out: Those beautiful low beams don’t illuminate with the headlight switch. The weight of electrical glitches in my life is crushing and difficult to overcome. However, even though I am, let us say, overburdened with more pressing classic automobile emergencies, I felt that neglecting these lights any further would be a shame. After all, just like everything else on Project Valentino, I’ve put a lot of effort into restomodding these “eyes.”

Brace yourselves for a wild ride of wires and headlights.

I still remember that weekend back in 2016 when I used my $9 Harbor Freight angle grinder to open up the Valentino’s factory headlight buckets. I cracked into them because my restomodding mission involved the installation of Hella lights with H4 (low beam) and H1 (high beam) bulbs. The Hellas are larger than the factory lights internally, demanding a bit of grinding. A drive to the restoration shop to media blast the buckets ensured they were ready for fitment.

Meanwhile, I mocked it all up in the Valentino’s header panel, verified clearances, and disassembled everything again. I was excited! Remember—back in 2016, Project Valentino was still nothing more than a few crates of parts and a chassis sitting on a rotisserie. I can still feel the anticipation of the moment after paint when, at long last, Project Valentino’s face could be fully revealed.

When that paint work was done, the restoration shop did their job at little too well. It installed every external trim part—even things I didn’t want yet on there, like the “Lincoln Continental” script above the lights, because a tape stripe must be applied beforehand.

Back to the lights, which brought an even bigger annoyance. The Hellas grew cataracts while sitting in storage. Why this happened is irrelevant at this point, but a quick chat with longtime pal and headlight guru Daniel Stern suggested the glue just off-gassed inside the light. All that murky fog does look kinda spooky and cool against freshly plated chrome, and cleaning it off is far from a priority for a non-functional project car such as this.

Priorities change, though, and that’s what happened in the last few months. I’ve had other lighting issues going on, so I pulled out all four of Project Valentino’s Hellas for a proper clean inside the air-conditioned comfort of my house, awayfrom brutal Houston summer heat.

Alas, what cleaning agent removes off-gassed glue from glass? I tried soapy water first, to no avail. Then I remembered there’s this stuff called “glass cleaner” and perhaps I shouldn’t fear using it within the expensive confines of a German lighting pod. Out came the Windex, which I polished off with a slightly abrasive cloth. All this was far more work than I expected.

At this point, I began to think about the upgraded halogen bulbs I originally installed in the light assembly. Halogen bulbs are still a solid choice in modern times, but headlight technology has progressed significantly since 2016.

Meet the Osram Nightbreaker H4 LED. When installing these bulbs in a Hella, you get an impressively engineered beam that’s legal in many parts of the EU. (I hope that by the time Project Valentino is on the road and running, U.S. federal law will have relaxed to allow aftermarket low-beam LED swaps. Regardless, for the moment, such use is fairly widespread and enforcement is rare.) The construction of these Osrams is stunning, especially when lined up next to a conventional halogen bulb, as the geometries are shockingly similar. The LED chip set is nothing like the junk you find online, and assembling it all in my “kitchen verified” setup shows a beam more like that of a modern luxury car. It’s nothing like a lifted truck with $40 Amazon-specials.

Reassembly wasn’t so straightforward. The restoration shop decided to make its own turn signal gaskets after it became obvious that the correct foamy ones from Ford had disintegrated. (No wonder those lights were so easy to remove!) Luckily there was a 1988 Mercury Cougar at a nearby junkyard that donated the right stuff to Project Valentino.

Adding Sylvania ZEVO turn signal bulbs (another quality product that replicates factory performance with LED advantages) gave the Valentino a proper amber “blush” to its cheeks when the parking lights are illuminated by the headlight switch. And that’s when I realized I was in far deeper than expected: A secondary pull on that switch should activate the low beams, but they failed to respond. I tested for power at the headlight wiring, there was none. Fuses? Yeah, they were fine.

I put this whole issue aside for a moment, because I had a more pressing problem with illumination on one of my regular drivers. I have been neglecting the HID headlights in my 1995 Lincoln Mark VIII. And they were on the verge of dying. Again.

Devoted readers of mine will recall I wrote about a stopgap solution for Lincoln Mark VIIIs back in 2016, seeking replacements for the revolutionary Luminarc HID headlights that once had no peer. New replacements no longer exist, and the aftermarket HID alternatives have horrible geometry and deplorable durability. I was forced use one of these aftermarket setups anyway, though my new plan was to do even better with a solution of my own devising.

Sitting on my workspace just a few inches from Project Valentino’s EU-compliant LEDs were a pair of cheap-ish LED bulbs from a well-regarded Chinese manufacturer, with geometry that claimed to match that of a factory 9005 halogen filament. To verify the LED bulbs came with accurate geometry, I found an original set of Ford/Luminarc HID bulbs from my parts cache. The photo in the slideshow above doesn’t do it justice: the HID light bubble and the LED chip line up perfectly.

However, the factory bulbs are just way too old to work well—one half was dead and the other was at maybe half-capacity.

My goal: Remove my crappy aftermarket HID assembly from the car, find a way to make the new LED bulbs fit on the factory-original HID bulbs’ mounting brackets, and reinstall the original Luminarc assembly with the new LED bulbs. It is the closest thing to the original equipment available for the Mark VIII, and it would offer the safest, best-performing forward lighting.

So I stripped the original HID bulbs down to their mounting surface, trying not to break the glass housing so as not to be exposed to Xenon gas. (I’m currently batting .500 in this regard.) Once the mounting surface and its integral red O-ring were freed with a cutoff wheel, they revealed the geometrically correct mount for the LEDs. It’s a perfect match when you measure with a pair of vernier calipers, but even if I were off by a fraction of a millimeter, this would be better than the garbage I’m currently running.

I yanked out the aftermarket HID kit in the Mark VIII’s eyes, ordered a headlight wiring harness kit from Tony Candela at Auto Electric Supply, and slammed in my homebrew restomod LED kit for the Lincoln Mark VIII. The new LEDs illuminate just as well as the original Ford/Luminarc design from 1995, but that’s not exactly a compliment by today’s standards. The Mark VIII’s tiny reflector headlights aren’t emitting a beam like a modern projector or LED array would, but the cutoff line and hotspot are back to the contemporary era’s definition of cutting edge (as it were).

All is finally right at night with my daily driver. Now I had no excuse but to return to Project Valentino, or so I thought…

See, I haven’t yet told you about the all-original, low mileage, 30th Anniversary Ford Thunderbird in The Mehta Collection. It needed a mild restoration thanks to sitting for too long after something in the fuel system died.

With help from friends, this car went from a 3600-pound doorstop to a sleek coupe with a new fuel system, fresh brakes, and a few new gaskets. It’s quite the beauty now, after receiving a fresh set of reproduction Goodyear Gatorback tires, the last NOS speedometer cluster on the planet, an OEM style exhaust system from Waldron’s Exhaust, and this snazzy license plate frame. (The frame is actually for a 1989+ model, but let’s keep that discrepancy between us.)

I thought these finishing touches meant the Blue Bird was ready to be enjoyed. Well, except for the source of that massive battery drain that I have yet to track down. I could ignore that for a while, just disconnect the battery when I’m not driving it. Right?

Going for a quick celebratory spin in the T-bird, I noticed the courtesy light was illuminated around my left foot. Odd. Why would the courtesy light on with the doors closed? Not too bright, either. Bad ground?

Wait, why is it flickering like a literal flame?

“Oh dear, the fusebox appears to be ablaze,” I definitely said, without profanity.

I cannot tell you how physically and emotionally draining it was to put out the fire and remove that once-pristine interior to address the resulting damage. I felt like I lost a beloved pet, and it took days for me to get my spirits back up. This whole ordeal could spawn a series of articles on its own; after seven hours of delicate surgery spanning the driver’s low-beam headlight to the center of the cabin, I extracted the wiring harness. (Typing that triggers the same stress all over again.)

Luckily, help came my way. My stash of spare parts and friends in the car business run deep. I consulted my Thunderbird Turbo Coupe parts car and snagged its fusebox, after verifying it had the same part number as mine. Then I asked around at a 24 Hours of Lemons race I was judging last November, looking for anything from spiritual support to legit advice. To my absolute delight, one race team had a very nice gentleman named Neil in their ranks.

Neil works for Halls Auto Electric in nearby Conroe, Texas. I expressed my concerns about re-pinning the fuse box by myself, especially with de-pinning tools I couldn’t use. He assured me his outfit does “this all the time,” and after the fact, that makes sense. The end result of their work was fantastic and even affordable. I am very confident the source of the issue is now put to bed; the fire likely originated from tap connectors used to install an aftermarket alarm sometime in the 1990s. I removed one tap connector but apparently didn’t notice the other one … until it was too late.

Now I must force myself to reinstall that beast of a harness and deal with whatever consequences may come from it. At least when I go behind the T-bird’s low beam headlight for a second time I won’t be greeted with a face full of washer fluid that’s old enough to vote.

It feels like I will never get around to Project Valentino. Still, I’m proud to be doing restoration work that terrifies most folks—work that most mechanics will (understandably) decline to tackle. Between saving the Anniversary Thunderbird and reincarnating the Mark VIII’s headlights, this work gives me a level of pride that’s hard to articulate in words.

If not me, then who?

One thing is crystal clear: Every car in The Mehta Collection needs a fire extinguisher. It’s not a small expense, but worth it. After this ordeal, you can trust me on that one. I’d recommend it for any old car.

(A shout-out to eBay’s mrfivepointo. In case you’re reading this, your cache of fire extinguishers went to worthy homes.)

Hopefully, my next installment in the Project Valentino series comes quicker than this last one, and maybe next time, I won’t set a rare Thunderbird aflame. Setbacks are painful but they reinforce my belief that perfection in a restoration is an overrated goal. True DIY perfection is in the process, which comes from embracing flaws and learning things you never anticipated. Perhaps Shakespeare said it best in Sonnet 130:

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

***

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In September 2023, I was fortunate enough to attend the Lincoln and Continental Owners Club Mid America meet. I’ve been a member of the LCOC since 2015, and though I don’t go to a ton of events, I love the club magazine and enjoy local meets and shows put on by the Lake Shore Region, the division closest to me.

This year, I was extremely happy to discover the Mid America meet (the LCOC also has Eastern and Western meets each year) was a mere two-and-a-half hours away, in Illinois’ capital city of Springfield.

Springfield is a cool town, but I hadn’t been there since 2006, when I had visited friends Jerry and Freida Morescki. Jerry, a fellow car nut (and avid Studebaker fan) is a great guy and they have since moved to sunny and snow-free Arizona, but back then we got along famously, as they say, talking cars.

In fact, way back in 2004 I helped Jerry at a trade show, disbursing pens and information at the Illinois Casualty booth. It really is a small world, as it was held at the same hotel—the Crowne Plaza— as the Lincoln show was.

Anyway, I got a fairly early start, as I didn’t want to miss any amazing cars. When I got there around 10:30, I immediately went into a happy Brougham-induced state of mind, gawking at beautiful cars and chatting with the friendly owners. And taking many, many pictures!

I parked, spied a couple of magnificent 1960 Lincolns in the distance, grabbed my hat and camera, and waltzed into Lincoln heaven. There were so many wonderful cars! And the LCOC is a great club; everyone is so nice. People I’d never met were very friendly, and I chatted with several folks before I had to start taking many, many pictures.

And I zeroed right in on this 1964 Continental. The ’64 Connie is a pretty well-known car in several classic movies, including Goldfinger and Animal House. Now that I think of it, both Lincolns in those movies came to bad ends. Oh well, never mind!

Anyway, I zeroed in on this particular one pretty early for two reasons: first, I love the 1961–69 Continentals, and second, it was in the most excellent color combination of sleek black paint paired with a red leather interior.

In this case, Black Satin, according to the 1964 Lincoln color chart. I was very impressed with the condition of this car. Of course, all the cars are nice at an LCOC event, but this one appeared to be a spare-no-expense full restoration. Or so I thought, blissfully snapping several pictures. Then I wandered away towards the gilded ’70s Continentals, which always remind me of road-going luxury Pullman cars.

But a while later I drifted back to this car, because I loved it so much. This time, the doors were open, and I took the opportunity to take many more pictures of that fabulous bright red leather interior. An information placard had been added as well, on front of the car.

And I was surprised and impressed to find that this car was an amazing low-, low-, LOW-miles original car. To the tune of 2800-odd miles on the clock. Wowsers! No wonder it was nice.

I learned the current owner is Tim Wilson of London, Ohio, though he wasn’t around the car, and unfortunately I didn’t get the opportunity to chat with him. But from what I learned, this Lincoln was ordered new by Charles and Ruth McGill and delivered in October 1963.

The couple traded in their 1961 Continental for it. But sadly, Mr. McGill passed away only three weeks after they took possession of their beautiful new car, and his wife put it into storage and never drove it again.

Rich Liana, a prominent 1961–69 Continental expert and restorer, brought back it into gorgeous usable condition while maintaining its originality.

The current owner still has the original tires even, but correct whitewall reproductions have been installed to keep the car safe to drive.

It is just a beautiful car. Lincoln in the ’60s was the go-to for elegant transport, as were Cadillac and Imperial. It was truly a great time to be able to own and enjoy a new luxury car. This is an amazing survivor, and I was so happy to see it in Springfield and take far more many photos than I needed to!

***

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Perhaps that title is on the dramatic side, because the 2004 Lincoln Mark X concept car is unlikely to lose another battle after it already lost the war. It never became a production car, was never subjected to the rigors production entails, so going up for auction at Mecum Glendale is a relative cakewalk in comparison. The buying pool for 20-year-old concept cars is unlikely to pull the plug on this veteran after purchasing it, and surely the concept of double jeopardy also applies to concept cars?

We shall see where the bidding on the Mark X (pronounced Mark Ten) ends, because owning a vehicle with a bevy of unique parts that never made production will always scare people away. But one lucky winner will enjoy a stunning slice of luxury car history—one that’s also the tale of a tragic hero.

I dug deeper into the Mark X’s connection to the troubled, eleventh-generation Ford Thunderbird for a Hagerty Insider story, so I’ll be brief: The Mark X could have been made alongside the Thunderbird and Lincoln LS at the Wixom Assembly Plant, as part of a last-ditch effort to find more buyers and amortize costs associated with Ford’s struggling DEW98 platform. That wasn’t in the cards, however, as the Mark X was birthed right before Ford announced plans to close multiple plants and lay off tens of thousands of workers.

But the Mark X was precisely what the faltering Lincoln brand needed in a halo car. The retractable hardtop and 1963 Continental–inspired egg-crate grille would bring excitement to the brand in the same way the folding-droptop genre was benefitting the likes of Mercedes, Cadillac, Lexus, BMW, and Infiniti during that time.

But this concept car was more than a Thunderbird with a Continental grille. The chrome strip running across the Mark X’s belt line is a nice throwback to yesteryear’s slab-sided Lincolns. Or. as the press release said, “The Mark X concept is designed to demonstrate the potential of the Lincoln brand by stretching its DNA to a sophisticated roadster.”

While it’s clear Lincoln wasn’t going to change the Thunderbird’s hard points at crucial junctures—things like like the cowl, the doors, and its elongated rear deck—the overall look still screamed Lincoln DNA. It’s a shame the Mark X didn’t come to fruition, both for Lincoln’s loyal followers and the brand’s shrinking market share.

The Mark X’s interior was a concept car dream that looked close to production, as sharing bits with the Thunderbird meant you could do a fair amount of implementation behind the scenes and nobody would be the wiser. But the “lime sorbet” leather interior paired with Corian accents was likely never in the cards, the latter being the preferred finish for high-end kitchens, not cars. (This was before everyone demanded granite countertops in their McMansions).

Having lived in a house that had Corian added in a kitchen renovation, let me suggest that it is a bold interior material choice for an automobile. Corian is heavy and not exactly malleable, two poor traits when a production car faces a head-on collision. But the Mark X is just a concept car, and a Ford press release suggested that designers looked for inspiration from “the fashion, furniture and housing industries.” While the Corian accents likely just served as a little PR buzz for interior designers, the unfinished navigation system suggests this concept didn’t get nearly as far as intended. And certainly not as far as the Lincoln Mark VII Comtech from decades past.

So here’s the 2004 Lincoln Mark X interior in modern times, as it waits for its moment at the Mecum auction. The white Corian finishes made way for black, but that’s the most noticeable change over time. The interior presents itself with no wear, aside from one scratch on the plastic near the “Detroit 2004 Mark X” commemorative plate on the rocker panel.

The exterior photos from the Mecum listing show a concept car that still looks stunning, with an impressive stance and shockingly wide rear tires. There are two changes since we last saw the Mark X in 2004. The first is rather pedantic: Only a Lincoln nerd like yours truly knows that hood ornament came from an Essex Continental, so I wonder out loud what happened to the Mark X’s bespoke emblem. The other is more academic: someone took the chrome body side moulding in the fenders and rear quarter panel and made a matching metal strip for the door.

The bling in the middle of the door looks ready for production, and somewhat helps set the Mark X apart from the Thunderbird donor under the skin. And everything else on this concept Lincoln looks fantastic, so I’m curious if anyone can muster up the nerve to operate the folding hardtop after years of possible neglect. Trying to repair it will likely make working on a 1961–67 Continental convertible look easy. Or not, as the Mark X likely used off-the-shelf mechanisms found on other folding hardtops of the era.

Speaking of what’s on the shelf, this was truly a sad era in Lincoln history: The Mark X was canned, letting the Mark LT truck carry the legacy started by Edsel Ford (Lincoln Continental), continued by William Clay Ford (Mark II) and Lee Iacocca (Mark III) on its burly, F-150–derived shoulders.

There’s nothing wrong with a Lincoln truck, at least in theory. It just needs to look as Lincoln-like as the Mark X did on its Thunderbird underpinnings. A different grille and acres of bling certainly worked (and continues to hold its value) but this vehicle could have been a Navigator with a bed. Perhaps that was never in the cards….

Two years later, the Mark X did make an ironic comeback as the 2006 Lincoln MKX crossover. The name was strikingly similar to the Thunderbird-based concept Mark, and there’s no doubt where its grille came from. (Or perhaps a little doubt, as both Xs used the same 1963 Continental template in that regard.)

Both names were also unique, at least technically. The MKX crossover was never called a Mark Ten, though that’s absolutely what it looks like to traditional Lincoln customers who scan the tailgate’s emblems. Be it a Mark truck in 2004 or an “MK” crossover in 2006, the famous Mark Series evolved past its history as a low-slung Lincoln coupe.

While that’s a shame, the opportunity to grab the last Mark Series coupe ever made (so to speak) is at our fingertips. Concept cars are usually just dreams, but this will be someone’s reality. And wouldn’t it be a wondrous reality if it was feasible/legal to do a VIN swap with a tired, depreciated 2004 Thunderbird, then perform a supercharged V-8 powertrain swap from a Jaguar S-Type R? That’s truly how the Lincoln Mark X can live forever as the Mark Series successor it deserved to become.

***

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Let me get right down to brass tacks: I love these. Always have, always will. And I miss 1970s PLCs (that’s Personal Luxury Cars, for those of you just joining us). And there’s family history with these too, which makes me even more infatuated with them.

My grandfather Bob Klockau was in World War II. When he got out, he got on the GI Bill and went to college in Champaign, Illinois, commuting from the Quad Cities on a Henderson motorcycle. He got his law degree and set up shop in downtown Rock Island with his law partners, Barney Moran and Dick McCarthy.

Later on, the trio got involved in dram shop insurance and started an insurance company, specializing in insuring bars, taverns, and restaurants. For years, Grandpa Bob joked that they did so to give the law firm something to do. And both the insurance company and the firm of Klockau and Moran thrived. So much so that by the mid -’60s, he moved from Buick Electras to Lincolns.

His neighbor across the street was Bob Neal, who had both Ford and Lincoln-Mercury dealerships on 11th Street in Rock Island. As a result my grandmother gave her 1959 Catalina convertible to my Uncle Chris and picked out a new navy blue 1965 Thunderbird convertible. And my grandfather traded his circa 1962 Buick Electra sedan for a dark green 1966 Continental.

He loved that car. It had a matching dark green leather interior and the optional 8-track tape player. It whisked everyone on vacation to South Padre Island and Biloxi circa 1967–68. Back then, you drove to wherever vacationed!

Then in mid-’68, the all-new Continental Mark III personal luxury coupe came out, and my grandfather traded the four-door Connie for a Mark III. It too was dark green metallic, with matching green leather and Cavalry twill vinyl top. This particular car was my father’s favorite. He loved the interior with the button-tufted door panels and seats. It was lush.

But then in late 1971, the all-new 1972 Continental Mark IV came out. And in what would become a trend, Grandpa Bob traded the Mark III for the super swank Mark IV. It too was triple dark green. The Mark IV was my Uncle Dave’s favorite of my grandfather’s Lincolns.

He remembers one time he was taking it for a spin, and one of those massive luxury wheel covers detached and rolled off into the grass. He said those things were super heavy; as it rolled away it sounded like a manhole cover.

Fortunately he saw where it landed, and amazingly, it was not scratched or scuffed. He put it back on and drove much more sedately back to the house.

As previously mentioned, the 1972 Continental Mark IV was all new. And like the 1969–71 Mark III, it was based on the Thunderbird chassis. As the brochure extolled, “For 1972, Continental introduces a new Mark. It stands alone in a world where individuality has all but disappeared.

“In many ways Continental Mark IV is a subtle refinement of a contemporary classic. But though the styling changes are evolutionary, they are also dramatic. The grille is even bolder than on previous Marks. The hood is longer, lower. The graceful sweep of the roofline, sleeker. And inside, more leg and shoulder room for passengers in the rear compartment.

“Continental Mark IV. For all the 1970s, this will be the unique American car.” And while it was certainly distinctive, it still had a lot in common with the T-Bird, though the Ford version itself got much more luxurious too. Base price on the Mark IV was $8640 (almost $63,000 today). Curb weight was a healthy 4792 pounds, and 48,591 were produced for 1972—one of which was my Grandpa Bob’s.

A 460-cubic-inch V-8 was standard, naturally. It had a 4.36 x 3.85 bore and stroke, and an 8.5:1 compression ratio, breathing through a four-barrel carb. Horsepower was 224 at 4400 rpm.

And as you’d expect, these were long—to the tune of 220.1 inches with a 120.4-inch wheelbase. Just for comparison, a 2023 Navigator L is 221.9 inches long! Compared to the outgoing Mark III, it was about four inches longer and slightly lower and wider.

Like all Lincolns, Michelin tires were standard. Other Mark IV equipment included the Sure-Track braking system (an early form of ABS), Cartier-signed clock, six-way power Twin Comfort Lounge seating, and a vinyl roof. The oval opera window was new and would become a Lincoln trademark, but in ’72 it was technically optional, though it would become standard before long.

Options included extra-snazzy Moondust paint, leather seats, a tilt wheel, speed control, and various stereo systems, with or without 8-track tape player. There were 15 standard colors, eight optional Moondust colors, and five vinyl roof color choices. But the color of today’s featured Mark, owned by my friend Humberto Garcia, won’t be found in any official Lincoln brochures or color charts.

It appears to be a 1969 Cadillac color, Wisteria, and it looks like the car was custom-ordered in the hue, as it is in remarkable original condition. I always enjoy seeing this car; it’s just fantastic. These pictures were taken at an LCOC Lake Shore Region meet in late summer 2015 at the airport in Poplar Grove, Illinois, just a short drive from the big Chrysler factory in Belvidere.

I was smitten with the car and couldn’t help but take far too many pictures of it! I love these cars, and the entire Mark Series, all the way to the final 1998 Mark VIII. I miss personal luxury coupes and bright, vivid, unique colors like this. In a world of silver silvermist, black, and gray SUVs passing as “luxury,” the Mark IV is a cut above.

***

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Making a product that speaks to a highly specific, laser-focused target audience is both admirable and appealing, even when times demand the most aggressive of changes. The Malaise Era forced us into smaller vehicles with more fuel-efficient engines and lower emissions, but a few manufacturers stumbled in the transition, opening the door for others.

Cadillac was one of those caught between its evolving products and buyers that couldn’t stomach the pivot—the smaller, front-wheel-drive 1985 Cadillac DeVille ensured that the brand no longer spurred the same passion from its fanbase. It wasn’t all Cadillac’s fault, but the obvious platform sharing with other GM sedans and the trouble-prone HT4100 V-8 certainly didn’t help. Enter Lincoln, the fuel-injected 5.0-liter V-8, and the Panther chassis.

Lincoln capitalized on the Town Car’s killer app (as it were) in a series of TV commercials. They were reportedly so effective that valet podiums across the Metro Detroit area would recite the same jokes to owners of downsized General Motors products. This marketing coup allegedly reduced GM to beg Ford to stop running these spots. The Dearborn gang capitulated, as insulting your cross-town neighbor only works so many times at social gatherings and lunches at the country club.

What’s oddly missing in this equation is the 1985 Fleetwood Brougham, as it was still available with rear-wheel drive and traditional luxury car proportions. Perhaps it became associated with the disappointing series of HT-4100, displacement on demand, and diesel engines that soured many on the Cadillac brand. Maybe its overtly traditional touches made the slab-sided, highly computerized Lincoln Town Car look fresh and appealing. Or perhaps Cadillac put all their eggs in their front-wheel drive baskets and didn’t have the wherewithal to backtrack to the Brougham. Whatever the reason, the end result was a success for Lincoln’s four-pointed star, as they reportedly swiped 91,000 Cadillac owners between 1984-88.

But success in the mid-1980s started with an all-new, 1980 Lincoln Continental on Ford’s downsized Panther Chassis. It had the options of fully digital gauges, a keyless entry door pad, multi-function trip computer, integrated garage door opener, and a Town Car trim package. But those gee-whiz luxury trappings were underscored by standard equipment like an electronic audio system, a 5.0-liter small block V-8 with EEC-III throttle body fuel injection, and an overdrive transmission. This is the stuff of mediocrity for the last 25+ years, but the Continental was a revolution by the metrics available in 1980.

Lincoln (and Ford) weren’t nearly as well-funded as GM at the time, so they pushed their Panther platform deep into the 1980s with modest styling updates atop significant electronic innovations. And there was a new name for the premium Panther: Lincoln Town Car. It survived and thrived while Cadillac learned the difference between leading-edge and bleeding-edge technology. But Lincoln also innovated in luxury car promotions, as they asked everyone to “Start thinkin’ Lincoln” around 1983. And they asked the right people in the right places.

Getting rental car companies to promote your flagship for an attainable asking price ensured a would-be Cadillac owner would enjoy a Town Car on vacation instead of a full-size Caprice or LTD. Budget’s asking price of $39.95 in 1983 is still $123.04 in today’s dollars, so it ensured the right folks experienced Panther Love and might just ride those good vibes back to their local Lincoln-Mercury dealership.

It certainly sold my family and many folks walking into the same dealership, as splurging on a new Town Car from Budget in 1984 inspired us to buy a used Lincoln Continental in 1986, the one that turned into Project Valentino. Lincoln’s ongoing promotions using OPM (other people’s money) worked, as Town Car sales skyrocketed, breaking the 100,000 mark in the mid-1980s. Lee Iacocca once said Ford made around $10,000 on each Town Car sold, to the tune of a billion dollars in annual profit. That’s a smashing success for a vehicle on a modest budget, so perhaps the Town Car was so good it “Hertz.”

And it only improved over time, but at the proper pace of a snail. There was a smarter EEC-IV computer in 1984, and it tuned in to a pair of oxygen sensors for improved performance. Aerodynamic success from the Lincoln Mark VII trickled down to the Town Car in 1985, with sleeker bumpers and a slant-back rear fascia being the end result. The new fuel injection setup received eight injectors in 1986, firing sequentially (SEFI) to match the 5.0’s firing order within a long runner intake manifold. A JBL audio system also arrived that year, with a CD player under the dashboard shortly afterwards. Slow and steady wins the race, and it’s clear the 1980-89 Lincoln Town Car was a tortoise in a sea of hares with Cadillac hood ornaments.

Only now is the collector car hobby recognizing the Town Car’s success with the rewards of being an appreciating classic. In the last three years, the median #3 value increased 78 percent, or $3500. It was only five years ago that early Town Cars in #3 condition were valued at a mere $2700. While the 1980-85 Continental/Town Car isn’t terribly different than the later examples, the 1986-89 Town Cars with SEFI induction carry around a 15% premium.

It’s quite logical to see that 42% of quotes sought for Town Cars come from Boomers, yet Millennial interest is a strong 23%. That’s even more than the interest shown by Gen-X (20%), so it’s clear that Lincolns are no longer just for a more elderly crowd. And the Panther-bodied Lincolns may be at the early stages of a trend highlighted by the pre-downsized Continentals: Interest in the 1970-79 Lincoln Continental is nearly equal between Boomers, Gen-X, and Millennials. And 1 in 10 insurance quotes of older Continentals are from Gen-Z, but that level of love has yet to surface for the newer Town Car.

Savvy Panther chassis enthusiasts will note we’ve so far overlooked the 1980 Continental Town Coupe and the 1981 Town Car two door. (Both are the same car with curiously different names.)

Let’s address this omission now: Lincoln sold a paltry 7,177 coupes in 1980, and 4,935 in 1981 before they died an ignominious death. But their rarity adds to the appeal, as coupes in #3 condition are 19% more valuable than sedans of the same year. While the coupes may never appreciate to the heights of the 1961-67 Lincoln Continental convertible, the premium proves their inherent desirability, even when handicapped by an older fuel injection system.

It’s great to see the Lincoln Town Car (and 1980 Continental, of course) regain some of the recognition they garnered back when they were the go-to choice for well-heeled business travelers and vacation goers. With the Town Car, the collector car market once again proves that popular success when new is often rewarded as a classic, even if it takes a bit longer than it does for a specialty sweetheart like a Porsche 911. While the market cap of the remaining Town Cars will never reach the soaring heights of their profit margins when new, the Panther Chassis Lincoln’s renaissance once again makes the sun shine, from the city hall to the county line.

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Our last foray into the 1985 Lincoln Mark VII Comtech was over two years ago, but one comment from a reader suggested he knew why this car—arguably the very first one to ever have a touchscreen—never hit the showroom floor. His point got me seeking more truths about this car, both from the commentator and from the Ford Heritage Vault, a wealth of information that came online after our previous Comtech article was published.

Before we get to the truth behind the demise of the Mark VII Comtech, let’s see how its hallmark technology evolved into a final product that almost came to production in another Ford vehicle, thanks to rarely seen photos and press releases provided by the Ford Heritage Vault. In the process, we might learn how engineering from the tail end of the Malaise Era established changes in automobiles, advances that we seemingly take for granted these days.

1983 Continental Concept 100

The engineering innovations of the Comtech likely started with the 1983 Continental Concept 100. From the first and second photos, it’s clear that the Continental Concept was also a “teaser” for a new production car, the 1984 Continental Mark VII. The 1980s were certainly a unique time in history, as a luxury concept coupe came with radical technology not likely to be found in a production vehicle. (Ah, to go back to those days when concept cars were rolling dreams, not veiled threats of a modern reality we already know and begrudgingly tolerate.)

But the debut of any 1980s concept car ended with a cliffhanger: How much of its unique technology could make production? With Continental Concept 100, there’s a custom dashboard loosely based on that of the production Mark VII, and a host of bits robbed from a future Ford parts bin. We mentioned some of those cutting-edge bits previously, and now we see that the Lear-Siegler sport seats from the 1983 Thunderbird Turbo Coupe also made the cut. But the new photos unearthed from Ford show the technological goodies with clarity: voice control, NAVSAT navigation, and a diverse selection of media formats for in-car entertainment. Starting from the top, there are all seven frequencies of weather band radio, a TV tuner, a micro-cassette player (presumably not with the cheap tapes used for dictation), and a custom face for both Ford’s AM/FM digital stereo guts, and its corporate seven-band graphic equalizer.

This once-cutting edge technology was nestled in a frame wrapped in leather, par for the course in a concept car looking for maximum impact at an auto show. The ’83 Continental Concept 100 clearly made a positive impression, as more production-worthy implementations were pressed into existence at the same time.

1982 Thunderbird/Cougar Proposal?

Pictured above is the interior of a 1980–82 Ford Thunderbird, the technological flagship in Ford’s fleet before the 1984 Continental Mark VII. The downsized square bird was clearly looking at its Blue Ovaled creator to get into the navigation game, possibly noting how Japan Inc. was helping the likes of Honda, Nissan, and Toyota to innovate via in-car navigation systems. The navigation interface is very similar to the navigation system in the Continental Concept 100.

The T-Bird’s had potential, because the complicated blend of audio/video/HVAC integration appears to be simplified for production. HVAC is removed from this particular equation, as the automatic HVAC is still controlled by the Ford’s well-known, fully analog, sliding-lever control panel. But it was only two years until the 1984 Continental Mark VII sported a fully digitized climate control system, which was fully integrated into a touchscreen in the 1985 Mark VII Comtech. Nowadays touch screens are what we come to loathe expect in modern times, but it’s clear this march of progress began in the Malaise Era: This time period never ceases to disappoint, and the changes proposed for the 1980–82 Thunderbird and Cougar are proof.

In a press release dated April 1981, Ford CEO Philip Caldwell noted the increased amount of electric content in luxury vehicles, starting with about 50 semiconductors in 1970 (most were inside the radio) to “the equivalent of 250,000 transistors in the 1981 Continental Mark VI, contained in 17 different electronic modules using about 850 semiconductor devices.” And that Mark VI really had nothing on the Mark VII Comtech.

Too bad this ill-fated Thunderbird/Cougar navigation dashboard was lost to history, as its production could have spurred the greenlighting of the Mark VII Comtech. This complicated ‘Bird could have happily lived with the optional computerized gauges, trip computer, digital audio system, and keyless entry button pad that did make production and were heavily promoted in print advertisements.

New information about the Mark VII Comtech

Here we see the interior in action, thanks to this vintage B-roll from the fine folks at the Ford Heritage Vault. There’s the yoke behind the factory Lincoln steering wheel, letting the driver control many features without taking their hands off the wheel. I especially like the volume controls, which appear a good decade before they made production elsewhere. While the touchscreen interface is the “killer app” for this car, the user in this video never pushes a virtual button to adjust temperature or fan speed.

That’s a shame, but the Mark VII Comtech also lacked the navigation system teased in the aforementioned Thunderbird dashboard and the Continental Concept 100. Time has shown that the technology behind the screen needed at least another decade of improvement, even if this video proves the Comtech’s radical user interface was refined and seemingly ready for production.

Meet Richard Schierloh

This is where Richard Schierloh, the aforementioned commentator from our last Comtech article, comes into play. His 40-year career in automotive industrial design ensured his work on the Mark VII Comtech’s interior was polished and ready for the assembly line. Richard has a BFA from the University of Dayton and an MFA from Wayne State University, and he proudly asserts he has no formal training in automotive design. (Something that’s seemingly mandatory these days, thanks to academic institutions that are now firmly set in place.)

Richard, now 91 years old, tells Hagerty that he “had a wonderful career; I lived my dream. I worked on almost every type of vehicle that Ford produced but I had more years with Lincoln than with any other car line.  I was lucky because I got to design the sort of cars that end up in museums.”

His tenure at Ford started in June 1955, and his favorite design is the 1969–71 Continental Mark III, where he worked under the direct supervision of Lee Iacocca. While he was promoted to a managerial role at Ford, Richard states that he “much preferred the hands-on experience” of being a designer. And that is something he clearly did with the 1985 Mark VII Comtech. In his own words:

I was assigned to the Industrial Design Studio during the time that I worked on the Mark VII Comtech. I was not in the Lincoln Studio, and so I was the only stylist involved and I worked directly with Lincoln management. There were two areas of the Mark VII interior which would be exclusive to the Comtech, the steering wheel controls and the computer interface. I designed the control pod which was mounted behind the steering wheel.

The computer interface is the big story. Nothing like this had ever been done, so we had to invent every aspect. An example of this was the type font. The cathode ray tube did not have enough pixels to use a conventional type face, so I created a new font with simple shapes which could be used. I worked closely with a vender who supplied graphics for Ford.

In the early 1980s, computers were still mysterious things to most people and we had to be able to explain to management just what this system could do. I did not have access to an actual Comtech system, so my solution was to have the typesetter vender copy my screen designs on black film. These films were displayed in the Industrial Design showroom. The films were back-lit and the room was dark. Management could view the various pages of a situation.

The Mark VII Comtech did not have a true touchscreen, which is so common today. Instead there was a frame around the screen with infra-red beams shooting across. If you put your finger on the screen in an area where two beams intersected, this sent a command to the computer. For this reason, I had to design all screens so that a command was located exactly at the intersection of beams. Working with the engineers, we devised the series of screens which we thought would be useful. It was therefore important that we had a logical sequence to every series.

A favorite screen of mine was one that said, “GET OUT OF THE CAR AND RUN LIKE HELL.” I could not sell the team on that one.”

Lawyers killed the Mark VII Comtech

After many months of serious effort, the program was canceled because the Ford legal staff feared the liabilities if someone had an accident while driving and touching the screen. (Today the driver assumes full responsibility. — SM)

However, there was some good news. Money had been allocated for a test drive, and in a corporation like Ford you always spend money when it is available. A test drive was arranged, all the people involved would take four cars (three T-birds and a Continental) out West. We went to Las Vegas. Why not? Ford was picking up the tab.

One morning we went to Death Valley, and all four cars were left to idle with the heater at the maximum and all lights turned on. Windows were left up, too. The cars sat there in 120-degree heat for about six hours. At the end we put down the windows, turned on the AC, and checked the computers. Everything functioned perfectly: Comtech passed the heat test!

After we left Vegas, we drove to Mason, Ohio, the home of Voice of America. They had one of the biggest radio transmitters in the world. We parked the cars right under the antenna and functioned the computers. Everything worked perfect. Then we returned to Dearborn, and that was the end of my Mark VII Comtech experience.

But there is an interesting epilogue. Several days later, as I filled the tank of my Continental, I noticed that the tail-lamp lenses had melted. And here’s the Hagerty connection: Recently I was telling the tail-lamp story to someone and decided to google “Comtech.” I saw your article, and I felt that I should reach out!

I had a great time interviewing Richard, and he gave this Lincoln Mark VII enthusiast some great historical perspective on the car itself:

I can understand your fascination with the Mark VII. I have always felt that it was one of the greatest of the Mark series. At that time Ford styling was moving into the “aero” look, and the traditional Mark Series format was not aero. I felt that that the Mark VII was a successful compromise but I fear the public did not take to it. A lot of the reason was that tastes were changing and the definition of luxury car took on new meaning. The era of the big car would soon be over.

Richard is right: The Mark VII’s personal luxury genre was a slowly dying format that is unlikely to return. At least not until regulations that favor light trucks disappear, among other things. But there was a time when personal luxury flagships were a bellwether of product innovations. Or at least could be, as this quote from Nick Zeniuk in a Ford press release suggests:

Market research tells us luxury-car buyers are especially interested in electronic features, and the Mark VII Comtech goes a big step beyond anything we’ve ever offered. If the test program goes as we expect it to, some of Comtech’s experimental features could be incorporated into production cars in the near future.

 

***

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I never know what I’m going to see at the annual Maple City Cruise Night in Monmouth, Illinois. It’s a treasure trove of the unexpected. And this year’s event was a case in point.

Most people know of the Lincoln Town Car, which originally was a top-of-the-line trim level on the Lincoln Continental and later became a model in its own right, starting in 1981. But for several years there was a two-door counterpart: the Town Coupé.

The Town Coupé first appeared in 1973. As one would expect, it had all of the plush interior fittings and extra trim of the four-door Town Car but in the two-door hardtop body style.

And so it went in 1973–74. But in 1975, the Continentals were redesigned in a more squared-up format that brought to mind luxury Pullman coaches. Of course, the Town Car and Town Coupé carried on as before, just in redesigned threads, both inside and out. In addition, the two-door versions were no longer hardtops; the new squared-off coupe roofline added a B-pillar, making the ’74 Continental coupe the final pillarless Lincoln.

There were five official Lincoln models for 1975: Continental coupe, Continental sedan, Town Car, Town Coupé, and the exclusive personal-luxury Continental Mark IV. For 1976, very little changed visually or otherwise, though the Mark IV gained four new exclusive Designer Editions: Givenchy, Cartier, Pucci, and Bill Blass.

As before, the Town Car and Town Coupé were top-trim packages for the Continental two- and four-door models. Not much changed, with the exception of some new and discontinued color selections. But there was no doubt these were fine luxury cars, whether you selected the myriad Luxury Groups, Town Car/Coupé options, or otherwise.

As the 1976 Lincoln brochure conferred: “For more than half a century, the graceful styling and precision engineering associated with the Lincoln name have helped to place it among the finest of the world’s luxury cars.

“Some with a less competitive spirit might willingly rest upon such a reputation (as Lexus has done for 20 years. Oops! I’m digressing again; never mind!). The Lincoln Continentals, however, have for four years now matched their riding performance and other features direct against other Cadillac models in independent televised tests—and in each of them won the preference of the majority of the participating Cadillac owners.”

Oh, those were the days. Cadillac, Lincoln, and (to a lesser extent) the Chrysler New Yorker Brougham, Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight, Buick Electra, and Mercury Marquis. Fine sedans and coupes, decades before buyers seemingly decided they wanted rough-riding SUVs and combovers (oops, I mean crossovers) to carry their New-Balance clad persons and dogs to the gym, instead of supper clubs for prime rib or surf and turf … with gin and tonics and whiskey sours. And don’t forget dessert!

I loved those days—at least from observations via print, TV, and movies of the era, since that was a good 5–10 years before I was born. Those must have been salad days. Driving your majestic, unapologetically large luxury coupe or sedan for cocktails and fine dining.

People loved their lives, their profession, and their children. There was no fretting about what may have been, what could be, what may happen in the years hence (or at least it was kept close to the vest). You just did your best, succeeded or not, and reaped the benefits—or not. But if you did—oh, if you did!—it was a grand time. Drive your V-8 luxocruiser, enjoy fine dining, and sit back and feel proud as your children grew up and succeeded too. Even if by 1988 they were buying Volvo 740 Turbos and Mercedes 190Es instead.

It was a vastly different time than today. Not that it was necessarily all-encompassing better, but there were perks. Like a Town Car or Town Coupé to whisk you to work and back and sit faithfully in your attached garage or in the parking lot at the country club.

Such thoughts went though my head as I spied and enthusiastically photographed this ’76 Town Coupé, gorgeous in optional Medium Chestnut Diamond Fire, with a dark brown coach roof and tan leather interior.

I was hoping to meet my friend Justin Landwehr at the show; he had recently purchased a 1977 Town Coupé in Cream and was going to be at the show. Alas, he had to leave early that day due to other commitments, and I missed him. But his car had been parked right across from this ’76 version. And although I was disappointed that I missed seeing his car, this one almost—almost!—made up for it.

He also owns a gorgeous 1978 Thunderbird in navy blue with Chamois top and interior that I’m hoping to write up soon, but that’s yet another car for another day. Returning to our featured subject, I loved the colors and nice condition of this ’76. And what a great color combination. I see so many bland, boring, allegedly luxury-class SUVs today in silver, refrigerator white, or black, and I think of Lincolns like this and wonder, can’t we do better? We certainly did in the past!

***

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Today we have yet another classic Lincoln that my friend and frequent photo contributor, Jayson Coombes, photographed at the Lincoln & Continental Owners Club (LCOC) Eastern Meet in Knoxville, Tennessee, last June. It was, as Jayson relayed, a somewhat small but extremely high-quality show, with some amazing cars.

If you don’t mind, may I make a minor digression? I would rather go to a small or medium-sized show with some really interesting rolling stock over a huge event with a bunch of late-model vehicles and Mustangs, Corvettes, and Camaros. Now, it’s not that I don’t like those cars too, but you see them so often. At least, I do. I like ’65 Mustangs and ’69 Corvettes and the like, but in an average show season, I will likely see 40–50 of them.

Oh, but what about Continentals? Vega woody wagons? LTD Landau coupes? I’d go to a show in a tiny town 40 miles away that had only 12 cars if cars like that were in attendance. I like what I like, and the few friends who tolerate my frequent disappearances—sometimes for 45 minutes—and yet continue to attend car shows with me will attest to this.

OK, now where was I? Oh yes, the LCOC show. As I write this I am eagerly anticipating the LCOC Mid-America meet in Springfield, Illinois, a relatively short hop for me, distance-wise. But at the Knoxville show, there was some severe Ford Motor Company Broughamage. This elegant ’68 Continental is a case in point.

By 1968, the Lincoln Continental’s classic squared-off, chrome-edged, classic 1961 lines were almost at an end. There would be only one more year of this classic shape, with the always-distinctive “suicide” doors. The ’68 model year was the first in which a convertible model was no longer available, though the two-door hardtop (introduced in 1966) remained alongside the sedan in Lincoln-Mercury showrooms.

The 1968 Continental sedan had a base price of $5970 (about $52,781 today). The coupe started at $5736 ($50,713), and the all-new Continental Mark III personal luxury coupe, which appeared mid-April as an early ’69 model, had a base price of $6585 ($58,219). A total of 29,719 sedans were sold for the model year. For comparison’s sake, a new ’68 Mustang was $2602 ($23,005), and a Steve McGarrett-approved Mercury Park Lane four-door hardtop stickered for $3647 ($32,244).

Under the Continental’s hood was an all-new 460-cubic-inch V-8 with 365 advertised horsepower and 500 lb-ft of torque. It breathed through a four-barrel carburetor, required premium fuel, and was backed up by a three-speed Select-Shift Turbo-Drive torque converter transmission. No manual transmission for Ford’s finest!

Available options included an automatic headlamp dimmer (seen above)—it was mounted on the front driver’s side fender, near the windshield—tilt wheel, Stereo-Sonic Tape System (8-track player), power vent windows, reclining passenger’s seat, Automatic Ride Leveler, six-way power seat (a two-way power seat was standard equipment), and an automatic temperature control system. And by the way, this car has a particularly uncommon option, the “Individually adjustable contour front seats with reclining passenger’s seat and console, six-way power driver’s seat, two-way power passenger’s seat,” as the brochure describes. I’d never seen one before.

Standard features included the expected power windows, power steering and brakes, factory undercoating, cut-pile carpeting, front and rear folding center armrests, electric clock, triple horns, and a choice of 22 exterior colors. I’ll always love these, since my grandfather Bob Klockau’s first Lincoln was a dark green 1966 Continental sedan with dark green leather and the optional 8-track player. This 1968 doesn’t look much different, though the ’68s received a new grille with the turn signals moved up into the fender blades with clear lenses, the stand-up hood ornament was replaced with a flush-mounted one, and there were mild styling updates to the rear deck, seats, door cards, and instrument panel. The non-Mark coupe also got a smoother roofline.

By the way, the color, according to my 1968 Lincoln color and upholstery folder, is Royal Burgundy, suitably named for a luxury make. It is contrasted nicely with a black leather interior and black vinyl-coated Heritage Roof, as it was referred to in the brochure.

It was a splendid conveyance and makes me wonder why Lincoln decided to not only eliminate all sedans from its lineup starting in 2021, but also ax the Continental name, just when it was getting off to a new start. Oh well, we’ll always have the classics!

***

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My friend Jayson Coombes attended the Lincoln & Continental Owners Club’s Eastern meet in Knoxville, Tennessee, in June (I’m a Lake Shore Region member). Initially I had thought about going myself, but it appeared to be about a 10-hour drive, so I demurred. It was a twofer for Jayson though, as his folks live nearby, so he got to see some beautiful cars and visit with his parents for a few days.

As Jayson explained, the show was not gigantic, but there were some absolutely high-quality cars at the event. In addition to today’s spectacular example of Broughamage, there was a Lincoln Versailles with a fantastic aqua velour interior, a burgundy 1968 Continental sedan, a 1949 Cosmopolitan, and several showroom-condition 1977–79 Mark Vs. But this 1977 Lincoln Continental Town Car was one of the first I zeroed in on.

What spectacular colors! I know I’m a broken record on this subject, but man, what colors used to be available. Glancing at my copy of the 1977 Continental brochure, the hues included Ice Blue Moondust, Yellow Gold Diamond Fire, Dark Jade Metallic (one of my favorites), Cinnamon Gold Moondust, Midnight Blue, Dove Gray, and Cream.

But you won’t find our featured car’s color in that ’77 showroom brochure, because it was custom ordered when new. The color itself, easily visible from across a parking lot, is Rosé Diamond Fire, which was available on the Mark IV in 1976. Apparently the original owner of this magnificent vessel wanted that color even though it was no longer on the chart and was willing to pay extra.

One indicator of a special order color is the silver-painted filler panels. That was done on all cars with custom paint, likely in order to streamline assembly on the production line. It’s just beautiful, and the optional turbine spoke alloy wheels, a new option for 1977, only enhance its good looks. This is luxury car with a capital L.

Ah, yes, the age of the land yacht. I missed the golden years, but I remember all the Fleetwoods, Continentals, Ninety-Eight Regencys, and LTD Crown Victorias from the 1980s and ’90s. And, of course, there were still myriad ’70s survivors at the time, ranging in condition to pristine and driven by little old ladies with hats, to one step away from the demolition derby at the Scott County Fair.

Speaking of demolition derby, back around 1990, my cousin Suzy’s boyfriend bought old clunkers and ran them in the fair. I remember one time he stopped by my aunt and uncle’s house in a bombed-out blue 1975–78 Mercury Marquis sedan. It was the same type as the one in the John Candy classic, Uncle Buck—and in about the same condition—except the movie car was a coupe, not a sedan. “Wanna go for a ride?” Heck, yes!

So we went on a quick and speedy five-minute ride, and when we got back I noticed it had one headlamp door remaining, with the emblem on it. “Can I have the emblem?” I asked. “Sure!” he answered and proceeded to break off the headlamp door, unscrew the emblem from it, and hand it to me. That car went out in a blaze of glory almost 35 years ago, but I still have that emblem in a drawer somewhere.

Pardon my digression, but the headlamp doors on this Continental took me back! Funny how that happens sometimes. But back to Lincolns. The 1977 models received a moderate facelift. The biggest change was the front end, where the previous year’s low, wide grille was replaced with a tall, narrow one.

It was very similar, though not identical, to the one on the Continental Mark V, and I’m sure the resemblance was intentional. As had been the case, Continentals came as either a two-door coupe or four-door sedan.

The four door started at $9636 (about $48,923 today); the coupe, $9474 ($48,100). A total of 68,160 four-doors and 27,440 coupes were produced for the model year, including both standard trim Continentals and those with the Town Car or Town Coupé packages.

Town Cars and Town Coupés added “floating pillow” seating, a full vinyl roof (the landau-style coach roofs, whether on coupe or sedan, were an optional extra), leather upholstery, carpeted luggage compartment with matching spare tire cover, six-way power seat, AM/FM radio with four speakers, power antenna, and Automatic Temperature Control.

As one would expect, a V-8 was standard, along with Select-Shift automatic transmission. Other standard features included power vent windows, cornering lamps, a Cartier-signed digital clock, white sidewall Michelin tires, tinted glass, power windows, power brakes, power steering, automatic parking brake release and fender skirts. The 208-horsepower 460-cubic-inch V-8 came on all cars except those destined to go to California, where a 179-hp, 400-cu-in V-8 was installed instead.

“A standard by which luxury cars are judged … introducing the 1977 Lincoln Continental.” So began the 1977 brochure. It was pretty clear they were referencing the newly-downsized 1977 Cadillacs. “You’ve got your standards … and everything you do has to meet them. You won’t compromise. For 1977, the Lincoln Continental hasn’t compromised either.”

That was definitely true in the Continental’s sheer size and room. These cars had a 127.2-inch wheelbase, 233-inch overall length, and had a curb weight of 4880 pounds for the sedan and 4836 pounds on the coupe.

Of course, as it turned out, Lincoln was whistling past the graveyard. Starting in 1978, the 460 was optional and the 400 was standard. In 1979, the 460 disappeared, never to return. And in 1980, the Continentals joined the Marquis and LTD and appeared on the newly shrunken “Panther” chassis. But it was fun while it lasted.

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I’m one of those people who likes—in some cases, loves—cars that most folks love to hate. Cadillac Cimarrons, Mustang II Ghias, Plymouth Volate Premier woody wagons. Yep. Love ’em. And Gremlins, and Matador Barcelona sedans. And the Lincoln Versailles, that late-1970s “luxury compact” that 99 percent of internet know-it-alls love to hate. Be warned. This is not going to be a column full of cheap shots and Granada references. Buckle up!

The Versailles was a step in a new direction for Lincoln. Until its appearance as a 1977 model, all Lincolns were big. Really big. True, the Mark III, which appeared in 1968 as a ’69 model, was based on the Thunderbird, but it was still pretty good sized. And imposing in its own right. But the Versailles was a different type of Lincoln.

And yes, let’s get it out of the way: It WAS based on the “premium compact” Ford Granada and Mercury Monarch. But so what? Plenty of luxury cars were—and are—based on more prosaic chassis. The primary issue was that it still looked so much like a Granada or Monarch—at first.

Of course, the Versailles came about due to the appearance in 1975 of the all-new 1976 Cadillac Seville, the first small Cadillac. Now there’s another car that armchair enthusiasts love to claim is “just a Nova.” Psst. It’s not. But let’s not get into that today, shall we?

But yes, partly due to Cadillacs and Lincolns getting so super-sized by the ’70s, and also partly due to increasing interest in luxury European imports, both luxury makes decided to offer a smaller car. Smaller, but still with all the luxury trappings: power everything, full- or landau-style padded vinyl roofs, wire wheel covers, opera/coach lamps, velour or leather seating, and anything else commonly seen on domestic luxocruisers at the time.

Despite its Granada origins, Lincoln offered a lot of interesting additional features to the Versailles. It was the first U.S. car with halogen-sealed-beam headlamps, four-wheel power disc brakes (at a time when many domestic cars still had front disc/rear drum braking), and a programmable garage door opener built into the driver’s side sun visor. By the way, do you know what U.S car was the first with basecoat/clearcoat paint? Yes, it was the Versailles!

Sales were initially tepid. Price was likely a factor, as the initial ’77 model started at $11,500 (about $58,409 today). That same year you could get a new Continental sedan—a car that was MUCH larger and roomier and imposing—for $9636 ($48,942). Sales were 15,434, and 1978 was even worse. The price was bumped to $12,529 ($59,146), and only 8931 were sold.

But in 1979, some money was spent to spruce up the Versailles and make it more distinctive. The biggest change was the roofline. Initially identical to Granada Ghias in the suburbs and plain-Jane versions in government fleets, it was made more formal for ’79 with a fat C-pillar and a new standard Cavalry twill vinyl half-roof. An even-thicker padded coach roof was also available as an option. This immediately made the Versailles look more like a separate entity, though of course the basic body and 109.9-inch wheelbase remained unchanged.

The 1979 Lincoln Versailles had a base price of $12,939 ($54,842), weighed in at 3684 pounds, and 21,007 were built for the model year—a healthy improvement from 1978, when less than 9000 were sold. All came with Ford’s robust 302-cubic-inch V-8, with a 4.00 x 3.00 bore and stroke and 130 horsepower, and SelectShift automatic transmission. Standard equipment was ample and included automatic climate control, AM/FM stereo with 8-track player, forged aluminum wheels (yes, the wire wheel covers were extra, as seen on this example), cruise control, and a Cartier-signed electronic digital clock.

The new roofline was likely the biggest reason the Versailles’ nearly tripled its sales numbers over 1978. It now looked much more like a Lincoln. But it was still pricier than the big Continental sedan and coupe, which based at $11,200 ($47,483) and $10,985 ($46,571), respectively. The Mark V personal luxury coupe was the only model with a higher base price than the Versailles, at $13,067 ($55,398).

It was a great sales year for the Versailles, but it didn’t last. In 1980 it was virtually unchanged except for a couple of new colors and a base price increase to $14,674 ($54,812). The drop may have been partly due to the Continentals and Mark being downsized and now being much closer to the Versailles’s size. At any rate, only 4784 were built for ’80 and it would not return for 1981, though the Fox-body based 1982 Continental would essentially replace it in size and position in the Lincoln model lineup.

This particular Versailles, finished in white with an amazing aqua velour interior, was seen by my friend Jayson Coombes at the LCOC Eastern Meet held in Knoxville, Tennessee, in June. I loved the color combo and its seemingly showroom condition. As Jayson related, there weren’t a giant amount of cars there, but they were all quality cars, and he saw some extremely nice stuff.

In addition to this Versailles, there was a gorgeous 1968 Continental sedan, 1949 Cosmopolitan fastback sedan, Fiesta Red ’64 Continental convertible, and more. I expect at least a few of those other show entries will appear here sooner or later.

As always, I’d like to thank Jayson for allowing me to use his photos. You’re a gentleman and a scholar!

***

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It’s not easy being a fan of ’80s and ’90s American luxury grand touring vehicles. People look at you funny at car shows, in ways they don’t at German or Japanese luxury sedan owners. Maybe it’s because the usual enthusiasm for cas from this era focuses on vehicles marketed as “Ultimate Driving Machines,” or those “Engineered like no other car in the world,.” Even those in the “Relentless Pursuit Of Perfection“! That’s fine, unless you’re like me and take issue with Camaro owners scoffing at a Nova, or Barracuda diehards downplaying the Dodge Dart.

While it’s no big-block Dart, the Essex V-6-powered Continental has a lifecycle resembling a boomerang. The 1988-1994 Essex Continental rode the tidal wave of good vibes from the sistership Ford Taurus, and it sold swimmingly at the outset. Then it fizzled; head gaskets/transmission/air suspension problems proved fatal flaws that drove these cars to the bottom of the depreciation curve. Cash for Clunkers in the 2000s was not kind to the Continental, either. For those would-be owners in the modern age who were lucky enough to stumble upon a survivor, the boomerang came back around.

These days, the little Essex Continental remains a shockingly competent machine. There are reserves of new, affordable spare parts so abundant that my fans of foreign would literally kill for them. I discussed this previously, and it still holds true: finding what I need online (Rock Auto, eBay, NOS Ford parts vendor) is the rule, not the exception.

There were a shocking number of cutting-edge parts on these cars, enabling surprisingly flat cornering with the very best of Detroit’s smooth-riding boulevardiers. Remember, Ford was riding high after the 1986 Taurus, emptying a bank vault for the Essex Continental. The 3.8-liter V-6 engine’s aluminum heads and magnesium valve covers surely incite jealousy in fans of Buick’s more conventional engine of the same displacement. Ford threw more at this mill for the upcoming Thunderbird Super Coupe, but in the end, both of its two- or four-door flagships sported an impressive adjustable suspension and steering system. That’s almost expected for a T-bird of this era, but in a Lincoln Continental it was borderline heresy revolutionary!

In 2014, on a fateful test drive, I took a fast sweeper in a dark blue 1989 Essex Continental. It hooked me, riding better than any Town Car but chowing down on corners like a Mercedes. “How on earth did that just happen?” I remarked while nestled amid the Essex’s decadent blue leather interior. (Which I paid $900 for, not just because it was one dead battery away from the junkyard and I pitied it, but also so I could clean it up and SHO it off.)

Aside from the original Lexus LS400, most luxury automakers didn’t have the nerve money to offer goodies like effortless-seeming air suspension, dual-mode Tokico shocks (yes, really), variable-effort steering with impressive breadth, ABS brakes, and even dual airbags (1989+). And all this amazing kit was standard with the Lincoln. The only weak link was that Essex engine, leading to speculation that Lincoln would also get the Taurus SHO’s Yamaha V-6.

I won’t tell you how much money I spent reconditioning the exterior of my Essex Continental with fresh paint, trim de-cluttering, and NOS lighting pods. Nor will I blab about my extensive maintenance regiment (even though parts are cheap and labor ain’t half bad when you’re already in there). But I will tell you that $250 on eBay nets you an absolutely mental amount of low-end torque after sending the factory Y-pipe and its disturbing 90-degree bends into the scrap metal pile.

All this is why I no longer pine for a Lincoln Town Car, as the Essex Continental’s stiffer body, rear strut tower brace and four-wheel independent suspension provide a better real-world ride on modern roads at modern speeds. I still love bigger German sedans from the same era, but they are lighter on luxury, have miserable audio systems and mediocre HVAC, and can only take down the Essex Continental on a long enough straightaway.

Most old luxury sedans from this era tend to be unreliable this far on. But in the Conti’s case I don’t cry when I need a tow to a shop, as this isn’t an imported car with imported-car parts availability and expense. Instead, the flat bed’s hydraulic noises suggest I’m about to perform the equivalent of thrift store shopping spree, opening a few browser tabs to hunt for leftover NOS bits at fire sale prices. I’ll admit to you, dear reader, this is automotive retail therapy in 2023; that wasn’t the case back when the Essex Continental was a few years old.

And when it was new? Don’t read the rantings of some other brand loyal idiot journalist wearing rose-colored glasses, as Motorweek tested a pre-production Essex Continental and came to similar conclusions. They said it was putting European marques on notice, just like the Taurus only two years before. The engine absolutely “runs out of steam” before hitting up the aftermarket for the aforementioned exhaust goodies. But the slalom course shows those dual-mode Tokicos in beast mode, conjuring up references to the 7 Series BMW in terms of a ride and handling balance.

I can hear your keyboards warming up, ready to roast me in the comments for neglecting to mention how front-wheel drive platforms understeer, especially something as softly sprung as a Lincoln. But wait! Motorweek noted how well the rear wheels follow the front, thanks to ideally matched sway bars and the aforementioned rear strut brace. It’s a flat-handling SHO-stopper.

The variable-rate steering even cosplays as an E-Class Benz at speed, just as convincingly as it plays a Lincoln Town Car while parallel parking. This was a stellar first showing for 1988, but much like the 2002 Ford Thunderbird, Ford stopped the music well before the dance was over. That’s fine by me. I am content with owning a vehicle that lost far too many true believers as the boomerang traveled farther and farther away from its origin.

I am regularly stopped by Gen-Z types that are curious, excited, and blissfully unaware of the Essex Continental’s hefty historical baggage. They know it isn’t a Town Car, but they can’t figure out what Lincoln would have such a pointy beak, blackwall tires, and a hunkered-down demeanor on alloy wheels. I tell them what I’ve told you, and they dig it because this “OG” paved the way for the computerized icons that came in its hefty wake.

The folks at Car and Driver had this to say in their 1989 “10Best” list:

“With the Continental, Ford’s engineers have accomplished something we never quite believed we’d see in a full-size American luxury car: they have combined a pillowy ride with surprisingly capable handling.”

It’s a telling quote that sums up all my experiences with the Essex Continental. So I bought the rag and stuffed it in the Mercedes-alike storage nook (that Ford made for the 1986 Taurus). I remove it on occasion when an onlooker shows appropriate interest. (Two times and counting.) Those wise words wouldn’t mean so much in 2023, when every modern luxury icon handles great, but I’d wager that their 19+ inch wheels shod in rubber band tires would send thumps into the cabin if even a paper clip falls on the road.

All that NVH gets old quick. Better to have an Essex Continental in your arsenal. Finding one of these odd Lincolns on the road today is akin to a boomerang in a haystack. Maybe you should start looking.

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It’s fairly well known that I am a big fan of yellow luxury cars. Especially when said yellow luxury car has a matching yellow interior. As a kid I’d always gawk at a Colonial Yellow or Cameo Ivory Cadillac as it went by. In my win-the-lottery garage there would at least be a triple Colonial Yellow 1978 Eldorado Biarritz, Naples Yellow ’77 Seville, and Cream ’77–79 Continental Mark V. With color-keyed interiors, naturally!

Actually, I’m still a big kid, as Auto World recently released a 1979 Continental Mark V in 1/64 scale, in Cream with matching top and interior. I immediately had to have one, and when my preferred regional diecast shop didn’t get them in fast enough, I ordered directly from the manufacturer.

But wait. Then the local Walmart started getting them in, and like a starving man at a buffet, I bought four more. Though in my defense, two were earmarked for my friend (and frequent column photo contributor) Jayson Coombes. But I see I’m digressing again.

The Mark V, with its unapologetic length, style, and decadent luxury features, ended its three-year run in 1979 and was replaced with the 1980 Continental Mark VI, which looked very much like a 3/4-scale Mark V. But it added a four-door version! The Mark VI lasted through the 1983 model year, and then things changed. A lot.

Based on the all-new 1983 Thunderbird and Cougar and further refined, the 1984 Mark VII was super modern in the 1980s Ford “aero” style that would define its entire lineup just a few years in the future. Sure, it had the Parthenon-style grill, spare tire hump in the trunk lid, tons of luxury features and plenty of chrome (at least in the non-LSC models), but it was dramatically different from the Mark of 1969–83.

The new Mark VII was once again coupe only, though the Fox-body Continental, which first appeared in 1982, was for all intents and purposes a four-door Mark, if a bit more formal with its bustle back styling. The new coupe came in standard, Bill Blass and Versace, and LSC “Luxury Sport Coupe” editions.

Perhaps the two biggest talking points, other than its extra modern styling, was the use of new flush headlamps, which eliminated the tried and true individual headlights one could purchase at Kmart, Sears, or the local NAPA auto supply. I’ve heard the reason the Mark VII didn’t appear in ’83 with its T-Bird and Cougar siblings is that the Lincoln designers really wanted it to have the flush headlamps from the get go but had to wait for federal approval, which bumped its debut to the ’84 model year.

Headlamps aside, the big deal was the all-new LSC model, or Lincoln Sport Coupe. For the first time ever, a Mark VII came from the factory with blacked-out trim and—I hope your fainting couch is nearby—blackwall tires! The buff magazines were by and large fairly impressed, which was a tricky thing for the domestic car manufacturers to do in the ’80s. Though the initial ’84 model had the same engine as the Designer editions and standard Mark VII.

That changed when the ’85 Mark VIIs started appearing in showrooms, with the ’85 LSC—MSRP $24,332 (almost $70K today)—gaining the 165-hp High Output 302 V-8 as seen in Mustang GTs. Meanwhile, the Bill Blass and Versace Designer Series models continued at $26,659 ($76,258) and $26,578 ($76,026), respectively. Standard Mark VIIs like our featured car started at $22,399 ($64,072).

The Mark VII had a 108.5-inch wheelbase, overall length of 202.8 inches, and 54.2-inch height. Curb weight was 3615 pounds. For the 1985 model year, 18,355 Mark VIIs of all trim levels were produced. That was also the first year that the Anti-Lock Braking System was added to the car’s power four-wheel disc brakes.

ABS was standard on the Designer Series and LSC, optional on the base Mark VII. The non-LSC 302 V-8 produced 140 horsepower. In 1984–85 only, a BMW-sourced 115-hp, inline six-cylinder turbodiesel was also available optionally, but seldom seen. It was also available on the four-door Continental. And even less frequently seen. I have seen a couple online, but never in person.

As you may guess, I was smitten with this car’s color combination. Until I saw this online, I wasn’t aware that Cream had been an available color on Mark VIIs. I remember seeing it on the later Mark IVs (usually with the Cream and Gold Luxury Group) and Mark Vs, but never on the aero Mark.

It had to have been uncommon, especially since most Mark VIIs were either the Designer Series or LSC. The “standard” Mark VII was kind of a rare bird. So much so that it disappeared after the 1987 model year. At that point all Mark VIIs were either the Bill Blass or the LSC, right up until 1992, when the Mark VII was replaced with the even more futuristic Mark VIII. It’s a credit to the styling of the Mark VII that even after nine model years it still looked clean and modern. In my opinion, it still does today. Especially the 1990–92 models with their BBS-style alloy wheels.

Our featured car has only a few options: leather-wrapped steering wheel, the compass/thermometer group (which included the nifty mini-overhead console), and power driver and passenger seat recliners. Of course, as a Mark it already had myriad standard comfort and convenience features.

During this time Lincoln’s tagline was “Lincoln: What a Luxury Car Should Be.” I always loved that slogan, and it would still work today except for the fact that Lincoln no longer builds cars. Perhaps: “What A Luxury Truck Should Be”?

Or even better, bring back the Continental. Please, Ford? I loved the 2017–20 version; it was worthy of the name. Especially when equipped with the heated, cooled, and massaging seats! Maybe someday. In the meantime, a tidy Mark VII like this would be a great Sunday and cruise-night driver! I spotted it online over Memorial Day weekend. It was on Phoenix Craigslist and I just loved it! But when I sat down to write about it, the listing was gone, so someone snapped it up. I’m glad I saved the pics to “The Vault” so I can continue to admire it for years to come!

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The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) said on Monday it was expanding its investigation into Ford SUVS and pickups over possible “catastrophic” engine failures caused by the fracturing of engine intake valves.

Affected are the 2021 Ford Bronco (25,619 vehicles), as well as additional Ford “populations” equipped with the 2.7-liter EcoBoost engine including the 2022 Bronco (33,106 vehicles), 2021–2022 F-150 (155,619 vehicles), 2021–2022 Edge (6889 vehicles), and 2021–2022 Lincoln Nautilus (8596 vehicles). 

Said NHTSA’s investigation: “Under normal driving conditions without warning the vehicle may experience a loss of motive power without restart due to catastrophic engine failure related to an alleged faulty valve within 2.7 L and 3.0 L EcoBoost engines.” NHTSA will add the 2021–22 Ford Explorer and Lincoln Aviator with the 3.0-liter engine to the investigation.

The investigation began with owner complaints over the 2021 Ford Bronco 2.7-liter engine, but has expanded to other 2021/2022 vehicles and the 3.0-liter engine, which is from the same engine family.

“During the investigation,” NHTSA said, “multiple contributing factors were identified which can lead to the fracturing of the intake valves in the subject engines. Ford acknowledged that a fractured intake valve can result in catastrophic engine failure and a loss of motive power and noted that following a valve fracture, a vehicle typically requires a full engine replacement.

“Ford advised that the defective valves were manufactured out of a specific alloy known as ‘Silchrome Lite’, which can become excessively hard and brittle if an over-temperature condition occurs during machining of the component.

“A design modification was implemented in October 2021, which changed the intake valve material to a different alloy known as ‘Silchrome 1’ that is less susceptible to over-temperature during machine grinding. Ford has identified that the defective intake valves commonly fail early in a vehicle’s life and has suggested that the majority of failures have already occurred.”

The investigation will precede a decision by NHTSA and Ford to decide whether a recall is warranted.

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The era of massive personal luxury coupes was coming to an end in the late 1970s. A couple of fuel crises made smaller more economical cars very appealing, and most manufacturers downsized their full-size offerings. But Lincoln was not most manufacturers.

Ahead of the 1977 Continental Mark V release, Lincoln proudly announced that “Our standard cars are full-sized in every sense of the term as are our luxury offerings.”

At over 19 feet long and the largest iteration of the Continental, the Mark V made good on Lincoln’s promise. If you need a car that’s as big as a whale or can seat about 20, check out our auction pick of the week, this 1979 Continental Mark V Bill Blass Edition offered with no reserve.

The Mark V was arguably the apex of the ’70s personal luxury coupe craze. Unleaded fuel and crude smog controls ended the golden era of performance, so manufacturers pivoted to very large, plush cruisers.

This giant slab of American steel is powered by an equally giant 400cid V-8 backed by a three-speed C-6 automatic transmission. With an 8:1 compression ratio, the V-8 only put out 179 hp, but the engine’s 329 lb-ft of torque made for effortless boulevard cruising.

As a continuation of its predecessor’s Designer Series, the Mark V offered four exclusive editions designed by either Bill Blass, Cartier, Givenchy, or Pucci. Each special edition embodied the style of its designer namesake through the use of exclusive paint schemes and interior appointments.

Our feature car is a well-preserved Bill Blass edition with just over 5000 miles on the clock. Exclusive exterior flourishes include a blue-over-white two-tone paint job, gold pinstriping, and Blass monogramming on the white vinyl carriage top and the rear decklid. The interior is finished in plush white leather with midnight blue accent straps, piping, and components.

The car has a few minor imperfections, including minor paint chips in the driver-side rear quarter panel and driver’s door. There is also a minor dent in the driver- and passenger-side rear quarter panels. But the car is mechanically sound. Recent maintenance includes new Hankook Kinergy ST tires in 2022, and an oil and filter change performed in April 2023 at 5,008 miles. The cosigner reports that the air conditioning is fully functional—perfect for summer trips to the local ice cream shop.

Regardless of how much this Mark V sells for, the price-per-inch will be unmatched. Get your bids in on this beautiful boat now. The auction ends on Tuesday, June 6th at 4:30 p.m. EDT.

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NHTSA wants mandatory automatic braking on all new light-duty vehicles

Intake: The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) is asking the Biden administration to require automatic emergency braking, including for pedestrians, on all new light-duty vehicles. If the proposal is adopted, most all cars and light trucks would be required to have the crash-avoidance technology three years after the rule is finalized. Tougher requirements would take effect four years after that finalization. NHTSA projects the proposal could prevent at least 360 deaths and reduce injuries on U.S. roads by at least 24,000 a year. Said Ann Carlson, NHTSA’s chief counsel: “In this rule-making, we’re proposing to require that the systems be much more effective at much higher speeds.” The proposal would require the systems to avoid other vehicles at speeds up to 50 mph if a driver fails to react. If a driver brakes, but not enough to avoid a wreck, the system would have to fully avoid another vehicle at speeds up to 62 mph. It also would require vehicles to be able to stop and avoid pedestrians at speeds up to 37 mph.

Exhaust: NHTSA estimates the cost per vehicle to be $82 for each design cycle change per model, according to the proposal. “We know we’re throwing a challenge out here,” Polly Trottenberg, deputy secretary of the U.S. Transportation Department, said at a press event Wednesday. “But we know that a lot of this technology is already pretty well-developed, and this is a time to take things to the next level, to make this technology more universally deployed and more stringent.” — Steven Cole Smith

Going, Going, Goon! Peter Sellers’ Aston Martin DB4GT heads to auction

Intake: A 1961 Aston Martin DB4GT owned by British comedy legend Peter Sellers and driven by him in 1963’s The Wrong Arm of the Law is to go under the hammer at Bonhams Goodwood Festival of Speed Sale on July 14. As ‘”Pearly Gates” in the 1963 Ealing Comedy, Sellers escaped the rozzers in their wheezing Wolseley 6/90 thanks to the 306 hp of the DB4GT’s 3.7-liter straight-six engine. The DB4GT’s getaway go was also aided by its 12-plug head, weight-saving magnesium body panels, and Perspex rear window. Almost all of the 75 D4GTs built by Aston Martin were two-seaters, but Sellers’ car had occasional rear seats installed, which allowed his unlikely accomplice Inspector Parker, played by Lionel Jeffries, to join him in the speedy chase scenes. A confirmed car enthusiast, Sellers did much of the on-screen driving himself, although the sketchiest stunts were done by Aston Martin dealer Ken Rudd, who also had a cameo as a gang member in the movie. During filming, the car’s original engine was damaged and the car was returned to the factory where it was fitted with a bigger four-liter block. A different DB4GT was also used in a scene where it leaps over a humpback bridge. Sellers bought the DB4GT in late 1961 or early 1962 and had it serviced regularly at Aston Martin Feltham where he met expert mechanic Richard Williams, who he hired to look after his car collection. The car had several owners after Sellers, er, sold it, including the chairman of the Aston Martin Owners’ Club, Gerry Keane. It has since been totally rebuilt and repainted in Goodwood Green.

Exhaust: Sellers’ DB4GT ticks all the boxes and “It really has all the credentials to be one of the most coveted examples,” says Bonhams’ Senior Collector Car Consultant James Knight. As a result, Bonhams expects the car to fetch £2.2–£2.6 million ($2.7–$3.35m) but we wouldn’t be surprised if its celebrity provenance sees the price go even higher. — Nik Berg

Toyota’s first U.S.-made EV will hail from Kentucky

Intake: According to a report from Automotive News, Toyota has selected its plant in Georgetown, Kentucky, to build its first U.S.-made EV, a forthcoming three-row crossover. The batteries for the new EV will come from a plant that’s being built in Liberty, North Carolina, which just received a $2.1 billion investment yesterday. That North Carolina plant will have six battery production lines—four for hybrids and two for EVs. Toyota’s Georgetown, Kentucky, plant is currently responsible for the Camry, Camry Hybrid, RAV4 Hybrid, and the Lexus ES sedan, but production of the ES will be phased out of the plant by 2025. Adding the EV to the Georgetown plant is not expected to have a major impact on production, which the plant says is 550,000 vehicles annually.

Exhaust: The Inflation Reduction Act’s heavy emphasis on North American EV and battery manufacturing is largely the reason behind this move. Since the law passed last August, automakers and suppliers have earmarked more than $50 billion in investments for EV and battery production in North America. — Nathan Petroelje

Lincoln MKCs being recalled for under-hood fires

Intake: Ford is recalling about 142,000 Lincoln MKCs and is advising owners to park outdoors and away from structures while it investigates the cause of under-hood fires. The cause is not clear but it is believed the fires originate near the 12-volt battery, says Automotive News. The model years being recalled are 2015–2019.

Exhaust: Ford said it is aware of 19 potentially related reports of under-hood fires, including seven reports since December, while the vehicle was parked and turned off. Ford said it is unaware of any physical injuries related to this issue. The MKC was Lincoln’s entry-level SUV, based on the Ford Escape. It was replaced by the Lincoln Corsair, which is also Escape-based. The Corsair and Escape are not part of this recall.— SCS

Indy fan whose car was damaged by the flying tire will get a new one

Intake: IndyCar fan Robin Matthews saw the crash that caused Kyle Kirkwood’s tire and wheel to clear the fence in Sunday’s Indianapolis 500, but she didn’t realize that it came down on her white Chevrolet, nicknamed Snowball, until after the race. The impact (pictured above) totaled the vehicle, which had to be towed away. Matthews was treated with a chance to kiss the yard of bricks, and IMS president J. Douglas Boles gave her a ride home. “I didn’t see it come down,” Matthews told the Indianapolis Star. “I came down, and they said, ‘Robin, it’s your car!’ I thought, ‘No.’ I thought somebody was pranking me. It’s a car. It’s fine.”

Exhaust: On Wednesday a  spokesperson told the Star that Penske Entertainment, which also owns the IndyCar Series as well as the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, would also give Matthews, a race fan from Indianapolis, a new car to replace the one that was damaged when Kirkwood’s car launched off the back of Felix Rosenqvist’s after Rosenqvist hit the wall between Turns 1 and 2. Kirkwood’s car flipped, and his tire went soaring over the fence, and the corner of a grandstand where many fans were watching the race, before landing in the parking lot, where it crushed the Chevrolet. No one was injured by the flying tire. — SCS

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Last’s week’s question generated some fantastic answers, as they are so many underrated and unsung heroes of the automobile. While the likes of Henry Ford and Carroll Shelby have earned a rightful place in our hearts, we need to make room for more heroes. Why not open up for these seven suggestions, offered to us by the Hagerty Community?

Henry Leland

The immensely talented Bob Elton started us off with one of the more overlooked automotive heroes. Community member @Roger also chimed with his approval, because this was indeed a “great nomination.”

“Henry Leland is the greatest unknown auto pioneer. He created precision manufacturing, which allowed interchangeable parts, which in turn allows wrenchers like us to swap in new parts for rears. His relocation to Detroit made it the Motor City. He inspired lots of other auto pioneers, like the Dodge Brothers, and Henry Ford’s feud with Leland shaped Detroit, Michigan, and lots of modern America.

Along the way, he created Cadillac, and then later Lincoln. Yet no one knows of him, partly because he never named a car after himself, and never had a Detroit landmark named after him.”

Roy Lunn

Hagerty’s own Ronnie Schreiber recommended a man with a portfolio of accomplishments that are the envy of the automotive world. Clearly, Mr. Lunn earned his nomination to this list.

“Roy Lunn: He was responsible for the Aston Martin DB2, the original Ford Anglia, and the mid-engine Mustang I concept. He was in charge of the Ford GT40 program, and then moved to AMC where here engineered the most durable American car ever: the Jeep Cherokee. From there he invented the crossover with production of the AMC Eagle 4×4, and he also designed the Renault Sports Racer for the SCCA’s first spec racing series.”

Charles Kettering

To say Kettering is under-represented in our automotive society is an understatement. It wasn’t until 1998 that he got his name on the university he inspired (for lack of a better word), so @hyperv6’s recommendation was very appropriate:

“Charles Kettering was a inventor on the scale of Edison but his products where less well known to the consumer directly. His best was the electric starter. Also he created Freon for AC and refrigerators, and created better paints for the Dupont company when they were combined with GM. This led to a large number of colors being offered. All Ford model T cars were generally painted black as it was cheap and easy. Kettering made it so colors were cheap and easy to apply.

• The Two Stroke Diesel was advanced under his work. This advanced trucks, trains, and large construction equipment. He invented the Incubator for premature babies and a host of lighting and electrical equipment
• Leaded gas that created higher compressions so we could have more powerful and efficient engines.
• He even created the first cruise missile with the Doddle Bug. It was a flying radio controlled flying bomb.
• He worked in the early stages of solar energy and magnetic applications for diagnostic medicine.
• He even created generators for farms and storage battery systems for farms far from a power grid.
• The Slone Kettering Cancer Center also was a legacy. The GM engineering school is the Kettering institute.

Just imagine the things he created and just how they contributed to the automotive field and the building of GM into a large corporation. [Without Kettering,] there would be no Fridigare, Delco, and many other things. Much of America was built with GM technology and products and many of them were due to Charles. Even here in Ohio just an hour where he was from he is often a forgotten unsung hero.”

Eddie Rickenbacker

We received another great recommendation from @hyperv6:

“I’ll another Ohioan to the list, but he only played part of his life as a Auto magnate: Eddie Rickenbacker. He was an early automotive mechanic at the dawn of the automobile. Then a motorcycle racer, early auto engineer, auto racer, Flying War Ace, owner of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. He even created Eastern Airlines.

Eddie was a spy for America on Russia, survived an airline crash and B17 crash at sea, and was lost for nearly 3 weeks. He created Rickenbacker cars and was a VP for GM for a number of years. His life could not be shown in two hours and would take a mini series to really tell his whole story.”

Sir Alec Issigonis

Hagerty Community member @rob recommended someone that isn’t necessarily a household name in America, though he probably should be.

“Sir Alec Issigonis, the designer of the Mini and Morris Minor. He also designed the suspension in the late 30s that Morris Motors, MG, etc used until 1980. Truly a brilliant designer, and was also credited with the quote, ‘a camel is a horse designed by committee’.”

Walter P Chrysler

@Mike brought up many good points about the founder of the Chrysler corporation, especially compared to the folk hero status of his contemporary, Henry Ford.

“Compared with Henry Ford, Walter P. Chrysler is unsung. Ford may’ve produced affordable wheels, but Chrysler produced affordable engineering. Since few here gathered apparently read anything indepth, judging by the spelling and awkward prose, suggest starting with the Wikipedia entry on Walter Chrysler.

Despite only a high school education, like 10th-grade dropout Errett Lobban Cord who funded a classical music station simply because he thought Los Angeles should have one, Chrysler endowed symphonies and art galleries because he realized human invention and intellect [should not be] not compartmentalized.

While GM’s and Ford’s bloody opposition to the UAW were national disgraces, Chrysler tried psychological ploys like electric signs along the walls in the workers’ cafeteria—where he always ate lunch—displaying the results of national ballgames, but seeing the inevitable and always considering himself first a “workingman,” quietly accepted the union, as did Hudson, Nash, Packard and the others.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that to many of us ex-NYers, the Chrysler Building is still Manhattan’s most beautiful spire. For years, the tools Chrysler used to set steam locomotive valves, which is how he started and made a name for himself, were on display in the Chrysler Building’s lobby. There were no stronger, better built cars in the ’30s than Chrysler and DeSoto Airflows, regardless their unpopular style.

BTW, you could buy five arguably lovelier 1931–33 Chrysler Imperials for the price of a Model J Duesenberg, the latter taking several iterations and nine years to find 480 buyers, obsolete two years after its introduction. Regardless how many casino and pizza chain owners [or] TV comedians own them, anyone thinking a Model J is five times better than a 1931–33 Chrysler Imperial needs to take a careful look at, if not drive, both. Most Js in road trim only go 10 mph faster, [and have] a long timing chain [prone to] stretching at high rpm upsetting valve timing, front end vibration typical of most long wheelbase cars when cart springing about at the end of its tether. DOHC and a cuckoo clock box of timing gears flashing lights to remind the driver it was time to change oil, check battery water, and that the Bijur chassis oiling system used in many premium cars in operation do not make a car worth five (5) times more. Other than some Hollywooders, playboys/playgirls, scions of industrial wealth, most buyers quickly grasped this.

Ford V-8s were spunky and fast, Chevy sixes smooth, but a Plymouth had full pressure oiling, hydraulic brakes and those of the early ’30s were exceptionally pretty rides. But if sheer affordable speed [is what you] wanted, a ’33 Terraplane Eight would run away from them and most anything else on the road then.”

Ed Cole

@Tim reminded us that although General Motors fostered a lot of fantastic talent, one of them was a key player in making many of the Chevrolets we know and love:

“Ed Cole. His work with Cadillac, then Chevrolet, was outstanding. The small block Chevrolet V-8 was his baby!”

Clearly, these choices aren’t the only unsung heroes of the automobile, but they are a great jump start to the conversation. So please, tell us below, what unsung automotive heroes need more recognition?

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Why was I doing this?

That’s the question I asked myself as I listened to the tired sound of a starter motor, accompanied by … nothing. No whir of the fuel pump. No growl of the five-point-oh beneath the long hood before me.

Why was I, at 38 years old, my pregnant wife beside me, sitting at a gas station outside of Prague, hopelessly trying to start an old jalopy from another continent? I should have known better.

The brown-on-brown 1987 Lincoln Continental was not even my car. I’d bought it a few days before, on behalf of my friend, Radek, who intended to use it as his sole transportation. Then I stored it at another friend’s place, just outside of Prague, where I live. Now, I was taking it home, because it was due to tech inspection the next day.

Naturally, sitting there in the dead Lincoln, I pondered why I ever thought a nice afternoon trip with my wife would include going to pick up a 36-year-old car that wasn’t really street legal and, to my knowledge, hadn’t been driven regularly in at least seven years. That’s the kind of trouble the 20-year-old me would have gone looking for. But a man at almost middle age, with a baby on the way?

Of course, I have learned a thing or two in the last couple decades. For instance, I managed to nurse the car to the gas station, which was housed a McDonalds, so at least I could consider the wisdom of my actions over a triple cheeseburger. And I could always just give up and call roadside assistance.

Ten or 15 years ago, this story would have included me spending the night at the gas station. Or walking 50 miles. Or making frantic calls to someone—anyone—to come pick me up in the middle of nowhere. Or some anecdote about me and some friend trying to get the car running with duct tape, WD40, and maybe a coat hanger or a pen. (Aside: Though I really am no mechanic, I have used pens to fix V-8s more than once).

But back to that opening question of Why? It is not so hard to answer: Because I’m an idiot. I could have had the Lincoln towed to its inspection. I could have checked its ability to start hot before I my lured my wife into it. I could have just not offered my to check the car out for my friend. Really, I should have just persuaded him not to buy an ’87 Lincoln sight unseen.

But I won’t lie, there is some real appeal to driving a 1987 Lincoln in Central Europe. I certainly wouldn’t have been so eager to help him out if he had bought, say, a Ford Mondeo diesel. To spend a few days driving this piece of Reagan-era Detroit machinery was to remind myself of a time when I used to consider such cars the only acceptable choice for my personal transportation. I might prefer full-size, body-on-frame machinery like the Chevy Caprice, but the midsize, unibody, Fox-platform Conti still possesses all the things that really matter: a big V-8 in the front, an automatic in the middle, and a driven live axle in the back.

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When the question of “How did you end up with your first American car” popped up on a local discussion board, Radek’s answer wasn’t some story about accidentally stumbling into ownership of something big, weird, and foreign. It was that of a little boy doodling long cars with huge fins, watching boxy 1980s cars in movies and simply wanting to get one of his own some day. Of course, being born in communist Czechoslovakia of the 1980s, and growing up in the newly born Czech Republic of the 1990s, things were a bit different than they were for a kid from Ohio.

Until 1989, everything American was, per the official point of view, bad and evil. We were no North Korea, however, and the regime couldn’t just pretend the U.S.A. didn’t exist. Our car magazines didn’t leave the American stuff out, and occasionally, you’d see some American car (or at least some similar Western European car) on the street, especially in the central parts of Prague frequented by ambassadors, foreign businessmen, or people lucky enough to somehow get hands on these unicorns. Once in a blue moon, too, there were American movies or shows on TV. Of course, they were meant to “reflect the moral failure of Western society,” but for us car-loving kids, you couldn’t avoid the fact that while the Czechoslovak cop drove a Škoda with a one-liter engine, the American cop had a Chevy with a V-8.

After the Velvet Revolution in late 1989, our televisions became full of American shows and movies. Your grandma probably watched Dallas, your proto-hipster parents were into Twin Peaks, and you were crazy about Police Academy. All them full of boxy Chevys and Fords with shiny bumpers and smoke coming out of their wheel wells. As borders opened, more and more people started bringing cars in from Western Europe, gray import companies appeared, and Chrysler even opened an official dealership.

Suddenly, we were just like the West, only with less money.

There was another key difference, too. If you came from a country that made a Mercedes-Benz or a Jaguar or even a Citroën DS, it could be quite easy to scoff at American cars as large, unsophisticated, cheaply made, terrible handlers. If, however, you were from a country that once produced groundbreaking V-8–powered streamliners but traded them for the lowly rear-engined Škoda 120, you would have been hard-pressed to view something large, powerful, generously equipped, and affordable as “unsophisticated.”

A better word we might use to describe American classics, especially the large sedans, was eccentric. If you wanted to show off, you usually got a Mercedes or BMW, because everyone knew what those were. An old Lincoln or Buick, on the other hand, made you a bit of a mystery. No one was sure how expensive they really were, and, unlike European brands, American cars had no social status attached to them. Behind the wheel of 1980 Cadillac Seville in Prague, you might have been a millionaire who’d just returned from America, or you might have been a regular guy with an unusual taste in cars. The only caveat in either case was that you couldn’t be afraid of attention, because you’d get it everywhere.

Today, no one would mistake you for being an eccentric millionaire if they saw you behind the wheel of a 1987 Lincoln. Many European cars have grown into sizes more in line with their American counterparts over the last couple decades, so the Continental looks almost slight in comparison. And it definitely does not look expensive. It does, however, still look eccentric—maybe even more so because, beyond the occasional garage-kept weekend classic, there just aren’t many old cars in use as daily drivers on Czech roads anymore. You almost never see people driving cars older than 20 years solely for style’s sake.

Even for an American car of the era, the seventh-generation Continental is a standout. The retro styling and bustle back rear end evoke the 1940s, yet the digital interior is the pinnacle of the 1980s futurism. There are even buttons on the headliner to switch a compass and thermometer on and off, like you’re an airplane pilot. It has traces of the Fox-body Mustang’s handling, yet it floats on its air shocks. The 302 sounds mighty, but it will get slaughtered in a drag race by a one-liter Ford Fiesta. It is a weird car, yes, but an inexpensive one that you can still run daily for a reasonable cost, even here in Central Europe.

At the gas station, I climbed back into the dead Lincoln, chewing the last bite of my cheeseburger. I’d try to fire up this style-point relic one more time before calling for a ride. I thought of those movie characters who beg their cars to start—C’mon! c’mon!—only to have them chug and chug until the very last second. But this was no movie, and the little brown Continental started right away. I wasted no time giving thought to what could have caused the issue and instead hightailed it back home before it had a chance to die on me again.

On the way, I phoned another friend to help me diagnose it at my home in the center of Prague. He arrived shortly after I did, in his Pontiac 6000, and proceeded to crawl under the car to change the fuel filter. I, being clumsy and mechanically inept, just ordered a Guinness from the pub, in front of which we were parked, and the whole scene played out to the amusement of the patrons.

Sipping my beer while trying to think of how to dispose of the half-gallon of gasoline we had drained into one of my wife’s cooking pots, I slowly realized why we were still doing this. Still fiddling with old Detroit iron, still living with it on a daily basis. In the months I had been living where I did, the guys from the pub had seen me pull up to my apartment in everything from a Jaguar to a Lexus LC500 to a Bentley Continental GTC. Yet it was the Lincoln that got the most attention and brought out the most questions. It’s also the car I felt most special driving.

After my few days with the Lincoln, I could totally see why Radek insists on driving cars like this. For the same money, he could have gotten the proverbial diesel Mondeo. He would have a perfectly reasonable car, more capable than this one in almost every way imaginable. He would also be a broke guy with a cheap car.

Yes, I know why we are doing it. It might be stupid, but it makes sense.

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Track-only Bugatti nobody will race is almost ready

Intake: Bugatti has announced that the Bolide, its latest and wildest supercar, has moved on to the next phase of testing before customer deliveries start in 2024. For the Bolide, Bugatti began with the quad-turbo W-16 engine, and “then built the lightest possible car around it,” the company says. Its minimal bodywork is designed to maximize downforce and cooling while delivering an exceptional power-to-weight ratio. In its final form, the 3200-pound Bolide is expected to deliver 1580 horsepower.

Exhaust: Said Christophe Piochon, president of Bugatti Automobiles: “The Bolide is treading new ground for Bugatti. Never before has such a powerful engine been paired with an ultra-lightweight design to create a track car that delivers motorsport levels of performance. Almost every component has been analyzed and redesigned to ensure Bolide is as light, capable and reliable as our strict targets require it to be.” Production will be limited to 40 cars at a price of about $4.4 million each. — Steven Cole Smith

Jaguar and Land Rover split into four brands

Intake: Jaguar Land Rover will now be called JLR in a rebrand that births four sub-brands: Range Rover, Discovery, Defender, and Jaguar. JLR will become a “house of brands” in a change of strategy that will help “amplify the uniqueness of our characterful British marques,” Gerry McGovern, chief creative officer, said in a statement to Automotive News. The strategy within Land Rover since 2021 has been to separate vehicles into three “pillars,” with Range Rover representing luxury, Discovery focusing on families, and Defender drawing from its rugged off-road roots. Some are already protesting that the rejiggering seems to eliminate the storied Land Rover moniker, but JLR says the name would continue as a badge on its SUVs to serve as a “trust mark.”

Exhaust: Jaguar has announced it will “reinvent itself” with the 2025 launch of an all-electric, four-door GT model that will have “exuberant and fearless” styling, executives told Automotive News. The car will be the brand’s fastest model to date and will cost more than 100,000 pounds ($124,200) as Jaguar moves more upscale. — SCS

Harley’s electric dirt bike will be pricey

Intake: LiveWire’s S2 Del Mar dirt bike is confirmed to launch with an MSRP of $15,499. Reservations are open for the production version in three colors and deliveries are expected to start in July. More detailed information including performance and production specifications of the dirt-track-inspired electric motorcycle will be released in June.

Exhaust: Livewire has been trodding along steadily now that it is out of the Harley Davidson shadow (though HD is still the majority shareholder in the company), and the Del Mar S2 has a unique look that has caught the attention of a fair number of riders. The lack of performance information makes this price announcement tough to interpret, but it certainly sets high expectations for the specs we will see in June. — Kyle Smith 

Attorneys General want Hyundais, Kias recalled

Intake: The attorney general of California and attorneys general of 17 other states have asked a federal regulator to recall certain Hyundai and Kia vehicles, saying some vehicles from these brands are more likely to be stolen because they lack the theft-prevention features that are standard in many other cars, such as engine immobilizers and push-button starters, says Reuters. “Kia’s and Hyundai’s failure to install standard safety features on many of their vehicles have put vehicle owners and the public at risk,” California Attorney General Rob Bonta said. U.S. theft claims were nearly twice as high for Hyundai and Kia vehicles compared with all other manufacturers among 2015–19 model-year vehicles, the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety’s Highway Loss Data Institute said.

Exhaust: The thefts began in earnest after TikTok videos aired specific instructions on how to steal Kia and Hyundai cars that started via a physical key and whose engines had no immobilizers. Bonta said the carmakers included an immobilizer in the same models in Canada and Europe but chose to “carve out” the United States. Hyundai and Kia have argued that the cars were federally compliant when sold. — SCS

Hyundai Motor Group at work on lunar rover

Intake: In happier Hyundai news, Hyundai Motor Group, which includes Kia, announced that it has begun research into building a lunar rover that should be ready for launch by 2027. The “autonomous driving unit” is specially designed to explore the moon’s surface, equipped with various advanced technologies with the goal to deliver a universally applicable mobility platform “to handle a variety of payloads.” The lunar mobility platform will include solar charging, autonomous driving, thermal management and radiation shielding, and can carry various equipment on top of the rover with a maximum weight of 150-plus pounds. The Group expects completion of the initial development model as soon as the second half of 2024. “Hyundai Motor Group has consistently stated its goal is to contribute to expanding human reach and the scope of human mobility experiences,” said Kim Yong-Hwa, the Group’s executive vice president and the head of its R&D planning & coordination center. “The creation of the lunar exploration mobility development model not only reflects this goal, but also shows our ambition to achieve tangible results in the face of significant challenges.” 

Exhaust: Presumably, the lunar rover will have push-button start and immobilizer technology. — SCS

Lincoln: To grow, it must get smaller

Intake: Lincoln’s new president is working to “galvanize the luxury brand’s stalled revival” by cutting its dealer network, refocusing its electrification strategy, and updating its products. “We have to get our mojo back,” Dianne Craig told Automotive News this week in New York as Lincoln introduced the redesigned Nautilus, a product she hopes will be key. Lincoln executives have worked hard to make the brand relevant again, and their efforts succeeded, to an extent—U.S. sales topped 112,000 vehicles in 2019, a 12-year high—then “flatlined when the pandemic hit.” Craig, who succeeded Joy Falotico as the brand’s president in December, now vows that Lincoln will grow again. “It’s really very straightforward—great products, great service,” she said. “That will define the future of the brand.”

Exhaust: This revitalization will happen without a lot of Lincoln’s dealers, though. Although Craig called the brand’s dealer network a “strategic advantage,” she said it must get smaller. Lincoln had 637 dealers at the start of 2023, according to Automotive News’ annual dealer census. — SCS

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VIN #001 Corvette E-Ray raises $1.1M for charity

Intake: At Barrett-Jackson’s Palm Beach Auction last weekend, Chevy auctioned off the first retail-production Corvette E-Ray. Rick Hendrick, chairman and CEO of the Hendrick Automotive Group and owner of the Hendrick Motorsports NASCAR Cup Series team, placed the winning bid of $1.1 million. All proceeds from the sale will be donated to an education nonprofit called DonorsChoose, which connects donors directly to teachers with classroom requests in low-income public schools.

Exhaust: Hendrick added the E-Ray to his stable of other VIN #001 Corvettes, including the first 2020 Corvette Stingray ($3M), the first C7 Corvette ZR1, and the first C8 Corvette Z06 ($3.7M), all of which were also auctioned off for charity. — Nathan Petroelje

First electric Porsche 911 built for California tech titan

Intake: Matt Rogers, cofounder of connected home technology firm Google Nest, is the first American to take delivery of an EV-converted Porsche 911 from British specialist Everrati. The “Signature” model features a carbon-fiber widebody kit finished in Mexico Blue with a Bridge of Weir dark blue leather interior. It was hand-built in the U.S.A. by Everrati’s partner, Aria Group, in Irvine, California. The car is powered by a 62-kWh battery pack which enables it to cover more than 200 miles on a full charge and take advantage of DC fast charging.

Exhaust: Rogers is so taken with his Everrati that he has invested in the British firm. “I have been a huge fan of the 964 since I was young,” he says. “And as we rapidly move into the age of electrification, I am thrilled to immortalize this iconic machine. It captures the zeitgeist perfectly, being sustainable and environmentally conscious while also keeping the character of the air-cooled Porsche era.” —Nik Berg

Hyundai fixes Elantra N’s only flaw

Intake: Irreverent and unusual, the Elantra N delivers delicious front-wheel-drive fun for $33K. Our only gripe? That angry-catfish face. Hyundai’s just fixed that, as this YouTube video above reveals. The “New Elantra N,” presumably the 2024 model, adds horizontal elements that calm and settle the visage: Viewed head-on, body-color blades anchor each corner. Each headlight ditches its boomerang shape and single-bulb element for an LED blade above twin rectangular elements. A light bar connects the two headlights, paralleling a body-color blade that divides the grille into top and bottom sections. The H badge on the nose is now matte black. The red-edged chin diffuser remains. There’s also a new 19-inch wheel design—if you can take your eyes off that now-harmonious face.

Exhaust: Well, we need one. Yesterday. —Grace Houghton

Lamborghini celebrates 60 with Huracán trio

Intake: To celebrate the brand’s 60th birthday, Lamborghini has announced a trio of limited-run, special-edition versions of the three gnarliest Huracáns: the STO, Tecnica, and EVO Spyder. Just 60 units of each variant will be produced. The Huracán STO will get two special liveries—the first is a blue-on-blue exterior with a black, gray, and blue interior; the second livery features a gray and black exterior with a black, gray, and red interior. The Huracán Tecnica’s two liveries will incorporate the red, green, and white colors found in the Italian flag: The first is a black, gray, and red exterior with a black and red interior; the second is a white and green exterior with a green and black interior. Finally, the Huracán EVO Spyder’s two liveries: Blue and white exterior with a black, blue, and white interior, or a green and white exterior with a black, red, and white interior.

Each of the 60th Anniversary Edition Huracáns will get a “1 of 60” plate on the interior as well as a “60th” logo painted on the doors and embroidered in the seats. They will debut on April 21 at a special event as part of Milan Design Week.

Exhaust: Turning 60 is as good an excuse as any to don some fancy new colors. Expect these cars to be anything but subtle—just as Lamborghinis should be. — Nathan Petroelje

Polestar’s 4 kills rear window for backseat comfort

Intake: Polestar’s new electric SUV coupe, and the brand’s fourth model, debuted recently at the Shanghai auto show. The design throws coupe aerodynamics and SUV spaciousness into a blender, drawing inspiration from the brand’s Precept concept car by eliminating a rear window in favor of more room. The changes are all made possible by a camera-aided rearview “mirror” system. “Immersive” is the buzzy adjective that Polestar is pitching for the experience of rear-seated riders in the 4. The model is the company’s second SUV, coming in under the Polestar 3 in terms of size and price with a length of 4839 mm (190.5 inches), a width of 2139 mm (84.2 inches), and a height of 1544 mm (60.8 inches), costing $60,000. One notable way the 4 bests the 3 is on zip, jolting out 544 hp from a 102-kWh battery that gets 300-plus miles of range. China gets first dibs on the vehicle at the end of 2023, while North America will have it in 2024.

Exhaust: Polestar would like you to believe that by riding in the back of the rear windowless 4, you will feel cozier than a swanky cave rental on Airbnb, but reality says that the jury is out. Only time and objective testing from the masses will determine whether this SUV design swing will be a hit or a miss for electric luxury. — Bryan Gerould

2024 Lincoln Nautilus gets massive screen, new sheetmetal

Intake: Lincoln has unveiled the 2024 Nautilus, a heavily reworked version of its midsize luxury SUV. The biggest news is inside, where a massive screen spans the entire width of the dashboard. Combined with new ambient lighting and three new scent cartridges housed in the center console, Lincoln hopes to make your time in the Nautilus as refreshing as possible. A Revel Ultima 28-speaker audio system will bathe the cabin with all types of auditory indulgence.

While on the go, Lincoln’s BlueCruise 1.2 hands-free driving assist stands ready to handle highway jaunts. The outside features new sheetmetal and new LED headlamps and taillamps. Power will come from either a 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder, good for 250 hp and 275 lb-ft of torque, or a hybrid setup that employs the same engine plus a 100-kW electric motor for a total system output of 310 hp. The former engine will be mated to an eight-speed automatic, the latter to a CVT. The adaptive suspension will smooth road imperfections. The 2024 Nautilus will arrive in North American showrooms in early 2024. No word on pricing yet.

Exhaust: The Explorer-based Nautilus needs to make some waves for Lincoln. Brand sales have been declining for the past four years as the portfolio of Ford’s luxury brand grows stagnant and rivals increasingly focus on EVs. We haven’t heard anything from Lincoln about an all-electric offering yet—which is concerning, especially since cross-town rival Cadillac already has two electric offerings in the pipeline. — Nathan Petroelje

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According to a list released by the Biden administration via the U.S. Treasury Department, nine electric or plug-in hybrid vehicles from seven manufacturers—Audi, BMW, Genesis, Nissan, Rivian, Volkswagen, and Volvo—no longer qualify for either the $3750 or the $7500 tax credit provided by the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022.

The vehicles that no longer qualify are the electric 2023 Audi Q5 e Quattro Plug-in Hybrid, the 2021–23 BMW 330e Plug-in Hybrid, the 2021–23 BMW X5 xDrive45e Plug-in Hybrid, the 2023–24 Genesis GV70, the 2021–23 Nissan Leaf, the 2022–23 Rivian R1S, the 2022–23 Rivian R1T, the 2023 Volkswagen ID.4, and the 2022–23 Volvo S60 Plug-in Hybrid.

The Inflation Reduction Act provided for buyers who meet certain income levels to claim a tax credit of up to $7500 for North American–assembled, new EVs that also meet sticker price restrictions.

Starting Tuesday, the credit will be divided, with $3750 available for an EV that has at least 40 percent of the value of its battery’s critical minerals extracted or processed in the U.S. If that same percentage of ingredients is sourced from a country with whom the U.S. has a free-trade agreement, such as Mexico and Canada, or from materials that were recycled in North America, the vehicle also qualifies.

An additional $3750—in other words, the full $7500—is available if at least half of the value of the EV’s battery components are made or assembled in North America.

Here are the vehicles eligible for the $3750 tax credit (the Tesla Model 3 is double-listed due to variants):

• 2022–23 Ford E-Transit
• 2022–23 Ford Mustang Mach-E

• 2022–23 Ford Escape Plug-in Hybrid
• 2022–23 Lincoln Corsair Grand Touring
• 2022–23 Jeep Wrangler Plug-in Hybrid 4xe [both the Rubicon variant and the Sport S 4xe]

• 2022–23 Jeep Grand Cherokee Plug-in Hybrid 4xe
• 2022–23 Tesla Model 3 (Standard Range Rear-Wheel Drive)

Here are the vehicles eligible for the full $7500:

• 2023–24 Cadillac Lyriq
• 2024 Chevrolet Silverado EV

• 2024 Chevrolet Blazer EV
• 2024 Chevrolet Equinox EV
• 2022–23 Chevrolet Bolt and Bolt EUV

• 2022–23 Chrysler Pacifica Plug-in Hybrid
• 2022–23 Ford F-150 Lightning

• 2022–23 Lincoln Aviator Grand Touring
• 2022–23 Tesla Model 3 (Performance)
• 2022–23 Tesla Model Y (All-Wheel Drive)

• 2022–23 Tesla Model Y (Long Range All-Wheel Drive)
• 2022 Tesla Model Y (Performance)

***

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In the late 1950s and early ’60s, Goodyear engineers were feeling enlightened—and their tires actually were. The glow, unfortunately, didn’t last.

More than five decades ago, in what the Ohio tire manufacturer called “one of the most dramatic tire developments in the history of the industry,” Goodyear unveiled a custom car accessory unlike no other: illuminated tires.

“Once the tires reach the market—and that could happen in a few years—auto stylists may use them to carry out a car’s color scheme, perhaps matching the tires with the upholstery,” Goodyear predicted in a 1961 press release. “And it’s not at all unlikely that milady will want tires that enhance her wardrobe, her hair, or even her eyes. Imagine, if you will, one girl telling another: ‘But, my dear, green tires just don’t do a thing for your complexion.’ When that day comes, it will mean a whole new frontier for the tire designer.”

Sexist perhaps, but typical of marketing in the era. And Goodyear didn’t stop there.

“Goodyear’s translucent tire can be produced in any color to match the car … or perhaps the wife’s new outfit,” said Goodyear development manager John J. Hartz, doubling down on the awkward characterization. “Someday a wife may tell a husband, ‘Charlie, go out and change the tires. I’m wearing my blue dress tonight.’”

Regardless of what you might think about its marketing strategy, Goodyear’s illuminated tires offered custom car enthusiasts plenty of exciting possibilities. The creation of Goodyear chemist William Larson and co-worker Anthony Finelli, the tires were made of Neothane, a synthetic polyurethane rubber that combined the hardness of plastic with the resilience of rubber. To create the new-fangled tires, the Neothane was poured into molds and baked at 250°F, a temperature much lower than required to make standard tires. Eliminating the more complicated layering construction of traditional tires, Neothane tires were tubeless, cordless, and—bonus—translucent.

Goodyear could add dye to create a rainbow of different tire colors, and 18 small lights were mounted on the rims inside each tire to create a glow that was particularly brilliant at night. The invention caused quite a stir when Goodyear put a set of red illuminated tires on a Dodge Polara and drove around Miami. It did the same with a Chrysler Silver 300 parading around New York City.

While Goodyear reasoned that the glowing tires would provide an additional layer of safety because they were more visible in fog and poor weather, they oftentimes had the opposite effect. Since they looked like something straight out of science fiction, other drivers would dangerously hit their brakes or turn their heads to get a better look.

Although the tires never went into production, one set made it into the hands of Jim “Street” Skonzakes, who poured $75,000 (or about $750K today) into creating the tripped-out Golden Sahara II in the early ’60s. The second iteration of a George Barris custom that started with a 1953 Lincoln Capri, the Golden Sahara II wore gold paint mixed with pulverized fish scales, was adorned with gold-plated ornamental work, and featured TV, (non-working) telephone, and a bar in back. It was equipped with state-of-the-art features like remote control start, sensor-based automatic emergency braking, and the ability to drive with one hand by using a “unitrol stick” that controlled both steering and braking.

Those new-fangled Goodyear tires, which Skonzakes referred to as “glass,” were the cherry on the sundae. In 2018, the Golden Sahara II sold at auction—in unrestored condition—for $385,000.

“We refer to the car as a laboratory on wheels,” Skonzakes told television host Garry Moore on I’ve Got A Secret in 1962. “Everyone seems interested in a futuristic car, and the Golden Sahara is a very successful car at auto shows. People appreciate it.”

When the Golden Sahara II was restored following Skonzakes’ death in 2018, Goodyear contributed to the restoration by re-creating a set of urethane tires. While the originals could be filled with air, the new ones are completely solid, meaning the car is only drivable at low speeds.

Goodyear held tight to the idea that its Neothane tires would one day become as common as their black rubber counterparts, but that didn’t happen. After 10 years of work, engineers threw in the towel.

Keith Buckley, senior engineer at Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., said in a brief phone interview—with the promise of a longer conversation that never materialized—that the new-fangled tires were doomed for several reasons. For one, while the low melting point made them easy to manufacture, the same low melting point also made them susceptible to melting while braking. And while the idea of changing tires to match your mood (or your wife’s outfit) seemed like an amazing idea at the time, each tire weighed about 150 pounds, meaning there was no such thing as a “quick change.”

But wait! There’s more!

“Cost was the big thing, but they weren’t practical either,” Buckley said. “The Neothane didn’t have the grip of standard tires, which made them more dangerous in rainy conditions. And it wouldn’t take long before they were covered in road grime, which negated the illumination—and that was their big drawing card.”

That’s still their primary source of fascination, even if they’re just a footnote in automotive history.

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Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the machine that got him into cars: the 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join us as Sajeev restores this Ford enigma to its original glory and then some! —Ed. 

I’m still junkyarding my way toward completion of this car. In our last installment, we visited an Albuquerque “breaker’s yard,” as the Brits say. The goal was to salvage any worthwhile remains from a bullet-riddled 1983 Lincoln Continental. In the weeks after, my restoration shop sent a pointed request: Project Valentino is missing more parts, this time around the hood latch.

So I hatched a plan, one that included pulling my dad away from his cloistered world of long bike rides and luncheons with fellow retirees.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Take a look at this core-support parts diagram. We needed the metal brackets that connect the front fascia to the radiator core support. Those brackets also provide a place for the secondary hood catch—the one that retains the hood if the primary latch fails—to clamp onto the car’s body. Except . . . when I took a quick peek at the factory shop manual, to see what I was up against, the brackets weren’t pictured. And the rest of the drawing was kind of wrong.

The hood lock support (16717 in the drawing) shown is a different design. The auxiliary hood catch (16892) pictured doesn’t even exist on Project Valentino. Given that diagram and my experience with 1970s Fords, I reckon the Fox-body Continental, my era of Continental, was originally intended to use carryover parts from older Ford models like the Torino and Fairmont.

The Fox Continental is indeed a weird transitional car, mixing flagship elements of the past with forward-looking, top-shelf engineering. No matter: The 1982 Continental junker that we discussed in December remains un-crushed at my local high-turnover junkyard. And when it comes to parts breakdowns, I have at my disposal something better than a Ford shop manual.

Another ’83 Continental.

Don’t you just hate it when your favorite TV show adds a new family member to boost ratings? Much like Andy Keaton (Family Ties, NBC, 1982–9) or Chrissy Seaver (Growing Pains, ABC, 1985–92), this second ’83 joined the Mehta fleet for specific purpose: It serves as something like a time capsule of my family’s automotive history.

This car has come in handy as a reference point for assembling Project Valentino. But its single-tone brown paint and dark brown velour interior give a different vibe. And since we already have a Fox Continental in Valentino, this Lincoln needed a nickname: Foxy Brown. 

While I usually hate naming cars—every other antique we own is easily remembered by its factory name alone—motoring around in Foxy Brown has been fun. The car is mostly a time capsule to Detroit flagship design in the tail of the Malaise Era. Save a few upgrades for longevity (low-watt LED interior bulbs) and fun (a rear sway bar borrowed from my brother’s 5.0-liter Fox Mustang), it’s stock. But Foxy has truly been a burden on my sanity.

Foxy Brown’s existence is one of the (many) reasons why Project Valentino moves at a snail’s pace. Save those aforementioned touches, it’s all-original, with 60,000 miles and 40 years of maintenance-free operation under its belt. So when I fix or inspect something, I often get sidetracked by horrors like that miserable negative battery cable shown above. Who in their right mind thought that splice was a good idea?

We’re getting off-topic. I called Dad and made a request: Get Foxy Brown out of the garage and pick me up for a little fun at the junkyard. He’s been curious, all these years, as to what on earth I’ve been doing with our 1980s Fords, and he made a formal request a while back, asking to join me one day at the junkyard. That, as he so eloquently put it, is when he finally became my spanner boy.

Upon our arrival, I popped open Foxy Brown’s hood to verify the parts I needed. I showed them to Dad so he could understand my thought process.

We both knew what we were supposed to see, so I just about lost it when I saw the junker: Just as with that early-1982-build Tripminder computer with jeweled buttons, the junkyard hood latch was completely different from the one on Foxy. Still, the mounting points looked the same, and the design looked superior, so I decided to proceed.

In decades of junkyard foraging, this is the first time I’ve had my photo taken. I’m glad Dad made it happen. Photography has been his hobby since he immigrated to the United States in the 1960s, and that hobby really took off after he got his PhD, when he bought a Beseler RE Topcon Super. We still own that battleship of a camera, but as I whizzed off bolts and unclipped clippings, his smartphone was the weapon of choice.

I examined Ford’s engineering and the thoughtful touches present in that 1982 Continental assembly—notably how the latch cable used a wound wire ending in an elegant loop. (Many newer designs simply terminate the wire in a clumsy metal stud.) I was as enamored as any man can be for a hood latch: I clearly needed the entire assembly for Project Valentino, from the metal brackets up front to the release lever under the dash.

And then there’s Dad, who grabbed a vent register for Project Valentino’s refreshed dashboard. While I probably have a decent replacement kicking around in my attic, this was one of those get-it-while-you’re-here moments. Plus, it let my father enjoy his initial foray into junkyarding with a lightweight task before wandering around the yard.

Wander he did, then, and he soaked it all in. He especially got a kick out of seeing a retired Chrysler 300C like the one he owned in 2005. (Time comes for all of us.) I collected everything I needed, and then gave Dad a call to join me at the cashier.

The drive home was a delight, as the two of us got some quality time away from the house. Free from the pull of TV and the internet, Dad surprised me with an admission: He’s not the fan of classic cars he once was. His stress levels, he said, had spiked while driving Foxy Brown in manic interstate traffic. I don’t blame him. Houston’s I-10 is the free-for-all made famous in the one more lane bro meme, and a stock ’83 Continental can be a bit overwhelming in a sea of modern cars brodozers.

The Lincoln’s skinny whitewalls, I noted, are the biggest part of the Fox Continental’s unique performance experience. Dad agreed, and the conversation sent him down memory lane: His first car, a Canadian Vauxhall Viva, was terrifying on winter roads, as it wandered with the Chinook winds and was tossed around by big trucks. And he learned the hard lesson of oversteer one year when summertime hit, as he was forced to make an emergency maneuver at highway speed on bias-ply tires and drum brakes.

Dad and the car each survived that moment, but his next big purchase, a 1970 Mercury Montego, left him cold. It wasn’t terribly sure-footed at highway speeds in winter weather, either. When he began talking about his 1975 Mercury Montego MX, however, his tone went from retrospective scorn to pure delight.

At 5.8 liters, that Montego’s engine was the largest Dad had owned. The car possessed power front disc brakes and an interior trimmed far better than anything he’d experienced. With that car, he said, he had finally “made it.” I asserted that the Mercury’s body-on-frame design, its coil-sprung rear suspension, and its radial tires were why it shined on the highway.

All of which reminded me of Mercury’s advertisements of the era, and how Dad fit right into the marketing plan. Granted, he’s a pharmacologist, not the astro-whatever from the ad above, but he could have starred in that TV spot. He completely embodied the message behind the car, and he even enjoyed the vulgar Saturday Night Live parody the Montego inspired. My brother and I still talk about how, in the days before the Montego was sold to make room for an ’81 Monte Carlo, the three of us went for a final farewell ride.

When Dad mashed the Montego’s throttle, that low-compression 351 bellowed a righteous call to low-end torque. The transmission did a three-to-one downshift, the car’s nose lifted gently, and the Montego made majestic forward progress.

At that point, Dad turned to his young and highly impressionable children, announcing passionately, “See? This is why you get a V-8!”

Nice job, Dad—one singular adoration for a Ford small-block, and you “ruined” your children for life. But he wasn’t wrong. The oddly rough V-6 in that Monte Carlo gave depressing fuel economy, a consumption not unrelated to the car’s frequent need for full-throttle operation. Dad had buyer’s remorse, as the Chevrolet salesperson had lied to him over the phone to get him back in the dealership. The guy said the Monte Carlo had a V-8, and Dad was suckered sweet-talked into buying it. I don’t think he was ever the same.

Fast forward to 1986, as Dad’s sour memories made him insist on counting every plug wire on the distributor of a pre-owned Valentino before even considering a purchase. He wasn’t going to take the Lincoln-Mercury salesman’s word. My nine-year-old self counted the wires on the distributor cap after him and said, “No, it has nine cylinders, Daddy!”

Back to modern times: Leaving the junkyard in Foxy Brown, Dad dropped me off at the restoration shop holding Project Valentino, then made his way back home.

I began the process of fitting, cleaning, painting and installing the hood latch assembly. The test-fit was surprisingly confusing and stressful until I remembered that the witness marks on the hood latch—the telltale signs of its previous alignment—didn’t apply to the Valentino. After that, the restoration shop was kind enough to let me use their bench-mounted wire wheel for cleaning the rust off, and a lick of paint sealed the deal.

Cable installation was even easier than removal, as Project Valentino is currently missing the vast majority of its firewall grommets. (Sigh, one more thing to address.) But the 1982-only hood latch sure looks better, not least because of its bolt-on modesty panel, now finished in semi-gloss black.

If words don’t really explain the benefit, perhaps a video will:

The other car shown is my 1988 Mercury Cougar, another Fox-body Ford. The hood latches on most newer Fox Fords make a sloppy double-clunk sound, a noise worthy of a Dick Wolf TV drama. Project Valentino’s latch gives a solid, reassuring thud. There’s also a smoother, more linear action to the latch’s release.

I thought I knew everything about these cars, but here I am, admitting how there’s always more to learn. And while I had originally planned on simply giving Project Valentino a functional hood, this turned out to be another OEM-plus-style upgrade.

I can rest easy knowing the car’s pristine aluminum hood (yes, really) will never smack into that new-old-stock $600 windscreen. But Dad and I weren’t done yet, as he did a little foraging while I wrenched on that junker Continental.

Dad found one of Lincoln’s Signature Series C-pillar script emblems, so I now have a pair for my collection. The urge to up-badge Foxy Brown closer to its big-brother Valentino was strong. That urge became overwhelming when I noticed that these Continental badges earned their signature (sorry) gold hue through solid-brass construction. And brass responds remarkably well to a heavy clean and a light polish.

In other words, both Lincolns, our project car and Foxy Brown, got something from this junkyard experience. Project Valentino only grows sweeter as it nears completion. But the road I’m traveling is no longer paved with good intentions and a fat checkbook. I no longer need the help of a restoration shop, which is convenient, because that shop would absolutely like to move on to easier and more profitable projects.

At the moment, Project Valentino has no interior. The car is missing the model’s unique side tape stripe, and it sports an electrical system with more gremlins than a shopping-mall water feature. The closer we get to that light at the end of the tunnel, the more trains we have to dodge. But at least that hood assembly let Dad and I make a big dent in the list.

Or prevented a big dent, if you know what I mean.

***

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If you’re like me (and I think we’ve firmly established that you are), your house is full of an odd assortment of stuff. Some of it is precious. Some of it is junk. Most of it is somewhere in between. But much of it consists of objects that are touchstones, things imbued with stories and meaning. This is the story of a rather unlikely one.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about helping my 95-year-old neighbor Jeanette with the perpetually-draining battery in her 2014 Honda Accord. That’s actually the iceberg’s tip of a longer story. Or I should say, the story of an iceberg that thawed.

When my wife Maire Anne and I moved here to Newton 31 years ago, we were the first new blood in a neighborhood of people who had lived here their entire life. We bought our house from the son of its original owner. The house on our right had both the same floor plan and pattern of ownership—the elderly original owner still lived in the house with her daughter Jeanette and Jeanette’s husband, Hank.

Hank and Jeanette seemed to be a nice retired couple. So I was surprised when Hank jovially stated, “Some of the neighbors call me Hank the crank.”

It didn’t take long, though, before I found out why.

It’s hard to say exactly what set Hank off. It may have been that, shortly after moving in, I drove my lightly-used Vanagon Westfalia camper all the way down my driveway and into my backyard, as I had nowhere else to park it. It may have been that I transgressed an unwritten law about not parking in front of his house even for short periods; I soon learned that he had absolutely zero tolerance for leakage of fluids of any kind in what he considered his part of the street. Some of it may simply have been generational—me the 32-year-old software engineer with the flashy red BMW 1973 3.0CSi and him with land yacht of a 1992 Lincoln Town Car (hey, maybe he needed dibs on the space in front of his house to be able to turn that barge around). Or it may have been the sheer volume of cars that came and went. Or the fact that, since my single-car garage held the 3.0CSi, I was always wrenching in the driveway.

Whatever the reasons, things deteriorated, and quickly. He accused me of running an unlicensed repair shop and a used car dealership, neither of which was true. He took to watching my comings and goings, paying careful attention to the dates on my cars’ registration and inspection stickers and calling the police on me if I mistakenly drove a car with expired tags after a winter sit. He became aggressive and hostile, calling me “college boy” and swearing at me in front of my children.

The low point came in 2004 when I wanted to build a new garage. The original corrugated metal single-car structure was one foot from the property line, and the town’s zoning requirements required any new construction to have a four-foot setback. My little 6600-square-foot piece of suburban paradise didn’t have enough room, so I applied for a variance, not understanding that Hank knew people on the commission and had poisoned the atmosphere against me.

When the hearing was held, despite my having hired an architect to develop and present plans for a beautiful new stand-alone garage in harmony with the lines of the house, something that would’ve looked worlds better than the rusting, leaning, paint-flaking World War II-era excuse for a garage, the fix was already in, and I received a rubber-stamp denial. The head of the commission solemnly intoned, “No one needs a garage, and certainly no one needs a three-car garage.” Hank stood in the back of the room, arms folded, smiling. I was gut-punched. What could this guy who drove a Lincoln—the poster-child for floaty “same-day steering”—know of my passion for cars?

I regrouped with my close friend and contractor Alex. We managed to design a garage that, rather than being standalone, was attached to the back of the house, thereby avoiding the capricious variance-for-the-setback issue. As long as we were within the letter of the law, there was nothing Hank could do. But when Alex came by with a small backhoe to dig the foundation, he nicked a section of the fence that Hank had put up, knocking it over. Hank ran out of the house, red-faced and screaming. I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Alex repaired the damage, but Hank was so furious at not being able to stop my garage construction that we didn’t swap a word with him or Jeanette for nearly 10 years.

But time softens most wounds. As Hank aged, things got harder for him. During the winter, I began to snowblow Hank and Jeanette’s sidewalk and driveway. The first time I did it, Hank opened the front door and yelled, “Robby!” I thought, what, he’s going to chew me out for this? But to my surprise, he thanked me profusely. I kept doing it, and the relationship thawed. That spring, when I took my first drive in my flashy red 3.0CSi, Hank, rather than scrutinizing the dates on the tags, commented on what a beautiful car it was.

When Hank and Jeanette bought their Accord in 2014 (the car whose battery I wrote about replacing), they showed it off to me, seeming to want my approval. I nodded and said, “Yup, Honda builds a great product. You can’t really go wrong with an Accord.”

Then I wondered, “Did you trade in the Lincoln?” I asked. “No,” Hank said, “it’s in the garage.” (Their house still has the corrugated metal structure similar to the one I had torn down).

Then Hank said something startling. “You know, we’ve been thinking … maybe it’s time we built a two-car garage. The guy who did yours seemed nice. What was his name? Alex?” I had to stifle laughter at the irony.

The following fall, I realized that I hadn’t seen Hank for a bit, and asked Jeanette what was up. “Oh, you didn’t know about the accident?” She said that Hank had become increasingly frail and had signs of the onset of Alzheimer’s. He wanted to take a Sunday drive in the Lincoln, but neither she nor her brother thought that was good idea. After a discussion, Hank agreed to let her brother drive. As they were pulling onto the highway, the Lincoln got sideswiped by a tractor-trailer, spun around, and was hit on the other side as well. All occupants were shaken but OK. But the Lincoln was totaled.

The heartbreaking part was that, as Hank’s dementia advanced and he went into memory care housing, he kept asking about the Lincoln, not accepting that it was gone, and wanting to see it and drive it again.

“Gosh, he loved that car,” Jeanette told me. “It only had 20,000 miles on it. People kept asking him if he’d sell it.”

Suddenly it all came into focus. Hank probably bought the car the year we moved into the house. It had vanity plates on it with his initials and birthdate. The guy that I was at war with for nearly 25 years was, in his own way, a car guy. How could I possibly have missed this?

I never saw Hank again—he passed in 2015—but I took solace in imagining that, somewhere along Alzheimer’s winding paths, he would reunite with his beloved Lincoln.

Jeanette and I have never spoken about my adversarial relationship with Hank. And why would we? It’s all water under the bridge and has no effect on whether or not I would help a 95-year-old neighbor. But I was surprised, and touched, when she knocked on my door, and I opened it to find her holding something.

“Robby,” she said, “I found this in the basement. It’s the cover to Hank’s Lincoln. Do you want it?”

Despite my not owning anything it would fit without leaving two feet of fabric fore and aft, I said, with the utmost sincerity, “It would be my honor.”

So there, on a shelf in my basement, it sits. The cover to Hank’s beloved Lincoln. As I’m now the age I was when I met “Hank the crank” and settling into the “get off my lawn” phase of my life, it’s a gentle reminder to be kind, even to people you don’t like. Even to people who weren’t kind to you for decades.

Plus, if I ever jump outside my 1970s BMW comfort zone and buy some 18-foot American luxo-barge, I’ve got it covered.

***

Rob’s latest book, The Best Of The Hack Mechanic: 35 years of hacks, kluges, and assorted automotive mayhem is available on Amazon here. His other seven books are available here on Amazon, or you can order personally-inscribed copies from Rob’s website, www.robsiegel.com.

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I didn’t really grow up around classic cars, but I have always admired the combination of design and history that comes with them.

My first love of cars came during high school, when I got into Audis after my father purchased a new A4. The experience of all-wheel drive plus a turbo got me so excited about driving, and I’ve owned Audis ever since, including two S4s, an RS4, and an RS7. They’ve all been engaging driving experiences, but something was missing for me when I got behind the wheel.

Fast-forward to 2019, when my family and I purchased our first home. I finally had a garage, with more space than I needed for daily drivers. Thinking of how I might fill a spot, I started browsing auctions and found a 1958 Auto Union 1000 Sonderklasse for sale from a private museum in California that fall.

I knew that my beloved Audi brand had derived from Auto Union and was aware of its prewar racing pedigree, but I didn’t know the company had built and sold street cars. Through research into the postwar history of Auto Union, I found that the marque was sold in the U.S. in limited quantities through Studebaker dealers; Daimler-Benz, which owned Auto Union at the time, had an agreement with Studebaker-Packard to sell its cars.

I quickly fell in love with the design and obscure history of the 1000, bid on it, and won. I’d never thought of owning a three-cylinder two-stroke before, nor about owning a car with 44 horsepower. However, when it arrived in New York several days later, I realized it had a list of problems, having sat for many years in the museum. Game on.

The biggest challenge was the clutch: This example is equipped with a Saxomat automated manual transmission, which was a rare option. Sourcing parts became a fun challenge, and to date, I’ve built a list of sources from Germany, South Africa, Argentina, and other countries.

Good thing, because my passion for classics had just taken off.

I picked up my second Auto Union, a 1960 1000SP with a tuned two-stroke and a column-mounted four-speed, on Bring a Trailer in March 2020. I loved the look of the pillarless coupe 1000 when I first saw it, but upon laying my eyes on a 1000SP for the first time, my adoration was at another level.

This particular example is one of 5000 coupes built over a seven-year production run, which ended when Auto Union was sold to Volkswagen in 1964. It was delivered in late 1959 to Baden-Baden, Germany, reportedly to a race car driver named Eckhard Schimpf, who raced it at the Nürburgring in ’60 and ’62. It was driven at races around Europe for nearly two decades before being crashed at some point in the late 1970s.

It was imported to Canada, then brought to the U.S. in 2002 and traded in at Sewickley Audi in Pittsburgh on a new A6 in 2007. The dealership displayed it for a while before putting it into storage for more than a decade, and it finally made its way to my garage as a pandemic project.

The SP needed a full restoration. As with the 1000, finding parts and learning its quirks has been an endeavor, but I’ve involved some great local shops (Bob, Leo, and the crew at Briarcliff Classic are magicians!). In addition to its racing provenance, the 1000SP became an award winner at the Radnor Hunt Concours and was displayed at The Amelia this March.

I love finding cars that people don’t see often. I also look for something in a car’s history or design that jumps out at me as unique. The Pennant Blue 1954 Corvette I purchased in 2021 fit the bill perfectly.

The beauty of these cars is apparent from any angle, but this one stood out because it had been owned by a General Motors executive in Germany for 30 years. Plus, it was fully restored and ready to enjoy.

The highlight of my first year of ownership of the car was receiving a Top Flight Award from the National Corvette Restorers Society, meaning that close to 100 percent of the car is as it was when it left the St. Louis factory.

It’s slow and handles like a tank, but it is one of the most beautifully designed American cars ever to have been produced. And it totally got me to go outside of my Audi bubble.

Even further outside that bubble is the 1964 GAZ 69M, a former Soviet military radio-communications vehicle that I acquired last summer. It is fully restored as well, with a flathead four-cylinder mated to a three-speed, and it will drive over anything. It’s super fun. It sits up high. It’s loud. My kids love it.

I am fortunate to have a wife and two young sons who have gotten into classic cars almost as much as I have, with my boys often helping out in the garage. I worry that most kids in their generation won’t learn to drive manual transmissions—or come to appreciate these rolling works of art. They have the bug, though, and it keeps them off screens and hopefully will continue to spark a similar passion within them.

Which brings me to my latest acquisition—a 1947 Lincoln Club Coupe with the remarkable flathead V-12 and a column-mounted three-speed. It’s a stunning design with room for all four of us. It sat for a few years, so I’m still working through some challenges, but it has already been a load of fun.

As I’ve started building my collection, my passion has grown with each new vehicle and piece of history I learn about them. You can feel the soul of a classic car when you drive it, something modern cars simply can’t deliver. Assembling these rolling works of art over the past three years has been a joyous responsibility for me. More important, it has given me the opportunity to share this passion with others, especially my boys as they grow up.

***

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On a scale of one to ten, with one being “never leaving the house” and ten being “Freddie Mercury on stage at Wembley in 1984 with 70,000 people wrapped around his little finger,” how much does this 2002 Zimmer Golden Spirit stand out from the crowd?

We’re pitching for at least a seven or eight; it’s difficult to imagine the car show, wedding, book signing, or funeral for a wildly flamboyant celebrity at which you’d not be the center of attention.

If that sounds a bit like you, then the Zimmer going to auction soon via Car and Classic might be of interest.

If, to your mind, this looks like an early-2000s Lincoln Town Car that stepped into a time machine with some DNA from a 1930s Duesenberg and emerged, like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly, as a disquieting mixture of both, your eyes are not deceiving you.

The Zimmer Motor Cars Corporation existed between 1980 and 1989, transforming contemporary cars into neo-classics: new cars whose designs took cues from vehicles of the pre-WWI era. The original Golden Spirit was Zimmer’s flagship and was based on the ’80s Ford Mustang, while the Zimmer Quicksilver was a more aesthetically pleasing (but still very, very odd) retro reimagining of Pontiac’s mid-engine sports car, the Fiero.

Zimmer closed in 1989 with its parent company making huge losses, but was revived in 1997 by Art Zimmer—amazingly, no relation to company founder Paul Zimmer—who continued building neo-classic vehicles under the Zimmer name until 2020.

That probably means this 1920s and 1930s revival style has persisted longer than the actual period that inspired it, though the look is so ornamental we’re not sure it has ever really “fit in,” even during that early-2000s period where slightly less retro styling made its revival in cars like the Beetle, Mini, and Mustang.

Its presence is enhanced—if that’s the right word—by an upright grille, headlight pods, prominent front wings, spare wheel carriers, and an enormous chromed bumper at the front, while the rear, still mostly recognizable as Lincoln’s, gives you another spare wheel, another chrome bumper, and a great many lights.

Some details, like the Mercedes 540K–style chrome exhaust pipes emerging from the engine bay, are entirely ornamental. The engine bay from which those sprout houses the Town Car’s standard 4.6-liter V-8, sending its power to the rear wheels through a four-speed, column-shift automatic transmission. It’s built for lazy torque, not speed—you don’t even get a rev counter in the largely standard Lincoln cabin.

Zimmer, it has to be said, is far from the only company to have gone down this 1930s throwback route in the late 20th and early 21st century. Fans of Japanese metal will be familiar with Mitsuoka, which, perhaps influenced as much by Zimmer as any pre-war cars, launched a car called the Le Seyde in 1990.

This was based on rather sportier underpinnings than the Golden Spirit was; it cribbed a platform from the Nissan Silvia S13 a form of which came stateside in the 240SX. More recently, Mitsuoka reprised the style again, this time hewing closer to cars like the Morgan Aero 8, with the MX-5-based Himiko. Mitsuoka’s work wasn’t half-baked: like Zimmer, it had to lengthen each car’s wheelbase to replicate those early-20th-century proportions.

Finding such cars isn’t the work of a moment, which makes the appearance of this Zimmer a rare opportunity for the right person. It’s actually been in the UK since 2009 and has had only one owner here since. Ford parts should make it relatively straightforward to maintain, and with little over 29,000 miles on the clock, it has a potentially long—and most definitely flamboyant—life ahead of it too.

The auction for the Zimmer opens on March 14, and if The Beast is already getting a little too rich for your tastes, there’s little else you could buy right now that’s likely to attract more glances.

***

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Via Hagerty UK

The post Buy the Great Gatsby’s Town Car appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Miata will always be the answer, says Mazda boss

Intake: The Mazda MX-5 Miata will live forever, according to Mazda Europe’s CEO Martijn ten Brink. In a statement that will delight the Miatarati, he told Autocar that: The car “will never die … I think it will continue to exist forever and it will have to go with the times. That’s a super challenge, and people are passionate about this car.” Brink admitted that exactly how Mazda would manage to keep the Miata alive in an electrified future was still under discussion. “How do you stay true to the concept of what the car stands for taking it into the next generation of technologies? That’s not been decided. But I think for Mazda it would be fair to say that the MX-5 will never die.”

Exhaust: Mazda’s Vision Study Model has already given us a hint at what a lightweight electric sports car might look like, but it’s doubly reassuring to have one of the brand’s high-ups confirm that the Miata will always be part of the lineup. — Nik Berg

Jay Leno’s Garage drives an early K-code Mustang

Intake: Scott McMullen shows Jay Leno the ins and outs of his rare, early Mustang equipped with a high-performance 289-cubic-inch V-8. McMullen has lots of interesting tidbits to share about the development of the K-Code V-8 as well as the Mustang’s chassis development. The two take the freshly restored car out for a drive and we get to hear the exhaust that’s only found on the early K-code models.

Exhaust: Whether you’re a Mustang fan or not, there are a lot of facts and trivia to learn about the history of the archetypal pony car and this car has a great story of its own. — Brandan Gillogly

Jeep “Death Wobble” settlement extend warranty, reimburse for repairs

Intake: Owners of 2018–2020 Jeep Wranglers and 2020 Jeep Gladiators may soon find reimbursement checks in their mailboxes and notifications that their warranties have been extended. According to the Detroit Free Press, a proposed agreement is on the table currently for a class-action lawsuit filed against Stellantis for a phenomenon in these Jeep models that’s come to be known as “death wobble,” a rapid vibration caused when the vehicle hits a bump at highway speeds, causing the front steering components to shudder. The possible agreement will involve a warranty extension of up to eight years or 90,000 miles and would cover “all parts and labor needed to replace a failed front suspension damper,” the component Jeep blames for the issue, which it refers to as a “vibration.” (Bit friendlier than “death wobble.”) The proposed agreement stipulates that Jeep denies any admission of liability or wrongdoing. In 2019, Jeep did issue a “fix” for the issue involving the replacement of the steering damper, but owners feel that the solution was merely a band-aid. The proposed agreement is waiting on a fairness hearing scheduled for April 19, 2023, in Detroit.

Exhaust: Both sides have a case. From the owner’s side, a car shuddering back and forth at highway speeds certainly warrants a complaint to the manufacturer. But in Jeep’s defense, it is not the only brand whose products have this issue. In fact, any solid-front-axle vehicle is vulnerable to death wobble, just by the nature of the engineering design. Owners of Ford Super Duty pickups, which also have a solid front axle, have also experienced the sensation. We’ll see if the proposed agreement passes muster in April. Until then, mind the rudder if you’re piloting a Wrangler or Gladiator out on the interstate. — Nathan Petroelje

Lincoln will pay Navigator buyers to wait for a ’23

Intake: Lincoln is paying $5000 to Navigator buyers who have orders in for 2022 models—if purchase a 2023 Navigator instead. Essentially, they are being paid to wait. Cars Direct said the news came via a bulletin sent to Lincoln dealers this month saying the $5000 discount is being given to some customers with an unscheduled 2022 Navigator order toward the purchase or lease of a 2023 model. The program is called the “2023-Model Navigator Connect Model Year Transition Private Offer” and is available to “select customers” toward either a 2023 Navigator or Navigator Black Label for vehicles sold between January 12 and April 3, 2023. Eligible customers will be given a certificate worth $5000 off MSRP.

Exhaust: Apparently Lincoln is having trouble filling all the 2022 orders for its most popular vehicle, likely thanks to supply chain issues. The 2022 model starts at $77,635, while the 2023 model starts at $79,725. Shipping for the 2023 model is $1895 and the “acquisition fee” is $645, while the 2022 model ships for $1695 with the same acquisition fee. On either model you order, you must acknowledge this disclaimer: “In light of high demand and supply chain constraints, some models, trims, and features may not be available. Please contact your local Lincoln Retailer for updates and assistance.” — Steven Cole Smith

NHTSA investigates Ford Explorer over windshield trim issues

Intake: The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) has opened a safety probe into nearly 1.9 million Ford Explorers following reports of windshield trim detaching while driving at highway speeds, says Automotive News. NHTSA has received 164 complaints on 2011–19 Ford Explorers about the issue. Some of the complaints allege that “the driver of the vehicle following behind the subject Ford vehicle allegedly was startled when the trim piece hit the windshield and momentarily lost control of the vehicle,” according to a report released that NHTSA released on Tuesday.

Exhaust: A Ford spokesperson told Automotive News: “We’ve received notice from NHTSA, and we plan to work with them as we always do.” NHTSA’s preliminary investigation will “assess the scope, frequency, and potential safety risks of the alleged defect.” Ford can present the results of its own investigation and a recall could be issued if necessary. — SCS

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Challenging the staff at Hagerty Media with loaded questions has become a thing here at Our Two Cents. The mission is to inform and entertain the reader, and this time is no different. I asked everyone for their opinion on the most underrated vehicle currently on the market. Not a very loaded question, you say?

Consider the fact that we are staffed with several overachieving over-thinkers. There were concerns, as it wasn’t clear if I meant a new, used, or properly classic vehicle. Okay fine, you guys can pick one or give me all three. We have experienced some seriously underrated new vehicles, we all know what we’d buy if a used pre-owned car was in our future, and we all believe there’s a classic that’s clearly in need of more recognition.

Sam Smith: C5 Corvette

The mythical man himself, Editor-at-Large Sam Smith, came in hard with one of the most underrated performance cars on the market. Nicely done, Sam:

“Most underrated vehicle new or used? For real people? The C5 Corvette. Period, bar none, full stop. If you know, you know; if you don’t, you probably read that line and made a face.

There are cars with better steering and more refined ride and handling, cars with interiors that don’t feel ported over from some forgettable 1990s GM SUV, cars quicker off the line and more forgiving at the limit. But in dollars per horsepower, in reliability, in all-out (and accessible!) pace, in moddability, in the ability to make you feel special at the wheel. They should be more expensive. The only reason they aren’t: GM built a lot of them, and Corvettes carry a certain…image. Which not everyone wants.

Whatever. Great car. And they’re everywhere, at reasonable prices, in good shape.”

Conner Golden: Lexus LC, Shelby GT350, Bentley Continental R

Our Features Editor decided to present a new, used, and classic offering for this episode of Our Two Cents. His points are rather convincing:

“New: I can’t really think of an underrated new car, considering you are still unable to walk into a dealership and purchase a new, enthusiast-oriented vehicle without additional dealer markup or some other hassle on the showroom floor. Maybe the Lexus LC 500? It’s very much an Aston Martin as told by Lexus. Incredibly special interior for a mass-production car, distinctive and original design that borrows from nothing, incredible fit and finish, and a wonderful high-revving, free-breathing V-8.

Used: pre-owned metal that’s underrated has to be 2016–2018 Shelby Mustang GT350. It’s an incredibly cool car that absolutely will be a collector’s favorite in the near future. Cars with modest miles (sub 30k) are still “only” hovering at or around $5000 above original MSRP. Get ‘em while you can, folks…

Classic: The most underrated collector car has to be the 1993–2002 Bentley Continental R. My God, this was the most expensive production car for a few years, and you can purchase a nice-ish example for between $35,000–$50,000. These things were $271,000 when new—in 1992 dollars! They have incredible road presence, and were handcrafted at every detail. They drive like the nicest, softest F-150 you’ve ever experienced, but I can’t think of a better trans-continental bruiser for road trips. It’s ruinously expensive to maintain, but for $45,000 or so, you should have plenty in the budget left to keep it chugging along.”

Eddy Eckart: 1993–02 Camaro/Firebird (F-body)

Senior Editor Eddy Eckhart hit the same nail that Sam Smith did, only at a more affordable asking price, with an extra pair of seats for kids. (Or very compliant adults.) Not showing appreciation for these F-body products would be a crime, even the earlier models with the LT1. Perhaps especially the LT1, as they are much less desirable but still pack a helluva punch. No matter, here’s what he said:

“Fourth-gen F bodies are one of the most overlooked used/near-collectible performance cars right now. The highlight—for me, anyway—is the 98–02 Camaro SS (I’ll take a ’99 in Hugger Orange with t-tops and a six-speed, please). Third-gen cars, led by the IROC Z, have seen values take off, but the better-in-every-measurable-way 93–02 cars have remained relatively steady. They’re excellent cruisers, and with the manual transmission can get close to 30 mpg on the highway. Go to a drag strip or a road course and you’re bound to see one—Camaros and Firebirds of this era are excellent platforms for any kind of racing. And who doesn’t like T-Tops?

The only downsides are that they’re a little under-braked and the looks—especially the WS-6 Trans Am—aren’t for everyone. Go get you one before the word gets out!”

Kyle Smith: Honda XR650L

Editor Kyle Smith does a good job representing motorcycles amongst the car-obsessed masses here at Hagerty Media, and he certainly picked a winner in our book:

“For me it’s the Honda XR650L. I admit my bias as I am a documented Honda XR fanatic, but the tried-and-true nature of an air/oil cooled 650cc thumper that can still be purchased right off the showroom floor for $7k is pretty amazing. It’s a go-anywhere, do-anything machine that (for someone with a tall enough inseam) can be a one-bike solution for any two-wheel fun you seek. Throw in that the 650L has been relatively unchanged since its 1993 introduction, so parts and knowledge are plentiful, and suddenly low-mile used 650Ls become an amazing deal.

New or used, I just can’t see a situation where an XR650L is a bad choice for a person looking to have fun on a motorcycle.”

Nathan Petroelje: Honda Element

Associate Editor Nathan Petroelje has utility on his mind. It’s snowing at his house in chilly northern Michigan right now, and we’ve had to deal with him complaining about subjecting his Mitsubishi Montero‘s carpeted interior to the salty, sandy mix of crap underfoot more than we deserve. But we’re starting to think all of his whining was just him setting up the long game to swoop in and pitch this loveable toaster—well played, sir.

“I tend to think of underrated as it relates to the whole ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’ sentiment. Yes, the Honda Element was nearly peak toaster-on-wheels (though the outright throne belongs to Scion’s xB in that department), but it was also deeply utilitarian, friendly as the day is long—this was a Honda, after all—and neat and funky in its own way. Folks drove the wheels off these things—several hundred thousand mile examples are commonplace. But if you could find a low mile example, particularly one with all-wheel drive? Between four driven wheels (with good winter tires!) and those plastic floors, and you’ve got yourself a wicked little winter warrior that will put a smile on your face perpetually. They’re not terribly expensive—four-figure ones are plentiful, and a great daily driver can be had for right around $15,000.

They have cult followings in certain areas, but by-and-large, I think they’re overlooked and underappreciated by society in general—for the mindset of the product planners, and for how useful they were.

Now, if only we can get big H to gin up a modern take on this quirky design!”

Sajeev Mehta: Elantra N, Aztek, Mark VIII

Okay here’s the deal: I don’t think my beloved co-workers are taking my questions seriously enough. A Corvette’s depreciation curve very rarely sinks low enough to reach that true “bargain” status. Everyone’s gonna want a Bentley in theory, and there are plenty of repair shops that will keep them running for a reasonable fee (considering the asking price for parts, that is). My beef stems from underappreciation via depreciation and neglect.

New: The Hyundai Elantra N has all the car guy cred needed in its track-tested bones, and they come with a manual transmission and a wicked pair of front buckets. But will people line out the door for one like a Mustang, VW GTI, or more expensive metal that provides no more fun per dollar than the little Korean that could? Well, perhaps that’s a possibility. But while all new cars seem to hold their values better these days (when’s the last time you saw an advertisement for Truck Month?) it’s a safe bet that the N-spec Hyundais will depreciate harder than anything else in its class. Which leads to neglect . . . and scrappage . . . and a seriously rare and underrated classic in the coming years.

Used: Do you think all crossover utilities are kinda awful? If so, how much worse was the Pontiac Aztek? Sure, the styling is disturbingly crude, which is what we all focus on. But the absolutely vulgar commitment to functionality and practicality cannot be understated. It’s based on a GM’s ubiquitous U-body minivan platform, so the seats pop out with ease. The Aztek was designed for camping, for crying out loud! Be it classic Fiat Multiplas, Malaise-y AMC Pacers, or the Pontiac Aztek, these underrated statements to neglect and depreciation usually get their day in the sunlight—eventually. But the Pontiac can’t get there soon enough, because I reckon it’s aging better than your average crossover utility from the 2000s. Simply put, it deserves better than a death next to an early Ford Escape in the junkyard.

Classic: The Lexus LC reminded me about my personal bias toward the Lincoln Mark VIII. I’ve owned two, and my current one feels as good as a new car (ancient four-speed gearbox notwithstanding) in terms of performance and eye-catching styling. Yet these minimalist, 280-plus-horsepower machines lack the classic car cache of their wood-paneled Lexus and Mercedes counterparts. I reckon they sell for less than a Northstar V-8-equipped Cadillac Eldorado that’s about to munch on a head gasket, too. If I’m right, that’s the textbook definition of an underrated automobile.

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Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the car that got him interested in cars: the 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join him as he works to restore this enigma of an ’80s Ford to its original glory—and then some. 

For most Americans, Albuquerque is that city in the desert where people throw pizzas onto roofs. Nobody really does that, of course, but it’s an iconic scene from an iconic TV show, Breaking Bad, which thrust New Mexico’s largest city into late-2000s popular culture. Even though I usually lack the attention span for the “slow burn” genre, I’ve watched every episode (with modest usage of the fast forward button). Some part of me wanted to visit the city. Getting knee-deep in downtown Albu-Quirky seemed interesting, even more so after I discovered a bullet-riddled jewel laid up there in a junkyard.

The magnificent two-tone green Continental specimen revealed itself to me in a timely, nationwide search on junkyard aggregator Row 52. The bullet holes across its bow got my attention. Did I not see it being used for target practice in a scene from Breaking Bad? Hard to say. Regardless, I hoped the interior wasn’t so shot up. I needed those unique-to-1983 interior wood trims! (They are a unique fake burled walnut finish, you were surely dying to know.)

A mere 16,831 such Continental examples were made that model year, which increased my sense of urgency. Who knows how much longer this one would stick around the yard before getting crushed? These interior wood trims no longer exist in parts databases, so it became to me that a trip to Albu-Quirky was in the cards.

Let’s backtrack for the Project Valentino novices among us: My car needed a few bits of fake burl because of what happened when I cleaned and disassembled its moldy, musty interior a few years ago. Turns out that the decals wiped off their metal backing with the touch of a wet cloth. And, over time, these metal-backed bits are happy to relieve themselves of their painted coatings—a phenomenon apparently unique to American luxury cars of the 1970s and 1980s. (Perhaps some things are better left in the past.)

Could I have wiped off all of the “wood” and go with aluminum trim? Sure. But that’s not my philosophical approach to Project Valentino. Maybe that tack would work if this were “Project Givenchy” instead, as those cars sported a charcoal gray interior, and aluminum trim would look pretty sharp inside a 1983 Continental Givenchy.

Burning time to go to New Mexico for uncertain return was one thing, but what if I could make use of some local talent? As a judge in the 24 Hours of Lemons, I hoped to leverage that community of wrenching enthusiasts to find someone, anyone, in Albuquerque to visit that junkyard on my behalf. I also reached out to a private Facebook group of Rad-era Ford dorks experts, which brought the great Conner DeKnikker once more into my orbit. Fortunately, Albuquerque could fit into his travel plans with only modest adjustments. Long live Project Valentino!

As his previous cameos here at Hagerty suggest, Conner is a passionate Ford employee who cares deeply for his friends and family. Just look at this photo of him  (above) leaving the junkyard with dirty knuckles and a smile; is he not one of the most valuable assets in Ford Motor Company’s current portfolio? He represents the brand as his day job, yes, but my man Conner lives the brand on a 24/7 basis:

“As a Parts Specialist for Ford Motor Company, I’m always happy to help dealers, and vehicle owners find parts they need. I have been known to personally obtain and transport parts for customers, occasionally making use of my Ford LTD Country Squire station wagon for deliveries. As an enthusiast, it is especially rewarding to assist when parts are difficult to find, and I am able to help keep an older vehicle on the road. It’s even better when I have the opportunity to aid in restoring a vehicle to its former glory.

“When Sajeev asked if I would visit Albuquerque in search of some parts, I was in!”

My initial chat with Conner confirmed that we were on the same page with regard to the ’83 in the junkyard. He knew to run far away from that car if it looked as bullet-riddled as it did in the single photo listed on the U-Pull & Pay website.

I didn’t want a friend wasting any more time than necessary, but I framed it as a joke in our chat room. This 1983 Continental reminded me of that quote from Nelson Muntz about the 1970 Camaro on his Dad’s property: “That’s my dad’s shootin’ car. Just three more payments and it’s ours.”

Well, I wasn’t wrong. Someone shot the hell outta this poor car.

But Conner wasn’t fazed, and he dug inside to see if it contained any salvageable faux burl walnut trim. He had some words of wisdom:

“The American Southwest is a place where people travel back in time. Cars and trucks that have long disappeared in other locales are only recently finding their way into the U-Pull-&-Pay in Albuquerque. The number of 1960s–1990s vehicles in inventory reminds me of visiting junkyards in other states 10 or 20 years ago. Many of these older vehicles are surprisingly well preserved … and generally devoid of bullet holes, too.”

While most of the target practice happened on the Continental’s signature slant back posterior, many bullets penetrated the interior of our dear flagship Ford. Dropping the glovebox shows just how close those speeding projectiles came to the wood trim just inches away. It’s truly a fine line between salvageable parts and mutilated trim. Talk about dodging a bullet! 

Conner sent me a photo of the driver’s side wood trim to illustrate they both existed and were in usable condition. No such luck with the unique trim on the door panels, as their footprint was large enough to ensure their destruction. But hey, two down is a great feeling.

So the end result of “breaking” a bad 1983 Continental from an Albuquerque breaker’s yard: two pieces of fake burl walnut dashboard trim that look close enough to new for Project Valentino. They bolted up as expected, and rather quickly given that my Valentino’s dashboard is still mostly unassembled.

Speaking of unfinished, I am still trying to get the early 1980s dashboard electronics to interface with the early 1990s fuel injection system (robbed from a Fox Mustang). Making those two talk shall be a challenge, but perhaps far less so knowing that the wood trim bookends were successfully sourced against all odds. And against countless rounds of ammunition, too!

In the slideshow above you’ll notice that a modified glovebox is also in my future, to clear the CompuShift transmission controller for my 4R70-W transmission. That’s another laborious task to complete the seemingly simple task of glove box reinstallation. It’s frustrating, but I have the luxury of time, money, and patience. While Project Valentino isn’t nearly as perfect as I’d initially hoped, it proves you gotta shoot some eggs full of holes to make an omelette.

Speaking of not-so-perfect eggs, I wasn’t exactly truthful when I suggested these parts emerged unscathed from their Albuquerquean firefight. The passenger side trim was grazed by a passing bullet, and above it might reside the mark of a ricochet. The metal has a deep gouge in it, but unlike my cleaning efforts of years past, the dry southwestern faux wood didn’t fly off in the process. So it’s still a huge victory in my book.

Aren’t the most hard-earned victories more satisfying than the easy ones? To say I am enamored with that bullet graze is an understatement. I still can’t believe these didn’t get destroyed by gunfire! These trims add even more character to a car that’s made of unique, valuable, and sentimental components. Or as Conner put it:

“Turns out Albuquerque should be known for more than green chiles and blue meth; it’s a treasure trove for rare and desirable auto parts.”

Keep that secret to yourself. Lest Sajeevenberg getcha.

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Our first foray into the star-crossed world of the radical Starfire RV became more of an archaeological dig into a long-forgotten vehicle. Now that we cleared the awareness hurdle (as it were), it’s fair to say the ElDorado Motor Corporation’s Starfire is simply too cool and historically relevant for its coverage on our digital pages to end there.

Luckily for us, a perfect example recently sold on Bring a Trailer (for a stout $35,000), and through it I was introduced to Dennis Foerschler, an ElDorado Motor Corporation (EMC) employee who rose up the ranks to witness the Starfire’s life from a wonderfully unique vantage point.

Dennis first heard about EMC back in 1973, when he was just a kid listening to the radio in a small Kansas town. The advertisement said that the Minneapolis, Kansas–based coachbuilder was hiring inexperienced folks at $2.35 an hour with “all the overtime imaginable.”

Back then EMC was called Honorbuilt Manufacturing, and it made transit buses and slide-in truck campers under the “El Dorado” brand. It was almost a meager start for a company destined to build what was ostensibly the most advanced recreational vehicle in one of the most ostentatious decades in history.

Dennis was intrigued by the radio spot. He applied for a job and was hired “on the spot” to work in Honorbuilt’s cabinet shop. From that position, Dennis was promoted to parts/service manager, then to sales coordinator, and lastly to chassis manager. He had a front-row seat for EMC’s rise and fall and the rapidly evolving world of recreational vehicles. More to the point, Dennis offers unique insight into the company’s flagship offering, Starfire RV.

While my Lincoln-obsessed heart is bursting with childhood-like joy stemming from the Starfire article that ran here in August, I realized in my interview that Dennis’ passion for the RV far surpasses mine.

First, here’s a historical window into the RV market. Dennis’ last job at EMC entailed ordering and managing parts/chassis “inbound flow” from the Big Three automakers. As he tells it, once factory cutaway vans became available in 1974, RV coachbuilders lapped them up to make examples like the 1975 Mini Wagon (above).

Prior to Chrysler’s bailout in 1979, Dodge pretty much owned the RV chassis market, both with the aforementioned full-size cutaway vans (these had a unibody design, unlike the soon-to-be popular Ford Econoline) and with the bigger Class A chassis dedicated to motorhome use. The big Dodge frames housed Chrysler’s stout 440-cubic-inch big-block V-8, which boasted impressive parts availability, displacement, and value relative to alternatives from GM and Ford. The third virtue was the most important, since RV builders are usually quite price-sensitive, especially for units crafted for rental fleets. (If you’ve ever rented one such example from a place like Cruise America, you understand that last bit.)

But 1979 was likely the last year of Dodge’s Class A chassis production for several reasons. While RV market did rebound after the first energy crisis in 1973, the late-’70s oil shock really hurt Chrysler’s bottom line in both its RV and Marine divisions. Apparently the company’s financial exposure to the vicissitudes of RV market was well-known, and the subsequent bailout prompted Chrysler to unceremoniously exit that unprofitable and high-risk business.

GM and Ford capitalized on Chrysler’s misfortune just as the newly renamed ElDorado Motor Corporation (1983) became a public company (1984) with bold dreams and high hopes.

While EMC likely never enjoyed the vulgar amounts of money we see today with tech stocks, it’s a safe bet that a post-IPO windfall ensured ground-breaking builds like the Starfire could come to fruition. (Financial data is difficult to find, as EMC’s stock symbol was re-used after its bankruptcy.) And things were ramping up before the Starfire’s 1986 introduction, thanks in part to the EMC Encore (~1983) and its streamlined body. The design was clearly influenced by that of the 1979 Ford Mustang, but EMC infused the pony car with a locomotive’s cowcatcher schnoz. Things were definitely heading in a certain direction!

Perhaps the Encore’s successes motivated the moonshot Starfire. Perhaps it was time for the RV equivalent of the 1956 Continental Mark II or 1957 Fleetwood Brougham … but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

While Dennis didn’t have a direct connection to the design studio that made the 1986 EMC Starfire into a rolling homage to the 1984 Lincoln Continental and Continental Mark VII, he knows why the company chose a one-piece fiberglass body and a long nose: It sought to advance the performance, durability, and comfort standards of the typical Class A recreational vehicle.

EMC bashed traditional coachbuilding norms in the process. To wit, the example I previously discussed lacked the (optional) front doors, and their exclusion probably makes the driving experience even stiffer and more confident on choppy roads. Perhaps the doorless Starfires were like Z06 notchbacks in a fleet of (already stiff) C5 Corvette hatchbacks?

Dennis believes a third party was contracted for much of the Starfire’s design, while engineering guidance from Ford Motor Company was supposedly on the table. Dennis believes that Ford was hot to trot when it came to hoovering-up Class A–motorhome market share from General Motors, and EMC was set square in its sights: It was already a market leader, taking the legendary GMC Motorhome and upfitting it as the GMC Transmode. That kind of OEM integration certainly seems present in the Starfire, even if we’ve yet to document the connection. (Not without trying, as this tragically couldn’t be verified by the folks at the Ford Heritage Vault.)

But even with a Ford chassis, Ford powertrain, and Lincoln-esque front/rear fascias, the EMC Starfire was far more than the sum of its parts. The styling not only looked unique, but its one-piece body with one-piece floor was unheard of in the era of creaky, flexy Class A bodies.

The old way to make these rigs was not unlike the process of building a typical wood-frame home in an American suburb. Dennis states that the Starfire was unique because its “upper body was pulled out of a one-piece mold, like a boat.” The one-piece fiberglass floor was married to the upper body with, you guessed it, fiberglass bonding.

The company that made the body, A1 Fiberglass, is still in business today, though we were unable to learn anything else from the staff currently working there. We may never have a chance to see the Starfire assembly line in its prime, but the following junkyard find shows just how exciting the body construction is, even to this day.

Dennis says the goal was “to make a leak-, crack-, rot-free body.” The whole idea? “This is not your average RV.” He’s right—the Starfire’s interior benchmarked what was found in other Class A RVs, but EMC wanted to do something state-of-the-art. It was incorporating new technology available in the 1980s. Dennis says there was no appetite to throw in “leftover ’70s stuff” into EMC’s flagship offering.

The cockpit-like interior was futuristic, mostly because of the airplane-worthy front end. Dennis made reference to Airstream vehicles as a baseline, and EMC clearly went further. The Starfire sported interior cabinets made of tambour, a type of construction commonplace in high-end audio cabinetry of the era. Overhead storage cabinets took the commercial aircraft theme to the next level, as they were “form-fitted tubs” and not the usual joinery seen in cheaper Class A vehicles.

Dennis says that EMC took cues from marine and private-aviation upfitters, and the custom dashboard—intended to house the Ford Econoline gauges, unique steering wheel (some models), air suspension controls, and (optional) rearview TV screen—was downright radical.

Dennis mentioned that an EMC executive personally insisted on a factory-fitted CD player for the 1986 Starfire, a feature practically unheard of in any vehicle, much less in an RV. The selection of Fujitsu’s modular audio system was a bold and expensive proposition. But unlike a car’s dashboard, a Starfire’s had plenty of real estate for everything: AM/FM tuner, cassette deck, 50-watt amp, pre-amp graphic equalizer, and that rad CD player.

Having this level of audio in a Class A recreational vehicle proves Dennis’ claim that EMC went all-out on technology to make the Starfire a success. Its approach to the RV’s stereo mirrors Lincoln’s intent to be a credible threat to Mercedes with the Continental Mark VII LSC, as does the Continental/Mark VII–sourced overhead console in the Starfire’s cabin (above).

The airplane greenhouse and ridiculous nose ensured the Starfire provided a driving experience as cutting-edge as the dashboard’s CD player. As you’d expect, the aerodynamics ensured it was far more relaxing to drive, complete with a “more than 11-mpg” highway rating (so say the press materials). While that figure may have been be achieved with the optional 6.9-liter diesel powertrain, that’s still no small feat considering there’s no overdrive gear on the transmission.

But Dennis added another long-nosed-design benefit to the mix, one that you likely never considered. That front overhang made room for both the ONAN generator (left side) and the heavy batteries (right side) under the hood, aiding the Starfire’s balance from left/right. It blew the doors off any other Class A rig on the market. As Dennis put it:

“It drove like a car because of that (balance). It corners like a car. On the highway it felt like a car, as its long wheelbase, air suspension, and aerodynamics that were superior to other Class A RVs.”

The Starfire generated mixed feedback from RV dealers, as some called it “The Anteater” and made comparisons between it and the all-new 1986 Ford Aerostar minivan. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing: Dennis mentioned one of EMCs brochures had a Starfire and an Aerostar together, not unlike that shot of an Aerostar with the Space Shuttle Enterprise in Ford’s sales literature. Perhaps this isn’t a coincidence, as Dennis said the analogy happened “with Ford’s blessing.”

But the stars never lined up for EMC’s flagship RV. All three model years (1986, ’87, and ’88) were built on a batch of 1986 Ford chassis, and Dennis is confident that less than 100 examples were made. (My previous research netted an incorrect figure of 150 to 300 units produced.) While many examples were traditional RV body configurations, the YouTube video above of a windowless, short-wheelbase Starfire seemingly proves Dennis’ assertion some were built “as mobile offices, or outfitted as a limo with ceiling lights.” These often sported “conference tables, and lounge-like leather seating” and were sold as a fleet to buyers in Las Vegas.

I clearly remember seeing at least one Starfire limo traversing the Las Vegas strip when I visited in the early 1990s, wearing a subtle gray-scale livery (for a resort hotel that I cannot remember, to save the life of me). But it wasn’t enough to keep the Starfire around, much less keep the ElDorado Motor Corporation afloat: It lost a reported $5 million in the final year of Starfire production (1988).

Starfire production ended unceremoniously, and EMC declared bankruptcy in 1989. Perhaps it bit off more than it could chew. Still, Dennis’ opinion of the Starfire’s impact on the RV community rings true, because it was “an awesome concept, and a forward-thinking product that was wholly ahead of its time.” Preston Tucker, care to meet the recreational vehicle of your dreams?

Dennis admits that RV diehards weren’t ready for something this revolutionary. While navigating this massive snout in certain RV parks looks challenging (rear camera aside), Dennis believes that nobody had a specific problem with the Starfire that ensured its downfall. He was candid in his admission that the Starfire’s state of the art coachwork, interior craftsmanship, and high technology (camera, HiFi audio, air suspension) ensured it would be too expensive for many a would-be Class A RV buyer. While Dennis didn’t remember the sticker price, he didn’t scoff at my assertion that a base model, short-wheelbase Starfire started at $80,000 in 1986 dollars.

While the Vixen 21 had no peer, only EMC had the nerve to make a Class A rig that strayed so far from the norm. It’s a little ironic that both Dennis and his son Josh started their careers with EMC and that both have fond memories of the Starfire. Josh distinctly recalls maintaining the company’s grounds in Minneapolis, Kansas, including ensuring that his lawn-care tools never damaged the once-revolutionary fiberglass molds of the now-defunct Starfire RV.

Odds are they aren’t the only locals with fond memories, as Minneapolis was then a town of 2000 people with 800 EMC employees. The whole town likely knew of the Starfire, and the other Class A-B-C motorhomes, trailers, campers, and fifth-wheel trailers that were part and parcel to the ElDorado Motor Corporation. Because of the company’s footprint, everything from new schools, bars, restaurants and support facilities were created to support the business.

On second thought, perhaps those memories are less positive, more bittersweet once the 1989 bankruptcy came to pass.

But still, I had to know one more thing before my phone call with Dennis Foerschler ended. I needed his thoughts on the modern #vanlife trend that’s taken over his industry, social media, and a generation of motorists.

“Honestly, I smile and snicker to myself. Back in the ’70s, the RV industry was about promoting independence, owning your own home on the road, and to be on nobody’s schedule, unlike commuting via planes and trains. The ‘RV lifestyle’ found in campers or motorhomes was a marketing pitch back then, but #vanlife is roughly the same thing. It promotes the same ideals we believed in and offered to customers. And that’s certainly nice to see.”

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Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the car that got him interested in cars: 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join him as he works to restore the most complex of ’80s Ford products to its original glory—and then some. 

When you’ve grown old up with a car that’s on the journey of a high-end, nut-and-bolt, rotisserie restoration, you see all its flaws, and the memories behind each one.

I was hoping to throw away every original, bleached, scratched, and mangled impact strip from the chrome bumpers and fender panels on my 1983 Continental Valentino. I wanted to replace them with new-old stock (NOS) parts with perfect gray plastic and white paint. All those bad memories were to be lost forever, ensuring this restoration would be a rebirth, not a reprise.

Things were looking up, as I secured all but one of the eight replacements. Unfortunately, the impact strip that no longer existed in any parts catalog was also the most mangled, evidence of a battle with a Mitsubishi Eclipse on New Year’s Day in 1996.

It was the typical story of teenagers coming home from New Year’s Eve parties. I innocently made a left turn in my friend’s neighborhood and was “treated” to a secondary pair of Mitsubishi Eclipse headlights pulling behind the first pair I saw, trying to pass with my lane as their route to victory. I looked for a way out (no dice), stopped the Valentino out of habit, and braced for impact. Apparently the Eclipse lacked ABS brakes; I remember skidding wheels and a hard thud.

Seconds later, I realized everything from my headlights to my legs was still working as intended. I opened the door and almost fell out of the Valentino.

The Mitsubishi had slid underneath the Malaise Era, spring-loaded bumper, raising the front of my car several inches. The bumper popped back to perfection when I reversed off the Japanese sport compact. Can’t say the same for the little plastic impact strip. (Perhaps it did its job?)

To be honest, I’d rather burn this trim piece to ashes than reinstall it on a freshly restored car. (And it looks even worse than I last remember.) So the Valentino sat with an incomplete front bumper for months, until this “beauty” arrived at my local LKQ self-serve junkyard.

Lo and behold, a Signature Series–grade Continental arrived with the two-year-only bumper-impact strip I so desperately needed. I took it, mostly because the piece had all the plastic retaining clips (this is a one-piece casting that sheds its clips when impacted) and it was readily available. I quickly got over the fact that this impact strip was smooshed (technical term) by the front license plate, because its pre-baked damage would never remind me of that awful night with a Mitsubishi Eclipse owner who shoulda sprung for ABS.

This junkyard find shoulda looked great with the new old stock (NOS) bits I sourced, but there was another issue with my plan. The replacement rear-bumper pad (first photo) was lost when my local Houston restoration shop moved into its new digs. (For those who have been following along with this series, they are now forgiven.) A few calls to parts vendors suggested it mighta been the last NOS-quality rub strip for this application.

Well, darn it all.

At some point, you get over the disappointment of losing the part for which you spent years hunting on eBay, go to your attic, dig out the original impact strip, and clean it up to the best of your abilities.

At least this impact strip had all its clips intact.

Both front/rear impact strips cleaned up well after I bathed them in dishwashing liquid and dragged a white Testors’ paint marker across their degraded pinstripes.

The pens are absolutely not up to par with the rest of the restoration, as using white pinstriping tape woulda been the proper technique. But at least I can take credit for making lemonade out of lemons.

It was more of the same story when installing the Valentino’s original rear-bumper rub strip. Those scratches recalled that time a white Ford LTD rear-ended us at a stop light. It was probably in 1988, but I clearly remember the sound of my mother’s gasp, the greasy slide of the Ford’s locked tires on a slick road, and the numbing thud to my body when it smacked us.

Again, the Malaise-engineered bumpers did their job, with no sign of damage. It wasn’t until the advent of eBay that I acquired the supplemental booklet that explained why the Valentino was so impervious to the collision damage of my childhood: There are springs behind the grille, and all of the impact strips!

As the old impact strip clipped into the freshly rechromed bumper, I noticed abrasion marks. Mom had once asked a fourteen to fifteen-year-old me to park the Valentino in the garage so she could rush inside and address … something. I recall doing it all wrong: Putting the car in the garage, closing the door, leaving the transmission in neutral, taking the key out of the ignition, letting my foot off the brake, and helplessly feeling the Valentino roll back into the garage door. Mom was less than thrilled with me at the time, but that was nothing compared to another, more significant mark on the corner of the same impact strip.

This final flaw was the most embarrassing moment in my time as a dumb kid in high school. Locking it into the bumper’s fresh chrome as an adult was a little bittersweet. The damage was nothing to the car, but hit and runs are inexcusable at any age. Rare lapse in judgment aside, let’s see what else I scored …

Apparently Linwood Yarborough made quite the impact on the Signature Series’ first owner: his business card was taped inside the glovebox, complete with witness marks of flocked material when I removed it from the cabin. I kept it because there’s a slim chance the Valentino was also sold by this gentleman to its original owner the following year, which was three years before my family took delivery of it as a used car from the same dealership.

I then rescued (as it were) a “Premium Sound” speaker emblem from the junker Signature Series, as the rest of the door panel was in a poor, manhandled condition. While the 1982’s Continental’s 36-watt stereo couldn’t hold a candle to 1983’s robust 80-watt audio, a system which kicked off the branded audio wars of the 1980s, this emblem will either replace my graphic-free speaker grille or will turn into a reproduction vinyl graphic to fill the same role.

Because someone already tore into the junked car’s interior beforehand, I dug around the discarded items and found something amazing: the concave, bronze-lettered Tripminder computer buttons unique to early-build 1982 Continentals.

I generally like having rarer parts as an OEM+ upgrade. Even better, the bronze concave buttons reminded me of the potential of my project. This computer was used on later Continentals and all of the Lincoln Mark VIIs, but as of right now, I only know of one other example on the Internet with the original button design on its dashboard. The bronze text looks cooler in a tan interior, and the buttons feel infinitely better with their tactile surfacing. This truly was an unexpected surprise, and $20 well spent.

Project Valentino was never about reliving the past. It was about making the best Fox-body Lincoln Continental out of the OEM, aftermarket, and junkyard parts-bins I have at my disposal. Sometimes I wonder what parts I will find, how I can use them, and what memories they will either recall or forge. While so much time has progressed that I may look like a fool for not doing an LSX swap, the 20+ year journey of Project Valentino has evolved into a spiritual experience that never ceases to amaze me. Simply put, there’s surprise and delight everywhere I turn. And I’m absolutely thrilled to have you along for the ride.

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Jack Swansey holds a degree in anthropology with a focus on car culture, and he is the world’s leading ethnographic authority (by default, if you must know) on NASCAR fandom. His love of the automobile fuels him to discover what cars mean to the people who own, drive, and love them. —EW

According to Kelley Blue Book figures as of October 2022, the average sale price of a new full-size pickup truck is $63,231, up 9.4 percent over last year, and nearly $9500 more than the average price of an entry-level luxury car.

Over sixty-three thousand dollars. That sum could cover a generously optioned BMW M340i or Porsche Macan—and that’s the average sale price. Ford’s top-of-the-line F-150 Limited costs just north of $85,000 before options, and certain trim lines on heavy-duty trucks crack six figures. Stuffed with leather, premium sound systems, and advanced tech features, these luxury pickups are about as far from the ordinary white work truck as a pigeon is from a peacock.

Why are Americans so willing to spend luxury-car prices on pickups from mainstream brands while the same product from a premium nameplate flops? Lincoln’s Blackwood and Mark LT couldn’t make it more than four collective model years while every Ford King Ranch that rolls off the line has a willing buyer.

There might be an anthropological explanation for this phenomenon. Hear me out: We Americans like trucks—and luxury trucks, in the proper context—in concert with our country’s deep-rooted Protestant work ethic.

The phrase “Protestant ethic” was first used by the early 20th-century German sociologist Max Weber, but he was not the first to recognize the American society’s emphasis on the moral character of hard work. Alexis de Tocqueville marveled at the same phenomenon a century earlier. The Puritans considered economic success reflective of God’s favor. Even colonial Jamestown settler John Smith commanded: “He who will not work shall not eat.” From the very beginning, a pseudo- or openly religious glorification of labor has informed the way Americans interact with the world and each other.

The Protestant ethic is reinforced by the structure of our economy, the policy of our government, and yes, heroic national myths like the winning of the frontier. What started as Puritan religious dogma morphed into Gilded Age “bootstrap” fables, and eventually into the idealized blue-collar workers of Chevy’s “Like a Rock” ads. The ethic survives, changing with the times.

If there is one vehicle reflective of American values, it’s the trusty pickup truck. This is a machine that offers immense versatility and inherent practical value to the worker, but in the United States it has also come to represent significant value in the social hierarchy. Anyone who has felt the warm embrace of a GMC Denali interior knows that these are proper luxury vehicles—save for the badge.

Modern American culture in 2022 is much more diverse and multifaceted than it was in the 17th century, or even the early 20th, but the Puritan legacy is still evident. In many traditional circles, hard work is regarded as a fundamental moral good, while displays of wealth are considered vulgar. No matter how much money someone makes, carrying a camping pack through the woods, setting up a tent, cooking beans on a campfire, and sleeping under the stars makes people feel satisfied. Connected to nature. Blue jeans, although they were originally marketed as a uniform for miners in the California Gold Rush, have thoroughly permeated American fashion from the most basic threads to $300 raw denim.

Let’s go a step further. We’ve established that Weber’s Protestant work ethic considers labor to be a moral obligation, a commandment even. To watch the Super Bowl is to be inundated with marketing that idolizes hard work, the pickup truck its towering, mulch-hauling, stump-pulling symbol. Hard-hat-wearing miners, construction workers, and farmers treat trucks with generational reverence. Physical labor is often dirty and physically demanding, of course, though not always cinematically so. It’s a cliché, but only because it’s rooted in something real. Advertisers didn’t make it up to sell Trail Boss–emblazoned floor mats. Like independence and self-reliance, hard work—physical or otherwise—is an American value already underlying the stories many of us tell ourselves about ourselves and our country.

Consider that from our nation’s beginnings as a British colony well into the 20th century, most Americans still lived and worked in rural communities. The American economy transitioned rapidly to modern capitalism while our society was still mostly agricultural; our mainstream national values remain laced with the rugged individualism that characterized Thomas Jefferson’s ideal yeoman farmer. Today, the proportion of Americans who make their living via agriculture has never been slimmer. Truck manufacturers nevertheless still trade on the cultural pull of that figure. You may remember Ram’s “God made a farmer” commercial from back in 2013. One could argue we are now more a nation of contractors than growers, but the fact remains that tons of people still do serious physical labor, and they rely on their pickups—even the luxury models—to make their living.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMpZ0TGjbWE&ab_channel=RamTrucks

***

“Wait a minute,” you’re probably asking, “I get why people want trucks, but not why they’re willing to pay Mercedes-Benz prices for them.” Ah, but Weber has more to add on that subject:

“[The Puritans] did not wish to impose mortification on the man of wealth, but the use of his means for necessary and practical things.”

This is the crux of it. A truck is an infinitely practical device for work, and therefore, the ethic tells us, worth paying for. Even if a four-door pickup truck is primarily used for passengers, groceries, and sports equipment, it can do something a Lexus RX can’t: haul a sheet of plywood or tow a 25-foot cabin cruiser on a moment’s notice.

Conversely, high-trim American trucks are some of the most luxurious and stately vehicles on the road. (Not to mention how well they’re engineered.) Comfort features are often generous, and GM’s CornerStep bumpers, Ram and GMC’s multifunction tailgates, and Ford’s Pro Power Onboard electrical system combine technology and convenience in an everyday-usable package. Saving the day in a power outage, pulling a car out of a ditch, or hauling a new refrigerator from Lowe’s might not happen every single day, but the Protestant ethic puts a lot of value in even the potential for practicality. When the need arises, renting a truck from a company or calling up a friend … just hits different.

Finally, we return to the text on the tailgate. Think back again to Lincoln’s Blackwood (2002) and Mark LT (2006–2008). Ford Motor Company moved just 36,187 Lincoln Mark LTs between 2005 and 2009, against 796,039 F-Series trucks in 2006 alone. One can easily imagine that of nearly 800,000 Ford trucks sold, more than 36,000 were optioned highly enough to at least match the price of the Mark LT.

The reason people won’t accept a Lincoln truck is the same reason VW knows it will never figure out how to sell the Amarok in America, and why Mercedes never even tried with the short-lived X-Class.

Weber again:

“[To the Puritans], irrational use [of wealth] was exemplified in the outward forms of luxury which their code condemned … this worldly Protestant asceticism … acted powerfully against the spontaneous enjoyment of possessions.”

Dominant historical American values disapprove of outward forms of luxury. Outward luxuries, that is. But when it comes to inward luxuries, like the “Heated and Ventilated Leather Front Bucket Seats with Active Motion” available on the 2022 F-150 Platinum, that’s another story. As long it has a bed, wears a Ford badge on the hood, and looks enough like the base model, it might as well be the Waldorf Astoria inside. A luxury truck is a rational purchase so long as it stays a Ford, Ram, Chevy, or even a GMC. An Escalade EXT pickup? Well, that’s just showing off.

As a non-truck-owning amateur anthropologist, it is my duty to point out that every single vehicle purchase is influenced by cultural and social forces—conscious or otherwise. This isn’t inherently good or bad, it’s just reality. Our culture in America today is diverse, nuanced, and at times contradictory. Certain aspects of it are inescapable.

The Ford Maverick, a four-cylinder unibody minitruck sales phenom, suggests that the social forces driving Americans towards trucks aren’t limited to full-sizers. And despite the hate they sometimes get from truck purists, the Rivian R1T, Ford F-150 Lightning, and Chevrolet Silverado EV are being met with considerable demand. Which tells us that the values people associate with pickup trucks are not inextricably linked to internal combustion.

Detractors will contest that the current crop of full-size trucks isn’t great for pedestrian safety, the atmosphere, or urban street parking. Proponents will fire back that no vehicle meets their various needs so effectively and reliably, and people who don’t understand that probably never will. The debate is so interesting and persistent perhaps because it is a larger societal conversation in miniature—the long-dominant Protestant work ethic being poked at, examined, and weighed against other perspectives. Such scrutiny is a common enough social phenomenon, historically speaking.

For my part, I think there is nothing fundamentally wrong with desiring a high-end vehicle if you can afford it, or a vehicle with extraordinary utilitarian potential for those moments you need it, be that once a week or once a year. Dropping Macan money on a Silverado doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me personally, but the market at large thinks otherwise. Regardless, it is fascinating the way we showcase (or don’t) our ideas about work and luxury in the vehicles we drive.

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This LBJ-owned ’64 Lincoln Continental is as presidential as they come

Intake: A 1964 Lincoln Continental once owned by former president Lyndon B. Johnson is up for sale on Bring a Trailer. The car was sold new to LBJ Co. of Austin, Texas, and used by LBJ himself at his central-Texas ranch. The stately white drop-top features a power-operated convertible soft top, air conditioning, vacuum-operated door locks, and those sweet, sweet, rear-hinged rear doors. It was reportedly refurbished by the previous owner before finding its way into the collection of the current owner in 2016. Win the lot, and you’ll get the car, a smattering of presidential memorabilia including a removable magnet indicating LBJ’s ownership of the car, and a clean New Jersey title. The 430-cubic-inch V-8 and dual-range three-speed automatic have just 16K miles on them, so this lovely cruiser still has plenty of palatial cruising ahead of it, should you choose. As of this writing, the leading bid sits at $75,000 with five days left to go. All things held equal, that would place it above the $71,000 #2 Excellent condition value for these machines. However, it’s likely to end up closer to the #1 Concours value of $106,000.

Exhaust: President Johnson’s ranch is now open to the public, and you’ll find a handful of White Lincolns still on the property. This video touring the historical park reveals a ’67 Continental outfit with knobby tires, and legend has it that he would drive the cars through small streams for fun. LBJ had a thing for Lincolns and a thing for surprising guests behind the wheel; he used to drive right into a lake with an amphicar that he had. Here’s to hoping the next owner gets as much joy out of this lovely Continental as old Landslide Lyndon himself!  

Dead: V-8-swapped Flyin’ Miata

Intake: Colorado-based Miata specialist Flyin’ Miata has announced that it will no-longer offer turn-key V-8-swapped Miatas or the parts necessary for the conversion. In a statement released yesterday, the firm cited increasingly stringent emissions regulations and government entities—who are cracking down on companies that sell “emissions defeat devices”—as the reasons for the package’s demise. Flyin’ Miata will still offer a host of chassis, brake, and suspension upgrades for any generation of Miata, plus the company has noted that now it will turn its drivetrain expertise towards developing even better emissions-compliant engine components, likely just for the four-cylinder engines found in the MX-5 currently. “V8 power by Flyin’ Miata may be gone but you can be sure that this was only one chapter of a very long and exciting story about the world’s favorite roadster,” a line from the statement read.

Exhaust: We’re not surprised that emissions killed the monster Miata (go ahead and tune that to The Buggles’ song as you wish). Still, we had in the V-8-swapped Flyin’ Miata something of a modern-day Cobra, or a Sunbeam Tiger. We’re sad it’s no more. Those V-8-swapped Flyin’ Miatas that already exist just got a whole lot more valuable. To wit: FM’s original LS-swapped ND Miata development mule, lovingly named Indy, sold on Bring a Trailer yesterday for $104,776 including buyer’s premium. — Nathan Petroelje

Chevy’s hard at work on the mid-engine ZR1

Intake: Thanks to the ever-sharp-eyed Corvette fandom, we’ve gotten a tantalizing reminder that Chevrolet is busy developing the apex predator of the C8 family. That is, the most aggressive variant whose driveline does not incorporate some form of electric assistance. Peering into a factory restoration facility in the Corvette Museum, a sharp-eyed fan spotted a Z06 engine mounted on a wooden cart printed with the text: LT6 GAMMA and LT7 BETA. Aficionados will recognize each as Corvette engine codes, the latter alphanumeric expected to refer to the ZR1’s powerplant. The ZR1 moniker has long denoted the most race-tuned Corvette of the line and, since the C6 “Blue Devil,” its engine has been supercharged. The first-ever mid-engine ZR1 is expected to be forced-induction as well, but look for two turbochargers rather than a supercharger. The base, as indicated by the engine above, will be familiar: The 670-hp, flat-plane-crank LT6 found in the C8 Z06. Strapped with the turbos, the engine’s output should rise to over 800 hp.

Exhaust: For the first time, the ZR1 won’t be the be-all, end-all Corvette: That honor will go to the Zora, which will supplement the ZR1’s LT7 with two AC motors, one on each front wheel, giving it all-wheel drive and, most likely, over 1000 hp. GM Authority expects the ZR1 to appear late next year; we’d time its arrival more conservatively, for 2026. —Grace Houghton

Class-action settlement sees Porsche pay up to $1109 per vehicle for skewed emissions claims

Intake: A U.S. judge has granted final approval to a class-action settlement worth at least $80 million to resolve claims that parent company Volkswagen and its Porsche division purposely skewed emissions and fuel economy data on 500,000 Porsche vehicles in the U.S., says Reuters. Lawyers for the Porsche owners claimed the company physically altered gear ratios and manipulated software on test vehicles, so those test vehicles emitted fewer pollutants and were more fuel efficient than the production vehicles consumers bought between 2005 and 2020 model year Porsches. Owners of eligible vehicles may get $250 to $1,109 per vehicle.

Exhaust: Porsche told Reuters that it is “committed to providing our customers with transparent fuel economy and emissions data, and the agreement ensures that customers are fairly reimbursed for any fuel economy changes.” You’d think if anyone had learned not to meddle with mileage, it would be VW. — Steven Cole Smith

SUPER GT’s new alternative fuel has a scent problem

Intake: Having just completed its regular-season race, 22 cars in Japan’s SUPER GT series stuck around and tested a new carbon-neutral fuel at the Motegi track. All apparently went well mechanically, but Motorsport.com reports that some drivers were concerned about the fuel’s smell as it exited the tailpipe, and found that it was an eye irritant. “One driver described the smell of the fuel as ‘like kerosene’ while another likened it to ‘a mix of gasoline and oil from a racing go-kart.’ There were also suggestions that some drivers were struggling with eye irritation when following another car closely, as the exhaust fumes of the car ahead entered the cockpit,” the story said. The fuel is expected to be used next season to replace gasoline.

Exhaust: Most of the drivers did not have a problem with the ETS Racing Fuel, according to the SUPER GT website. Said Toyota Supra driver Hiroki Yoshida: “At the beginning, we started running with the engine performance restricted and then we gradually raised it a bit at a time. And in the end, there was no uncomfortable feeling at all using the carbon-neutral fuel as I drove. There were also no problematic effects on the other parts of the machine. As I ran, however, I did feel something different about the smell of the other cars’ exhaust.” — Steven Cole Smith

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The character of Michael “Mickey” Haller was born at a Dodgers game on opening day in 2001. On that day, crime fiction writer Michael Connelly met a defense attorney named David Ogden. Ogden was unusual. He explained to Connelly that his car was his office, his trunk was his filing cabinet, and his chauffeur was a client working to pay his legal fees. He chose either a Lincoln Town Car or a Crown Vic to shuttle him from courthouse to courthouse. It was convenient, allowing him to serve clients all over Southern California, but he also liked that the car left an impression. Connelly left the game that day with a nascent idea for a character: a lawyer who works out of his backseat “not because he was a bad lawyer, but because he was good at it.”

Ten years later, Michael Connelly had written four novels about Haller (with two more to come), and the first had become a film: 2011’s The Lincoln Lawyer. In Brad Furman’s adaptation, Matthew McConaughey’s Haller works out of the backseat of an ’86 Lincoln Town Car, driven by his chauffeur and client, Earl (Laurence Mason). At first, Haller operates like a businessman; his relationships with his clients feel transactional, cynical, driven entirely by money. The Town Car serves as a traveling office, giving him freedom, mobility, and, with his preference for surface streets, the ability to enjoy the view. He even takes meetings in the car.

In a city like Los Angeles, where our hours are regularly wasted driving ourselves to and from work (and wherever else) in increasingly chaotic, maddening traffic, Mickey is living the dream. And he’s chosen the perfect car for it. Enormous and roomy, this luxury sedan is more land yacht than automobile. Built on the Ford Panther rear-wheel-drive platform, it was Ford’s longest car during its run from 1980 through 2011, and for a while there, it was the longest car you could buy, period. It’s a cruiser, a luxobarge that evokes the comfort and luxury of a limousine (and is often used as such), only smaller and more affordable. The Town Car was not a sports car—its 5.0-liter V-8 engine initially had only 130 hp, and by 1986, was up to 150 hp with port fuel injection. But it’s really about comfort, reliability, and a smooth ride. The car’s easy handling and cushy suspension combine for a floating sensation.

It’s about the way things used to be. And Mickey clearly takes great pride in his old-fashioned car, keeping it in pristine condition so that the Town Car looks cared for. His clients expect the same treatment.

The Lincoln Lawyer series, which premiered this year on Netflix, is an adaptation of Connelly’s second Haller novel, The Brass Verdict. It’s set several years after the film’s events, and Mickey has been through the wringer. He’s been humbled, grown a conscience. In the years since we last saw him, Mickey has married and divorced his office manager Lorna (Becki Newton), giving him another ex-wife, along with deputy district attorney Maggie (played by Neve Campbell). Eagle-eyed viewers will also note that Haller is no longer played by Matthew McConaughey but Manuel Garcia-Rulfo—great casting not just because Michael Connelly’s character is actually Mexican-American, but because the Mexican actor shares McConaughey’s easy charm.

A surfing accident nearly killed Haller, leaving him with a crippling addiction to painkillers and the inability to practice law. At the start of the show, a defense attorney and acquaintance of Mickey Haller named Jerry Vincent is murdered and has inexplicably willed his practice to Haller. This means new clients, a new (non-mobile) office, and new problems. Recently sober, the turn of events gives Mickey a much-needed second chance.

When Mickey returns to his beloved Lincolns, we know he’s beginning to come back to himself. They’ve been in storage, but Lorna commands him to get them out. “The Lincoln becomes you,” she says. Turns out, he has a stable of them, three Lincolns total. (Which may seem excessive, but in the books, Mickey has four Lincoln Town Cars.) The first he chooses is the most beautiful by far: a gorgeous blue ’63 Lincoln Continental convertible, outfitted with the classic NTGUILTY vanity plate. The boat-like, massive Lincoln often takes up most of the frame and looks wonderful onscreen and on the streets of Los Angeles. It’s his car of choice for the pilot, but it’s replaced in subsequent episodes by the roomier, newer Lincoln Navigator SUVs when he finds a new chauffeur: Jazz Raycole’s Izzy Letts, one of Mickey’s clients. (These cars have equally cheeky license plates: DISMISSD and IWALKEM.)

Like Mickey, the Lincoln Continental had its own comeback story. In 1958, Lincoln made massive changes to their offerings. It eschewed hand-built construction and invested in a new Wixom Assembly plant as well as a complete overhaul of its cars. The Mark III, IV, and V Continentals were now furnished with a new suspension, a new engine, new body, new transmission. The cars were huge (about a foot longer than rivals at Cadillac), but they were also loud and suffered some quality control issues as well as engine problems. It wasn’t the revamp the company had hoped for. Coupled with the catastrophe of the Edsel brand, Ford had not one but two massively pricey failures on its hands. During the 1958–1960 era, Lincoln lost millions. From 1953 through 1955, Lincolns actually sold better than the “improved” models of ’58 through ’60. For consumers, Lincoln just changed too much at once. To rebound and to succeed, they needed continuity.

Thankfully, 1961 was a pivotal year for Lincoln, marking the beginning of a slow but steady rise for the company. What was initially Elwood P. Engel’s redesign for a Thunderbird became the 1961 Lincoln Continental, an influential design as well as a legit competitor for the top rivals, Imperial and Cadillac. Though the increase in sales was modest, it was promising.

It wasn’t until 1963 that Ford’s market evaluations revealed that owner satisfaction had improved drastically, and that Cadillac and Imperial owners were swapping out their rides for Lincolns. Hard work paid off, and the Continental picked up an award from the Industrial Designers’ Institute and the Car Life 1961 Engineering Excellence Award, receiving critical acclaim for its aesthetic, its comfort, its reliability, its longevity. It was unique, too: no one else had a four-door convertible. (It’s also a historically significant American car, as Kennedy was assassinated in a ’61 Lincoln Continental in 1963.)

In the early ‘60s, “no change for the sake of change” had become Lincoln’s new motto. They made minor changes to the car’s look, and major changes in quality. One of their ads read: “Its classic look scarcely changes from year to year. But for 1963, you will experience several significant refinements for even greater comfort, safety, and roadability.” These cars came with exhaustive testing, even a two-year warranty, a novelty then that garnered quite a bit of attention. Lincoln was the first American car to offer a total-car warranty of either two years or 24,000 miles. While the Town Car of the 1980s offered similar performance in a less is more fashion, the Continental’s hefty 4950 curb weight still shuffled along nicely with 320 horsepower.

The Continental of the early ‘60s was also a quieter car—perfect if you’re using it as an office and need to be able to focus on your work. And they increased both leg and trunk space. So the fourth-generation Continental wasn’t just elegant, but pragmatic, too. When Chris Browning’s Teddy, a member of the motorcycle gang Road Saints as well as Mickey’s client, asks his lawyer how he likes his steak, Mickey says medium, and Teddy seems disturbed but unsurprised: “I figured. It’s practical, like a Lincoln.” But that’s not the only reason Mickey loves them.

Mickey uses the Navigators frequently to get around town with Izzy, but the Continental is special to him, and he drives it himself. After the pilot episode, the Continental disappears for a while but fortunately returns in the second half of the season. This is also when it becomes increasingly evident what a huge influence Mickey’s father was on him, as a lawyer and as a man. Mickey’s father was a legendary defense attorney, and he aspires to be as good as his father was. The Continental was his father’s car, a family heirloom (just like the Colt Woodsman .22 that got him into a little bit of trouble in the 2011 film). So the convertible is not just a stylish, elegant ride for Mickey, it’s also sentimental. He drives it to think, to clear his head, to regain his confidence. He has what might be his biggest breakthrough of this season in the car as he cruises along Hollywood Boulevard at night. It allows him to feel closer to his father, and it helps him answer an important question: what would his father do in his situation?

To be a good defense attorney, Mickey Haller has to scrutinize every aspect of his clients’ cases. “Being in motion helps me do that. I don’t know why,” he says. There is something undeniably clarifying and meditative about a long drive, whether you’re driving or being driven. Mickey explains to Izzy, “I like a long car ride. It’s where I get my best work done. No distractions, forward motion. Learned that from my dad.”

For Matthew McConaughey’s Haller, he picks a Lincoln because it’s practical, but the series digs deeper and reveals an emotional truth: that we often choose our favorite cars not for their functionality or out of pure pragmatism, but because of nostalgia. Our appreciation of cars is often intergenerational, passed down from parent to child, a family tradition. They remind us of important times, places, people, and they bring us closer to our loved ones. Mickey Haller’s relationship with his Lincoln speaks to something most gearheads relate to: the cars we love are more than machines. They’re mementos.

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Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the car that got him interested in cars: 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join him as he works to restore the most complex of ’80s Ford products to its original glory—and then some. 

Keep a car long enough, and you eventually end up working on the same fix twice. Or thrice. You know how to remove that remanufactured alternator with a lifetime warranty, because it left you stranded before. When the cycle repeats, some of those old memories resurface—some good, some not so good.

Cars have always been subject to planned obsolescence, to one degree or another. Unless someone really puts in the love, money, and effort, all vehicles succumb eventually to the unyielding gravitational force of the local scrap yard. For those of us Blue Oval folk who resist its pull, there is the Lifetime Service Guarantee: a program that garnered Ford some credibility as far as quality initiatives. It also turned me into a rabid collector of service receipts.

Which brings me to Project Valentino … and my receipt binder. Pictured above is my third such collection, as the pile never stops growing. To ensure I don’t buy duplicate parts during its restoration, I frequently dig through this extensive affair of paperwork. It’s all here, from the moment my parents took delivery of the Lincoln Continental Valentino to my most recent invoice at the restoration shop where it currently resides.

Much to my dismay, the couple of bumper pads and wood grain interiors bits I currently need aren’t referred to anywhere in the Valentino binder, which also means the parts aren’t in a bin somewhere in my attic. During the binder search, however, I found myself frequently encountering my old friend, the Lifetime Service Guarantee.

The Lifetime Service Guarantee (LSG) sprung to life in March of 1983, a mere six months before the Valentino rolled off FoMoCo’s assembly line in Wixom, Michigan. The program ensured owners pay only once for repairs, a benefit that applies for the length of ownership. The program covered both parts and labor, so you can see how the LSG was the icing on my car’s “cake.” That’s because Project Valentino is “baked” full of dead-end, Malaise-Era technology that no independent shop would dare to “decorate.” (Sajeev, I think your blood sugar is low. Pull your head out of that binder and eat a Caramello. –EW)

Take, for example, Ford’s third-generation (EEC-III) fuel injection system. A large chuck of its operation is designed around vacuum lines rather than electrical wires. This antiquated induction system was an area in which I could take advantage of the LSG; as a receipt dated July 7, 1989 documented the replacement of a (not vacuum-actuated) crank position sensor for a dead Valentino with only 53,400 miles on the odometer.

The aforementioned replacement failed just 31,000 miles later, and a new part filled its shoes in April 1993. While the LSG should have paid for it, it turns out that the onus is on the owner to inform the dealership of LSG’s applicability. My parents neither had the time nor the knowledge to get that sweet, sweet LSG reimbursement, but I sure did.

While I was looking for parts relevant to my 2022 restoration, I noticed documentation from April 1993 that suggests I called the dealership, directed them to said invoice from 1989 in their filing cabinets, and kindly asked for a refund. They actually honored it, too, as I vaguely remember visiting the dealer with my father to get the reimbursement in person. Doing so netted our family a cool $219 (which is more like $448 in today’s money). My parents were thrilled, though it now brings back memories of trying times in our lives. Back in the early 1990s, every dollar saved for the Mehtas truly meant something.

Double Flashback Alert! By October of 1991, the Valentino was sitting in the driveway as a spare car. We treated my mother to a Cadillac Fleetwood for her years of hard work as a the owner of a successful travel agency. Then we added another business that eventually soaked us in perpetual, nearly inescapable red ink. The problem had to be dealt with before the Caddy’s third birthday; owning a vehicle so expensive, costly to insure, and with a thirst for premium fuel was, admittedly, a bad move on our part. We sold as much of the failing business as we could at fire-sale pricing and dumped the Caddy—at a significant loss. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and I remember the taste whenever I see a Sedan DeVille or Fleetwood finished in that perfect white paint. And to this day my parents still ask about premium fuel requirements when they are car shopping!

The Caddy-less household meant the Valentino could move back into its old spot in the garage, a second act that helped protect us from the financial sins of the recent past. But it wasn’t easy, and I not-so-fondly remember begging my parents to keep the Valentino. I always assumed it would be my first car, and the thought of losing that put me in a bit of a tailspin. My family didn’t understand my obsession, and to be honest, I didn’t quite understand my own self-imposed misery when I was supposed to be a fun-loving, flighty teenager living in middle-class suburbia.

In hindsight, most of this stress had more to do with school bullies. Logical and level-headed thinking was at that point a non-starter, when my lunch hour and extracurricular activities had that black cloud hanging over them. Only now do I see how the prospect of owning the Valentino was, for my high school self, a mental safe harbor. The school library was a more immediate one. It was my place of refuge, where I’d sketch some automotive escapism before the next class started.

Cars, inanimate as they are, can be our saviors when the people around us don’t totally understand our problems. Thank goodness mental health is a higher societal priority these days.

My parents eventually relented, letting me/us keep the Valentino. At that point it wasn’t a financial burden (paid off years prior) and I was an employee of our travel agency (likely working harder than labor laws allowed). The agreement was conditional: The Valentino could not become a bottomless piggy bank for my parents. And with that, I promise, we’re getting back on track.

Ford unceremoniously ended the LSG program on January 1, 1992. The Valentino came out of retirement, needing nothing more than the aforementioned sensor, a new battery, two tires (anyone remember the Deluxe Classic LX?) oil, gas and weekly inspections (from yours truly) to safely transport my now Cadillac-free mother for over a year. Money saved when it was so desperately needed, as it were.

I’d like to think the Valentino earned its keep during this time, but I know my feelings for this car make me an unreliable narrator where it’s concerned.

These days it’s my car, my problems, and my light to chase at the end of the tunnel. Thanks to my checkbook the talented restoration shop in my employ, Project Valentino now has fully functioning doors/windows, an engine that runs on the factory ignition switch, a sealed fuel system, properly secured EEC-IV computer, and a dashboard modified to hold the standalone 4R70W transmission controller. A large number of NOS or reconditioned exterior trim items are installed, but Project Valentino still proves the point about a lifetime of guaranteed service.

No restoration shop can rebuild a Continental Valentino without an owner willing to drop everything, run to the junkyard, and grab a part to keep the project moving along. Most recently it was a hood latch. You gotta see the forest for the trees, right? 

The junkyard in question doesn’t list the Valentino’s two-door sistership (Lincoln Mark VII) in its website’s Lincoln inventory, but by searching for “Lincoln Mark VII,” a tan 1988 model popped up. Perfect, I thought. Until I walked up to the machine and realized it had Midwestern rot to its core. I grabbed the rusty hood latch but walked around in case another Ford on the lot shared the same latch. Ford Tempo? Nope. Modern Panther Chassis and SN-95 Mustangs? No, and not really.

I found at the yard an undocumented (so to speak) black 1991 Mark VII LSC Special Edition, as well—now the third time I’ve pulled parts from the damn thing. Nothing is easy with this car, even with the answer always right under my nose.

Old cars take you back, both to the good and the bad.

Just walking up to the still-unfinished Project Valentino makes me giddy like a teenager. It’s the same joy I felt when driving it to Homecoming dances, when loading its bustle-trunked posterior full of drums for musical explorations both on and off campus. And seeing most of the exterior bits recently installed gave me a joy not unlike that moment when I secured the Valentino as my very own.

Ford’s Lifetime Service Guarantee is both dead and non-transferrable, but in a way, Ford passed the torch to me. The warranty is still good for any work completed before it expired, which could be of use if I one day decided to reverse all my modifications. Highly unlikely, but interesting to consider with all the money spent at the dealership in the Valentino’s heyday.

So here I stand, with a “Quality is Job 1” mandate that I intend to uphold. I am the customer, the technician, the caretaker. I can guarantee for a lifetime that even when I hate Project Valentino, I’ll still love it.

The post Project Valentino: My Lifetime Service Guarantee appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Lido A. Iacocca was a polarizing figure, there’s no question about it. But he had a major part in many of Ford Motor Company’s successes in the 1960s and ’70s. The original Mustang, today’s subject, the Mark III, the Granada, and even the Mustang II (hey, love it or hate it, it sold, it was the right car at the right time, it made beaucoup money for Ford, and it was perhaps closer to the original ’65 than many Mustang fans are comfortable with). Some would say Iacocca took credit for the work of others, accepted all the glory, and imposed his will at his own peril. Alternately, he was a super salesman, made his career from nothing, was never afraid to stand up for something he wanted badly, created new market segments no one else had yet thought of, and saved a car company at the brink of being toast. Few are neutral about the man. But I fall a bit more into the latter camp, and the subject of today’s daily dose of Lincoln is the reason why: The magnificent Lincoln Continental Mark III.

That’s right, ladies and gentleman, “Klockau” is in the byline and the subject is Ford Motor Company’s finest. For my regular readers (all three of you), you just know there’s going to be a positive push for plush Lincolns! And you would be correct. Well, what can I say. My Grandpa Bob and Grandma Ruby were Ford people for many years, with multiple Lincolns and Thunderbirds playing a part in my childhood car memories.

And in 1968, my grandfather traded his green over green 1966 Lincoln Continental sedan for a triple dark green 1969 Mark III. He loved that car. One interesting thing my father recently told me: That Mark was the first one that Bob Neal Lincoln-Mercury, of Rock Island, Illinois, ever got in. My grandfather saw it sitting there and bought it on the spot.

Indeed, he loved it so much that he traded it for the all-new 1972 Mark IV. Like the Mark III, it too was dark metallic green, with matching leather and top. Then that one was traded for a triple navy blue 1977 Mark V. Iacocca was certainly onto something. The value of the renewed Mark III (there was a previous Mark III in 1958, but Ford decided to rewrite history) definitely exceeded the sum of its Thunderbird-derived parts. The inaugural 1969 model sold 30,858 units—initially at $6585 ($53,141 today), later bumped to $6741 ($54,400). The Mark III was introduced in April 1968, but all cars were officially 1969 models, much like all first-year Mustangs were 1965s—“1964 1/2” designations notwithstanding.

Despite the admittedly long model year, Mark III sales were quite substantial, considering 1969 Continental sedan and coupe sales came to 29,351 and 9032, respectively. Lincoln was clearly on to something. The 460-cubic-inch V-8 produced 365 horsepower through its four-barrel Autolite carburetor and had a curb weight of 4866 pounds. All 1970 models received redesigned door panels and upholstery sew style, new wheel covers, and other small details, plus a price increase to $7281 ($55,578). With a standard production interval for this year, production went down to 21,432.

Ninety-six percent of 1970 Continental Mark IIIs had air conditioning and tinted glass, and 88 percent had a tilt steering wheel. I suspect the four percent of non-A/C Marks were sold in Minnesota and Alaska (haha). A myriad of color choices—including optional Moondust colors, such as Red Moondust, Ginger Moondust (as seen on the Mark III in the terrific 1971 film The French Connection), or Ivy Moondust (as seen on our lovely example here) were available, plus a cornucopia of interior color choices. More than anything else, I have always associated luxury cars with a vast amount of both interior and exterior color choices.

You see, back then most people ordered their Lincolns, Cadillacs, and Imperials from a dealership. And when you’re spending over seven grand—a substantial sum in the Year Of Our Lord 1971—one was not going to buy a car off the lot and settle for a color they weren’t fond of. No, sir. You’d want to order exactly the car you desired: color, trim, options, sunroof, the whole nine yards. And most did. It was a different time, for sure.

Personally, the colors on this 1971 model, owned by my friend and fellow LCOC Lake Shore Region club member, Humberto Garcia, were just about perfect to me. I’d seen the car at several club events, but I finally got some suitable photos of it in August 2018 at a show at the airport in Poplar Grove, Illinois.

I love the Ivy Moondust paint, with that oh-so-excellent matching dark green leather and vinyl roof. My Grandpa Bob’s 1969 Mark III was essentially the same color combination, so this was as close as I’ve yet gotten to seeing, in person, his car.

The easiest way to tell a 1970 model from a ’71 model is that most ’71s received high-back seats, though the sew style remained the same as the previous year. I prefer the separate headrests; the high-back seats always make me think Mustang, for some reason.

However, even that is not conclusive. While the high-back seats appeared on early ’71s, there were some complaints about them, so Lincoln made the low-back seats with adjustable headrests a no-cost option shortly thereafter.

The 1970 and ’71 Continental Mark IIIs also received genuine walnut trim on the instrument panel. About 25 years ago, a friend of my father’s was performing some cosmetic restoration on a 1971 Mark III, and I got to sit behind the wheel.

The gangly, bespectacled 14-year old version of your author was immediately smitten with the interior—those instrument binnacles framed by real wood and the Cartier clock with the second hand seamlessly sweeping across its face. Wow, is this the life! Imagine the pleasure of driving one on a regular basis. Yowza.

The Continental Mark III not only stole the hearts of FoMoCo faithful, it also attracted admirers from “the other luxury car make.” And eventually, the Mark would trounce Cadillac’s Eldorado in sales—though Cadillac would still handily outsell Lincoln as a whole for many years thereafter.

Last call for the Mark III was 1971, when 27,091 sold at $8421 ($61,582) a pop. Clearly Lincoln—and by association, Lee Iacocca—had a hit. Who could blame Iacocca for using past successes to create new ones when he helmed Chrysler in the early ’80s? And the LeBarons certainly sold well. I remember many of them when I was a kid.

Times were changing though, and by about 1990, the “Mark III formula” really didn’t have the sparkle and attraction it once held. The retro-Brougham 1990–93 Chrysler Imperial, while a car I personally like, just couldn’t stand up to the new-for-1992 Cadillac Seville, a tasteful modern take on American luxury. But I will give Mr. Iacocca a pass on that, for he gave us some truly wonderful Lincolns. It all started with the timeless Continental Mark III.

The post 1971 Continental Mark III: Iacocca’s Crown Jewel appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Before Lincoln was Lincoln, it was Cadillac. And before Cadillac was Cadillac, it was the Henry Ford Company. However, investors fired Henry in March 1902 after just four months, leaving him with a lifelong disdain for bankers and financiers. The investors brought in Henry Leland, a well-respected Detroit business figure and pioneer in high-precision manufacturing, to evaluate what Ford had left behind. Ford was out, Leland was in, and Ford would never forget it.

Leland suggested that the investors reorganize and build a new car using an engine of his own design. The Henry Ford Company became the Cadillac Automobile Company, named in honor of Detroit’s founder, Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac. With Leland’s emphasis on precision manufacturing, Cadillac was soon considered one of the finest automakers in the country, if not the world. General Motors, led by William C. “Billy” Durant, purchased Cadillac in 1909 for $4.5 million. Durant promised that Leland, aided by Leland’s son Wilfred, would have free rein to run Cadillac.

After a falling out with Durant, the Lelands resigned and in August 1917, they founded the Lincoln Motor Company. As with Cadillac, the new enterprise was named for a historic figure, in this case the late president, and the company began building aircraft engines for World War I. The war ended in November 1918 and the Lelands were left with a large, expensive factory, canceled government contracts, and no income. They decided to retool and build an automobile instead, with the first Lincoln motor car debuting in September 1920. Unfortunately, material shortages, labor strikes, poor sales, and a postwar depression all conspired against Lincoln; by 1922, the company was in receivership. A savior was needed. Enter Henry Ford and his only child, Edsel: Father and son would rescue father and son.

Where some parents might buy their children a car, Henry bought his son a car company. By 1919, Ford had bought out all of his stockholders, with Edsel, aged 26, serving as the company’s president but Henry pulling the strings. The Ford Motor Company was run more like a small-town family business than the largest automaker in the world, with enormous wealth concentrated in the hands of a few. Henry wrote a $12 million check ($199 million in today’s money) to buy Lincoln and pay off its creditors as easily as we might pay our cable bill. The fate of the Lelands was now in Henry Ford’s hands—and Henry made sure they knew it.

Despite their initial hopes for a successful merger, the Lelands soon learned that their management style was the exact opposite of Ford’s, which was at best arbitrary but more frequently abusive. Employees were fired on the spot for simply having their hands in their pockets, or sitting on a stool, or leaning against machinery. “If the work of certain clerks in the shop is not wanted, why tell them so? Smash their desks,” was the Ford approach to human resources. When challenged by the Lelands, one Ford manager stated, “The general impression is that you think yourselves exclusive. You are no different from me or anyone else—no different from any Ford plant.”

It was too much for the Lelands. Wilfred wrote several times to Ford, begging him to sell Lincoln back to them. Ford did not reply; his response instead was to send two of his lieutenants to end the association. “You better go over,” Ford said, “and tell Wilfred we don’t want him anymore.” The Lelands were told to take their personal belongings with them and were given a mere two weeks’ severance. The whole affair had barely lasted four months; the Lelands would never speak to Henry or Edsel again.

The parallel between the Lelands and the Fords, of father working alongside son, is an interesting one, but the comparison ends there. Although Henry Leland and Wilfred worked well with each other, Henry Ford could not have been more different from Edsel. Henry was proud of his ignorance, coarse and unrefined, stuck in his old ways and always looking to the past. Edsel was gentle and soft-spoken, a lover of fine arts and culture, with an eye to the future. It was his artistic vision that was responsible for the Model A that finally replaced the long-lived but woefully outdated Model T, and Lincoln would benefit tremendously from Edsel’s talents. Henry wanted to sell the most cars. Edsel wanted to sell the best.

Lincoln became Edsel’s personal playground, a place where he could let his imagination roam and bring his ideas to life. The introduction of the Lincoln Zephyr in 1936 showed what he could do with a blank canvas and the unlimited resources of Ford at his disposal. The Zephyr’s streamlined shape, while borrowing from the earlier Chrysler Airflow, was nonetheless fresh and new. It also looked to the future (though taking another nod from the Airflow) with its unibody construction. Lincoln sales in the Zephyr’s first year hit 15,000, nine times that of the previous year. It saved Lincoln from extinction and was the foundation of Edsel’s next styling triumph.

Edsel had traveled regularly to Europe throughout his life and was dazzled by the continent’s many beautiful marques with their gorgeous, custom coachbuilt bodywork. In 1938, he commissioned a one-off car to take on his annual Florida vacation. When the company is your playground, you can do these kinds of things. Chief stylist E.T. “Bob” Gregorie used the Zephyr as the basis of his design and sketched a convertible with a new body, a long hood, and a rear-mounted spare tire due to the lack of trunk room. The name “Continental” was chosen as a nod to its European inspiration. The car was such a great success with Edsel’s well-to-do Florida friends, he sent a telegram back to Michigan saying he could sell a thousand Continentals.

The battles between Edsel and his father increased in severity as Old Henry got older and became increasingly autocratic. Seeking ways to counter his father’s grip on Ford, Edsel suggested the company go public. Henry was incensed and would not consider going public. He was constantly interrogating people who knew about Edsel’s private life and even had a paid informant posing as one of Edsel’s servants to report on Edsel’s activities at home.

The stress was constant and eventually became too much. Edsel died after a long battle with stomach cancer on May 26, 1943, aged just 49. His contentious relationship with his father, many believe, contributed to his demise. With Edsel went Lincoln’s main patron and its flair for design. Henry Ford II, the eldest of Edsel’s three boys, took over the company in 1945; after the elder Henry suffered a series of strokes and died on April 7, 1947, he ran it as his own personal fiefdom for 35 years.

Known as “Hank the Deuce,” he was more like his namesake than his father—rude, crude, and unrefined. He knew the car business, though, and guided the company well during his tenure. He dominated and bullied his younger brothers; William Clay briefly ran the Continental Division until it merged with Lincoln, while Benson later headed up the Lincoln-Mercury Division. Bill bought the Detroit Lions in 1963 and battled alcoholism for much of his life. Benson suffered a massive heart attack at age 39 and died from another at 58. The Ford Motor Company had exacted a steep price from the family that gave it its name.

For 100 years, Lincoln has continued to serve as the luxury flagship for the Ford Motor Company. Gathered here are the first Continental and four of its successors—the Mark II, III, IV, and V—to observe what DNA has passed on to subsequent generations. Today, Lincoln’s top seller is the Navigator SUV, a fact that Edsel might find curious. The design aesthetic, perhaps, he would understand.

The Continental (1939–1948)

After Edsel’s death, Ford reorganized its management structure, which led to designer Bob Gregorie leaving the company in 1946. As a result, the first postwar Continental was penned by famous industrial designer Raymond Loewy. The car featured a chromed “egg-crate” grille, a detail that would be repeated throughout the 1950s by other automakers. This additional heaviness at the front better balanced with the rear trunk and spare-tire treatment, and the new boxy fenders harmonized nicely with the creased lines of the original Continental. Chrome was used sparingly.

Taken together, it was an extremely effective design; in 1951, the Museum of Modern Art in New York celebrated the Continental by including it in a first-of-a-kind exhibition, 8 Automobiles. Labeled as “An exhibition concerned with the aesthetics of motorcar design,” the eight cars were chosen “primarily for their excellence as works of art.” The brochure’s page on the Continental ends: “The Lincoln Continental satisfies the requirements of connoisseurs while capturing the imagination of a public less preoccupied with the refinements of automobile design.”

The car continues to this day as a hallmark of automobile artistry: The 1939–1948 Continental is recognized by the Classic Car Club of America as a “Full Classic.” The Continental is also one of the last American cars sold new with a V-12 engine.

Continental Mark II (1956–1957)

Continental was revived in 1955, this time serving as the name of a new division. Built only for 1956 and 1957, “Continental Mark II” is the correct way to refer to the cars, not “Lincoln Continental Mark II.” William Clay Ford, who shared his father’s eye for design, would lead the brand. In his eyes, he was carrying on Edsel’s design tradition. Big brother Henry II saw it differently. Arriving late to the ground-breaking ceremony for the Continental plant, Henry walked past Bill and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Sorry to be late for your funeral.”

In the Continental tradition, the lines were exceedingly simple and restrained. At the front was a subtle re-creation of the 1946’s egg-crate grille, while at the rear, the trunk bulge housed a spare tire now inside the trunk rather than attached to the rump. Chrome was used sparingly, and tailfins, too, were missing. At $10,000 (almost $109,000 today), the Mark II was the second most expensive car sold in the United States. A total of 3003 cars were produced during the division’s short lifespan. Automotive folklore has it that Continental lost $1000 on every car sold. Although there is no paperwork documenting that number, a development price tag of $21 million saddled every car with at least $7500 of cost before materials and labor, essentially guaranteeing the Mark II would never turn a profit.

The timing was terrible. With Ford now public, profit was an issue. Ernie Breech, Ford’s chairman, vowed, “I’m not going to my first public stockholders’ meeting with a division that’s planned to lose money.” Continental was closed in May 1957. The plant would build the all-new Edsel, a move that, in retrospect, foreshadows the failure to follow.

Continental Mark III (1969–1972)

Lee Iacocca, then the president of Ford, was riding high on his success with the Mustang in 1965 when he turned his attention to developing the Mark II’s successor. With the project stamped with the codename “Lancelot,” it was clear the role that Iacocca saw for himself: the knight who was rescuing Ford.

He decreed that for 1969, the Mark III would have a squared-off grille heavily influenced by Rolls-Royce, a 6-foot-long hood, and the Continental’s signature curved trunklid hinting at a spare tire beneath it. Lincoln designers beautifully adapted the grille, flanked by concealed headlamps. Sharp, angular sheetmetal was a distinctive counterpoint to the rounder shapes of the Mark II. Perhaps the most distinctive feature was the 2-inch swell behind the door that gave the Mark III a dramatic upward line that carried to the trunklid. Under the hood was a 460-cubic-inch V-8 that made 365 horsepower and 500 lb-ft of torque, soon to be strangled by new federal emissions targets.

Though the new Mark III tipped the scales at 4740 pounds, its performance was still lively; the car could go from 0 to 60 mph in 8.3 seconds. Fuel economy, however, was less exceptional, coming in around 10 mpg. The Mark III’s sticker price was $6585 versus the Cadillac Eldorado’s $6711. Ford executives, somewhat scarred by the failures of the Mark II and the Edsel, were cautious in their sales expectations.

Their concern was for naught; 23,088 were sold, hard on the heels of the Eldorado’s 23,333. Lincoln had found the winning formula. The success would embolden Iacocca, putting him even more at odds with Henry II and setting the stage for inevitable conflict. After all, whose name was on the building?

Continental Mark IV (1972–1976)

After the sales triumph of the Mark III, Lincoln designers were loath to tamper with the formula. Design chief Eugene Bordinat’s dictum of continuity had demonstrated its worth; the Mark IV would be merely a refinement of the III. Although the grille remained essentially the same, the raised rear fender line was gone, and an oval “opera window” was optional for the rear quarter of the roof. The wheelbase was increased by 3.2 inches, which increased rear legroom. The added length allowed the designers to create more balanced proportions.

In 1973, changes were minimal, but federal safety legislation began to negatively affect design. This was most visible with the front and rear bumpers, which were federally mandated to survive a 5-mph and 2.5-mph impact, respectively. This requirement added 130 pounds to the car and extended the front bumper by 3 inches.

Designer-series cars were introduced, with Bill Blass, Cartier, Hubert de Givenchy, and Emilio Pucci lending their names and talents. Sales once more skyrocketed. Threats loomed, however, in the form of the 1973 oil embargo and the recent appearance of Mercedes-Benz as a legitimate contender on the American luxury-car scene. Most dire, though, was the increasing tension between Iacocca and Henry II.

Continental Mark V (1977–1980)

Despite Cadillac debuting its downsized Seville for 1976, Lincoln defiantly announced in a press release, “Our standard cars are full-sized in every sense of the term as are our luxury offerings.” The all-new Mark V was a styling triumph, with a sharply raked windshield, a longer hood and shorter trunk, and the trademark bump for a spare tire. Three vertical louvers were sculpted into the fenders behind the front wheels, and the rear opera window was set in a vinyl landau top. The traditional Rolls-inspired grille completed the sophisticated look.

A Diamond Jubilee edition in 1978 celebrated Ford’s 75th anniversary and stickered at $20,529 (almost $92,000 today). The Mark V was yet another hit, with sales of 80,321 versus the Eldorado’s 47,344. Politics and economics soon conspired against the Mark V, though: The Iranian Revolution in 1979 sent gas prices skyward, while rapidly rising interest rates limited buyers’ purchasing power. The unsettled market caught Lincoln out as General Motors led the downsizing of the American luxury market. Finally, the duel between Henry II and Iacocca came to a head: Ford fired Iacocca on July 13, 1978. When Iacocca asked him why, Henry II simply shrugged and said, “Well, sometimes you just don’t like somebody.”

Henry II formally retired from all positions at Ford Motor Company on October 1, 1982. He was once asked why he took the reins at Ford after the death of his father. In a moment of rare candidness, Henry II answered, “I did it for my father, to make it up to my father. My grandfather caused him so much anguish. I wanted to show the world that my father’s seed was made of good-enough stuff. I remember my father.”

***

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The post Mark a century of Lincoln by the Continental, its most significant model appeared first on Hagerty Media.

New 6.8-liter gasoline V-8 primed for 2023 Ford Super Duty trucks

Intake: The Super Duty lineup at Ford has no shortage of engine options, but buyers will have even more choice come 2023. As reported by Ford Authority, a new 6.8-liter V-8 will join the options sheet. All signs point to this new gas burner being naturally aspirated, and we expect it to slot right between the current 385-hp 6.2-liter Boss V-8 and 430-hp 7.3-liter Godzilla offerings, power-wise. The trucks will also see a styling update, but the only sightings of these new heavy-duties have been obscured by plenty of camouflage.

Exhaust: Ford has been making big moves into the EV space for its crossovers, cars, and even light-duty pickups, but the Super Duty lineup is on a longer transition away from hydrocarbons than any other market. We reported back in April that the Blue Oval was planning to keep V-8s on the menu through at least 2040 for its heavy-duty workhorses. When we first heard news of a 6.8 in October of 2020, we expected to see the big-block under the hood of the Mustang or the F-150, but now it sounds like the motor will bow first in the Super Duty. Based on the initial projections, this new engine looks like a nice choice for fleet use or those who aren’t constantly hauling massive fifth-wheel campers. We’ll keep our eyes out for more details to see if Ford has other plans for its new middleweight V-8. — Kyle Smith

Redesigned Lincoln Corsair offers the senses a bigger nose, hands-free driving

Intake: The Corsair isn’t exactly long in the tooth, but the new-for-2020 baby Lincoln crossover receives minor cosmetic tweaks and significant upgrades under the skin for 2023. Nothing’s changed mechanically, but the electronics received a significant upgrade, as a next generation “ActiveGlide” hands-free driving assistant now includes “lane-changing, in-lane positioning and predictive speed assist” for highway use. A larger 13.2-inch touch screen and the latest Ford SYNC 4 software are also on tap. The big mouth grille is the best way to spot the Corsair’s changes for 2023, as it now extends below the bumper structure.

Exhaust:Lincoln says the Corsair is their best selling vehicle, and its sales continue to rise (up 21.1 percent this year). This suggests the brand might be doing better than we previously suggested. While loyalists continue to lust after something more Continental Town Car-like, these mid-luxury crossovers come loaded with technology for urban and suburban dwellers alike. If Lincoln continues to give the people what they like at such a rapid pace, they’ll likely earn progressively larger pieces of the pie. — Sajeev Mehta

Tuthill brings back Group B with 993 restomod

Intake: Britain’s Tuthill Porsche has revealed its latest road car, inspired by the 911 SC/RS that was rushed into World Rallying’s Group B in 1982. Porsche made 20 RS evolution cars by repurposing its 911 SC Group 3, but although it fought hard the SC/RS never landed a win. Tuthill’s take is actually 993 (1993–98)-based, albeit with body panels modeled after the 930 (1973–89, also known as the G-series), and has been designed for road trips rather than special stages. Power comes from a 3.8-liter engine with MOTEC ECU and a bespoke high-butterfly intake system. A six-speed G50 manual gearbox is installed, two-way adjustable dampers are fitted, Tuthill’s own brake calipers are bolted on, and the car wears 16-inch alloy wheels. The interior takes its lead from the 3.2 ClubSport, but throws in added niceties such as air conditioning and bluetooth connectivity. “This is the car to drive 500 km (311 miles) a day without fatigue, but one should also be able to charge down a country road with the same sense of lightness one would normally associate withe earlier Porsche 911s,” says founder Richard Tuthill.

Exhaust: Fresh from unveiling its ultimate 911K at The Quail—a carbon-bodied lightweight with an engine that revs to 11,000 rpm—Tuthill has gone back to its roots with the SC/RS. It was with this model in iconic Rothmans livery that Tuthill first began rallying with Porsche, and the new car is a fitting tribute. — Nik Berg

Patrick Dempsey wins the Mille Miglia (on screen)

Intake: Patrick Demspey has signed up to play 1957 Mille Miglia winner Piero Taruffi in Michael Mann’s upcoming Ferrari biopic. Taruffi was 51 years old when he won the race for the Scuderia in a Ferrari 315 S, with a time of 10 hours, 27 minutes, and 47 seconds. At 56, Dempsey is older than Taruffi, but still had to dye his hair silver-grey for the role. “It’s been a dream job with a great director. It’s fantastic. So, it’s a combination of all the things I love,” Dempsey told ET online.

Exhaust: The film is based on Brock Yates’ book Enzo Ferrari: The Man and the Machine and is set during the summer of 1957 when the company is facing bankruptcy. Adam Driver plays Enzo Ferrari and Penélope Cruz is his wife Laura as the company bets all on Italy’s most famous 1000-mile race. With Mann’s direction and a cast who care about cars, it’s shaping up well. — NB

Volkswagen’s ID. XTREME concept imagines the people’s EVs off-road

Intake: Volkswagen has unveiled an off-road concept based on its ID.4 electric crossover. Dubbed the ID. Xtreme, the new dirt-curious EV wants to push the boundaries of what folks expect from Volkswagen and take the electric sub-brand off the beaten path. The ID. Xtreme is based on the ID.4 AWD (called the ID.4 GTX in European markets). An electric motor on each axle will deliver power to all four wheels. Thanks to an upgraded rear motor, the concept’s total system power is 285 kW (382 hp), a 65-kW (87-hp) bump over the ID.4 AWD. Battery-wise, the concept employs a used, 82-kWh battery from another decommissioned test vehicle in the name of sustainability. The off-road build features a host of trail-minded goodies such as 18-inch off-road wheels, a new front bumper, a roof carrier with additional LED lights, an enclosed aluminum underbody, and more. Revised seats, dashes of Alcantara, and orange accents heighten the interior’s sportiness. VW showed the ID. Xtreme to the public at an electric mobility festival that took place in Locarno, Switzerland, last weekend. It says that it will gauge public reception to the concept to decide next steps about whether such a machine will enter production in the future.

Exhaust: When we drove the ID.4 AWD a year ago, we didn’t find it particularly scintillating. One of the biggest concerns was how the suspension seemed to melt when pushed. With no mention of adjusted suspension on this new concept, we’re concerned it will be more of the same, just with added dust. Still, positive reaction to Jeep’s Recon off-road EV suggests a budding market for these silent dirt-slingers. Perhaps the ID. Xtreme will make production, and we’ll get a chance to fling one down a forest road. Until then, this build is just wishful thinking for a car that could use a jolt of personality. — Nathan Petroelje

Supply chain threatened by potential U.S. freight railroad workers strike

Intake: After two years of failed contract negotiations between U.S. freight railroads and the unions representing 115,000 workers, both sides are preparing for a potential strike that could severely impact the country’s supply chain. According to Reuters, without an agreement before a “cooling-off period” ends on September 16, the standoff could lead to strikes, employer lockouts, and congressional intervention. Transportation companies BNSF and CSX say they are taking necessary steps to secure the shipments of hazardous and security-sensitive materials in the event of a strike, but they insist that these precautions do not mean a work stoppage is inevitable.

Exhaust: If you believe estimates from the American Association of Railroads (AAR), a work stoppage would cost the U.S. economy $2 billion per day in output and require 467,000 long-haul trucks daily to handle shipments diverted from rail. Worse, AAR says, there aren’t that many available trucks to get the job done, so the supply chain will be squeezed and prices will rise. How will that affect the auto industry, in particular? Since freight rail moves nearly 75 percent of the new cars and light trucks purchased in the U.S., any interruption will be costly. Let’s hope cooler heads prevail even after the cooling-off period ends. — Jeff Peek

NASCAR star Kyle Busch to join Richard Childress, Chevy in 2023

Intake: Earlier this morning, in front of a mass of reporters at the NASCAR Hall of Fame, star driver Kyle Busch and legacy team owner Richard Childress announced that the two will join forces for the 2023 race season. Two-time Cup champion Busch will vacate Joe Gibbs Racing (JGR), where he won 56 Cup Series races and took home two championship trophies (2015, 2019)—all behind the wheel of a Toyota. Now, “Rowdy” Busch becomes one of Chevrolet’s star drivers, trading Camrys for Camaros at Richard Childress Racing. The move was prompted by the expected departure of M&M’s/Mars from Busch’s #18 car at season’s end. As JGR searched for a new sponsor, it became more evident with each passing week that arguably NASCAR’s best driver would have to take a pay cut. The 37-year-old-driver indicated a few weeks back that he had multiple offers to consider. With the 2022 NASCAR Cup Series season coming to a close, Busch finally has a home.

Exhaust: This is the biggest free agent signing in NASCAR since Dale Earnhardt Jr. joined Hendrick in June 2007. Coincidentally, that move involved booting Kyle Busch—the man who Junior replaced—to Joe Gibbs Racing. During his time at JGR, circa 2011, Busch was involved in a series of on-track altercations with RCR drivers, which eventually prompted team owner Childress to punch Busch in the garage one day. Media sank their teeth into reports of Childress saying “hold my watch” prior to the scuffle, and the slogan went viral. Eleven years later, at today’s press conference, Childress presented Busch with a Rolex for his signing bonus and asked, “Will you hold my watch?” Expect big things from the Hall-of-Fame owner and the first ballot Hall-of-Fame driver. Richard Childress has demonstrated his ability to handle big personalities. The last driver to win a championship with Childress? The biggest personality of them all: Dale Earnhardt. — Cameron Neveu

The post Ford’s new V-8, Tuthill’s Group B 911 restomod, VW’s off-road EV concept appeared first on Hagerty Media.

For some, the 1970s are less than happy times. Oil crisis, big bumpers, highly questionable fashion. But I love that decade, because some of the Broughamiest, most majestic domestic luxury cars were built during that 10-year period.

Right now I know some of you are saying, “Hey! Wait a minute! There were some even more fantastic luxury cars during the classic period! Duesenberg! Packard! Cadillac V16!” And yes, I wholeheartedly agree. But I just love those ’70s land yachts. There was just something about them. As you know, our love for cars can be very subjective. And subject to our individual history.

For instance, when I was a little kid, our neighbor across the alley, Bill Yokas, had a majestic, white 1979 Lincoln Continental Collectors Series. White vinyl coach roof, turbine alloy wheels, and many square feet of Kasmin II cloth in midnight blue inside. I loved that car. At that time Bill was in probably his mid 50s, but was very tolerant of me and my brother coming over and visiting when he was puttering around in the yard and the garage.

I loved that Continental. It was so huge, especially since I was about four-feet tall at the time. Although I never rode in it, I got to sit behind the wheel once and it was wonderful. It had been his brother’s car, and when he passed away, Bill got it. It was the “garage queen,” only driven on weekends, usually to services at the local Greek Orthodox church.

So, I have a history with these. And my grandfather had a midnight blue 1977 Continental Mark V, so I had already been predisposed to American luxury yachts. Unbeknownst to me at that time, though, these Lincolns were the last gasp of truly uncompromising size, space, and silence.

As I’ve previously discussed, Cadillac, Lincoln’s arch rival, had downsized its cars in 1977. It was partly a reaction to the first gas crisis of 1973–74 and partly due to deciding its cars were just too big anyway. While I love those ’77–79 Caddys too, they were not quite as impressive, at first blush, when compared to, say, a ’76 Fleetwood Talisman. But they still had room and space and still looked like a Cadillac, despite a decidedly smaller footprint.

Meanwhile at Lincoln, there were some changes starting in 1978, but they were not immediately apparent to the casual observer. While the Cadillacs were clearly a clean-sheet design, the Continentals were approximately the same when seen from a distance. The most obvious differences were the smaller rear fender skirts (some say the 1978–79s don’t have skirts at all, but they do, they’re just very narrow) and the all-new dash.

That new instrument panel was essentially a gilded Marquis/LTD dash. Apparently it was a slightly lighter assembly, and collectively, certain components on the ’78s were replaced with lighter elements here and there, without compromising that true American space and size Lincoln owners were accustomed to.

Not that it was played up in showroom literature. As the ’78 Continental brochure assured, “Lincoln Continental is truly a standard by which other luxury cars are judged. Whether it’s for roominess, comfort, styling, overall quality, or value, Lincoln Continental owners have their own reasons for owning Lincoln Continental; they’ve got their standards.” A not-too-subtle dig at shrunken Cadillac owners, perhaps?

And so did the Continental and the flossier Town Car/Town Coupé and the personal luxury Mark V carry on—until 1980. Then, despite all the large-car bluster, Lincoln downsized its cars as well. But for those last two years of the ’70s, you could still get a really big, imposing Lincoln, if you felt the need! This particular car was like new, finished in Champagne with matching crushed velour and coach roof. I photographed it and gawked at it at the cruise night in downtown Mt. Carroll, Illinois, back in the summer of 2015. It’s always been a great event and has resulted in a couple other columns of mine, notably the ’79 Cordoba and ’76 Marquis Brougham.

Look at these cars and marvel, for we’ll never see their like again. So keep calm, Brougham on, and always tip your bartender!

The post 1978 Lincoln Continental Town Car: Proudly Nimitz Class! appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The last year of the 1960s was also the final year for the classic Continental. Only gradual changes had been made to the car since its debut in 1961, and the center-opening doors lasted nine model years before giving way to a larger, all-new, body-on-frame Continental for 1970. Many cars saw drastic style changes between 1961 and ’69 (like Cadillac!), but not the Continental. Even in its last year of the decade, it remained smooth and elegant, yet subtle. Refined.

“Lincoln Continental: America’s Most Distinguished Sedan,” extolled the 1969 dealer brochure. The sedan differed from its 1968 predecessor with a new checkerboard-style grill with a raised center section, mildly updated taillights, and a few other slight changes. The convertible, of course, was absent, having left the model lineup after 1967.

But the coupe remained as a companion to the four-door and its new brother, the 1969 Continental Mark III personal luxury coupe. Both the Continental sedan and non-Mark coupe rode a 126-inch wheelbase, and 224.2-inch overall length.

Yes, the Continentals pretty much just marked time this year. Of course, the big news was the Continental Mark III, Lee Iacocca’s baby, with its hidden headlamps, Rolls-Royce grille, and baroque, button-tufted luxury interior. A total of 30,858 Marks were made, though that included the Mark IIIs built from April to September 1968. Like the 1965 Mustang, there was no “1/2” year, at least not officially. All first-year Mustangs were ’65s, and all first-year Mark IIIs were ’69s.

The sedan, with its oh-so-distinctive doors, sold 29,351 examples, while the non-Mark Continental coupe sold 9032. This would become a trend, with the non-Mark coupe finding relatively few buyers, now that it was competing with the Mark III, and later Mark IV. Eventually the Mark would cannibalize the standard Continental coupe enough so that it would finally be discontinued in the early ’80s.

All 1969 Continentals were initially equipped with the 462-cubic-inch engine, but around January 1968, the new corporate 460-cu-in V-8, with a healthy 365 hp at 4600 rpm, replaced it. It breathed through an Autolite four-barrel carburetor.

Yes, 1969 Connies were not drastically different from 1966–68 models, but one new trim package that debuted would have some serious legs: The Town Car package. It was basically a super deluxe interior trim option. As the brochure stated, the option package included “leather-and-vinyl seats and door panels … special napped-nylon headlining, extra plush carpeting, and color-keyed instrument panel trim.”

And since this was 1969 and not 2022, the Town Car interior package was offered in several colors: navy blue, white, black, light gold, and dark gold. It’s a shame that red or burgundy wasn’t offered … though you could get red with the standard Continental interior.

Indeed, the standard Continental interior was nothing to sneeze at. In fact, with its stitching and button-tufted Broughaminess, it seems fancier than the extra-cost Town Car interior.

But, of course, it was a Lincoln, not a Fairlane, Galaxie 500, or even a Mercury Marquis. Strictly first-cabin. And as with cross-town rival Cadillac, a long list of standard equipment was featured. After all, it was a luxury car. Ford’s finest.

Said standard equipment included the aforementioned 365-hp 460 V-8, Select-Shift automatic transmission, automatic parking brake release, power steering, power brakes (front disc, rear drum), power windows, power two-way seat, and variable-speed wipers.

Optional extras were many, as was expected from the domestic manufacturers at the time. And befitting its status in the lineup, and its snob appeal at the country club, I’m sure most Continentals were loaded.

Just a partial option listing included the aforementioned Town Car interior, manual A/C, or fully automatic temperature control, AM/FM signal-seeking stereo radio, tilt wheel, leather interior, vinyl roof (available in black, white or dark ivy gold), cruise control, and a six-way power seat. Twenty-two exterior colors were offered, 14 of them metallics.

I spotted this 1969 model in one of the Facebook groups I favor, Finding Future Classic Cars, which is run by my friend Chuck Houston, back in late summer of 2019. Unfortunately, only a couple pictures were posted. I wanted more!

Luckily I managed to find the original ad, with even more shots of this most excellent, gorgeous Lincoln. Sadly, it had long since been sold. That’s just as well, as I had no room for it anyway. But it burst the bubble of me pretending I could buy it.

I still wanted to write about it. The black paint, black top, and white leather interior is striking. I’ve always liked that combo, ever since my grandparents had a ’77 Thunderbird in black with a black vinyl roof and white bucket seat interior with red carpet, dash, and pinstriping. That car made a very big impression on me. Actually, I wanted it for my first car, but Grandma Ruby sold it in 1991, five years shy of me being eligible for a driver’s license.

It was the end of an era. The ’70s were rapidly advancing, and an all-new 1970 Lincoln would be even bigger, more powerful, and massive than the 1961–69 Connies. It would also be body-on-frame, making the 1969 models the final unit-bodied Lincolns for quite some time. The 1970s would also be just a little bit more Mercury-Marquis-like, with their conventionally front-hinged rear doors.

Studies at the time showed that while Lincoln owners could take or leave the center-opening doors, Cadillac owners did not like them. So to try to make some Cadillac conquest sales, it was decided that the ’70 would have conventionally-opening rear doors. It was the end of an era. Interesting, though, that such a recognized “Lincoln” feature was only in production for nine model years.

For even more pictures, you can check out the listing on ClassicCars.com. At the risk of repeating myself, I really love this color combination! It’s not common to see cars in black with a white interior, but I’ve always found it striking. Hope it went to a happy new home! She deserves it.

The post The 1969 Lincoln Continental was a class act—and the end of an era appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Lincoln’s Model L100 Concept has epic styling, no steering wheel

Intake: Lincoln released a wild concept car with stunning proportions, streamlined styling, extensive accent lighting, and rear-hinged doors that also actuate a rear-hinged roof panel. Called the Model L100 for a 100th (actually 102nd) anniversary homage to the 1922 (err, 1920) Lincoln L-Series, this concept car hints at an electric powertrain and shows a lofty interior design with floating seats, a lighted floor, and a featureless dashboard worthy of Level 5 autonomous driving technology. While most photos given to the media are computer generated renderings, the Model L100 exists in the flesh, and is on display at the Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance.

Exhaust:Subtle yet stunning details like the reintroduction of the 1926 Greyhound mascot (only now in solid crystal) and the aforementioned lighting signatures are likely to make production on a future Lincoln flagship. So what’s the biggest takeaway from this Concept EV Lincoln? Probably the most impressive light show made in the short history of Lincoln Embrace, the brand’s signature approach detection system that gives you a functional yet entertaining light show at night. While lighted wheels are an extreme, odds are the forthcoming embrace will be even better than what Chinese buyers currently experience with the Zephyr sedan. – Sajeev Mehta

70 years on, the BRM V-16 will race again at Goodwood

Intake: A recreated BRM Mk1 P15 V-16 will soon do what it does best and go racing. Under the direction of Simon, Paul, and Nick Owen,—grandsons of former BRM team manager Sir Alfred Owen—three “new” examples of this most spectacular 1950s racer are being built by specialists Hall and Hall. Engineer and helmsman Rob Hall will take the wheel of chassis number four during the Goodwood Trophy at September’s Goodwood Revival, making it probably the loudest race of the event. Hall’s car will wear the number five in tribute to Froilan Gonzalez who won the Goodwood Trophy in 1952, and a selection of other BRM machines will be on show as British Racing Motors marks 60 years since it won the 1962 Formula One World Championship.

Exhaust: Goodwood just got even more glorious, and hats off to the Owen brothers for not only bringing their grandfather’s vision back to life, but for setting it loose amongst a pack of hard-charging racers, despite the millions invested in it. “We have been very clear from the start of the project that the final three MK1 P15’s are to be built so that they can be seen and be heard,” says John Owen, son of Sir Alfred Owen and BRM Director. “They form an incredibly important part of British Motor Racing and British engineering history and it is vital that this is not forgotten. What better way to demonstrate this to the next generation by actually racing?” —Nik Berg

GM Defense, American Rheinmetall partner in bid to win military truck contract

Intake: GM Defense and American Rheinmetall Vehicles, a leading developer of tactical wheeled and tracked combat vehicles and systems, are teaming up to win a contract to create a Common Tactical Truck (CTT) for the U.S. Army. After auditioning multiple entrants, the Army plans to award the $5 billion contract in December 2022 and will purchase approximately 5700 vehicles. The Rheinmetall-GM Defense HX3-CTT is the next-gen variant of Rheinmetall’s HX family of military-off-the-shelf tactical trucks. GM Defense successfully delivered hundreds of Infantry Squad Vehicles (ISV) to the Army, and GMD President Steve duMont is eager to score another win. “With American Rheinmetall Vehicles’ HX3 as the starting point, I’m confident that together we will deliver a winning solution that meets or exceeds the Army’s requirements and provides a platform for growth and technology insertion to support our warfighters well into the future.”

Exhaust: Unlike the Ultium-based electric light reconnaissance vehicle (eLRV) that GM Defense announced in November 2021, the HX3-CTT (like its HX3 namesake) will likely be diesel-powered, hopefully proving that there is room—and a need—for both EVs and ICE-powered vehicles in the military, as well as the real world. — Jeff Peek

Tuthill Porsche is unveiling an 11K-rpm 911 restomod today

Intake: U.K.-based Tuthill Porsche will debut a positively bonkers 911 restomod today at The Quail today in Monterey. Dubbed the 911K, this carbon-bodied, sub-2000-pound golden masterpiece boasts a flat-six engine with an eleven-thousand-rpm redline. Holy moly. From details like the chrome grate over the rear engine cover and the chrome outlining on the rear taillamps seen in Instagram posts teasing the machine, we can infer that this appears to be styled like an original (1963–1972) 911. But rather than try to nail down a specific model year that this is derived from, it’s best to think of this creation as another respected Porsche shop’s take on the absolute ultimate 911. We’ll find out more details later today when this gilded machine takes to the lawn at the Quail Lodge & Golf Club.

Exhaust: Getting any engine to rev to 11K is no small feat; Singer, California’s famous Porsche restomod shop, had to leverage the technological might of Williams Advanced Engineering just to get the 4.0-liter flat-six engine is uses to rev to 9000. The rest of the car looks positively sublime, from the matte aluminum shift knob for the five-speed manual transmission, to the drool-worthy carbon-fiber intake plenum, to … well everything, really. Expect the price tag to be properly ludicrous—if they even mention such a thing; this could very well be a Singer scenario in that sense, as well: If you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it. — Nathan Petroelje

The Geneva Motor Show is back on… in Qatar

Intake: For the fourth year in a row, the halls of Geneva’s Palexpo will remain empty in February 2023, as the Swiss auto show has once again been cancelled. Instead, the Geneva International Motor Show will be held in November at the Doha Exhibition and Convention Center in Qatar. Originally the Doha event was to be in addition to the home venue as part of a sponsorship deal with Qatar Tourism, but now the Middle Eastern event will go it alone. “In these uncertain times, many brands are not in a position to commit to participating in a show in Europe in the winter,” said CEO Sandro Mesquita. “After assessing all the elements, it has become clear to the foundation that the 2023 Salon cannot take place in Geneva as planned.”

Exhaust: As the first major European auto show of the year, Geneva has played host to some of the most memorable motoring debuts in history, from the Lamborghini LP500, to the Jaguar E-type, original Range Rover, Audi quattro, McLaren P1, and both the Ferrari 288 GTO LaFerrari. We suspect that Qatar won’t attract quite the same level of interest. –Nik Berg

Porsche simulates a hydrogen engine on the Nordschleife

Intake: Computer simulations are a staple of new car development. Nearly every aspect of a given design is tested endlessly in code before becoming metal or plastic. The latest example of this is Porsche’s simulation of a hydrogen engine running a lap of the Nürburgring Nordschleife. The 14.18-mile loop is not the entire Nürburgring, but still a hot testing bed for many manufacturers. The eight cylinder engine was merely a data set based on a current engine and was created to solve some of the problems that come with burning hydrogen; low exhaust gas temperatures means turbochargers require redesign to deliver appropriate air mass and raised compression to make for efficient burn. All this math calculated to a 8 minute, 20 second time around the north course in Porsche’s digital environment.

Exhaust: Those of you familiar with hydrogen engines will know that last word—environment—is an interesting one to use. While hydrogen engines tend to have very low C02 emissions, they can easily exceed ICE powerplants when it comes to Nitrous Oxide, otherwise known as NOx. Porsche claims this simulation was merely to examine the potential of alternative fuels and expand the power of its engineering tools. That said, Porsche says the emissions from this digital engine would have passed Euro 7 standards, which would be no small feat. This powertrain will likely never leave the computer, but trying new things is not bad and it is fun to see what is possible. — Kyle Smith

Acura’s revives ZDX nameplate for first electric SUV

Intake: Despite much speculation around a United States Patent Office filing (including from us), Acura’s forthcoming electric SUV will not be called the ADX. Instead, the company will revive for it a bygone nameplate, ZDX. Acura says the ZDX will arrive at market sometime in 2024, cribbing many of the styling themes from the Precision EV concept that bowed earlier this week at Pebble Beach. There will also be a driver-focused Type S variant, joining the NSX, MDX, and TLX. The ZDX will be co-developed with General Motors as part of a partnership the two automakers announced in Spring of 2020. GM’s Ultium battery platform to underpin the model. (A Honda-badged vehicle, to be named the Prologue, will also come into being as part of this partnership.)

Exhaust: The ZDX nameplate first landed on a coupe-like SUV that debuted at the 2009 New York International Auto Show, the production version of which was offered for sale from the 2010 model year through 2013. Just 7,191 examples of the older ZDX were produced and sold before Honda axed the model due to poor sales. In retrospect, in an industry now flooded with such vehicles, the ZDX was an avant-garde idea that Acura simply introduced too soon.

Given that the new ZDX will be Acura’s first zero-emission vehicle, spearheading the marque’s pivot to electrification, we’d say it’s a fitting model name to revive. We’re curious to hear what sort of details will set apart the ZDX Type S from the standard variant, but we’re going to have to wait a while to find out. Hopefully Acura’s superb Super-Handling All-Wheel Drive (SH-AWD) tech can take on some form in the electric future. — NP

The post Lincoln’s stunning concept, Tuthill’s 11k-rpm 911 restomod, Geneva Motor Show’s surprising new location appeared first on Hagerty Media.

My wife looked at me funny. She often does, not least because your narrator is broken in a dozen ways. In this case, however, it was a car. 

“Is that a Lincoln in the driveway?”

“Yes,” I said. “You like it?”

Blank stare. “Looks like everything else. What is it?”

“The plug-in-hybrid Corsair.”

“People actually buy those now?”

“Corsairs?”

“No, Lincolns.”

My wife is a copy editor; we met while working at the same car magazine. She has professionally and dispassionately analyzed millions of words on the automotive industry. She occasionally cuts to the quick. 

I changed the subject. Mostly, I told her, the Lincoln Corsair Grand Touring AWD PHEV is a machine of the moment. For better and worse. 

She shrugged. A gesture that, in retrospect, fits both the Lincoln and much of our collective social moment.

I digress. This is a 4600-pound, 266-hp hatchback wagon that shares a platform with the Ford Escape. It is an entry-luxury product. A vehicle from a grand old name in American motoring. Lincoln calls the Corsair a “perfect balance of elegance and agility,” a phrase so ambiguous, it could work on a Bugatti Atlantic or a pair of cross trainers.

The Corsair is powered by a 2.5-liter four-cylinder engine, but also a battery pack and a single electric drive motor for each axle. That equipment brings a 600-pound penalty over a similarly equipped non-hybrid Corsair. Given enough battery charge, the Lincoln’s motors can drive all four wheels on their own, no gasoline. More important, the Corsair was built for the hottest segment in the market. It is one of two Lincoln hybrids currently produced but the only one the industry calls a “compact crossover.”

Some time back, a reader of this site emailed and suggested we do more to clarify jargon. When editors here use the words “compact crossover,” we mean: 

1. Most of the downsides (mass, fuel efficiency, drag) of an SUV 

2. Most of the downsides (interior space, cargo and tow capacity) of a small car 

3. The capability, styling, and satisfaction of neither. 

Still, people like these things. Americans buy small crossovers in droves, and for reasons often easily dismantled by logic, but new cars are not a logical space. Most households in this country wouldn’t touch a luxury hatchback with a ten-foot pole, but give that same car another foot of ride height, people climb over each other to sign a lease agreement. In the interest of sanity, we must ask not why everyone is buying slab-sided flab-cars that resemble four-wheeled cows. We should instead ask why they buy a specific version of that cow-flab.

With this Lincoln, the answers are not readily apparent.

At $53,005 for 2022, the plug-in is the most expensive Corsair offered, but it is not the most powerful. The base model ($37,775) gives 250 hp from a 2.0-liter turbo four; for $7575 more, you get the optional 2.3-liter turbo four, at 280 horses. Car and Driver says the plug-in is also the slowest Corsair you can buy, at seven seconds to 60 mph. The others do the job in around six seconds.

The upcharge, then, translates almost entirely to efficiency: The base Corsair, front-drive only, gives 25 combined mpg. The 2.3 notches 25 with a front-drive layout, 24 if you opt for the optional all-wheel-drive system. A hybrid Corsair with a full battery will produce 78 mpg-e; drain the pack and run only the gas engine, that figure drops to 33 combined mpg. Finally, the plug-in receives a continuously variable transmission, or CVT, not the otherwise standard eight-speed automatic.

CVTs have been used in hybrids for years, but their behavior is worth (another) quick digression. The upside of this type of gearbox is a virtually infinite range of drive ratios; the downside, the joke goes, is a virtually infinite range of drive ratios. Early versions of the technology were simply calibrated to follow their strengths: vary transmission output ratio on the fly in order to keep an engine at the rpm where it most efficiently produces the torque the driver wants. (Translated: Engine speed holds constant, car accelerates.)

That was all well and good until people began to complain about the unchanging engine note under load. That sound often presented as a moan, and nobody likes listening to machines moan. In response, some carmakers began tuning CVTs to give “fake” ratios. Which is to say, those gearboxes were programmed to behave more traditionally, mimicking “normal” automatics, with “steps” between simulated “fixed” gears. 

That, too, was all well and good, except it hurt efficiency. Which is kind of the point of a CVT. The point of new cars, however, is to sell. The modern approach is generally a blend of the two “shift” practices, often filtered through driver aggression and drive mode. The Corsair hews to this.

Short version: The Lincoln can moan. More to the point, in the cabin, that sound is loud. Conversations and music are occasionally out-shouted by four-cylinder moo. 

This reminds your narrator of an old knock-knock joke:

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Interrupting Cow.”

“Interrupting cow wh—”

“MOO!”

I digress again, again. The problem here is the engine’s volume and tone, not the CVT; the gearbox is merely complicit. Perhaps some of us want coarse and shouty noise in a $53,000 vehicle. If vehicle engineering is a series of tradeoff decisions, it is difficult to discern why someone would sign off on this particular choice. Especially with a luxury device. Perhaps it was a grumpy day in Dearborn.

Sadly, the theme carries. The interior is a deeply pleasant place if you don’t look too closely. Those plush seats are fantastic, almost comically supportive and comfy, as in an old Volvo or a Seventies Continental. The toggle-shaped shift buttons carry happy weight for their size; the Drive and Reverse buttons have textured metallic edges so the driver can find them without looking. Most of the switchgear is simple and thoughtfully laid out, and much of it is metal or at least feels as if. The twin-layer glass and Ford Soundscreen windshield help keep perceived road and wind noise surprisingly low; most luxury cars at this price aren’t as isolated. Even the air-conditioning vents have substantial heft.

Much of this is current Lincoln SOP—a version of what lives in the base Corsair and the brand’s larger SUVs. Still, it’s better than industry average, and nice. (Hell, most Lexus switches are basically just Toyota Camry bits with a different coating on the buttons.)

If only those hits didn’t seem to emphasize the misses. Sometimes literally. The Corsair’s tomblike interior only makes you think more about the tire slap from those optional 20-inch wheels ($2000, available only on the hybrid). The eight-inch console touchscreen is nice, but eight-inch screens haven’t been a competitive choice for a luxury crossover in more than five years. The software on that screen can be lobotomy-slow when switching menus. The Revel-branded sound system lacks warmth.

Sound trivial? With luxury cars, especially hybrids, perception is everything. And in a $50,000 car—options lifted our test machine to $61,000—this stuff adds up.

This is a machine built for efficiency, so let’s take the most efficient route forward and simply inventory the rest: 

The piano-black paint on the dash appears thin and wears noticeable orange peel. (Even Volkswagen gets their piano black more right than this, makes it look more expensive, and on cars costing half as much.)

Being a hybrid, the engine kicks on and off frequently. When it does, the Corsair shudders bodily. (You lose this effect in full EV mode, obviously. But the Lincoln’s EV range is limited to just 28 miles. Go past that, the engine comes moaning back.)

Being a part-time EV, the Lincoln often produces an electric-vehicle warning sound at low speed. With the windows down, that sound can drown out the stereo. (Metaphor alert: The artificial theater of many new cars occasionally overpowers real experience.)

The suspension strolls down the road, disconnected. Imagine trying to run with each shoe a waterbed. Ride quality varies with drive mode; in the Lincoln’s softer settings, at low speed, the Corsair recalls an old Town Car with a dash of Mercedes-Benz: Small bumps and light pavement undulations seem to disappear. You roam cities amazed, looking for things to drive over. On the other hand, large body motions can take a nauseating amount of time to settle, as if the shocks were asleep. The Lincoln’s suspension is adaptive; switching to one of the more aggressive modes brings increased stiffness and greater driveline braking, but no change in philosophy.

The brakes are surprisingly grabby, with quick take-up, chauffeur stops difficult. The steering is wooden and synthetic; mode changes bring added weights and increased torque at the wheel but nothing like feel. On a back road, an old Town Car would be more fun and less unsettling.

Cars tell you how they want to be driven. The Lincoln’s concert of feedback and finish seem to suggest things will harmonize if you simply find the right rhythm. That turns out to be gliding around town somnambulant, doing nothing suddenly, zoning out.

Hush, the Corsair seems to be saying, we are going somewhere. Turn your brain off and feel those shift buttons.

Fine, you say: This is a Lincoln. Not a traditionally sporting brand. How much can you ask? And yet a certain amount of driver-hardware communication is necessary in any vehicle, to give confidence in the car’s abilities. The last Continental, dead since 2020, was far better at that job and lovable to boot. Lincoln can do this.

At the core, consumer product design is really just a series of forks in the road—chances to prioritize A over B, bent by engineering talent, budget, brand mission, and manufacturing ability. Countless decisions were made in the hope that purchasing this $50,000 vehicle would feel like rewarding yourself. And yet. There’s also the on-paper argument: Five figures on top of the base Corsair for just 28 miles of electric power and seven or eight miles per gallon is a tough pill to swallow. That’s a shame, as the intent here was clearly an efficient dose of luxury without an ounce of crassness. A rare combination. But the devil—or bovine—is in the details.

Moo, he said, as thoughtfully as possible. If only it didn’t feel so much like a shrug. 

***

2021 Lincoln Corsair Hybrid

Price: $51,485 / $61,035 (base / as-tested; not reflective of 2022 pricing)

Highs: Wonderful seats, understated styling. Some details are quite satisfying. Great low-speed ride quality. One of just a few plug-in hybrid crossovers currently on sale. An adult offering.

Lows: Engine noise. Wooden and artificial steering. Interior details are, like the rest of the car, hit and miss. Big price bump over lesser Corsairs for not a lot of gain.

Takeaway: Expensive, especially for a machine based on the Ford Escape, but pleasant enough. Assuming you stick to EV power. On short journeys. Preferably in a straight line.

The post Review: 2021 Lincoln Corsair Plug-in Hybrid appeared first on Hagerty Media.

(Update: this article inspired a follow up piece, with details from an ElDorado Motor Corp employee. Read it here.) 

The evening of March 18, 1988 was just an ordinary Friday for yours truly, planted in front of the TV watching another episode of Miami Vice. It was a show that introduced me to a world of products, styles, and themes I had never before imagined. Perhaps you felt that way too, as it was a window into a world most folks never touch. I mean, you just don’t see this stuff in the suburbs.

While I was far too young to understand Vice‘s nuanced sociopolitical undertones, and though I couldn’t comprehend the concept of film noir, I absolutely knew what a RV was supposed to look like … Until I didn’t. On that Friday night in 1988, I was introduced to a radical-looking RV in the final scene of “Badge of Dishonor.”

The televised RV in question is above, turned into a mobile soup kitchen to end the sordid tale on a less tragic note. While it was an apparatus worthy of a white Testarossa-turned-cop car, the Lincoln Continental themes rendered me unable to process the stimuli presented. And there was no Google for googling. I couldn’t ask Siri what had just scrolled across my 25-inch Magnavox. Who on earth made this perfect vision of a Lincoln-themed Recreation Vehicle?

It wasn’t until the mid-2000s that I found the information needed to quench my thirst. Turns out the Lincoln RV was made by ElDorado Motor Corporation. And the folks behind the Cadillac-adjacent coach company gave this RV a rather Oldsmobilian name: Starfire.

ElDorado’s Starfire was likely in production for a short time (1986 to 1989?) in limited volume (150–300 units, depending on who you ask). Internet lore suggested the Starfire started at $80,000, which is well over $200,000 in today’s dollars. That’s not chump change, and this RV was never intended to be a fool’s errand.

The Starfire sported a unique fiberglass body and top-tier hardware bolted to it. The styling was very Boeing 727 in the cockpit, somewhat streamline moderne in the sides, and capped off with Lincoln Continental facades front and back. The seemingly one-piece construction made sense, flawlessly integrating 1980 Ford F-series taillights, a faux Continental kit, 1984 Lincoln Continental grille, and 1984 Lincoln Mark VII headlights into a streamlined body with an anteater-like snout. (Contrary to the stories published elsewhere on the Internet, the Starfire does not use the Mark VII’s smaller grille: It’s from the four-door Continental, and ask me how I know.)

What’s amazing is how ElDorado integrated a Boeing-esque cockpit with the Lincoln snout, taking the Mark VII’s fender-to-cowl contouring to levels last seen when Ken Griffey Jr. was a guest star in The Simpsons. Below that awkwardly brilliant homage is the same replicated Euro-look of the Mark VII LSC: ribbed lower trim worthy of a W-126 Mercedes with chrome bumpers and fog lights. What on earth made ElDorado think of this motif for a recreational vehicle?

The Starfire was impressive under the skin too, sporting an air spring at each wheel, much like Lincolns of the era (or the GMC RV before it).  The fiberglass construction ensured a one-piece design, impervious to leaks from shrinking body-adhesives rattling themselves apart over time. Roof damage could be repaired easily—well, at least in theory. And it all rested on the competent bones of the Ford E33 (Econoline) chassis.

Unlike cheaper RVs of the day, the Starfire chose the rarified air of a stripped Econoline chassis for its design. There were two configurations (27- or 31-feet) with the longer version mandating a tag axle behind the driving wheels. I have yet to figure out who installed that extraneous axle, but Ford’s promotional material suggests that ElDorado leveraged its bus-making skills and did the work in-house. Power came from either an optional 6.9-liter not-Powerstroke diesel or a standard, 460-cubic-inch gasoline V-8. Both engines fed power to the rear wheels by Ford’s C6 transmission.

Nothing in my research dissuaded me from wanting a Starfire RV, and subsequent online classified searching (and sharing on social media) ensured all my friends embraced my dream. One such friend is Troy Hogan (a gent made semi-famous by a 24 Hours of Lemons penalty that bears his name) and he found this example on Facebook Marketplace last week. It’s part of a larger estate sale, has been stored indoors since 2004, and had all the markings of a great RV (assuming some modest reconditioning). The recon is mandatory, because it hasn’t run in nearly 20 years, and trailering a 31-foot RV back home presents some challenges.

That’s because trailering a tag axle–equipped Starfire requires some specialized towing hardware. Even with the right trailer, tongue weight on the truck would be dicey, considering the 8-foot-long schnoz on these rigs. We eventually gave up on borrowing a trailer from friends, instead rented a 30-foot trailer (at a $250 daily rate) and made the five-hour journey on a Friday night. After arriving at a hotel close to the Starfire at 3 a.m., waking up at 8 in the morning, and arriving at the seller’s property shortly thereafter, both of us were walking zombies living on little else but caffeine and sugar. But we got to see this particular Starfire in full detail, warts and all. 

Opening the Starfire’s massive hood took me back to the days of 1970s yachts of the Malaise Era, and there was a fair bit of room under the hood to step inside, inspect the wiring, engine, batteries, generator, and miscellaneous accessories and modules. Everything looked in order, as nothing was hacked up or partially repaired, and there was no sign of serious accident damage.  There was a good chance this rig would start up with fresh gas, a new fuel tank, some carb cleaning, and at least one new battery.

Walking inside was another story. The photos on Facebook weren’t misleading, but they didn’t show necessary details. Like threadbare seat upholstery. Or a pair of cracked windscreens. But still, almost everything was there, even if it all needed a good clean to ever be used again.

The big question was: What all still worked? While the seller was generous enough to give us an extension cord with power from a nearby barn, we couldn’t get juice to everything. Not the end of the world, as the wiring appeared to be in good shape and we simply didn’t know where each component sourced its power, as this was not nearly as centralized as I hoped.

Turning behind the cockpit and living area we found a reasonably well preserved, wholly original kitchen. Just look at the photos, and recall the days when these appliances were new, sparkling and suitably upscale for a home of any size. The accent lighting above the cabinets still worked, even if their plastic lenses were yellowed to the point of brittleness. The cabinets were very high quality, sporting unique plastic tubs and clever latches (that broke from abuse, but are likely a quick fix with the right size sheet of plastic and a rotary tool).

While this 31-foot example lacks a proper bedroom in the rear (an option the original owner regrettably avoided) the twin couches make for great entertaining options that can be folded into a bed. There was too much junk everywhere to properly photograph the rest, but the Starfire’s sights and smells weren’t terribly concerning, either.

The final section of the Starfire’s interior is the bathroom and closet, accessible by a weighty pocket door with integral mirror. Everything looked original, and there were no signs of roof leakage or critters taking up residence. While I am sure the sink and toilet plumbing shall need extensive leak testing before being put into use, there were no significant red flags.

The exterior clearly needed a polish, especially the chalky plastic headlights. But standing in front of the Starfire makes you realize just how much it looks like a bullet train for the highway. Well, perhaps a bullet train designed by the peeps that made the Mark VII LSC…

The rest of the exterior had no particular disappointments, aside from learning that ElDorado had the gall to make opening side doors in the cockpit an option—on which this example tragically lacked. Disappointing, but that’s one less thing to go wrong, and the doors do look much sleeker without clunky handles in the way.

The seller wisely put a tarp over the roof, as the seals around the two air conditioners weren’t water tight. (The rest of the fiberglass roof looked leak-free.) It was all worthy of reconditioning, and the tires looked like they might actually withstand a trip back home … if the RV actually ran under its own power.

But both of us were souring on this Starfire’s prospects, even with a significant service history found in one of the cabinets. Troy correctly noted this Starfire would nickel-and-dime us to death. Rebuilding the fuel system and slapping in some batteries was no big deal: Anything for a Ford Econoline would be dirt-cheap to address. Perhaps the air suspension was still in working order, and perhaps they were standard parts from tractor trailers. But the RV-specific air conditioning (which worked, but blew hot air), the dead fridge, torn seats, cracked windshelds, and random deterioration in the cabin were significant concerns.

Googling this Guardian glass part number didn’t give me the immediate satisfaction I so craved. Worst case scenario, each window pane would have to be reproduced, and each would cost more than this Starfire’s asking price. We knew we had to walk away, even after sinking hundred of dollars in a rented trailer, hotel, meals, and the cost of diesel fuel. Not all was lost, as we had a great conversation with the sellers; they are a genuinely warm and kind-hearted bunch. It’s tempting to consider another visit to help them liquidate the automotive-related bits from their estate. Who knows, maybe we still will. When it isn’t so painfully hot outside, that is.

While we left with an empty trailer, this small Texas town tempted me one final time: a gold-toned Lincoln Mark VII, the donor car for the Starfire’s headlight clusters, less than a mile away from the RV, just begging to come home with me. Maybe it’s a sign, as I spent decades waiting for this moment. Alas, the trailer never carried a load home.

Was this automotive experience packing an impact that I’ve yet to comprehend?  Perhaps so, but my heart was full of joy in the knowledge that I finally met my Lincoln-themed hero from March 18, 1988. And it didn’t disappoint, even when it did.

The post ElDorado Starfire is the fiberglass RV of a Lincoln lover’s dreams appeared first on Hagerty Media.

For what seems like decades, American car enthusiasts have clamored for domestic automakers to make a serious effort to compete in the luxury-car segment. Brands such as Cadillac, Lincoln, and Imperial pretty much invented the full-size luxury sedan, but those U.S. brands have long since yielded to the German and Japanese. It has, in fact, been decades since Toyota upset the automotive apple cart with the Lexus LS400 in 1990.

Finally, Cadillac has accepted the challenge—and raised its sights even higher. Revealed in concept form last week, the $300,000 Celestiq leapfrogs the Lexus LS, Mercedes-Benz S-Class, and BMW 7 Series to challenge Rolls-Royce and Bentley. Caddy’s battery-powered flagship will be handbuilt to customer specification at GM’s Tech Center in Warren, Michigan.

Of course, Detroit has tried to step into the ring multiple times since the LS400. In the past twenty years, the Big Three debuted a number of promising luxury concepts that positive reactions from consumers, dealers, and the automotive press. If not ready for immediate production, most looked quite feasible—that is, if C-suite executives had the guts. On second thought, perhaps that’s unfair to the people running the domestic automakers. As attractive as these cars were to enthusiasts, by the time some of them would have come to market, the business case had evaporated.

We’ll never know whether these high-class studies would have succeeded, but we can wonder, can’t we? Here are 12 concept luxury cars introduced by the American automakers that never made it off the display stand. While a couple of them might be better described as supercars, I think it’s safe to say that anything with a projected retail price in the six figures is a luxury item.

2001 Lincoln MK9

The Lincoln MK9 was introduced at the New York Auto Show in 2001, at a time when Lincoln decided to imitate European luxury automakers’ penchant for alphanumeric designations, as opposed to model names. The problem was that Lincoln chose a combination of letters and numbers that evoked some giants in its history: the Continental Mark series, starting with the landmark Mark II in 1956, through the then-recently retired Mark VIII, last sold in 1998. One would think that the MK9 would at least be pronounced “Mark Nine,” thus positioning the two-door as a descendant of the Mark III personal luxury coupe—but no. Lincoln brand managers insisted the ongoing pronunciation of MK branded vehicles would be “Em Kay.”  Were they embarrassed by the big land barges of the 1970s and ’80s?

The MK9 rode on a stretched version Ford’s DEW98 platform, which was also the basis of the Lincoln LS, 2003 Ford Thunderbird, and the Jaguar S Type. The traditional, rear-wheel-drive platform had independent rear suspension with coil springs at all four corners. The exterior styling, by Gerry McGovern, who later headed Land Rover’s design department, features a long hood fronted by Lincoln’s waterfall grille (then a defining characteristic) with a big star in the middle. In general, the MK9 tried to reimagine the classic ’61 Continental and its long, bladed fenders and belt line for the 21st century. A chrome trim line running most of the length of the car gave it a retro touch, complemented by supposedly functional vents behind the front wheels, flush aluminum door handles, and 22-inch ten-spoke alloys.

The MK9’s interior was trimmed in chocolate brown, with lipstick red leather and brushed aluminum. An aluminum console cascaded down the dashboard, flowing the length of the passenger cabin. In the early 2000s, lacquered wood finishes were quite popular with luxury automakers. The MK9 sports dark cherry wood floors and a white leather headliner with fiber optics that lit up like a starry nighttime sky. The seats were modeled after the famous Eames Lounge Chair, designed by the influential husband and wife team of Charles and Ray Eames. The Eames met while attending the Cranbrook Academy of Art in suburban Detroit, taught there, and their work has been popular with the Detroit design community. Just as the Eames chair comes with a matching ottoman, the MK9’s red-upholstered front passenger seat boasts a foot rest trimmed in leather and aluminum.

Since it was based on a production vehicle, the MK9 was fully functional. When Ford conducted one of its periodic auctions of concept vehicles to raise money for charity in 2010, the MK9 sold for an impressive $101,750.

2004 Lincoln Mark X

By 2004, Lincoln had reverted to traditional names, and the Roman numeric Mark X (pronounced “Mark 10”) debuted at the 2004 North American International Auto Show (NAIAS) in Detroit. It was a convertible take on themes introduced with the Em Kay Nine.

Also based on the Thunderbird, the Mark X swapped the T-bird’s soft top and removeable hard top with a folding metal roof with a panoramic glass insert. The Mark X’s interior was, per Ford’s press release: “dressed in Lime Sorbet with white Corian accents, polished aluminum, dark chrome, natural grain leather seating surfaces, plush sheepskin flooring and tailored tone-on-tone stitching throughout. Its four-spoke, power-adjustable steering wheel also is leather wrapped.”

Lincoln chief of design Marek Reichman was responsible for the exterior design, which did riff on some of the MK9’s themes. The waterfall grille, however, was replaced with Lincoln’s new egg-crate affair, a throwback feature from the 1960s. The Mark X was shorter than the MK9 by more than a foot, and had slightly smaller, 21-inch chromed aluminum wheels. A functional vehicle but, like most modern concepts, not street-legal, the Mark X was powered by a 280-hp 3.9-liter DOHC V-8 paired with a five-speed automatic transmission.

While it was close to production-ready, the Mark X was born into the wrong time: Sales of the Thunderbird were waning, and Lincoln decided that the market was then ripe for a traditional, personal-luxury car.

Speaking of brandnomenclature, the Mark X was not the first time that name was used for a Lincoln concept, at least phonetically. In 1992, Lincoln showed the “Marque X” concept, a convertible based on the then-new Mark VIII.

The Mark X was sold by Ford at the same 2010 auction as the MK9 and, in a remarkable coincidence, it fetched the same $101,750 price. Four years later, it changed hands for $129,250.

2002 Lincoln Continental Concept

The end of the 20th century and beginning of the 21st saw a wave of nostalgia sweep across the auto industry. Retro( more properly, “retrofuturism” was in), and modern cars adopted a vintage look. There was VW’s New Beetle, Chrysler’s PT Cruiser, and Ford’s reissue of the Thunderbird. The Lincoln Continental Concept introduced at the 2002 Los Angeles Auto Show fit nicely into that ethos, expressing the look of the classic 1961 Continental for a modern audience. Perhaps the most eye-catching homage was the suicide doors, which opened a full 90 degrees. One thing the ’61 Conti didn’t have but the ’02 concept did was a powered trunk lid that opened vertically on a parallelogram linkage. Beneath it, a bumper-level draw slid out to reveal a bespoke set of Zero Halliburton luggage.

The interior featured indirect fiber-optic lighting for the headliner and door panels along with the use of LEDs, features that have since proliferated throughout the automotive world.

Apparently two versions of the ’02 Continental concept were made, a display-only “pushmobile” used at some car show and a fully functional vehicle powered by a 414-hp V-12 engine (created by mating two Duratec V-6s, a trick that showed up on other FoMoCo concepts of the era), with a six-speed automatic transmission, four-wheel disc brakes, multilink suspension front and rear, and 22-inch aluminum wheels. The static display car sold for $15,400 in 2010 and again in 2014 for $27,500. The functional concept sold for $56,100 at that same 2010 sale.

Responses from the public and press were almost uniformly positive, but it would be more than 10 years before Lincoln introduced a new Continental. Thankfully, when it did offer the new Conti, it was available in a coach (or “suicide”) door edition.

2007 Lincoln MKR

Revealed at the 2007 NAIAS in Detroit, the MKR, designed by a team led by Peter Horbury, was introduced at a time when the Mercedes-Benz CLS and other swoopy “four door coupes” were becoming popular. Powered by a twin-turbo, direct-injection 3.5 liter V-6 with 415 hp that introduced Ford and Lincoln’s TwinForce engine branding, the MKR was supposed to presage Lincoln’s new styling theme, billed as “elegant simplicity.”

Exterior design, headed by Gordon Platto, featured a high beltline with a chamfered surface that ran the length of the car, a cantilevered roof that transitioned to a wide C pillar, full-width horizontal taillights, upward swinging doors, and 10-spoke, chromed 21-inch wheels. The most dramatic exterior styling cues were yet another new grille—the split “bow wave,” said to be based on that of the classic 1940 Lincoln Continental Cabriolet—and an expansive glass roof that integrated a structural Lincoln star. The tread of the MKR’s custom Michelin tires also bears the Lincoln star.

It’s possible that Platto’s team settled on a glass roof to show off the impressive interior, promoted as “guilt-free” luxury, filled with premium amenities that were environmentally friendly. The instrument panel is made from a piece of recycled black oak that extends from left to right, flowing down into a two-level center console. Ice-blue ambient lighting illuminated the interior, which feature self-standing “floating” seats made with soy-based foam, glossy exterior shells, and upholstered with cashmere leather tanned in an environmentally conscious chromium-free process.

2003 Mercury Messenger

While it wasn’t branded as a Lincoln, I’m including the Mercury Messenger concept because a grand touring sports coupe could have been part of Lincoln’s portfolio. (Also because I think it’s a very handsome automobile and deserves attention.) “In my opinion, it’s as good looking as any Ferrari,” concept vehicle collector Joe Bortz, who owns the Messenger, says. “This car could’ve saved Mercury.”

The Messenger was supposed to send the message that moribund Mercury was about to undergo a rejuvenation. Unfortunately, the brand would die just seven years later.

How a two-seat high performance sport coupe could have saved a brand known for its sedans is an open question. I suppose that product planners at Mercury saw the concept as something akin to the original Cougar, that brand’s upmarket version of the Mustang. As a matter of fact, there are styling motifs on the Messenger that evoke the 1961 Cougar II concept car, particularly around the greenhouse. That vehicle, owned by the Detroit Historical Museum, was built on one of Carroll Shelby’s tubeframe Cobra chassis, but the Messenger concept was a much more modern design, based around an hydro-formed aluminum monocoque. While the Messenger show car had a minimal electric drivetrain to help it climb on and off display stands, it was otherwise fully engineered, with the shell constructed by Italy’s Stola Group.

The front-engined, rear-wheel-drive Messenger wore 19-inch, turbine-style wheels up front and 20 inchers in the back, clad in 275- and 305-mm rubber, respectively. An all-aluminum, 460-hp, DOHC version of Ford’s 4.6-liter modular V-8 was destined for the engine bay. While the Messenger actually had no real powerplant, the rest of the vehicle appears to have been fully fitted, with four-wheel independent suspension and Brembo disc brakes. The likelihood of Ford building a relatively expensive, aluminum-bodied GT for what would have been a niche market was fairly slim, even though it did have an available rear-drive platform in the correct size (the Mustang’s), and by 2003 had already offered the SVT Mustang with independent rear suspension.

As mentioned, Ford sold a number of its concept vehicles at auction to benefit children’s charities in 2010. The Messenger was one of them and it sold then for $52,250 to Texas collector David Diseire. Diseire downsized his collection in 2014, selling the Messenger in a no-reserve auction to Joe Bortz for about half of when he paid for it, $27,500. Bortz originally planned to make the Messenger fully functional, with a crate 4.6 liter V-8 and automatic transmission, but decided to leave the concept as-is.

2003 Cadillac Sixteen

Few concept cars have gotten as much attention as the 2003 Cadillac Sixteen did. The engine headlined the conversation: A naturally aspirated, 1000-hp, 829-cubic-inch (13.6 liters) V-16 that was essentially two fourth-generation LS V-8s stacked end-to-end by Katech (which also developed a V-4 version of the LS for the Motus motorcycle project).

The Sixteen made an equally strong visual statement with an outrageously long hood and smooth, extended flanks. It had no exterior door handles or traditional B-pillars and sat on massive, 24-inch polished aluminum rims. The Sixteen harkened back to the original Cadillac V-16 in 1930 and, like that original sixteen-cylinder, the LS-based mill also got a once-over from GM’s styling department. It also introduced displacement on demand for the automaker, a feature which debuted the following year on GM production vehicles. To help maneuver such a long vehicle, the Sixteen was equipped with computer-assisted “Quadrasteer” four-wheel steering, generating opposite lock at low speeds and parallel steering at high speeds. While the Sixteen ran and drove, press drives, even with James May at the wheel on Top Gear, were limited to 40 mph.

Another touch from the 1930s was the center-hinged butterfly hood though, as befitting a 21st century car, the hood opened under its own power. The interior featured hand-stiched upholstery in Tuscany leather, a Bvlgari clock in the dashboard, and a solid crystal Cadillac logo in the steering wheel.

General Motors, unfortunately, never had any plans to put the Sixteen into production. If it had been produced, it likely would have been priced to compete with Rolls-Royce and Bentley, just like the Celestiq.

2002 Cadillac Cien

While the headline for this article reads “Detroit,” the Cadillac Cien actually had its origins in merry olde England (much like the “American” Ford GT40 that beat Ferrari at Le Mans in 1966).

At the time, Detroit didn’t have much experience building carbon-fiber-bodied, V-12-powered, mid-engine supercars. The Cien was designed by Simon Cox, who headed General Motor’s U.K. styling studio. The 750-hp, 7.5-liter, 60-degree “Northstar XV12” engine was actually built by Cosworth in Northampton and the rest of the car was fabricated and assembled by Prodrive near Banbury. An actual automobile, not a speed-limited show car, the Cien was track-tested by Motor Trend. The Cien, which means “100” in Spanish, was meant to celebrate Cadillac’s upcoming centennial in 2003. Some sources say that the development of the mid-engine Cien was at least partially influenced by the Ford GT project, which was revealed as a concept the same year.

The Cien could have been a contender, even against the Ford. It boasted a carbon-composite monocoque, inboard pushrod suspension, a paddle-shifted six-speed gearbox, and electronically controlled air inlets and outlets to cool that V-12. Unlike the Ford GT, however, General Motors never put the Cien into series production.

According to the U.K.’s Telegraph, while GM product chief Bob Lutz funneled the development money elsewhere, the automaker did consider a limited run of up to 300 Ciens a year, even sending John Heinricy and Dave Hill from the Corvette team along with GM executive Mark Reuss to England on a feasibility visit to TWR and Prodrive. Eventually, though, Reuss told Autoweek that the business plan for a $200,000 Cadillac supercar just didn’t work out, though he made a point of saying that the Cien wasn’t completely dead.

“Right now, we’re deciding not to spend the money on it, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t come around again in the future,” Reuss said. “In the past that would have been the final decision, but today we realize we ought to have a couple of shelves full of products we go back and do, depending on the situation.”

Although the Cien never made it to the streets, it has been involved in the production of a couple of Michael Bay movies, 2005’s The Island and 2014’s Transformers: Age of Extinction. It has also lived on in video games, featured in the Midnight Club and Gran Turismo series.

2011 Cadillac Ciel

When the Cadillac Ciel was introduced on the Concept Lawn at the 2011 Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, Cadillac fans clamored for a version they could park in their garages. A dramatic four-door convertible with a 125-inch wheelbase, suicide doors, and a hybrid drivetrain, the Ciel has classic rear-wheel-drive proportions. Thanks to those vertical headlights and taillamps, plus the egg-crate grille, the imposing Ciel is immediately identifiable as a Cadillac. An old-school Caddy, if you will, with no ambitions of Nüburgring lap times. No, the Ciel was a boulevard cruiser, which is why the producers of the 2015 Entourage movie used it instead of the 1961 Lincoln Continental convertible used in the eponymous TV series, no doubt to Lincoln’s displeasure.

Since the company had no rear-wheel-drive platform to fit the Ciel, GM actually went to the expense of creating a bespoke chassis for the show car. The Ciel, which means “sky” in French, was styled by Niki Smart at GM’s California design studio. The front end manages to be bold, as the buyer of a luxury car would want, without being ostentatious or vulgar like the visage of the Rolls-Royce Phantom. Also befitting a Cadillac, there is a fair amount of brightwork, with chrome strips tracing the hood’s power bulge back from the brushed finished grille, a character line at the rocker panel, and fender vents behind the front wheels. The polished, nine-spoke aluminum wheels are, as you’d expect in a luxury concept, an impressive 22 inches in diameter. The Ciel is finished in a shade of paint that Cadillac named Cabernet, saying it looked like “the best red wine under sunlight.”

Some Cadillac fans might have kvetched over the use of GM’s corporate 3.6 liter V-6 instead of a V-8, but with two turbochargers plus the hybrid system, the powertrain produced an impressive 425 hp and 430 lb-ft of torque, more than adequate to move a car the size of the Ciel with some alacrity. Powertrain quibbles aside, the Ciel is gorgeous.

Why an open car? “We’ve created a Cadillac that lets you touch the sky,” said Gael Buzyn, then lead interior designer at Cadillac. As with some of the other concepts here, the Ciel’s passenger cabin is bisected by a long center console, in this case made from the wood of a 300-year-old olive tree. Lest you worry that Cadillac killed it, the aged tree actually was taken down by a lightning strike outside of Naples, Italy. The olive wood is also used extensively throughout the rest of the interior on the doors and instrument panel. The seats are upholstered in sumptuous premium leather in a shade that matches the Cabernet paint, set off by trim covered in a similar grade of beige skins.

2013 Cadillac Elmiraj

As with the Ciel, the Elmiraj was unveiled at the Pebble Beach concours, although two years later, in 2013, wearing an exterior design headed by Niki Smart. A 205-inch-long, two-door four-seat companion to the convertible Ciel, the Elmiraj was named after the El Mirage dry lake bed in California that was used in some historic high-speed attempts. With a 500-hp, 4.5 liter, twin-turbo V-8, the Elmiraj might not set any land-speed records but it should move with urgency. (Perhaps Cadillac’s fitting of an V-8 was a reaction to the previously mentioned complaints about the Ciel’s six?)

While the Ciel rode on a bespoke chassis, the Elmiraj was based on an early-development version of GM’s full size RWD “Omega” platform (so it might have had a better chance at production) and had a 121-inch wheelbase. Even though it’s a little bit shorter than the Ciel, the Elmiraj was still an impressively long motor car, stretching more than a foot longer than the Bentley Continental GT. Of course, it rode on 22s. A pillarless hardop with apparently no exterior door handles, the Elmiraj presented a smooth profile to the world. Two-door coupes are not the most practical of cars, so, to ease egress for rear-seat passengers, the coupe’s front seats slid forward ten inches when the seat backs were tilted forward.

Though it was also an impressive vehicle, the Elmiraj was a bit more understated than the Ciel. Lead designer Smart described the design brief thus: “We wanted a mature statement for Cadillac where simplicity and subtle adornments create a purposeful presence.” Painted in a dark shade that Cadillac called Indian Blue, the Elmiraj showed that, with updates, the brand’s Art & Science design theme, which dates back to the Evoq concept of 1998, could still be au courant. At the same time it previewed future Cadillac styling, the Elmiraj was consciously influenced by designer Wayne Kady’s 1967 Eldorado.

Appropriate for a 21st-century automobile, the Elmiraj had high-tech features, including a navigation system that was integrated with a forward-facing video camera that overlaid the street view with navigation information. The feed was situated right in front of the driver, since the “analog” instruments were digitally rendered and transparent. Interior trim was a mix of titanium, hand-carved Brazilian rosewood, and camel-colored leather.

The Elmiraj was graced with Cadillac’s performance V-series badges and did in fact run, equipped with carbon-ceramic brake rotors clamped by beefy calipers to keep all 500 horses under control.

2006 Chrysler Imperial

The Chrysler Imperial Concept seems to have been a German company’s idea of a fullsize American luxury car. Created as the DaimlerChrysler “marriage of equals” was coming to an end, the Imperial concept was essentially a longer, larger, and taller version of the 300C sedan with suicide doors—a Rolls-Royce on a budget, if you will. Like the Phantom, the Imperial was an imposing vehicle, if not universally acclaimed as attractive. Powered by a 5.7-liter version of the corporate Hemi engine, making 340 hp and 390 lb-ft of torque, the Imperial had a traditional, rear-drive layout and a five-speed automatic transmission. Standing over five feet tall, it was 214.1 inches long and 76.1 inches wide.

Exterior styling didn’t bother to hide the fact that the Imperial concept was based on the recently introduced 300, but it was clearly also larger, more luxurious, and a bit more elegant. The 300’s “Bentley” grille* was replaced with something a bit Rolls-esque, only with horizontal (not vertical) elements, flanked by a pair of round headlights on each side. LEDs, then a novelty, were used for front turn signals and taillights. A character line above the rocker panel flowed into the Imperial’s rear haunches, evoking the Chrysler D’Elegance concept car of the 1950s. A squared-off roofline made clear the Imperial’s luxury aspirations.

The raised truck lid with its creased backside added to the Imperial’s impression of solidity and gave the car a bit of a bustle-back or boat-tail rear, again reminiscent of classic European luxury. The quad taillights flanking the trunk echoed the front-end styling, and the whole concept was finished in a rich shade of chocolate brown.

The brown-and-beige interior had a relatively simple dashboard layout, said to reduce driver distraction, and featured ambient lighting, a separate rear seat console with its own infotainment system with wireless headsets, and powered retractable rear headrests. Like a proper luxury car, it had an analog clock placed prominently in the middle of the dashboard.

*According to Chrysler design chief Ralph Gilles, that’s what Chrysler designers called it, despite the fact that contemporary Bentleys may have borrowed that motif from some of Virgil Exner’s 1950s Chrysler concepts.

2004 Chrysler ME Four Twelve

The 2004 Chrysler ME Four Twelve concept was also the product of the 1998 merger with Daimler. One tradition the Germans picked up from the folks in Michigan was a strong statement at the annual North American International Auto Show, also known as the Detroit auto show. The previous year, Chrysler introduced the outrageous, Viper V-10-powered Tomahawk quasi-motorcycle. For 2004, the boffins in Auburn Hills built a car with a couple of extra cylinders, courtesy of corporate sibling AMG’s parts bin; a seven-speed dual-clutch Ricardo transmission; some carbon-fiber and some aluminum; and called it the ME Four Twelve. The name stood for “Mid-Engine, four turbos, 12 cylinders.” As with the Cien, Cadillac gave serious thought to series production. The fastest production car in the world could have worn a Chrysler badge—but it was not to be.

AMG’s 6.0-liter, all-aluminum V-12 got new cylinder heads, forged pistons, rods, and crankshaft, plus those four turbochargers (two per bank of cylinders), giving it a claimed 850 horsepower. That’s enough to make it one of the world’s most powerful cars almost a decade later. The transmission could perform shifts in just 200 milliseconds. The tub was a composite of carbon-fiber and aluminum honeycomb, giving the finished ME Four Twelve a weight of just 2888 pounds.

The power-to-weight ratio meant a 0-to-60-mph time of just 2.85 seconds, with a top speed of 250 mph. That’s in the Bugatti Veyron’s neighborhood. The way the math worked out, it would have been quicker to 60 mph than the Ferrari Enzo, quicker to 100 than the Porsche Carrera GT, and faster than the McLaren F1’s top speed of 240. At the drag strip it could theoretically have run a 10.4-second quarter mile with a trap speed of 146 mph.

Race-inspired pushrod suspension up front, double wishbones in the back, aluminum control arms and coil springs all around, and huge, 16-inch rotors with six piston calipers up front gave the ME Four Twelve track credibility. Steering was quick, at just 2.4 turns lock-to-lock. When Motor Trend took it around Laguna Seca, staffers said the car needed further development, was down on power, and had a recalcitrant transmission—but they determined that it was indeed fast.

There are two stories why the ME Four Twelve never went into the planned production of a few hundred cars a year. The first is practical: Engineering a one-off show car, even relatively fully engineered vehicle, is one thing. Production engineering in an age of government regulation is another. Even with a mostly off-the-shelf drivetrain, it probably would have required a nine-figure investment to get ready for production. Halo car or flagship, a business case must be made for any production vehicle.

The other story is political. According to Allpar, the Mopar fan site, the way the numbers worked out, the ME Four Twelve would have have been faster than the Mercedes SLR McLaren, and the folks in Stuttgart couldn’t have that. That wouldn’t have been the first time Chrysler engineers heard “Ve haff engineers in Stuttgart,” in a Swabian accent**. So much for the marriage of equals.

So that’s a dozen well-received concept cars that each could have been the flagship offering for a domestic manufacturer but, for one reason or another, never saw the light of day. In the comments below, please share your thoughts about them and any others that you think might belong on the list.

**A true story for another time.

The post 12 Detroit luxury cars that died on the show floor appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Ever feel like you’re at the bottom of the barrel, and only a trade name that’s become a generic term can save your bacon? Remember that time when you just gotta have a Kleenex for your runny nose? Or, depending on where you live, when you need a Coke to go with your fast-food entree? And we must never forget the act of Googling something to solve a mystery, or needing to Xerox and/or Velcro our way to a successful presentation. It’s all harmless at first, until you realize some mainstreamed trade names imply you really got yourself in hot water.

“Sawzall,” in particular, implies a strategy of last resort. But in a good way, as the trademarked name is far catchier than “reciprocating saw.” (Even though the latter is far more descriptive.) The Sawzall name is owned by the Milwaukee Electric Tool Corporation, and I found myself worshipping at its specific altar of push-and-pull, cutting-blade prowess to finish a belt tensioner swap on my engine.

Yes, really, a belt tensioner swap. 

So here’s the deal. My 1989 Lincoln Continental, a car at which I continue to throw money at for no rational reason, developed an annoying belt chirp at idle. That sound cut right through me, mocking me for all my hard work and for my generous outlays of cash. How can a car this well-restored make THAT awful noise? I feel the same sense of despair when people note its mismatched tires, even though they weren’t an issue until a fresh lick of paint made the ’89 into a true eye-catcher.

Luckily, as with most replacement parts on this glorified Ford Taurus Essex Machine, new-old stock (NOS) parts are dirt cheap—just slap the part number into an eBay search. With $45, and four days of shipping time in which to marinate on my situation, I had a solution in my hands. But on the same day the part arrived, I had a one-two punch of frustratingly unfortunate news. The news itself is irrelevant, as I weathered the storm. In the moment, however, I wanted nothing more than to move past it all with a quick win in the garage. To fix a really annoying problem really quickly. I needed this win, or as Bruce Hornsby once wrote:

I gotta get somethin’ done today
Give a accomplishment a shot
Might not have a full palette to use
But I’m gonna paint with the colors I got

So I whipped out my trusty Milwaukee M12 cordless ratchet to whizz off the belt-tensioner bolt from the Lincoln’s Essex V-6. But no, the Essex Machine had different plans for me, witnessed above in the unfurling bolt that wedged the Milwaukee wrench against the passenger-side strut tower. There was no turning back … literally. I made rapid fire calls/texts to friends seeking advice. The problem was compounded by the fact that the wrench was also lodged into the A/C hard lines, making efforts to reverse the wrench’s orientation a risky proposition that could evacuate all the refrigerant for no good reason. I did not need to make the situation worse.

First I tried other tools with recognizable names, ones we also forget are brand names: a pair of long-reach locking pliers (a.k.a. Vise-grips) on the bolt, but I couldn’t get enough torque on it to overcome the gears inside the trapped Milwaukee wrench. Then I tried a rotary tool (a.k.a. Dremel), but I didn’t have a chance at success, even with the flexible extension wand.

Then a friend recommended a Sawzall, reminding me that Milwaukee makes very long blades for this purpose! I had a fake Sawzall (bought when I was house-rich and cash-poor to quickly address fallen tree limbs in my driveway), so I added one of the generic metal cutting blades (cover photo) and gave it a shot. After removing the Essex Machine’s distributor cap and rotor, the saw blade appeared to line up, suggesting I’d soon get the satisfaction I so deserved.

In a matter of seconds I realized I needed a brand-name metal blade for my knock-off Sawzall. A trip to Home Depot netted a proper Milwaukee Sawzall blade of much higher quality and with several inches of extra length for added maneuverability. I reckon I paid more for this single blade than I did for the entire reciprocating saw, but it decapitated the bolt in fewer than 10 seconds. It became the proverbial hot knife through butter, and it made me feel positively heroic!

Rather than trying to sift through Granger catalogs or bins at the parts store, I realized a factory Ford engine bolt for this rather crucial location was ideal in terms of price, time, and personal sanity. I had two options: Find a dealer that was still sitting on a Ford Essex V-6 belt tensioner bolt or find an Essex Machine in the junkyard and whizz off its bolt (without making the same mistake twice). The latter seemed like a great idea, except that Texas’ summer heat is brutal, and I’d spend more on gas than if I just bought this $10 bolt from a Ford dealer.

So much for saving money at the junkyard. I reached out to our old friend Conner DeKnikker, and he found me three bolts at three different Ford dealerships. While I got hosed on shipping (my fault for not even trying to negotiate amongst them), another five days and $28 brought me the correct bolt to get my Essex V-6 back together again. The bolt’s head looked pretty gnarly when it came out of the box, as I discussed in my Ford Nerd chat group:

And, of course, someone in the chat had to ALL CAPS roast me to ensure I didn’t make the same mistake again. Which I deserved—and I’m ready to be roasted in the comments here, too, as I sometimes don’t learn my lesson the first time ’round. That’s because I initially, foolishly used a socket wrench to install the new bolt/belt tensioner. The air-conditioner lines once again confirmed that my notion was a bad one, and seconds later the proper tool emerged to complete the task. The chat group was elated at my newfound common sense.

The end result? A successfully spinning set of engine accessories for my little Essex Machine. I almost forgot about the original problem (chirping belt) in my haste to enjoy this moment of un-bungling the situation, but it was indeed dead silent thanks to the new belt tensioner. My quick project with a quick victory was hardly that, but all’s well that ends well.

The car is so silent now I can finally cruise down the street in my Essex Machine, singing the Es-sex-Ma-chine song to the syllabicated rhythm laid down by those famous disco violins in that famous movie. Oh, what a time to be alive!

The post That feeling when it’s time to Sawzall your engine appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The Carrera Panamericana—a Mexican road rally for modified production cars—had a lasting impact on the automobile. Porsche, for example, adopted the Spanish term “carrera” for numerous models, alluding to its success in the famed race south of the border. For those of us with inclinations of a Klockauian nature, however, there’s no doubt that the stock car class was the most influential, as it elevated heart rates with big-bodied Cadillacs and Oldsmobiles running the brutal, open road endurance race. It was Lincoln, though, that walked away with the lion’s share of accolades in the stock car class (ironically, three full years before Charley Ryan penned the famous rockabilly tune “Hot Rod Lincoln.”)

In 1952 and ’53, Lincoln finished 1-2-3-4 in Carrera Panamericana’s stock car division. The following year was a still-impressive 1-2 finish. The following year, the rally was cancelled due to the public’s distaste for human tragedies on public roads. Or, perhaps it was cancelled because the Mexican government’s mission to promote its new highway system had run its course. Either way, the Lincolns that won weren’t derivatives of Edsel Ford’s bespoke Continental, rather a series of leaner, meaner two-door Lincoln coupes derived from the third-generation Mercury Eight.

By 1952, the ball-joint front suspension and Y-block-powered Lincolns proved that the newly minted Lincoln-Mercury division had a winner on their hands, even if it wasn’t on-par with decades of luxury vehicles from its recent past.

Despite the departure from luxury, this era Lincoln still turns heads, especially as a rally racer, like the 1954 Lincoln Cosmopolitan Coupe Rally Car currently for sale on Bring a Trailer. This Cosmopolitan is a modern-day recreation, made to race in the late 1990s and now boasting a significant number of accolades. While the coupe isn’t one of the original Carrera Panamericana race cars, this tribute sports a truckload of upgrades for modern day rallying, plus curious body modifications like headlight buckets from a 1956 Oldsmobile and shaved door and trunk handles. To be fair, the Oldsmobile bits give the Cosmopolitan’s front end a more serious, intense face for motorsport.

The interior sports a roll cage with front hoop bars that avoid the dashboard, racing seats with five-point harnesses, a Hurst shifter controlling the GM 700R4 automatic overdrive transmission, and a bevy of niceties like an non-original armrest and aftermarket gauges.

While the GM overdrive transmission might upset purists, the Lincoln Y-block sports a host of worthy modifications: improved heads from the 1956–57 Lincolns, a high volume intake manifold from a Ford truck, lightened reciprocating assembly, aftermarket camshaft and headers, Edelbrock 600cfm carb, and an oxygen sensor/Pertronix ignition to ensure consistent performance in an endurance race setting.

Power is transmitted from the 700R4 trans to a Ford 9-inch rear, while Fox racing shocks (lowering front coil springs with a massive 1¾” sway bar) and drop rear leaf springs with a rear sway bar—reportedly cribbed from a Surburban—round out the package. Four-wheel disc brakes behind a staggered set of 15-inch steel wheels provide the stop and grip. Perhaps Lincoln could have easily scored another 1-2-3-4 win with this 1954 Cosmo in its arsenal instead?

No matter, because this is a fantastic combination of period racing ingenuity with a smattering of modern bits. Judging by the swag included with the vehicle and the years of participation, there’s little doubt this car is an absolute hoot to own, while paying homage to the original Lincolns that paved the way for its heroic rise to road rallying success. And the market agrees, as this Cosmopolitan sold for $44,172 including premium, or roughly $14 grand more than a stock version in perfect #1 (Concours) condition.

This Cosmo—and many other Lincolns of this era—is an interesting diversion from the common stigma that vehicles modified for motorsport (especially out of period) are less prestigious than a factory original. How much an all-original, perfectly-restored 1952–54 Carrera Panamericana Lincoln race car would even fetch these days is hard to say, but there’s something to be said for just driving the wheels off a tribute car without the baggage of historical preservation.

The post This Lincoln Cosmo 1950s Carrera Panamericana tribute car showcases masterful rally mods appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Welcome to the latest installment of Project Valentino, a series dedicated to the decades-long story of senior editor Sajeev Mehta and the car that got him interested in cars: 1983 Lincoln Continental Valentino designer series. Join him as he works to restore the most complex of ’80s Ford products to its original glory—and then some. 

It’s been over a year since our last Project Valentino update, and during this time my bank account was allowed to heal. But idle hands do not a Valentino make, so I’ve been acquiring more choice parts online and lining up materials and services to recondition the interior. I even sold a few bits in an attempt to re-fill the coffers, but that’s really not the point: I had to move everything out of our warehouse, including my parts car.

The Valentino rolled to the restoration shop for the last batch of tasks that I cannot complete: installing windows, bumpers, sealing up the fuel system, refinishing bodyside trim, finding a home for the Baumann transmission controller, and integrating the later EEC-IV engine wiring into the Valentino’s EEC-III compliant harness. All fun stuff, but I turned back inside the warehouse, as my vent-window donor car wasn’t making the journey to the new storage solution. Because after ten years of collecting dust and losing components, the time had come for it to meet the crusher’s cold, unyielding jaws.

Burning vacation time for acts of thankless manual labor isn’t terribly thrilling for most folks, but I did my best to enjoy the process. Luckily the heat of a Houston summer isn’t upon us yet, and working in a nearly empty warehouse never hurt anyone.

But I didn’t take everything the parts car offered, as this 1984 Continental sports a shocking number of interior, exterior and suspension revisions from my 1983 Continental Valentino. I still took anything I might need in the future, either to replace a broken part, or to sell/give to someone in the Fox Body Continental community. More on that later, but first a brief backstory on why this car was never supposed to be stripped for parts and sold for scrap.

Back in 2012, this 1984 Continental was a purchased from a forum member of Lincolnsonline.com. Which is an ironic twist of fate, as he purchased one of my 5.0 “High Output” powertrains to ditch the central fuel injection only a year earlier. His vision is much like that of Project Valentino, and it should have experienced a similarly charmed life upon its successful transition to a port-fuel injected, 200 horsepower 5.0 HO. It’s a rare beast, as I can count the number of HO-swapped Continentals in existence on a single hand.

Looking upon the high(er) performance, header-equipped engine bay, stripped of precious wiring and accessories needed for Project Valentino, I can’t help but lament at the wasted potential of this whip. Why did he sell it to me, and seal its fate?

Youth, ambition, and sentimentality do not necessarily work well together. Before I got it, a garage wall mishap damaged the hood and the cowl. The “fix” included attaching the hood to the core support with a wood screw (yes, really) and giving up on the dented cowl. It went further downhill upon closer inspection: botched components (glued and duct taped lights), questionable engineering (hacked harnesses with tap splices that go no where, un-wound RCA cables used for wiring, etc.), and poor rust repair (riveted repair panels, an abundance of body filler) at every corner. But still, this was a running, driving, fully-functional Continental with the same powertrain you’d find under the hood of a 1986 Mustang GT. The air suspension didn’t leak, and the A/C even blew ice cold.

I admired this car, but I rejected the forum member’s numerous requests to buy it. That is, until he lowered the price to $800 and gave his blessings to use it as a parts car. I was certain I’d get my money’s worth out of an HO-swapped Continental donor, as it completed a task that I’ve yet to start. He was even willing to deliver it. Pretty much impossible to turn down that deal, and it saved me thousands in parts and labor to boot.

Every time I drove it around the block, I secretly wished it could have a better future. That was a foolish notion on par with the previous owner’s request to pull the fancy dash speakers on his behalf. Ten years passed on that, and now I could use said speakers for another Fox Body Ford. But time is fleeting: the lease is running out, and my vacation time is finite. Smashing the windshield to quickly yank the speakers got the job done, even if the cruelty left a hole in my heart.

But good comes from evil (as it were). This friendly citizen of Israel found me on the Fox Continental Facebook group, buying my parts car’s passenger cornering light to complete his restoration. I even found another Valentino owner who lives just a few miles from me, and his need for a functional overhead compass and power-trunk pulldown motor shall be resolved thanks to this month’s efforts to strip my parts car.

After almost a day of stripping parts and hurling metal junk into the Continental’s slanted trunk, the time came for my friend with a truck and trailer to take it off my hands. Parts cars that don’t run are no big deal, but the long-flattened air suspension meant pulling the chassis atop the trailer with a come-along, dragging the exhaust and fuel tank along the way.

Thank goodness the 20+ year old Michelin tires still held air long enough to get the Continental up the trailer, but this was still no small feat. With the vehicle loaded up, ratchet straps secured the trunk/hood, the parts car was finally done serving me and Project Valentino. While I’m usually a nostalgic fool, I was frankly relieved to see it go.

But parts cars pop up everywhere on the Internet, especially Facebook. This example showed up on my aforementioned Facebook group, as the owner lost interest in fixing/driving/reselling it. While I needed nothing from it, the Valentino “V” logo floor mats were a mid-cycle update for 1985 (for a trim level that ironically wouldn’t live to see the next model year), that I wanted for my collection. I bought the emblems too, and everything cleaned up well with a little soaking and scrubbing.

And thanks to the Internet, my need for parts for Project Valentino is known far and wide. Being a journalist never hurts, as my friend Murilee Martin was kind enough to grab stuff from a 1982 Continental Givenchy in the dead of winter. (He even wrote about it on his corner of the Internet.)  I wish it was a 1983 model (correct faux-woodgrain trim), but beggars can’t be choosers at this point. With only 16,381 Continentals made in 1983, Project Valentino now lives in the world of unobtainum parts, so you make do with whatever’s available.

More to the point, whatever you may possess can only expedite your best-laid plans. Let’s hope this fresh cache of parts makes the next Project Valentino update far more fruitful.

The post Project Valentino: You’ll always be a part of me appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Survivor of 60-mph, head-on crash explains safety design

Intake: Adrian Lund, retired president of the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety and the Highway Loss Data Institute, experienced a severe collision last summer which helped him put his previous work in context. Lund was driving a 2020 BMW 540i at a rate of 60 to 65 mph when a 2016 BMW 228i driving the wrong way at 50 mph hit him in a manner similar to IIHS’ offset crash testing scenarios. He credits the BMW’s design for saving his life and ensuring no leg injuries from the offset impact, which took the life of the other driver as they were not using their seatbelt and were subsequently ejected from the car.

Exhaust: We are glad to hear Mr. Lund recovered from this terrible accident, and this story is proof positive that people must wear their seatbelts, no matter what vehicle they drive. That said, IIHS and HLDA serve a purpose, and this isn’t the first time one of their presidents opened up about experiences with automobile safety: Brian O’Neill famously sold his mid-engine Toyota Previa after witnessing its design flaws firsthand, even going on Dateline NBC to say “when I saw the results of this test I decided this is not a vehicle for my family.” He went further to explain the value of hard data from IIHS crash testing, telling the New York Times, “I thought it looked decent, but you can’t tell by looking.”

This S2000 CR is poised to set a long-standing record

Intake: Perfect storms are becoming more frequent in the days of online auctions, and the most recent 2009 Honda S2000 to hit Bring a Trailer’s pages packs all the right stuff. For starters, it’s a 2009, the S2000’s final year of production. It’s also one of about 700 Club Racer (CR) models produced for the U.S. market, further elevating its desirability. With just 123 miles and noteworthy provenance—this one was part of famous IndyCar racer Graham Rahal’s collection—this Rio Yellow two-door has the makings of a serious record-setter. With two days left in the sale, this one looks like it’s headed for the top of the pile.

Exhaust: The S2000 has blossomed from cult favorite to mainstream darling in recent years, and prices for cherry examples have jumped accordingly. We reached out to our resident import expert Greg Ingold for some perspective on whether this yellow CR has the right stuff to break the standing $122,500 record for the model: “A low mile, six-figure Honda S2000 CR is no longer an anomaly. These hardcore versions of Honda’s hardcore roadster have turned into astonishing investments for those with the foresight to buy one early on. It’s just a shame it wasn’t enjoyed as intended, driven hard on the track in extreme anger.” A track-prepped car that doesn’t even have enough miles to have burned through the full tank of gas that the window sticker says it was delivered with is a little sad, but this museum-quality example is likely best kept that way.

Miami GP greenlit after last-minute legal battle

Intake: The inaugural Miami Grand Prix will take place as planned the weekend of May 8 after a judge dismissed claims from a group of residents who said noise from the race would cause hearing damage, reports Autosport. “The bottom line here is I’m not going to schedule a preliminary injunction hearing prior to May 6,” says Judge Alan Fine. “The evidence proffered so far regarding the potential hearing loss is, in my view, very highly speculative. It is not based on any current Formula 1 noise information, and the most recent affidavit from overnight does not take into consideration the south wall (a noise barrier).”

Exhaust: Although the ruling means the race can proceed as planned it may not be the end of the legal shenanigans. Judge Fine says he would expect a “full-blown evidentiary hearing in four to five months.” If the verdict goes against race organizers, then the Miami GP would be one of the shortest-lived in history.

How high will this Canadian Countach fly, eh?

Intake: A pristine 1987 Lamborghini Countach 5000 Quattrovalvole has already hit $500,000 on auction site Bring a Trailer, with four days to go. With its odometer showing just 7300 km (4536 miles) it’s probably covered more distance in the back of assorted transporters than it’s ever been driven. Originally delivered to Ontario, Canada, the car was imported to the U.S.A in 1989 and registered in Florida. It then went to North Carolina and Ohio and is now for sale in New York. This Countach is one of 610 QVs made between 1985 and 1988 and has factory-installed Bosh K-Jetronic fuel injection, which only 65 other cars came with. Kevlar front and rear deck lids saved a little weight in the Red Senape bodywork. The car’s interior is in Senape leather and has a period-appropriate Alpine tape deck, and Jeager clock, along with air conditioning. This Countach rides on 15-inch OZ Racing wheels and Pirelli Cinturato tires, with a set of P7s also included in the sale. The buyer will also receive the original owner’s manual, stamped service book, a framed poster, a scale model of the car, and a DVD of The Cannonball Run!

Exhaust: The 5000 QV was second-only to the final 25th Anniversary edition in popularity, accounting for 610 of the 1,983 Countachs sold. The Hagerty valuation guide puts a #1 (Concours) condition car at $575,000, but this example looks set to raise the bar even higher.

Lincoln’s EV future has room for your slippers

Intake: Meet the Star Concept, Lincoln’s bold new preview of EVs to come. The exterior is a radical evolution of Lincoln’s current styling, with a sloping roofline, an upright, grille-free front end, and a sharp, angled rear with ritzy Lincoln badging. The absence of an engine gave designers space to include a high-tech frunk with a glass lid that darkens at a standstill, but on the go, will let light into the cabin. If the exterior is bold, the interior is downright extravagant. From the illuminated front floor to the massive, curved screen spanning the width of the dashboard, to the extravagant backseats with storage compartments and slide-out leg rests with slippers, this is clearly a concept meant to coddle inhabitants regardless of which throne they’re perched in. Lincoln’s design team blended audio, unique scents, and cabin lighting to create individual “rejuvenation moods” that occupants can employ to maximize those in-between moments. The brand is readying three all-electric models for 2025, and a fourth due in 2026, which will result in over half its global volume being all-electric the middle of the decade.

Exhaust: Concepts posit what could be. The Star fits that brief beautifully, reimagining what a vehicle could be at the electrified inflection point. While the exterior feels like a mashup of a Tesla Model Y and the new Range Rover, that interior is absolutely marvelous. Expect the forthcoming EVs to tone down the opulence some—safety and production constraints may neuter things like those futuristic front seats—but we’d expect to see elements like that full-width screen integrated in some fashion on these inbound EVs. Hesitant to leave behind combustion power? Lincoln is still committed to current models such as the Nautilus and the Navigator, so you can expect ICE models to continue into the late 2020s.

The post Survivor of 60-mph crash tells story, ex-Rahal S2000 aims high, behold Lincoln’s EV future appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The Lincoln Motor Company is celebrating its 100th anniversary with events around the world, showing its past alongside its present and future. It’s a power move from the less-than-Lexian brand, because very few automakers can pull off this level of provenance. For its local, Michigan audience, Lincoln opened up its Dearborn archives for members of the media, much like what Ford did for the Bronco back in 2020. The program’s curators call it the Lincoln Archive Experience, and they’ve truly unearthed some gems for us to behold.

But first, a suggestion: Consider this a supplement to our “Missed the Mark” primer on a century of Lincoln vehicles, please read that first to get the whole picture of the brand’s history. When you’re up to speed on 100 102 years of Lincoln automotive annals, feast your eyes on what the folks in Dearborn had for us.

Unlike future vehicles from the brand, the V-8–powered Model L overtly prioritized engineering excellence over a flashy design, as the young startup didn’t have quite the cash/customer loyalty of Duesenberg, Rolls-Royce, and the like. This meant no fancy chrome grille and no custom coachbuilding from bespoke craftsman. Still, even in those turbulent start-up times, Lincoln made 834 Model Ls roughly two years before Henry Ford purchased the lot and banished founder Henry Leland from its ranks.

This particular Model L was made during Ford’s tenure before it was gifted to Thomas Edison, and it currently belongs to The Henry Ford collection. The swag table associated with this Lincoln was a curated collection of 1922-and-up memorabilia, including the purchase documents (previously seen in our primer) from Henry Leland, the greyhound mascot, and the 1922+ grille emblem representing both the Lincoln and Ford brands.

The 1931 through ’40 Lincoln Model K was an excellent representation of a luxury car of the 1930s, doing battle with Packards, Pierce-Arrows, Duesenbergs, and, of course, the Cadillacs of the company’s post-Henry Leland, post-Henry Ford Company era. The V-8 soon gave way to a series of class-appropriate V-12s (sometimes denoted with a KB, depending on year), which earned them praise from power players on both sides of the law. The usual suspects of the custom coachbuilding world also built bodies for the K, KA, and KB Lincolns, giving the brand the prestige it so deserved in this era.

The swag table for this 1937 Model K featured a Yat Ming 1:18th scale die-cast, PR photos, advertising/marketing materials, a pewter Lincoln greyhound mascot, and a letter from Lincoln that formalized its relationship with Brunn & Company. No doubt that letter of intent was chosen because this Model K (on loan from The Henry Ford) also featured a Brunn & Co. body. Nice touch!

As noted in our previous coverage, the Lincoln Zephyr was a successful implementation of Streamline Moderne design, ushering in a new era of luxury vehicle with factory coachwork that beat (rivaled?) the bespoke builders and a new unitized frame. This example from 1936 is on loan from the Gilmore Museum and is notable because it is a 2-door sedan and not the Business Coupe that every customizer turns into hot rod.

The swag table sported a Precision 100 1:18th scale die-cast Business Coupe and an odd smattering of Lincoln information that would be a stretch to call even tangentially connected to the Zephyr. While avoiding connections to the regrettable 2006 Zephyr-Fusion luxury sedan is a good idea, choosing the sales brochure for a 1995 Lincoln Continental is rather perplexing.

The main gallery had what might be the pièce de résistance of the collection: Edsel Ford’s personal 1941 Continental. While Edsel technically owned the prototype (1939) Continental fashioned to be a show/concept car before such terms were commonplace, this ’41 is a production model that belongs to The Henry Ford’s collection. Speaking of this museum, they suggest that the original concept was destroyed, so it’s a safe bet that Edsel’s affection for this production model was strong.

The Continental came with a series of artifacts giving rare insight into Edsel Ford the artist. I had never seen Edsel’s fine art in person before, and his charcoal rendering of a still life (pot and vase) proves what the history books have always suggested: Edsel was a far, far different person than his father, Henry Ford. Edsel’s portrait, painted by Diego Rivera, hangs a few feet away from the 1941 Continental and is reported to be the only work of the famous artist that didn’t show the automotive industry from the perspective of hard labor and assembly line automation (see: his massive Detroit Industry Murals in the Rivera Court of the Detroit Institute of Arts).

While the 1939 Continental was a show car intended for a very small audience (i.e., only Edsel’s friends as he vacationed in Florida) the 1953 Lincoln X-100 was Ford’s first official concept car intended to wow auto-show attendees in the same way as the vehicles present in General Motors’ Motorama. The X-100 coincided with Ford’s 50th Anniversary, and featured cutting edge innovations like heated seats, a panoramic power sunroof, and an in-car telephone. Perhaps it was William Clay Ford who ensured the X-100’s themes didn’t make production, as the understated 1956 Continental Mark II instead made the cut. The X-100’s swag table included promotional material, including a press release.

The historical significance of the 1956 through ’57 Continental Mark II cannot be understated for the Lincoln brand. That said, it has been discussed at length in previous articles, so instead enjoy these photos of this example, borrowed from a private collection, and all the historical items that led to the creation of this car (and the standalone Continental Division behind it) displayed alongside it.

To cover Lincoln’s fabulous 1961 through ’69 Continentals, we were treated to a 1961 Continental convertible (on loan from the Gilmore Museum) and a 1964 Lehmann-Peterson stretch limousine (from The Henry Ford) used by the Pope in a 1965 visit to New York City.  Again, we’ve gone into painful detail in our Continental buyer’s guide, so please enjoy the photos of the vehicles and the supporting documents. They include PR materials for the Presidential limousine, marketing/press materials from the first year, and even a feasibility study of the Continental’s now famous “coach doors” paired with a pillarless hardtop design.

Apparently enough time has passed that the once-infamous Malaise Era of automotive design has now become palatable for everyone, whether the favorable reflections occur online or in a curated exhibit from an OEM. Considering Lincoln’s sales successes (the Continental Mark V was the best-selling Mark Series) and cultural relevance (every TV/movie “bad guy” of the era was driven in a black Town Car) this 1979 Continental Mark V Cartier designer edition (from a private collection) is the last year of peak luxury from Lincoln. The swag table associated with the pinnacle of American personal luxury even included a letter from the folks at Cartier, all the way back in 1926!

See above for a few more displays of Lincoln memorabilia: While some of this is readily available from collectors on eBay, there are plenty of items I’ve never seen online. The combination of all these items was rather stunning—almost as impressive as the secret stash of vintage renderings the kind folks at Lincoln presented to us in a museum-quality setting. Those works of art are seen below.

The Lincoln Archive Experience was loaded with surprise and delight, for just about every decade in the brand’s history. Even better, Lincoln offered up a guided tour from Robert Gelardi, Lincoln’s chief interior designer. His insight into the future of the Lincoln brand, complete with renderings of electrified vehicles we may see in the next few years, was a rare treat. But “rare treat” is an understatement on a personal level, as a kid who got into cars because of one particular example, and never stopped soaking up all things Lincoln ever since.

I literally felt like a kid in a candy store. The Lincoln Archive Experience opened up memories, brought new insight, and delighted my senses to the point where I felt child-like joy. It was something I haven’t felt in decades. That said, if you’ll forgive the unprofessional camera-phone nature of this unedited video below, enjoy part of the tour with Mr. Gelardi’s insight in the background. It truly proves that a video speaks … well, a whole lot more than a thousand words.

The post Unearthing historical delights within the “Lincoln Archive Experience” appeared first on Hagerty Media.

“Off-road” edition confirms 2023 Pathfinder trades on looks, not brawn

Intake: One year on from the unveiling of the all-new fifth-generation Nissan Pathfinder, the marque has unveiled the 2023 Pathfinder Rock Creek, a mild upgrade to the unibody SUV. Spec the Rock Creek and you’ll get an off-road–tuned suspension with a 5/8-inch lift, 18-inch all-terrain tires mounted on “beadlock-style” (read: not actual beadlock) wheels, a tubular roof rack capable of carrying 220 pounds of gear, an exclusive front fascia, special seats, orange contrast stitching in the interior, and an off-road mode for Nissan’s Intelligent Around View camera monitoring system. The Pathfinder’s transversely mounted 3.5-liter aluminum V-6 also gets a bump in power (295 hp vs. 284) and torque (270 lb-ft versus 259) in Rock Creek spec when you use premium fuel, thanks to revised fuel mapping. The new trim will go on sale late this summer.

Exhaust: Credit Nissan’s product planners for realizing that adventure sells right now. Still, our test of a 2WD 2022 Pathfinder confirmed that Nissan’s “return to rugged” messaging was a bit far-fetched—and for a nameplate that, unlike Subaru’s Outback or Ford’s Explorer, was once legitimate trail conquerer, this half-hearted upgrade stings. The Pathfinder has long waffled between body-on-frame (first and third gen) trucklet and unibody crossover (second, fourth, and fifth generations). We’re hard-pressed to say that the 2023 model, whose all-wheel-drive system defaults to FWD in most circumstances, is truly “rugged.” The Rock Creek may be the Pathfinder’s strongest argument since 2012, but it doesn’t inspire us to stray too far from the beaten path.

Glimpse Lincoln’s electric future on 4/20

Intake: As part of Ford’s commitment to electrification, Lincoln offered a teaser video of a forthcoming concept vehicle reported to sport a fully electric propulsion system. This yet-to-be-named vehicle sports backlit Lincoln emblems both on the front and sides but is only an “inspiration for the brand’s fully electric vehicles coming in the near future.”

Exhaust: While teaser videos are purposefully short on details, the unnamed Lincoln concept appears to have an SUV’s roofline, which is logical considering the brand’s current portfolio. Ford recently hired Anthony Lo as chief design officer, and this concept is proof positive that he’s indeed committed to shaking things up with more concept vehicles that highlight Ford’s electric future.

Aston Martin’s F1 safety car is too slow, says Max Verstappen

Intake: The Australian Grand Prix will be one to forget for Aston Martin. After lead driver Sebastian Vettel crashed, the British brand’s flagship Vantage safety car was deployed and subsequently described as a “turtle” by 2021 World Champion Max Verstappen. “There’s so little grip and also the safety car was driving so slow, it was like a turtle. Unbelievable,” Verstappen said. In a further blow, the Dutch driver claimed that the Mercedes-AMG safety car, which is used at around half the events on the F1 calendar, is significantly quicker. “For sure the Mercedes safety car is faster because of the extra aero, because this Aston Martin is really slow. It definitely needs more grip, because our tires were stone-cold.”

Exhaust: It gets worse. Mercedes-AMG driver George Russell, who finished third in the race and Charles Leclerc, who won in his Ferrari, also chipped in. “We don’t have the issue with the Mercedes-AMG safety car,” said Russell. “On a serious note, the Mercedes-AMG is like five seconds quicker than the Aston Martin safety car, which is pretty substantial.” Leclerc then added that F1 should get a Ferrari safety car instead as it would be another “five seconds quicker.” 

This 1931 Bugatti is a Grand Prix car in a tailored suit

Intake: Race cars don’t often get second chances at life, but this week on Jay Leno’s Garage appears one such reborn workhorse. This Bugatti Type 51 was originally a racing car, which was purchased upon retirement and draped with a body commissioned by Carrozzeria Louis Dubos of France. The final result looks like a scaled-down Atlantic. The car is powered by a 2.3-liter straight-eight fed by a side-mounted supercharger. When combined with a very robust transmission and big mechanical brakes, that mill could push a Type 51 handily through whatever race the owner entered. Add on a curvaceous body, and you have a timeless package.

Exhaust: Bugatti is a brand that has always wielded high-end cachet and this particular Type 51 is a great example of just how exclusive these cars can get. This is a one-off body built by Dubos, and the chassis was raced by Louis Chiron, the man whose name graces the late-model hypercar still rolling out of the Molsheim factory. Even a car like this was once one step from becoming scrap metal, though, and it the Nethercutt collection to save it way back when and restore it to the beauty you see today.

Watch a “self-driving” car run away from the cops

 

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Intake: An autonomous Chevy Bolt taxi operated by Cruise got pulled over by San Francisco police for driving at night without its lights on. As a bemused cop walks up to have a word with the driver, he discovers there’s nobody behind the wheel. Then the Bolt, er, bolts and the police give chase for a few yards before the Chevy stops again. The police appear to try to get into the locked vehicle as a crowd gathers in disbelief and hilarity as the officers have no idea what to do next.

Exhaust: Maybe robocars only respect RoboCops, and our dystopian future is closer than ever.

The post Nissan’s wanderlust Pathfinder, Aston’s F1 pace car is “too slow,” dim AI runs from the law appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Before we begin, allow me to introduce a friend of mine from New York, Anthony Gucciardo. Like me, he loves Lincoln Town Cars, and currently owns a two-tone 1997 Town Car (silver over dark gray) with only 24,000 miles on it.

A few years ago he managed to locate the 1997 Town Car his mother bought new. Not a similar car: THE car. He subsequently purchased it and had it restored. How many of us have wished we could have our first car back, or one of the family cars we remembered and loved from your youth? Well, Anthony did it!

He recently messaged me and said he’d had the whole car repainted in December. It’s close to showroom condition now. Enjoy! —TK

***

I regularly talk about my love for the Lincoln Town Car. To this very day, the love affair continues. Over the years I’ve been fortunate to have owned several high-end luxury cars, and they’ve all been great. The technology has come a long way since the late 1990s, yet I still get a kick out of a large luxury sedan equipped with self-leveling air suspension and thin white-wall tires.

Nothing rides like a Lincoln Town Car, especially at highway speeds. The wind noise coming from the windshield and sunroof gives the car true Lincoln character. It was obviously a design flaw but, as we say in real estate, charm and character sell.

A while back I went to a car show in Saratoga Springs, New York. I couldn’t believe how much cars from the 1950s and ’60s were selling for. Corvettes, Mustangs, and Cadillacs seemed to be the biggest sellers. They were bringing over $75,000 at auction and a few went for over $100K.

Most of the buyers seemed to be 65 and up. I thought to myself, “There has to be a reason why all of these gentlemen, who are approximately my father’s age, are buying these cars. Who would’ve ever known that a car that you could’ve bought for less than $5000 would be worth so much?”

I’m not a huge fan of Mustangs or Corvettes, but back in the ’60s they obviously resonated with a lot of people. Especially guys who were, like me, in their mid-teens, which was about the same era in which I was first introduced to the 1996 Lincoln Town Car, thanks to Hertz.

I think a love of a certain car has something to do with your childhood and memories that you associate with a particular vehicle.

My father’s first car was a Corvette and even if I had offered him a Mercedes or Jaguar, I know he would still would have preferred his Corvette. He likes other cars, but he simply has a particular preference for Corvettes. He is a GM fan and I think something is embedded in his brain. I like the look of a lot of cars and will give them credit, but some cars just don’t do it for me.

My mother just turned in a 2015 S550. It was a tremendously smart car and is certainly the benchmark of luxury … but it lacked something. I couldn’t explain it, but something was missing.

I’m not going to start insulting other cars, because I know there’s a lot of people who roll their eyes and think that there is something wrong with me when I tell them that one of my favorite cars was the Lincoln Town Car.

Most 16-year-olds back in the mid-1990s wanted a BMW 3 Series or some type of sports car—Boxster, Miata, BMW Z3. Not me! I used to call the Lincoln dealers requesting brochures be mailed to me. I still have them, too, saved in my Lincoln filing cabinet! The Lincoln Town Car is definitely “What a luxury car should be!”

It is what I wanted when I got older, even if I did happen to be 55 years younger than the average Town Car owner. I certainly didn’t want to be an older guy—I just liked the cars. I may have an old soul, but there was something about being comfortable, safe, and luxurious that appealed to me when I was younger.

Not much has changed.

In 2014 I was blessed to have been able to lease my second Rolls-Royce Ghost. It was Arctic White on seashell with black piping and it was absolutely love at first sight. I remember the first time I sat in it. I thought that it had a presence similar to the Town Cars of the late ’90s. The hood was so long and of course it had an emblem.

Other than that minor resemblance, I confess I was being delusional, because a 1997 Town Car is a little different than a 2014 Rolls Royce Ghost. The wheelbases are similar but the Town Car is longer by 8.9 inches.

Yes, the Town Car beats the Rolls in the size department. I’ll always defend the Town Car, so don’t start an argument, please! Being the loyal guy I am, I wouldn’t psychologically terminate my long-time admiration. I don’t drive the Lincoln daily, but it’s like your first love. You don’t ever truly forget them—you move on, you have new hobbies, make new friends, have other lovers, but you still remember the first one you clicked with and who gave you, so to speak, those first-car butterflies. (Long-time readers know I have a ’97 stored in my garage that’s absolutely mint. I take her for cruises once a month on Sundays.)

For the past 36 months I’ve had the privilege to drive one of the finest handbuilt automobiles ever crafted. (Of course, I love the people who tell me it’s nothing more than a glorified BMW. Most every car in the world shares some type of technology or underlings with another vehicle.) That Rolls was the first car I ever leased that I did not want to give back. Over the years I’ve had Mercedes-Benzes and Jaguars, and I was always looking for an opportunity to turn them in early if the manufacturer were offering an incentive. September of 2017 rolled around, and my lease was just about up. Unfortunately, Rolls-Royce financial services do not offer any type of lease extension. Your option is to either buy the car outright or lease another vehicle.

It doesn’t make sense to own a Rolls-Royce. If you’re involved in a collision and the car has to have bodywork, it will depreciate the car by 60 percent. It’s a bad investment unless you have silly money to waste—which I don’t.

Heck, I had to get another car soon and I just wasn’t sure what I was going to get. My Rolls-Royce was a daily driver and I drove it pretty much everyday in rain, sleet, or shine. (Well, not sleet, but you get what I am saying.) I put 31,000 very happy miles on it … and if I did nothing, soon she would consigned to some Rolls dealer’s lot or sent to auction.

According to my dealer, any rolls Royce with more than 15,000 miles is considered high-mileage. I know it’s a machine, but the thought of that gorgeous car being sent to an auction drove me nuts. It was mint. I washed it every day. She had been such an excellent car and had not let me down once. It was only a matter of time before I’d be tracking her through Carfax to see where she ended up. I hoped she relocated to Florida or California.

(My last Rolls ended up in San Diego, but she was involved in a collision recently and had to be towed. There’s something about knowing what happens to your old cars that’s of interest to me. Carfax provides a great way to keep track of vehicles.)

Speaking of tracking down vehicles … You know by now that I have a thing for Lincolns. Back in 2002 we sold my mother’s 1997 white Lincoln Town Car to Bill Campbell. I always regretted selling that car but again, back in 2002 I had no money and certainly couldn’t pay for it. My mother wanted a smaller car and she went with the Mercedes C-Class.

I remember on the way home from Mercedes Benz dealer of White Plains, I was in the car in front of her. When I looked at that Mercedes grill in my rearview mirror, I remember thinking to myself what a traitor I was. The 2002 Mercedes C240 had not a single thing on the Lincoln. O.K., it was a cute car, but it wasn’t the Lincoln Town Car. No presence, no squareness, no legendary 4.6-liter V-8. As I’m thinking this, I remember seeing all these black-livery Town Cars heading south on 87 and feeling such a knot in my stomach. At that very moment, the radio was playing “Has Anybody Seen My Baby” by the Rolling Stones. It was a sure sign that someday I would need to find her and get her back.

I was a little disappointed at my mother, but at the same time I understood that she didn’t want such a big car. Nor did she want people thinking that she was a grandmother. She was nice enough to buy and drive the car for a few years for her son. She really didn’t have a choice because back then I pestered her for three years to please buy one. I even told her that if she did I would do much better in school.

It definitely helped me in school.

I used to take the Lincoln to Hudson Valley community college and I would park in the faculty lot with no faculty sticker. Never once did that car get a ticket. All the Hondas and Subarus belonging to students had yellow-ticket violations on their window. The Town Car’s immunity to parking violations was the true testament to the power of the Lincoln brand. Those lot attendants had to think that white beauty belonged to someone important.

So over the past few years I have been tracking my mother’s old Lincoln Town Cars. I’ve always had the vehicle identification numbers (VIN) memorized, so it’s pretty easy to punch in the computer and see whether they have been any recent repair shops. Unfortunately the ’96 met its fate in Rhode Island and was turned over to some junkyard. I have been unable to locate it, but it’s safe to say that at around 120,000 miles the owner started it one day and it apparently made a loud bang. He had it towed away by cash for junk. I actually spoke with the owner and he told me his wife cried because they loved that car so much. (At least the Lincoln got to spend time near the ocean.) I sent an email out to several local salvage yards and no one said they had it.

This past month, as I begin searching for a new vehicle to replace the Rolls, there was only one car that could potentially fill the tires of the Roll: my mother’s second Lincoln. The gentleman to whom I had sold the car was also a Lincoln fanatic, so I knew he would be preserving it. I had reached out to him a few years prior but he was not ready to sell it. I told him to please call me if he wanted to sell it, and he told me he would.

A few years went by and one day I was checking the VIN on Carfax and saw that 1LNLN82W9VY716255 was registered back in New York after spending 10 years in Texas. It showed a new owner and I was puzzled why Bill didn’t call me. I tried calling the number for Bill but it had been disconnected. I was able to find his sister, who told that me Bill had died suddenly. His sister in Gloversville, New York, had inherited the car.

This is where the story gets interesting. Bill’s sister did not want the car, and I had missed calling her by two weeks. (I do run a business during the day, so I usually only search for Lincolns after 10 p.m. or when I am really bored.) Two weeks prior, she had donated the car to a local church and the church had raffled it off. I asked her to call the church and for them to contact the new owner to see whether he wanted to sell it. She was nice enough to do so, but unfortunately the new owner did not want to part with it.

Back to Carfax. For two years there were absolutely no reports on the car. Something told me it was just sitting somewhere either rotting away or—I hoped—being preserved. A few weeks ago I contacted the DMV and submitted a Freedom of Information Law (FOIL) request by providing them with the vehicle identification number.

Within three days they sent me the current owner’s name and address. It was a P.O. box. Through my investigative resources, I was able to track down the current owner’s cell phone number. I called him. He hung up on me twice, because he thought I was a telemarketer trying to sell him some type of Lincoln warranty. The third attempt was a success! I found out that was I suspected was true: The car was sitting with about eight other cars on a lot in Johnstown, New York. Within 45 minutes I was on my way to Gloversville to check out my mother’s old car.

Larry, the current owner, told me that he bought the Lincoln from a guy who won it in a raffle. He said he hadn’t used it in two years. I took the 40-mile drive from Albany and arrived while it was still light out. I was proud to see that the car remained in the original state in which I had sold her almost two decades prior. She was a little weathered from being outside, but she sat perfect and the air suspension showed absolutely no signs of any leaks. (There’s nothing worse than seeing a slumped Lincoln.) The mud flaps and chrome fenders that I bought were still on it. The leather was a 9 out of 10. It had a cracked windshield and a brake line leak, but other those that the car was good to go.

A few days later Larry was nice enough to have the car flat-bedded to my house and it arrived. We have finally been reunited after almost 20 years. I paid $4500 for the car and I’ll put about $1500 into it to get it back to 1997 quality. It’s a rather inexpensive hobby.

I guess I am like those guys I saw on that car show—I am not sure I would ever spend $100,000 on a used Lincoln in 40 years, but it will be fun to see what this body-on-frame domestic legend will sell for in 40 years. Ford produced thousands of them, but how many that remain are in showroom quality?

I wonder if there will be other Lincoln lovers who in 40 years will bid big money on these cars. Even if I sold the Town Cars someday, all I would do is track them on Carfax and try and buy them back. They say nothing lasts forever, but memories certainly do! There are so many people who say, “I sure wish I still had that car back!” but never find it. I did, and got it back. It’s a great feeling!

The post 1997 Lincoln Town Car Signature Series: Family car, found! appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Was 1976 peak Brougham? I think so. It was the last year for the truly large premium sedans. Such as the Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham and ever more over the top Fleetwood Talisman, the Coupe and Sedan de Ville, Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency, and Buick Electra and Park Avenue. Over at Chrysler, you had Royal Monacos, Gran Furys, New Yorker Broughams, Newport Customs, and even the wood-paneled Town & Country station wagon. And at Ford Motor Company, there was no shortage of big luxury cars to fill your requirements: LTD, LTD Landau, Marquis, Marquis Brougham, Grand Marquis, Country Squire, Colony Park, and Continental, and Continental Town Car and Town Coupés to tickle your fancy. And at the very top, personal luxury car-wise, was the finest Lincoln of them all, the Continental Mark IV.

The 1976 model year was the last for the Mark IV, which first appeared in Autumn 1971 as a ’72 model. My grandfather ordered one. Finished in metallic dark green with matching top and leather interior, it replaced his triple-dark-green 1969 Mark III. He came in to the Lincoln brigade in 1966, when he traded his Electra 225 for a new Continental sedan, in dark green with dark green leather and optional 8-track stereo.

I think the 1972 was the prettiest, with its small, integrated front and rear bumpers and that most excellent, massive grille. In 1973, the Mark IV, along with most other Detroit rolling stock, got the new 5-mph front bumpers due to new federal regulations. In 1974, a larger rear bumper was added to match the front.

But I love all the Mark IVs. It goes way back to when I was four or five and my parents got me the blue Pocket Cars 1/64-scale Mark IV. That toy car, along with my Matchbox Mercury Cougar Villager wagon and Pocket Cars Fleetwood Brougham, were my favorite toys. All survived, believe it or not, to present day. The real Mark IVs got plusher and plusher as the model years went by. New wheel options, more colors, more interior options, a power moonroof, and perhaps coolest of all, the Luxury Groups. The first Luxury Group was introduced on the 1973 Mark IV.

Dubbed, for obvious reasons, the Silver Luxury Group, it came in Silver metallic, with a matching top and cranberry interior in luxury cloth or leather. If cranberry was not your preferred interior trim, silver leather could also be specified. It was a nice package, and generated a lot of interest. And so it was that the Luxury Groups would return the following year, with even more choices.

In 1974, the Silver Luxury Group returned, along with a new Gold Luxury Group. But Lincoln was just getting started.

In 1975, even more Luxury Groups were available. Newly added were the Saddle and White Luxury Group, Blue Diamond Luxury Group, and, my favorite, the Lipstick and White Luxury Group.

Is that not a spectacular interior or what? How could you be in a bad mood driving something as comfy and cheerfully appointed as this? If you didn’t want quite that much red, the exterior was available in white as well, and a Landau roof was optional in place of the full vinyl top.

This beautiful example is owned by members of the LCOC Lake Shore Region. I caught it at our trip to Racine, Wisconsin, back in 2018. While this red Mark IV is not the main focus of today’s article, I just had to include it—it’s so amazing! There was such a wide variety for color, trim, and appearance options back then.

But 1976 had the widest variety of color, trim, and appearance options for the Continental Mark IV. On top of all the previous Luxury Groups, the Designer Editions made their debut—Cartier, Givenchy, Pucci, and Bill Blass. With a princely premium, naturally. On a premium personal luxury coupe like the Lincoln Mark IV, it was the perfect idea. Various Designer Lincolns would appear for the next 27 years, finally ending with the 2003 Town Car Cartier. But I digress! Now where was I?

Back to the “standard” Luxury Group Marks of 1976, which were anything but plain, heaven forbid! They may not have had designer nameplates on their opera windows, but they were just as nice—in some cases nicer—and with a lower option group price to boot.

Probably my favorite is the Jade Luxury Group, simply because the 1970s Ford jade metallic paint is just about my favorite color ever. Other Luxury Groups available in 1976 included Blue Diamond, Saddle/White, Lipstick/White, Gold/Cream, Red/Rosé, Jade/White, and Dark Jade/Light Jade. Such choices! But perhaps the least-common Mark IV luxury group is the subject of today’s post, a car owned by fellow LCOC Lake Shore region member Bill Fletcher.

I first saw the car at the previously-mentioned LCOC club meet, held at the famous Frank Lloyd Wright-designed S.C. Johnson Tower in Racine. I’d never seen this Luxury Group Mark in person before, so I took plenty of pictures. More recently, I asked Bill to tell the car’s story and how he managed to snag such a fine example. Here is the car’s history, in Bill’s own words:

“I blame Ann Zarzycki, the Lake Shore LCOC Newsletter Editor, for the acquisition! One night, in the spring of 2016, I had to take a friend to the emergency room (all turned out well, fortunately) and returned home about 4 a.m. Not able to fall asleep, I sat down at the computer and started reading my email. Ann had just sent out the club newsletter, Comments, that evening. That issue had an ad for this car.

“The picture in the ad was from the internet—not the actual car—and it showed a color combination that I had never seen before. I didn’t think that was possible, considering that the MK IV has been my favorite Lincoln since high school, and I have been associated with the LCOC for more than 30 years now.

“I began researching the ‘Desert Sand Luxury Group’ and was not able to find much. All the pictures I could find were of the same two or three cars, but I was able to confirm that it was an actual package offered by the factory.

“It was advertised with 20,000 actual miles and in like-new condition, with a firm asking price that was reasonable for a MK IV in this condition. I spent the rest of the night dreaming and wondering how soon I could call this guy in the morning; he was only two hours away in Bloomington, Illinois.

“Finally, it was 7 a.m. and I called. I was told that I was the first caller, and after a few minutes of conversation I told him I would be at his door two hours after my bank opened—and if the car was correctly described in the ad, the car was sold.

“I arrived at his home at 10:50 with cash in hand. The car was in storage, so we hopped in my car and took about a 10-minute drive to get to it. The owner filled me in on the history of the car and mentioned that he had been getting calls from all over the country that morning.

“I learned that he bought the car new in 1976. He had a Sedan that was in the bodyshop at the dealership, and while checking on it he saw this car on the transport truck out back, headed to another dealer. He said he went inside, talked to his salesman, and bought it off the truck.

“It was stored in a single-car garage, the car was on a battery tender, and with a few pumps of the pedal it started right up. It had a newer battery, and the only repairs it ever had were a new gas tank, sending unit, and new fuel lines the previous year. It still had the factory original tires. Out in the sun, the car showed as showroom new, and I just thought, ‘Who pays $14,000 in 1976 for a car and never drives it?” He must have heard me thinking because he said, ‘We call it the ice cream car; that’s about all we ever did in it was go out for ice cream.’

“I had to ask if the price was negotiable. It wasn’t. I handed him the cash, and he signed over the title. We drove both cars back to his home so we could take off his plates, and when we arrived his wife said he had a few more calls about the car.  It turns out the newest issue of Comments had just hit everyone’s inbox, like it had mine, and his ad was in it. I was the early bird. I got permission to leave my 2003 Towncar on the street overnight and drove my new-to-me MK IV home. On the way, I stopped for pictures and sent an email to Ann, blaming her timely newsletter for my new purchase.

“Perry Thomas Lincoln Mercury in Bloomington was the dealership that the car was purchased from. The original owner was a State Farm executive.”

A total of 56,110 Mark IVs were built in 1976, and with such variety, such choice, there’s a good chance no two were exactly alike. The Desert Sand Luxury Group cost $1525 ($7600 today) with leather interior, and $1725 ($8600) with velour  Yes, the velour trim was more! This particular Luxury Group was introduced pretty late in the model year, so they are rarely seen. In 1977, the Mark IV would morph into the Mark V, but all the Luxury Groups—and Designer editions—would return.

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The Lincoln Motor Company’s century-long history is far from straightforward, starting with founder Henry Leland’s escape from Cadillac/General Motors to create the scrappy young startup back in 1917. But Lincoln didn’t make cars until 1920, and was purchased by Ford in 1922. With these different dates of origin in mind, perhaps it’s only natural that today’s Lincoln Motor Company chose 2022 as the year to celebrate its centennial. Let’s dig into the history of famous and/or historically relevant Lincoln vehicles, and see how Lincoln chose to celebrate each anniversary as the milestones arrived over time.

Upon General Motors’ denial of Henry Leland’s request to produce Liberty aircraft engines for the U.S. government, the noted engineer with a penchant for patriotism decided to once again be an entrepreneur and not an employee. With his deep admiration for the first president he ever voted for, Leland bestowed the Lincoln name to the company in 1917. The company’s mission was to make aircraft engines, and, as time permitted, vehicles built to the same standards of Cadillac.

According to The Golden Anniversary of the Lincoln Motorcar, a robust 2 million dollars from financiers and another 10 million reasons from the government enabled Leland to pursue his mechanical dreams. Unfortunately Lincoln only made 6500 engines before the government contract was terminated, likely because of the events leading up to Armistice Day, which was one year after Leland began operations. Seeking a new customer base, The Lincoln Motor Company engaged in the classic “business pivot” from engines to top-tier luxury vehicles, making its first vehicle on September 14, 1920.

That’s right: The first Lincolns rolled out of Leland’s factory in 1920, suggesting its 100th anniversary mark (so to speak) was actually two years ago. But Lincoln’s supply chain issues—as America transitioned away from a wartime economy—meant 1920 wasn’t a full year of production. More to the point, according to Fifty Years of Lincoln-Mercury, The Lincoln Motor Company made 834 cars between September 14 and December 31, 1920. Historical anomalies aside, the photos below are why today’s Lincoln Motor Company is celebrating 100 years in business as of the year 2022.

On February 4th 1922, the Ford Motor Company officially purchased Lincoln from Henry Leland. Ford and Leland weren’t exactly the best of friends, perhaps because Leland created Cadillac from the ashes of Ford’s earlier venture, the Henry Ford Company. Ford wanted Leland and his son to stay with Lincoln after the purchase, but as The Golden Anniversary of the Lincoln Motorcar put it, “the Leland/Ford alliance provided enough misunderstandings for several Elizabethan dramas, and in the end, Leland left.” But the quality of Lincoln’s Model L earned the brand a stellar reputation, and even Henry Ford admitted that his 8 million dollar purchase shall reap rewards because “We have built more cars than anyone else, and now we are going to build a better car than anyone else.”

The Golden Anniversary of the Lincoln Motorcar also states that improvements to Lincoln products came immediately after the ownership change. The Model L received improved cooling from revised cylinder heads, a switch from cast iron to aluminum pistons, and a $1000 price discount. In less than a year, Lincoln sales rose to levels never seen during Henry Leland’s tenure. The Model L’s performance made it the darling of organized crime figures like Jack “Legs” Diamond, while future K-series Lincolns improved their performance at a furious pace. Coachbuilders like Fleetwood, Le Baron, and Dietrich all lent their artistic hands to make beautiful, luxurious Model L and K cars, but not until Edsel Ford tapped Eugene T. “Bob” Gregorie did Lincoln stand on its own four wheels.

While the Chrysler Airflow sported advanced engineering beneath a body flaunting the cutting-edge, streamline moderne styling of the day, the 1936 Lincoln Zephyr sported a more aerodynamic form that was anything but a sales flop. The Airflow only lasted three tragically short years, but the Zephyr lived twice as long. Even so, impressive sales, V-12 power, radical styling, and a limitless future as a scraping hot rod aren’t the Zephyr’s biggest contributions to the brand: Edsel Ford had a bigger, more international plan for this platform.

As the story goes, Edsel wanted a custom droptop Lincoln Zephyr to take on a vacation to Florida in 1939. Gregorie made a vision of a “Continental”-influenced two-door with design elements from Europe’s finest cars. The resulting 1939 Continental sported a long hood, a short rear deck, and an exposed spare tire that rested against the trunk. The modified Zephyr underneath was lower and wider, adding to the dramatic cab-backward effect. The 1939 Continental prototype met with widespread admiration during Edsel’s adventures in the Sunshine State. Not to put too fine a point on it, but thanks to this car, the Lincoln Continental became the most famous and the longest-running vehicle ever made by the Lincoln Motor Company. Production began in 1940 and continued until 1948, World War II production halts aside.

But some famous Lincolns never came to be, so to speak. Many people know the original Batmobile, but most folks aren’t aware of the 1955 Lincoln Futura underneath it. Built by Italy’s Ghia and sporting a radical bubble-top roof underneath a (forthcoming) Continental Mark II chassis, the Futura was an auto show success, a small-time Hollywood celebrity, and was eventually sold to customizer George Barris as it waited for that famous TV show to catapult it to automotive stardom in 1966.

Be it the downsized, race-worthy models of the early 1950s or the gargantuan unibody luxury vehicles of the decade’s end, it was clear that Lincoln wasn’t making the type of car that Edsel Ford could sell to the gentrified class. And perhaps these Lincolns, be it a Capri, Premiere, or the later Continental Mark III/IV/V, aren’t what truly represented the brand as the decades went by. So that’s why Edsel’s son, William Clay Ford, was tasked with creating a new division to design and manufacture the next Continental, the 1956 through ’57 Continental Mark II. Learn more about the Mark II here, and keep in mind how its clean lines inspired future Lincolns.

While the Mark II didn’t directly inspire the “slab sided” Continental from 1961 through 1969, it’s abundantly clear that Ford stylist John Najjar took the clean notions of the Mark II and blended them perfectly with the Thunderbird DNA bestowed upon the Lincoln brand. The 1960s Lincoln Continentals need no further introduction, and you can learn more about them in our Buyer’s Guide.

The Continental Mark II did however inspire the Continental Mark III, as Lee Iacocca wanted Lincoln to bring back a Continental Mark Series to do battle with the Cadillac’s new Eldorado coupe. The Mark III’s signature long-hood/short-deck proportioning came by combining the frame of the fifth-generation Thunderbird sedan with the body structure of the Thunderbird coupe. Iacocca asked designer Gene Bordinant to add a Rolls-Royce style grille to the Mark III, the end result was a massive grille that was half Roller and half cow-catcher, with a proper (if non-functional) Continental kit out back. Add a relatively taut suspension and steering systems, drop in Ford’s new 385-series V-8 engines, and it’s no surprise that the Mark III stole many an Eldorado buyer from Cadillac’s grasp.

For Lincoln’s Golden Anniversary, a special edition 1971 Lincoln Continental with the Town Car option package came with a catchy gold/black color scheme, commemorative gold keys, and a dash plaque. The aforementioned Golden Anniversary book included the 1921–1971 timeline embossed on the cover, which has some merit as 1921 was the first full year of Lincoln Model L production. Too bad we couldn’t celebrate this car’s elegance and majesty back in 2021, no?

The 1970s might be the fullest realization of Edsel Ford’s vision for a Lincoln Continental, as it included a series of bespoke creations based on Ford products. The 1972 Continental Mark IV further cemented the Mark Series’ connection to Ford’s Thunderbird, with later versions being color-coordinated by some of the world’s finest designers. The Mark V continued the IV’s traditions, but stood out even more thanks to more unique styling from the now down-sized, Torino-based, Ford Thunderbird. Continental sedans still sported the slab sides of the 1961 original, with decadent interiors and even an optional fixed glass moonroof that harkened back to the Crown Victorias of the 1950s. The poorly re-badged Lincoln Versailles took halogen headlights and NVH controls to new highs, while it took cynical platform sharing to a new low for the brand.

The 1980s had a mix of successes and failures for Lincoln, as it reinterpreted its DNA to a more diverse body of well-heeled clientele. Utilizing Ford’s Panther chassis for the Town Car and Mark VI, Lincoln filled the coffers by keeping the traditional buyer happy with incremental technological improvements, while introducing the Town Car to Budget Rent-A-Car fleets were a boon for dealers when customers came to purchase what they rented on vacation. (Edsel would be proud.)

Lincoln upgraded and elongated the Fox platform for the Continental and the flush-headlight Continental Mark VII, creating impressive alternatives to European performance cars, luxurious alternatives to the Cadillac Seville, the first vehicle with four-channel ABS braking, and implemented (unpopular) BMW-Steyr turbodiesels and the forward-thinking Comtech concept. The decade ended with a throughly re-engineered 1988 Continental based on the radical 1986 Ford Taurus, with steering, suspension and air bag technology that trickled down to many Fords in the 1990s.

Perhaps Lincoln found its groove in the 1990s, as the Town Car was ushered into the modern era without compromise, the Mark Series boasted remarkable performance from a unique Thunderbird platform and a bespoke motor that eventually trickled down to the 1996 Mustang SVT Cobra. The still Taurus-adjacent Lincoln Continental was redesigned with Lexus LS 400 customers in its sights, right down to its projection gauge cluster and V-8 powertrain. The 1998 Lincoln Navigator, a new SUV heavily based on the Ford Expedition, succeeded where the Versailles failed: heavy on the badge engineering, but nobody cared because it was the only game in town. Sadly the Navigator’s success proved the brand could rest on its laurels, and subsequently began to languish under Jacques “Jac the Knife” Nasser and his Premier Automotive Group. The 1998 Town Car was a shell of its former self, lacking the luxuries (hood ornament, keyless entry pad, decadent interiors) of its predecessors, while the 1998 Continental was both cost-engineered (wood trim on only the front doors?) and restyled to resemble a bargain-basement version of PAG’s flagship Jaguar XJ.

But the 1990s also included Lincoln’s Diamond Anniversary, where it made (mostly) burgundy-hued special editions of the Continental, Town Car, and Mark VIII for 1996. But the 1996 model year might have been a last-minute change, presumably because 1995 was a watershed moment for all three Lincolns. (Put another way, perhaps someone realized a commemorative edition isn’t necessary with all this new product to promote.) Apparently a significant amount of 1920-to-1995 based memorabilia slipped through the cracks. Most of it had a unique circular logo bearing the incorrect 1920 to 1995 date range at the bottom of the circle. However the genesis story may go, the end result is a handful of eBay auctions for 1920 to 1995 Anniversary lapel pins, history books by noted automotive author Thomas E. Bonsall, fist-sized emblems, press materials, golf caps, and even a Canadian-market gold plated desk set with a unique logo.

The 2000s saw the transition from nurturing Edsel’s legacy to intense platform-sharing with Ford products, making for a bumper crop of new vehicles and new names. There’s a lot to unpack, starting with Lincoln’s collaborative adventure with Jaguar. The Lincoln LS was intended to usher the brand into the rarified air of BMW sports sedans, but never moved the sales needle far enough, and subsequently died after six model years. The following year brought the introduction of the tragically flawed Lincoln Blackwood, a modified F-150 SuperCrew plagued with production delays. The end result was a niche vehicle with a mere nine months of showroom freedom before it was outclassed by the all-new 2003 Navigator. To wit, the Navigator improved and further differentiated itself from the Ford Expedition, while Town Car soldiered on with precious few cosmetic and performance upgrades as its traditional and/or fleet customer base wasn’t going to defect. The 2003 Lincoln Aviator was clearly based on the Ford Explorer, but the tuned suspension and rowdy Mark VIII-based engine made it just as impressive as the LS, but it sadly shared the same fate.

By 2006, Lincoln was borrowing underpinnings (and far too many body panels) at a furious pace from the likes of the Ford Fusion (Zephyr/MKZ), Edge (MKX), F-150 (Mark LT), and Five Hundred (MKS). Save for the flagship MKS, all were transparent re-badged affairs that weren’t fooling anyone, and they subsequently tarnished Lincoln’s reputation. Seeing the writing on the wall, the next decade was all about atonement.

2010 brought about a resurgence in the Lincoln brand, as Ford shed the Premier Automotive Group and focused on the success of its flagship Lincoln brand. Two good examples of the change include the addition of Matthew McConaughey as spokesperson, and the introduction of the top-spec Black Label editions. In a series of deliberate, incremental improvements to all models except the Town Car (which died an unceremonious death), MKZ and MKS sedans improved significantly over their predecessors, the Navigator continued its upward trajectory, and the Mark LT pickup garnered respect … in Mexico.

Lincoln’s crossover-utility vehicles grew in diversity and improved in quality, with revisions to the Lincoln MKX (a final revision included the name change to Nautilus), the introduction and refreshing of the compact MKC, and the introduction/revision of the three-row MKT that included a livery-spec Town Car edition. The flagship MKS was enhanced in a mid-cycle redesign before being ousted by the reborn 2017 Lincoln Continental. For the Conti’s 80th Anniversary, the 2019 Continental gained a “coach door” conversion with rear doors paying homage to the 1961 Continental and a limousine roofline worthy of comparison to Fisher Body’s bespoke Fleetwood 75-series Cadillacs.

The current decade sports a smaller, tighter-focused portfolio that’s more in tradition with The Lincoln Motor Company’s history. An all-new Lincoln Aviator based on the rear-wheel drive Ford Explorer architecture replaced the MKT, the MKC officially transitioned into the (not-Edsel) Corsair, and the Navigator continues as Lincoln’s flagship vehicle. The Continental and MKZ were cancelled due to slow sales for all sedans, though the MKZ’s successor lives on as the Lincoln Zephyr in the Chinese market. The new Zephyr is the embodiment of Lincoln’s wish to become a global player, and as of this writing Lincoln sells more vehicles in China than it does stateside: A recent story from Automotive News suggests Lincoln “made a point to study Chinese customers and offer them a unique car-buying experience, called the Lincoln Way.”

The story of the Lincoln Motor Company is filled to the brim with brilliant moves, stunning machinery, and beautiful design. While internal and external forces to the brand were not always in its best interests, it has survived the hardships and now thrives in a specialized niche. And that’s possibly the best way to survive 100 years in the ever-changing world of building luxury cars in a global marketplace … even if it’s actually been 102 years. 

The post Missed the Mark: Celebrate Lincoln’s 100th anniversary now, because it wasn’t two years ago appeared first on Hagerty Media.

My love of Ford Motor Company’s luxury marque is well established. Very few people, at least those who appreciate vintage cars, would argue that the 1961–69 Lincoln Continental was anything but a classic design and a true American luxury car, but I also am rather fond of the 1970–73 version. Remember those? They’ve kind of faded from memory over the decades, with the ’60s Continentals on one side and the square-rigged, luxury railroad coaches—the 1975–79 Continentals—on the other.

I certainly remember them. A big part of that is due to an old, forgotten ’71 Continental sedan sitting in a 1920s-era one-car garage not far from my neighborhood, circa 1989. From the age of approximately five through the end of junior high, my bike took me where I wanted to go. Traffic was more sedate then, and I lived in a nice quiet town, so I rode all over the place.

Said dusty, triple-black 1971 Continental sedan, sitting in an equally dusty garage, was investigated by your author all the time. It never moved. About two feet of the trunk protruded out of the garage opening, with the garage door itself snugged down to the top of the trunk lid; that garage was designed for Ford Model As and Model Ts, not an early ’70s Nimitz-class luxocruiser. Peering below the aforementioned door, one could see layer upon layer of dust on all horizontal surfaces and four flat tires. But the car, at least to my memory, was in decent shape and complete other than one broken rear window. The standard wheel discs (not the optional turbine-vaned Luxury wheel covers) were sitting on the rear seat. I knew it was a ’71 due to the three triple taillight clusters per side. Even then I knew the finer points of older Lincolns and Cadillacs, thanks to my grandparents’ Lincoln ownership and my Tomica (Pocket Cars) diecast Continental Mark IV.

Back then it never occurred to me why this car was sitting in this garage for so many years. In retrospect, it was rather odd, as the house that belonged to the garage was in excellent shape, with a well-tended yard. Even the garage was in nice shape too, dusty old car within notwithstanding. And the car was only 16 or 17 years old at the time, not terribly old, considering I drove a 2000 Town Car Cartier daily until August 2021.

I have no idea what that black Continental’s story was. The garage was never in use, and the homeowner had a cream-over-gold 1982–85 Chrysler LeBaron coupe that sat in the driveway and was in nice shape. The driveway was perpendicular to the garage. The garage itself was placed oddly on the lot. Best I can figure is that maybe there had been another house on the corner, and it had been torn down, with the house next door (and accompanying driveway) inheriting the garage. Now it’s much too late to find out what that car’s story was. Back then, all my adolescent brain was thinking was “Cool old Continental! Must investigate!”

I actually (quite stupidly, in retrospect) snuck in the garage one time and actually got into the car. What can I say, kids do dumb things, especially when said dumb kid is totally infatuated with a then-20-year-old, neglected Lincoln. I had no nefarious intent; I simply wanted to check it out.

I remember sitting in the back seat on plush black leather, then climbing into the front seat and being totally smitten with that amazing dashboard and Y-spoke steering wheel.

Is that not a great steering wheel or what?

Another time (yes, I was dumb enough to do it more than once!) I got into the car only (to my horror) see the man of the house mowing the lawn near the end of the garage. He was less than five feet from the doorless doorway at the opposite end of the garage.

Oh crap! It never occurred to my nine-year-old brain that I was nigh-on invisible to him, sitting in a dark car in a dark garage on that sunny summer day. So I sat in the rear compartment of that car for what seemed a very long time, but in actuality was probably five minutes or so. Never did that again! Such escapades were rare in my childhood. But this car was a special case. I was just smitten with it.

So I had a thing for these cars. Indeed, at a car show that my dad and I attended in 1991, a vendor had a bunch of old car brochures. Dad said he would buy me a couple. Naturally, I zeroed right in on the silvery covers of the 1971 Lincoln Continental and Mark III brochure, with “my” car in it! My second choice? The equally-plush 1971 Cadillac deluxe catalog. I still have both. I definitely have a fondness for 1971 American luxury yachts.

And thus we come to the present, or rather the near-present, with this most excellent tan-over-brown 1971 Continental sedan. I spotted it at the 2014 LCOC meet in Rockford, Illinois. It is owned by Bill Fletcher, who I didn’t know at the time but is now a friend. Heck, I wasn’t even a member of the club yet, but this show, held in September 2014, was what led to my joining the club the following January.

The 1970-up Continentals have been said by some to be something of a letdown compared to its 1961–69 forebear.  Let’s face it, the ’60s Continentals are well known and well loved. But keep in mind, that generation—despite a refresh for 1966—was rather long in the tooth. What should Lincoln otherwise have done? You have to keep your products fresh and modern.

Luxury car buyers, then and now, want the newest one they can get, with all the latest gadgets. This was the right Continental for the ’70s. Essentially all-new, save the engine and transmission. As nice and as elegant as the ’60s Lincoln Continental was, they were just used luxury cars by the ’70s—comfort, presence, and appeal notwithstanding.

But for some reason you don’t see the 1970–73 Continentals as much as the 1961–69 and 1975–79 versions. The 1974, which kind of split the difference between the two generations, is even less frequently seen. So I was pleased as punch to spy Bill’s car. It brought back many memories!

The post 1971 Lincoln Continental: Magnet for a Mini-Me Klockau appeared first on Hagerty Media.

I’ve always loved the 1982–87 Lincoln Continentals. As I’ve previously written, my grandparents ordered an ’87 in Rose Quartz Metallic to replace their 1977 Continental Mark V. I went with my dad to pick it up from the dealership and immediately fell in love with it. I also love that brief period in the early-to-mid-1980s when each of the Big Three luxury divisions offered a take on the neoclassical, Hooper-inspired “bustle back” look.

Cadillac was first out of the gate with the all-new 1980 Seville, followed by the Cordoba-based Imperial coupe in ’81 and finally the Continental in ’82. But, of course, the Continental was the one I remember best. It lasted the longest of the trio, being replaced by the front-wheel-drive, Taurus-based Continental in 1988. The Imperial made it to ’83; the Seville, ’85.

But we’re here to talk about the Lincoln, aren’t we? Getting back to the Continental itself, it received an “aero” front-end facelift in 1984, giving it an appearance more in line with the recently introduced Thunderbird/Cougar and upcoming Taurus/Sable. Other than that, however, the Connie was much the same.

The Designer Series had started in 1976 with the Mark IV. Four distinct special editions appeared—by Bill Blass, Emilio Pucci, Givenchy, and Cartier. The ’76 Givenchy was in a cool aquamarine/white color combination. Through 1981 the Designers were exclusive to the Mark IV and Mark V, but starting in 1982 the Cartier moved to the Town Car, and the Givenchy was moved to the new Continental.

In 1984, the Givenchy Continental was two-tone Slate Blue and Midnight Blue Glamour Clearcoat, with an Admiral Blue interior. It was joined by a Valentino Designer Continental, in Cabernet Wine over Medium Charcoal Glamour Clearcoat. Both looked appropriately luxurious.

By 1985, the Valentino Continental was added to the model lineup. Finished in Midnight Black over Burnished Pewter with Sand Beige upholstery, it was attractive in its own right. But the Givenchy was my favorite. I’ve always loved dark red and burgundy on luxury cars.

And the ’85 Givenchy was really red. And an impressive luxury conveyance, at least in your author’s opinion. As the 1985 deluxe brochure related: “The very name, Givenchy, has come to stand for sophisticated elegance, dignified restraint, and Parisian chic.

“The 1985 Givenchy Continental is certainly no exception. Its exterior is covered in a color all its own: Dark Rosewood Clearcoat Metallic, enhanced by a special tri-band accent stripe along its sides and across its deck.

“The Givenchy Continental’s lavish interior is highlighted by Givenchy-styled cloth seats in a rich Mulberry Brown … Twin Comfort Lounge front seats with six-way power controls, dual illuminated visor vanity mirrors, leather-wrapped steering wheel, and Lincoln’s innovative new Anti-Lock Brake System (ABS).”

For most of the ’80s the Lincoln lineup contained three models: The Mark VI or Mark VII coupe, the Continental and the full-size and formal Town Car. Not a pickup, crossover or SUV to be seen, I assure you. These three roughly corresponded to the Cadillac Eldorado, Seville, and Fleetwood Brougham. But while the Seville was front-wheel drive with the 4.1-liter “High Technology” V-8, the Continental was rear drive with Ford’s well regarded 5.0-liter V-8 under the hood.

Continentals rode a 108.5-inch wheelbase, had an overall length of 200.7-inch and a 3790-pound curb weight. For comparison’s sake, an ’85 Town Car had a 117.3-inch span and 219.0-inch length.

As you’d expect, the V-8 was standard in the Continental, but in 1984 and ’85 only, a BMW-sourced 2.4-liter six-cylinder turbodiesel was optionally available on both the Continental and the Mark VII. I have never seen one in person, but my friend Phil Schaefer once had a gold 1984 Mark VII Bill Blass edition with this engine.

This ’85 Givenchy was the first one I’d ever seen. I first saw it at the 2014 LCOC meet in Rockford, Illinois, but a summer thunderstorm kept me from getting more than one or two photos; it spent the rest of the day under a cover.

Back in October 2016, however, I drove up to Napleton Lincoln for an LCOC Lake Shore Region meet and show. And there it was again! I invited my friend Jim Smith to the event, and though we weren’t able to get him to join the club, a fine time was had by all. And I wasted no time getting many pictures of this gorgeous Continental. I’ll always love these cars; every time I see one, I remember my grandparents, their own love of Lincolns, and great childhood memories.

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Bugatti’s V-12-powered, four-door jellybean is a ’90s unicorn

Intake: One of just three Bugatti EB112 super sedans ever assembled is being sold in Germany. Designed as a stablemate to the quad-turbo V-12 EB110, Bugatti boss Romano Artioli described the car as “similar to a go-kart, it corners flat and is even more enjoyable to drive than an EB110.” Designed by Giugiaro and influenced by past masters such as the Type 57 SC Atlantic, the EB112 was a total show-stopper when it was revealed to the world in Geneva in 1993. Behind the trademark Bugatti horseshoe grille sat a six-liter V-12, driving all four wheels via a six-speed manual transmission. It was claimed to to accelerate to 62 mph in just 4.3 seconds and top out above 180 mph.

Unfortunately Artioli’s Bugatti went bust, but Monaco-based entrepreneur Gildo Pallanca Pastor acquired its assets, which included two unfinished EB112s, chassis numbers 002 and 003. (#001, which is dark red, is owned by Italdesign.) Pastor set the Monaco Racing Team the task of finishing the cars, keeping one for himself and eventually delivering this example, #002, to the Swiss Bugatti importer Chevalley in February 2000, almost seven years since it was originally ordered. The car was registered in Geneva in 2003 and has been with the same owner ever since, covering just 3900 km (2423 miles) in its lifetime. You can feast your eyes on this incredible unicorn at Schaltkulisse. For Bugatti fans who enjoy a bit of alternate-universe thinking, here’s a question raised by the EB112: Could this sedan have provided the sales volume Bugatti needed to survive its 1995 failure? If the EB112 had succeeded, VW might never have acquired Bugatti, and the company as we know it today—with the record-setting Veyron and Chiron—would not exist. Fans of 21st-century Bugatti may have cause to be grateful that the EB112 remained a unicorn.

Exhaust: Sedans have generally proven to be dead-ends for Bugatti—see the EB218 concept from 1999 and the Galibier 16C in 2009—so the EB112’s oddball status in Bugatti history is the better part of its charm. What might #002 sell for? The other Pastor-owned EB112, #003, was bid to €1.9M at an Artcurial auction in 2016. Since then, Bugattis have appreciated 50 percent, meaning that #002 could be worth €3M, or roughly $3.38M, today. 

Polestar 3 gets first (camo-clad) photo, due date

Intake: Two SUVs are due to join the Polestar lineup, following in the footsteps of the handsome and tall liftback known as the Polestar 2. The brand’s forthcoming SUV, the Polestar 3, is due very soon—2022, in fact. Even better, it will be built in the U.S. (at the moment, all Polestars are built in China). Volvo, which is a majority stakeholder in Polestar—remember that each companies is technically owned by China’s Geely—will allow the 3 to be built alongside the Volvo S60 sedan in Charleston, South Carolina. If it seems strange to build an EV alongside an ICE vehicle, know that this past summer Volvo announced its plans to convert the South Carolina facility to produce only electric vehicles.

Exhaust: We knew a Polestar SUV was on the way, and that it’d be built here in the U.S.—but we had gotten neither a glimpse of it nor an idea of its due date. The 3 looks to repeat the handsome-yet-minimalist stylistic formula of the 1 and 2 (and the upcoming 5, as far as we can tell). If this SUV is anything like its lower-slung siblings, however, it’ll be worth a very close look.

One of NASCAR’s most iconic teams has a new majority owner

Intake: Earlier this week, Richard Petty Motorsports sold majority interest to GMS Racing owner Maury Gallagher. Two charters are included in the agreement, which guarantees two teams a starting position in Sundays’ Cup Series races. While there’s no word yet on the deal’s price tag, charters this season have gone for as much as $10 million. You do the math. Gallagher, the current CEO and Chairman of Allegiant Air, formed GMS Racing in 2014 and since then the team has amassed 41 victories and five championships across NASCAR’s lower ranks. Earlier this year, GMS announced it would be making the jump to Cup Series competition with Ty Dillon at the wheel, though it was still in the market for a charter. This deal accomplishes that and more, as now GMS will have a guaranteed starting spot for its new team and a stake in what is arguably NASCAR’s most iconic name. The second charter will be utilized by current Petty Motorsports driver Erik Jones in 2022.

Exhaust: Despite its historic namesake, Richard Petty Motorsports may not be as old as you think, having formed in 2009 after Petty Enterprises (a team founded by Lee Petty with his sons Richard and Maurice in 1942, which had amassed 268 Cup Series victories) merged with Gillett Evernham Motorsports. The Petty brand, replete with King Richard’s cowboy hat and a white 43 atop a coat of Petty Blue, is simply too iconic, and far too marketable, to fade into the ether. Given Gallagher’s success as business founder and CEO, and his winning record in NASCAR’s lower ranks, we’re willing to bet this is an excellent way for the Petty brand to continue to thrive for years to come.

Auction of Jaguar D-Type bonnet recreation will aid classic car students

Intake: Joel Finn passed away in 2017, and most of his expansive collection was preserved by the Revs Institute. However, a recreation of a long-nose Jaguar D-Type bonnet that Finn bought in 1990 is now being auctioned on Bring a Trailer, with proceeds going to the Piston Foundation, which assists students pursuing careers in the classic car industry. The aluminum bonnet is said to have been manufactured in the early 1970s by British coachbuilding firm Williams & Pritchard (under the guidance of Lynx Engineering) for use on chassis XKD 558.

Exhaust: Joel Finn’s love of cars is still having an impact of his fellow collectors by helping future classic car technicians pay for their education. As its mission statement says, the Piston Foundation “marries the needs of students with the needs of car enthusiasts,” and the auction of the D-Type bonnet the perfect example of that.

Maserati Ghibli will likely die in 2023 with no direct successor

Intake: First unveiled in 2013, the Ghibli sedan serves as Maserati’s entry-level and most affordable model—but its tenure at the trident may soon end. The 21st-century Ghibli has precious little in common with its eponymous forbearer, a 1960s front-engine GT with sharp Giugiaro sheetmetal and a dry-sump V-8. The current Ghibli carries the dubious distinction of middling-luxury sedan, and recent updates have been far from earth-shattering: In 2020, the Ghibli received a facelift and its first-ever hybrid powertrain, centered on a 2.0-liter turbo four-cylinder; earlier this year, it received a cosmetic-only special edition (shown below) that paid homage to Japanese street culture. An admirable nod to the cosmopolitan car scene, but a luxury sedan cannot survive forever on special editions and minor facelifts. Automotive News is reporting that the Ghibli will be killed off after the 2022 model year and that no direct replacement is in the works.

Exhaust: Maserati has big plans a-cookin’, not only for BEVs but also for its in-house Nettuno V-6. (See the gorgeous MC20.) It’s no surprise that the gray-haired Ghibli, dogged by clunky styling and an interior that dipped both hands into the FCA parts bin, will soon be laid to rest.

Nissan makes a moonshot and a monoposto

Intake: Nissan’s EVangelism knows no earthly bounds. The Japanese firm has just developed a lunar rover prototype in conjunction with the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency. The remote-operated vehicle will use Nissan’s e-4ORCE all-wheel control technology from the Ariya electric crossover to explore the lunar surface. Nissan says that its precision control of each wheel means that the rover is less likely to get bogged down in moondust.

Meanwhile, back down to earth, the Ariya’s powertrain has also been deployed in a single-seater concept racer (below). It’s essentially a Formula E car for the road, dressed up with minimal bodywork that follows Nissan’s “Timeless Japanese Futurism” design language. Most notable is the large illuminated V that shapes the car’s nose, a version of which also appears on the Ariya, which we’ll see on the roads in 2022.

Exhaust: The Japanese firm is boldly going where no Nissan has gone before with these and more recently revealed concepts. It’s all part of the brand’s Ambition 2030 program which is, so far, suggesting that its future EVs may well be less appliance-like and more entertaining.

Lincoln blacks out Aviator with new Jet Package

Intake: Lincoln is hopping on the black-trim bandwagon with a new package for Aviator Reserve Series buyers. In place of the chrome accents found on regular Reserve Series SUVs, the new Jet Package brings a blacked-out look to the grille, caps for the side-view mirrors, roof rails, lower fascia, and lower cladding and lip moldings. Swanky 22-inch black-painted wheels complete the ensemble. The Jet Package will be offered with four body colors: Pristine White, Infinite Black, Silver Radiance, and Burgundy Velvet. Lincoln says it will be available as an option beginning early next year.

Exhaust: Lincoln’s exterior styling has been quite strong lately, and there’s bound to be plenty of prospective Aviator buyers who think blacked-out trim makes their car look mean. While the Infinite Black with black trim combo will probably be the hot seller (maybe eventually this trend will die) we’d suggest opting for Pristine White, as seen above.

The post Buy Bugatti’s obscure ’90s super sedan, change afoot at Richard Petty Motorsports, Nissan’s lunar rover appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Welcome to What If? Quick Take, a new feature from imaginative illustrator Abimelec Arellano and Hagerty. While the cars shown in our regular What If? features are full 3D renderings and can appear in any number of images, the Quick Takes are off-the-cuff expressions of Abimelec’s imagination. Each one is accompanied by a short story. Enjoy! — Jack Baruth

“For God’s sake, Linda—sit down and shut up!” Her attorney was trying to pull Linda back into her seat by the sleeve of her silk blazer, an action made slightly ridiculous by the low friction of the blazer’s sleeve; from anywhere else in the courtroom, this very dignified man in his sixties must have resembled nothing so much as an agitated kitten kneading its mother’s stomach. He was hissing at her. “Please, please! Sit down!” After thirty-eight years of perfectly correct behavior, however, to say nothing of twelve years spent married to a man who had seamlessly transitioned from Prince Charming to Prince Beelzebub during that time, Linda had decided. This time she wouldn’t sit down. And she definitely wouldn’t shut up.

“Your Honor … ah, that’s correct, right, Your Honor? … I can live with most of what you’ve, ah, decreed today. If you tell me that I have to keep supporting Steve, because he lost his job over a workplace affair and because this divorce was something I wanted … I think I see the reasoning there, even if I disagree as to the amount of money involved. But…” and Linda took a deep breath, this was the worst thing she could ever imagine having to say on the public record, “… you are telling me that I am now … responsible … for child support? Child support? For the child of my husband’s … mistress? Your Honor, that’s not … it’s not …” Feeling her own voice abandon her, leaving just dry lips struggling to form a word she couldn’t choose, Linda did the obvious thing, and sat down.

“Your Honor, my client is distraught, I ask for some indulgence here.” Now her attorney was on his own feet, and the judge was nodding in this distracted, uninterested fashion, and then there was a BANG! of the gavel, and then Linda found herself sleepwalking out of the dingy, low-roofed courtroom. Don’t look at Steve, she told herself, but she saw his shoes directly ahead of her and couldn’t help but raise her face to meet his hangdog expression.

“Linda … I don’t know what to say. I didn’t want to ask for that. They told me to ask.”

“Well, Steven,” she snapped, “you’ve always been so good at doing what you were asked to do. Except when I asked, of course. I asked you to stay sober. Asked you to behave with dignity. Asked you to keep your job. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do what I asked. Only what other people asked. And now you won’t hear me asking anymore.” Neatly, with the grace of the dancer she had once been, she half-stepped, half-pirouetted around him. Her motion caught the eye of a young man in a hooded sweatshirt down the hall; he stared at Linda without shame. And why shouldn’t he? Closing in on forty, and she was still beautiful, still thin. She still … had it all. Wasn’t that right?

No doubt it had seemed that way to everyone else. At the age of thirty-five, she and Steven had owned a beautiful home in a lovely neighborhood. His two-year-old Grand Cherokee parked next to her four-year-old Lexus RX. She’d been a vice president at a bank, and not one of the worthless VP titles they hand out to branch managers but a respected leadership position in Commercial Real Estate. Steve, meanwhile, earned a quarter-million-plus as a director at a local healthcare firm. They’d been college sweethearts and although they’d been unable to conceive a child the rush of their brilliant careers had dulled that pain until it was hard to feel. She’d known the kind of envy she generated in other people, not least because she had this sort of flawless, sharp-featured beauty that never fell out of style and Steve was handsome to match.

Of course, nobody else knew just how much Steve drank. He started at work with a long lunch, would have a few drinks over dinner. By eight o’clock he would be sloppy with it, and by nine he’d be face-down on the sofa. He’d barely touched her for years, responding with anger or derision when she asked.

Maybe that’s why she had let herself have the five days in San Francisco with Walter. They’d met at a conference. He was fifty-ish, tall and grey. It was obvious that he’d never been as handsome as Steve, but he had an icy self-assurance and he knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted Linda. And every night after the first, she had granted his wish, becoming addicted to the raw desire in his eyes and her own power in being able to gratify it. Nevertheless, as they kissed in the airport like college kids she’d told Walter it was over, and he’d respected the finality of her decision.

Three weeks later, in the heat of another alcohol-fueled argument, she’d confessed it all to Steve, who had stormed out of the house, but not before smashing a five-thousand-dollar glass coffee table. Three days later, Steve had taken one of the girls in his company call center to lunch, then to a hotel, where, as Steve had told her later, he “got my own back.” Linda was horrified. What she and Walter had done … well, it had been wrong, but it had a storyline, it had romance, it had some sort of dignity. Steve’s resentful response had been … trashy. Linda disapproved. She’d threatened Steve with divorce if he saw Tiffany again, and he complied with her demand. “Just once, that’s all I needed,” he told her, spitting the words as he spoke them.

Fourteen months later, however, it was revealed to them that once was enough. Steve was, in fact, the father of Tiffany’s son, Aiden. What followed was a one-two punch. The court hit Steve with $48,000 a year of child support. The news sent Steve into a blackout drunken episode that ended with a totaled Grand Cherokee, a suspended license, and a termination from the healthcare firm, on ethical grounds. Steve was not in a hurry to find more work. “Why bother? It will all go to Tiffany!” Instead, he stayed at home, and he drank.

Five months later, Linda filed for divorce. The court considered their mutual assets: the home, the Lexus, their retirement funds. And it considered their mutual income: Linda earned $304,000 a year, Steve earned nothing. Therefore, Steve was to be given spousal support for five years, in the amount of $2700 a month.

Finally, the court considered their mutual obligations. The order of child support had been levied on Steve during their marriage; therefore, it applied equally to both of them. With the welfare of little Aiden in mind, and considering Steve’s inability to meet the child support directive, the judge decreed that Linda would have to make the payments until Steve was employed again. Six thousand, seven hundred dollars of post-tax money every month. To Steve and his mistakes. After taxes, Linda earned thirteen thousand dollars a month. She’d done the math as the judge had read his decree, which had in turn led to her panicked decision to stand up and confront him.

Back home, in the house she’d be selling as soon as possible, Linda opened her Franklin Planner to a page where a number had been hastily scrawled in ballpoint ink. Dialed the number. Walter answered.

“Walter, this is Linda … Things have gone really badly today, I know we haven’t spoken, I asked for that, but today …” The words were fighting each other to get out.

“Hold on a moment,” he told her. Then, she could hear him at a distance, explaining. “Honey, it’s one of my representatives, I think he’s got a problem … no, you’re right, we have to get going.” Walter’s voice returned to the call at full strength. “Sorry, Bob,” he said, “I’ll have to call you back.” And he hung up.

Linda looked at the blank screen of her phone for a very long time. Then she walked outside. Got in her Lexus. Headed towards the river. It was already freezing this time of year. She could drive into the water as if by mistake. And the cold would do the rest. She was imagining what it would be like to die that way, hoping there would be no pain but knowing with a sort of flat certainty that there would be, when she struck a stopped horse trailer at approximately thirty miles per hour. There was a noise and a taste of talcum powder. Then there was silence.

She woke to a kind face peering in through the broken window. “Miss, are you alright?” The man was maybe ten years older than her. Not quite six feet tall, bald, with careworn lines on cheeks that reflected his portly figure in their size and dough-like quality.

“Oh, God,” Linda heard herself saying, “I hurt your horse. Is …”

“No worries,” the man replied. “Fizzy is safe at the stable. I was just dragging the trailer back to storage. Can you stand up?” Linda could. She surveyed the nose of her Lexus; it was totaled. The horse trailer didn’t look bad, actually. It was being dragged by the oddest sort of pickup truck, a chrome-slathered tuxedo-black Lincoln with a very short bed and ebony paneling along the sides. “Do you like it?” the man asked. “It’s the new Lincoln Blackwood. Like a Navigator, but with a little truck bed I use for hay and whatnot. Fizzy and I go all over the place. We’ve ridden trails from New England to Louisiana.”

“Fizzy … is the horse.” She was getting a headache now.

“Sure is! Oh, yes, it’s just me and Fizzy. Had a wife once, you know. It didn’t last. I … well, I’ve never been handsome, you see. And when we were young I was so busy working, I had a couple of franchises, added a few more, and they needed a lot of care. Well nowadays, I don’t have to check in on them too much. And I have a lot of time, because Cheryl left me for a younger and much better-looking fellow. Just me, my Lincoln, and old Fizzy, out here traveling the country. But what am I doing, talking about myself so much. I bet you have a heck of a story yourself. I can see it on your face.”

“Let me guess. She took half your money and ran.” The man laughed.

“She certainly did.”

“Well, let me tell you … I have some experience in that area myself.” And she sat in the gorgeous interior of that Lincoln, the chrome trim and “Thoroughbred” leather seating, telling her story. The man’s name was Bennett. He laughed at the right times. He was interested in her, profoundly so. When her phone buzzed and Steve’s face appeared, she tossed it out the window into the river. “I’m not taking any calls right now,” she told Bennett. “I say we leave my Lexus here for the wrecker … and you take me to meet this horse of yours.”

The post What If? Quick Take: 2023 Lincoln Blackwood appeared first on Hagerty Media.

A frequent commenter (who goes by CJ) on another site that I write for had this to say about a Volvo 262C post that I wrote months ago: “The genesis of the Volvo … was actually a Swedish trip by U.S. Ford executives to learn about Volvo’s innovative humane production line. They brought along a fleet of Mark IVs to drive, and Volvo management decided to find a way to make something similar.

“This car was the result of Volvo having an innovative approach to factory management in the ’70s that was thought to be improving quality and labor retention. Ford sent a contingent of executives, including Henry the Deuce, to Sweden to check it out. They brought a number of Lincoln Mark IVs to drive while they were there. Volvo’s CEO Per Gyllenhammar was green with envy at the style of the Lincolns, so Volvo’s designers were tasked with building something similar. They couldn’t tool up for a limited run of cars that were so different from the usual boxes, so they farmed out production to Bertone.”

I’d remembered reading a story about that years ago. I thought it was in a book I got from Mike and Cathy Lundahl, owners of Lundahl Volvo in Moline, Illinois, back in the ’80s. They were friends of my parents, and my parents bought their Volvos from Mike, so we saw a lot of them. I came home from the hospital in my mom’s dark blue 1977 245DL wagon. Anyway, the book, titled Volvo: The Cars From the ’20s to the ’80s, was published by Volvo and was a treasure trove of pics and information for the preteen version of yours truly.

Shortly after reading CJ’s comment, curiosity got the best of me. I dug up my book and was surprised to see no mention of the Ford brain trust visiting the Kalmar facility back in the 1970s. After looking through the other half-dozen Volvo books I own, I saw no reference whatsoever in the sections on the 262C. But I know I read it somewhere, dammit! Fortunately, CJ backed up the info by providing a link to a story in The New York Times archive. If you’re not the link-clicking type, below is a summary, borrowed from another site.

“Volvo’s first luxury coupe, the V-6-powered 262C, had an unusual genesis, as explained by Bob Austin, who was a 31-year Volvo employee and the company’s director of marketing communications from 1991 through 2001: ‘Volvo was at the leading edge of reinventing factory work in the 1970s. The CEO, Pehr Gyllenhammar, felt life in the car business was inhumane—that factory work only took advantage of people’s arms and legs.

“He authorized the building of Kalmar, the new factory that became the world’s first automotive team assembly plant. People worked in small groups, and the cars moved from station to station—they felt that with more worker engagement, there would be fewer defects, fewer work-related injuries, and reduced employee turnover. Automakers around the world were interested in this plant, and in the mid-1970s, an American industrialist entourage led by Henry Ford II traveled to Sweden to inspect the factory.

“When they arrived, they brought over a number of cars to drive, all two-door Lincoln Mark coupes with low roofs and wide C-pillars. American cars were rare in Sweden, and they caught the attention of people both inside and outside of Volvo. We wanted to build a car like that, but we knew it would have to be done off-line and that the tooling costs would be too much. Our people were talking to the people at Carrozzeria Bertone at an auto show in Europe, and Bertone expressed great interest in the project; the two companies had previously teamed up to build the Europe-only 264TE limousine.”

I found another link from Hemmings that told essentially the same story. Verrrrry interesting, as the late, great Arte Johnson frequently said on Laugh-In back in the ’60s. Although I always DID think these looked like a Volvo version of the then-current Eldorado and Continental Mark V and Mark VI coupes. The Brougham for people who think?

As most of my three regular readers know (four on weekends!), I am a big fan of Cadillacs and Lincolns from the 1970s. Combine that with all the Volvos my parents owned when I was growing up, and here we have the perfect hybrid. I’ve always loved those seats. Like buttah! But I never knew how the car had come to be in such detail before CJ piped up. So, thank you sir. I may not have seen a 262C since the ’80s, but I still love these cars.

The post 1977–81 Volvo 262C: That most Broughamtastic Volvo appeared first on Hagerty Media.

I recently asked those in the Hagerty Community about the most insane interior they’ve ever seen. (You should visit our Community lounge, and not just because I’m the moderator.) Our users clearly did a great job, as their hard work motivated me to research this list of amazing automobile interiors. It was a collaborative labor of love amongst many of you, but I also dug up a few of my historical favorites. So let’s start from the early days of motoring and take a quick tour of 11 wild automotive interiors over the decades.

1901–07 Curved Dash Oldsmobile (Model R)

While it’s true that the first mass-produced car didn’t have much of an interior, what made this Oldsmobile unique for its time was the dashboard. Sure, that area looks like the front of Santa’s stereotypical sleigh, but that aggressive curve extends deep into the front passenger compartment. The Olds Tonneau body style has a nicely designed rear passenger section, complete with a shockingly well-padded rear door that, apparently, Oldsmobile was simply begging others to replicate. Perhaps this “Curved Dash” Olds is more than a configuration that protects occupants from “dashed up” (i.e. kicked up) debris from the spinning wheels—it might just be the first car with an interior designed for style and functionality.

1906–26 Rolls-Royce 40/50 Silver Ghost Limousine

Fully enclosed passenger compartments flourished in the nineteen-teens, and the more expensive brands obviously sported the most impressive interiors. This Silver Ghost from 1915 wears coachwork by H.A. Hamshaw with an interior worthy of an industrial magnate’s Pullman train car. Behold this Roller’s exquisite fabrics, overstuffed seats, retractable sunshades, wooden pull-out tray, decadent headliner, and exquisite door pulls. Combine the Pullman passenger experience with the durable and prestigious engineering of the Rolls Royce 40/50 chassis, and this car was likely one of the most expensive and beautiful ways to tour the countryside.

1922 Hispano-Suiza H6 Landaulet

There’s something about the Roaring Twenties and the landaulet body configuration that makes a perfect pairing. This Hispano-Suiza landaulet was crafted by Henri Chapron, and utilized the unique look of a roofless driver’s compartment plus an enclosed passenger compartment, with a folding top in place of a traditional C-pillar. This silhouette accommodated an interior made of wood door panels worthy of a high-end dining table, understated blue seat fabric with white-gray flecks, a rather revolutionary fold-down center arm rest, and a throughly conventional tuck-and-roll headliner … that became a theatrical thriller when you folded the C-pillar into the body. While there have been landaulet reboots in recent memory (Maybach, Lexus LS600h) there’s nothing quite the original ’20s execution.

1934 Voisin Type C27 Aérosport Coupe

Art Deco was an era of visual arts that joined geometry with wide-ranging, international style/color palettes across many forms of industries. One such outlet was in French textiles, which could be why the automaker Voisin chose the radical material seen here for the interior upholstery of this C27 Aérosport Coupe. While it’s clear that Voisin’s aeronautic background influenced the vehicles that bore his name, the interior fabric selections were just as modern, perhaps even cutting-edge for the Interwar period.

1947–48 Tucker 48 (Torpedo)

The Tucker 48, or “Torpedo,” was a star-crossed vehicle in its heyday but a flat-out winner in today’s classic car market. Speaking of flat, that perfectly level floor—courtesy of its rear-mounted engine and electro-vacuum-operated transaxle—allowed Tucker to accomodate a radical interior. The sheer width of the car was so equally distributed that both rows of bench seating could use interchangeable cushions.

The featureless, open-air passenger-side dashboard was reminiscent of the Curved Dash Olds, as the glovebox was relocated to the right-hand-side door. Postwar automobile production was less about radical design and more about kickstarting a dormant supply chain, but the Tucker proved that innovation was still possible at the time … both outside and inside.

1959 Pontiac Bonneville

Car interiors of the 1950s were boldly optimistic in their color palette, liberal use of chrome, and space-age details. There are plenty of winners, especially when trimmed out in optional two-tone materials to match the radical exteriors of that era. But what about three-tone interiors—fashioned out of leather, no less? Pontiac embraced the tri-tone interior treatment on its flagship Bonneville, and the notion continued until the Bonneville Brougham of the late ’70s.

That’s some lasting power! How many other brands stuck with an interior conceit for that long?

1964 Ford Thunderbird

All Thunderbirds from this era sported dramatic, elegant interiors. They sported some of the finest materials available before safety, weight, cost, etc. forced metal to make way for plastic paneling. This 1964 model sported a swing-away steering wheel that moved to the right when parked for easier entry/egress. The dash effortlessly flowed into the console while the door panels aped the same “fast” contours. While the four-passenger cockpit was flowing and futuristic for all occupants, there was even an optional tonneau cover to hide the rear passenger section and yield an even racier appearance. The 2002 Thunderbird reboot tried to embrace this style, but the sheer volume of plastic parts recycled from other Ford products meant this ‘bird would never fly quite as high as its ’60s predecessor.

1975 Cadillac Sedan deVille

There are so many great interiors from the rapidly evolving 1970s—the affordable modernism of a Renault 5, the Pasha fabrics in Porsches, or anything done to lend swagger to the Malaise Era in Detroit. Everyone was a winner, though there may have been more winning in the 1975 Cadillac lineup, as it was a good year for fans of wild and brash materials. There’s “Maharajah” cloth pictured here in the Cadillac DeVilles and “Morgan” plaid for the Calais models. The “Montecello” velour in the Fleetwood Sixty Special? Truly something else. Our own Jack Baruth has an undying love for the Medici velour in the top-spec Fleetwood Talisman, though it’s relatively tame in comparison to the materials in its cheaper stablemates.

1983–88 Chrysler New Yorker

Much like the rapidly evolving 1970s, the 1980s encompassed many diverse trends, so finding a single representative example is both difficult and disingenuous. That’s why I threw caution to the wind and chose an interior that blended elements of old- and new-school, complete with a voice-modulated warning system. Imagine this button-tufted, digital-gauged, graphic-equalized, fake-wood-appointed boudoir talking to you!

If you’re really bored, listen to a conversation between this particular E-body New Yorker and a worthy adversary, the Texas Instruments’ Speak and Spell. Do better examples from this era exist? Possible, but let me remind the anti-New Yorkers that your electrical system is malfunctioning—prompt service is required.

1995–96 Lincoln Mark VIII

While 1993 was the first year of the Mark VIII, the lack of contrast in its vinyl-coated interior panels feels a bit chintzy. Well, at least compared to the wood trim the Mark received in 1995 (above). While its interior might be influenced by the likes of the fourth-generation Honda Prelude, it sports forms so radical that even the gauge cluster is forced to stagger its instruments. The optional JBL tweeter grilles are mounted on sweeping door panels that look symmetrical, yet they are not mirror images: The dashboard sweep is thinner on the driver’s side.

Conventionalism came back (to some extent) by way of a new interior for the 1997–98 Mark. And, if the Internet forums is any indication, history has been kinder to it. Apparently many folks like more conventional interiors with more chrome and less swoops of polymer in their doors and consoles. But that’s kind of a shame, isn’t it?

2000–05 Pontiac Aztek

You know the drill: This Pontiac is hideous inside and out. And yes, the depressing plastics were par for the course for GM back then. While a common problem is dashboard delamination—if this were an Oldsmobile, consider it Curved Dash incarnate—the Aztek’s minivan-derived body gave designers an amazing canvas for a work of functional art. The integral air compressor/portable ice chest was a nice touch, as was the ability to camp inside with the optional tent and air mattress.

However, that minivan body meant removing seats was a breeze, and the (optional) sliding floor appearing from a tailgate/hatchback combination was perfect for grocery getting. The 2000s was the decade when the crossover-utility (CUV) began to assert its dominance, but most manufacturers did absolutely none of what Pontiac did for its customers. Even though the devil’s in the details (or lack thereof) the Pontiac Aztek coulda had class. It didn’t deserve this much hatred. As Terry Malloy in the movie Waterfront said: “I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it.”

2012–present Tesla Model S

Love it or hate it, the first Tesla to garner substantial praise also had an interior that dictated the template for upmarket electric-vehicle cabins. Would you need an electric car with a gigantic screen if it weren’t for Tesla having the stones to choose a display that didn’t exist for automobiles yet that wasn’t designed for an automotive application? And who would have thought combining a column-shifted transmission, a console-free center stack, and an optional rear-facing third-row seat into a luxury car?

It all happened with one seminal vehicle, and the new steering yoke on the flagship Plaid model is merely testing the waters for the next revolution in automotive interior design. That said, the Model S is rather long in the tooth, and it wouldn’t hurt to give it a total redesign for the 2020s.

Which radical interiors over the decades would you add to this list? Let us know in the comments below.

The post 11 of the most insane automotive interiors, by decade appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Today we celebrate the last of the mastodon luxury cars. Uncompromised in sheer size. Sheer luxury. Rear-wheel drive. V-8 power. Stretch-out room. No battery other than the typical unit to power the starter and multiple power gadgets and luxurious extras. Opera windows. Coach roofs.

The last vestige of this kind of traditional American luxury car ended when the last Lincoln Town Cars rolled off the line in St. Thomas, Ontario in August of 2011., nearly ten years ago. But those final Town Cars were like a 1987 Ford Taurus compared to the much more vintage Lincolns I will be discussing today.

The coupe version had been discontinued thirty years prior to those final Panther-chassis Town Cars, but in the mid to late 1970s, a twenty foot long, 460-cubic-inch V-8-powered luxury cruiser really meant something. Lexus, Infiniti, Acura and Tesla did not exist. And in the late Seventies, the Lincolns reigned supreme in sheer size and road-hugging weight once arch rival Cadillac shrunk its cars.

The Lincoln Continental coupe returned to the lineup in 1966, five years after the classic 1961 Continental was introduced. The Lincoln name just barely avoided being eliminated from the Ford Motor Company roster after the bigger-than-a-Cadillac 1958–60 model’s sales tanked. Robert McNamara wanted Lincoln gone and only saved it due to his admiration of a particular Thunderbird styling study. The T-Bird coupe proposal was modified into a four door Lincoln (with the now-famous center opening doors added) by the design staff and subsequently approved for production.

As a result of these major changes, there was initially a very limited lineup consisting of only a four-door sedan and four-door convertible sporting rear-hinged doors, a Continental feature that would be retained for the rest of the decade. The coupe was an attempt to broaden the lineup, and was possibly added due to the future cancellation of the slow-selling convertible in 1967. A more formal roofline was added to the coupe in 1968, but the mild restyling was most likely overshadowed by the new Continental Mark III personal luxury car. It soon outsold the Continental coupe many times over.

In 1970 a redesigned Continental appeared, minus the suicide doors. Hidden headlamps were a new feature. It continued to be available in sedan and two-door hardtop models. As before, the Mark III blew the Continental coupe out of the water sales-wise. Power came from a 460-cu-in, 365-hp four-barrel V-8.

First introduced in 1969 as an interior option, the Town Car became a full production model in 1972 on the sedan, although the package was also the basis for a 50th Anniversary package in 1971. The 50th Anniversary Town Car included special gold paint (although other colors were available), Town Car interior and a commemorative plaque on the instrument panel. The 1972 package included Town Car script on the sail panels, special upholstery in velour or optional leather, Cavalry twill vinyl roof, special keys and the owner’s initials on the front doors. In 1973 this option was extended to the coupe, and the Town Coupé was born.

There was a mild restyle for 1974, mostly due to a new 5-mph bumper being added to the rear, matching the heavier front bumper that was federally mandated the year before. While Lincoln simply extended and reinforced the ’72 front bumper in 1973, the 1974 had a new design to match the back. A new grille with thin vertical bars, parking lamps moved from the bumper to the front fenders and revised tail lamps rounded out the changes. Both the Town Car and Town Coupé continued as premium versions of the Continental, along with the Mark IV, which had replaced the Mark III in 1972.

In 1975, the non-Mark Series Continentals received a mild freshening. The biggest change were more formal roof lines on both the sedan and the coupe. While the sedan received an optional oval opera window taken from the Mark IV, the Continental coupe and Town Coupé received a square opera window in the rear pillar with a gold Continental star inset into it.

Town Coupés added an opera light set into the B-pillar, along with the usual added power and comfort upgrades. Seats in the Town Car/Coupé were in a new loose-pillow style that was rapidly being added to every Brougham, Regency, and Limited luxury package in the industry. I find these interiors extremely luxurious and appealing, especially with the optional leather seating surfaces.

In 1977, the Continentals received a Mark-style vertical grille and new hood, but were otherwise little-changed. Of course, in 1977 Cadillac introduced its downsized C-body de Villes and Fleetwoods. Although drastically reduced in both size and weight, these cars actually had more passenger room and trunk room compared to the ’76 Cadillacs.

They were the cars of the future, but at the time, many Cadillac owners were probably wondering what happened to their car. (They sold very well, though!) I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those Cadillac owners went to Lincoln in 1977–79. But it couldn’t last. Federal Corporate Average Fuel Economy regulations were coming, and Lincoln was going to have to do the same thing, and soon.

Not quite yet, though. In 1978, the Continentals got more open rear wheel wells, thanks to reduced-size fender skirts. It also got a new instrument panel (basically a Ford LTD/Mercury Marquis dash with extra gilt). The 400 V-8 was standard by this time, but you could still get the 460 as an option. But come 1979, all Connies got the 400. Dagnabit!

The party was just about over for the truly full-size Continental, and 1979 was the final year. There were only minor cosmetic changes. The silver trim on the instrument panel was changed to woodgrain and there were a few new colors.

A Collector’s Series special edition was introduced in 1979 to celebrate the last of the traditional Continentals. Colors were limited to white or midnight blue metallic. Inside, a unique Kasmin II luxury cloth interior with special 36 oz. carpeting was available in midnight blue only, though leather was an option. Other special features included leather-wrapped tool kit, owner’s manual and an umbrella.

Unfortunately, this package was only available on the sedans; the Continental coupe and Town Coupé were left out. Fortunately, all the usual gadgets and power options were available, as usual. If you wanted a truly large Continental, this was your last chance. It was now or never! New, trimmer Continentals were introduced for 1980, based on the Panther platform Mercury Marquis and Ford LTD that had debuted in 1979.

The 1980 Continentals and Marks were now on the same platform, with the main difference being different front and rear styling and a shorter wheelbase on the two-door Mark VIs. There was also a new four-door Mark VI. The Town Coupé continued on the sedan’s wheelbase, but only for one model year.

In 1981, all Continentals were renamed Town Cars. The trim level had now become the model name. What had been the 1980 Town Coupé was still available, but it was now called a Town Car Signature Series two-door. The coupes never sold like the sedans did during the Seventies, as most two-door buyers went for the Mark VI instead. 1980–81 Non-Mark coupe sales were minuscule even by the previous standard, and they were eliminated for the 1982 model year.

Starting in 1982, only the four-door Town Car would continue. An “aero” facelift in 1985, along with the concurrent introduction of much smaller front-wheel-drive Cadillac de Villes, Fleetwoods (the RWD Fleetwood Brougham carried on, however) Buick Electras, and Oldsmobile Ninety-Eights resulted in an uptick of sales for the Town Car that would last through the end of the 1980s. A redesigned version would begin the ’90s, but that’s a story for another time.

The two cars featured today are both in a most elegant color, Dove Gray. The 1977 Town Coupe was owned at the time by my friend and fellow LCOC member, John McCarthy, and photographed at the LCOC Lake Shore Region spring meet at the historic Lake Lawn Resort in Delavan, Wisconsin. The 1979 Town Car was spied at the fall Trains, Planes and Automobiles car show held in Geneseo, Illinois. Both are prime examples of the now-extinct Detroit Luxury Car. I miss cars like these. But at least I can gawk at prime examples at car shows!

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Solve a real-life Bond (car) mystery, and there’s $100K on the table

Intake: The 1997 disappearance of an Aston Martin DB5 that featured in Goldfinger is the subject of a new podcast series: The Great James Bond Car Robbery, hosted by Elizabeth Hurley. The show follows Christopher A. Marinello of Art Recovery International, who has been chasing the car’s whereabouts since it vanished without trace from an aircraft hanger at Boca Raton airport. Chassis DP/2161/1 was owned by Anthony Pugliese III, who was investigated at the time of the disappearance but never charged. In the podcast Marinello and Hurley sift through the evidence and examine new leads in the hunt for the DB5. The Bond car is now reckoned to be worth $25M and a $100,000 reward is on offer for information leading to its recovery. The show, from the SPYSCAPE Network, is available now on Apple and all major podcast channels.

Exhaust: “I’m a huge fan of James Bond, so I’m excited to share this fascinating heist story,” says Hurley. “I hope this podcast will intrigue 007 fans everywhere and help shine a light on the mystery and see the Goldfinger Aston Martin DB5 returned after all this time.” Us too, Liz.

Next-gen Subaru WRX keeps six-speed stick

https://twitter.com/subaru_usa/status/1427623798778601484

Intake: Subaru just released yet another teaser for the next-generation WRX, and one shot in particular caught our eye. Right at the beginning of the 15-second montage of dusty antics, we see a hand shifting a manual gearbox. The WRX was supposed to be unveiled at the New York Auto Show on August 19, but after the show’s late cancellation due to a spike in COVID-19 cases within the Big Apple, that debut (and that of the Subaru Forester) were put on hold. A replacement date has yet to be announced.

Exhaust: The enthusiast community around the WRX and STI models is one of the brightest and busiest among any new car today, so we’re thrilled to see a row-your-own option remaining part of the next-gen Subie’s formula. We’re looking forward to seeing the WRX unveiled in full sometime before the snow flies this year, perhaps even as soon as next week. The success of the Nissan Z reveal surely has Subaru gearing up to give its everyman enthusiast car the same treatment in short order.

Lincoln’s refreshed 2022 Navigator brings gorgeous green paint, more massaging seats, and symphonic alert chimes

Intake: Wearing a svelte refresh, Lincoln’s 2022 Navigator is ready to battle the updated Cadillac Escalade, GMC Yukon Denali, and the newcomer, the Grand Wagoneer. The biggest news is ActiveGlide, an adapted version of Ford’s BlueCruise hands-free highway cruising tech available on more than 130,000 miles of pre-mapped divided highways. The Navigator also gets Sync 4 and a new, larger 13.2-inch central touch screen. There’s a class-first second-row massage seat available, as well as a new 28-speaker Revel Ultima stereo system replete with alert charms prerecorded by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra to alert you to open doors, unclosed fuel caps, and more. Lincoln is also introducing two new Black Label themes: Central Park brings a delicious green leather interior and an exterior called Manhattan Green Metallic. Invitation swaddles you in black venetian leather and includes laser-etched Khaya wood decorative inserts. A new larger grille is flanked by new pixel projector headlamps, and there are new 3D LED tail lamps at the rear. This new Navigator will be built at the Kentucky Truck plant, and should arrive in dealerships early in 2022.

Exhaust: Lincoln’s leaning into the “American” part of American Luxury, and, even without the drop-dead gorgeous Manhattan Green Metallic paint, that’s a smart decision: The Navigator is responsible for a third of the customers won over to Lincoln from competing brands. Considering Black Label Navigators represent 20 percent of all Navigators sold, expanding this model’s six-figure trims is also wise.

Could the first e-Boxster be coming?

At @iaamobility, #Porsche is looking to the future, celebrating the world premiere of a future-oriented concept study on 6 September – live on https://t.co/e3Er20H448. #Porsche #IAA21 #PorscheIAA2021 pic.twitter.com/7gDaGQjG7d

— Porsche Newsroom (@PorscheNewsroom) August 16, 2021

Intake: Porsche is gearing up to reveal a new concept car which might be a lead-in to the brand’s rumored first electric two-seater. The teaser image shows just a Taycan-like headlight accompanied by the words “concept study” and “future-oriented,” which suggest it will be a little more “out there” than any future production car. All will be revealed at the IAA show in Munich on September 6.

Exhaust: If this isn’t a two-seater sportster, then what could it be? We know an electrified Macan is coming but some leaked images showed a very different headlight design, so that’s not likely. However, Autocar reports that Porsche is also developing a smaller sports sedan to rival the BMW i4 based on the Audi A4 e-tron platform, so that could be an option.

Ford Performance’s Racing School goes full Bondurant with a race-prepped Explorer

 

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Intake: Ford will show owners of ST grade Edge and Explorer SUVs an even better time when they enroll in the Ford ST SUV Experience. Starting with the already impressive Explorer ST, the new “4-passenger track vehicle” sports upgrades like four Recaro seats, GT500 front brake rotors, ECU recalibration from HP Tuners and the expected safety stuff like a full roll cage.

Exhaust: It’s 1984 all over again, but not in an Orwellian way. While Bob Bondurant, a Ford ally at the time, choose to make four-door race cars out of Fox Body Ford LTDs for his driving school, he didn’t have the already impressive performance of an ST-fettled Ford as a foundation. This new Explorer sounds like a blast, maybe next year its street legal counterpart will hit the showrooms a la the Ford LTD LX?

The post Help find the world’s most famous car, ’22 Navigator goes green, an E-Boxster? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

2021 Festival of the Unexceptional draws oddball cars, younger crowd

Intake: Once considered ordinary, dozens of the U.K.’s “finest” everyday vehicles were properly celebrated on the manicured lawns of Grimsthorpe Castle, in Lincolnshire, England, at the annual Festival of the Unexceptional. Jon Coupland and his 1989 Proton 1.5 GL Black Knight Edition received the overall Hagerty trophy, shaped like a teacup. Danny Wilson’s 1991 Peugeot 106 XN Graduate special edition was the runner-up.

Exhaust: The Festival of the Unexceptional—cousin to America’s Concours d’Lemons—is the antithesis of the high-brow concours d’elegance and offers car enthusiasts the opportunity to laugh at themselves and their automobiles. Event organizers say this year’s event drew a younger crowd, as well. That’s a win-win for the future of car collecting.

Honda gives Monkey buyers what they wanted via a Grom transplant

Intake: The Honda Monkey is a nostalgia-fueled machine that capitalizes on the best parts of vintage style and up-to-date performance—with one exception. The fully modern 125cc engine was paired with a very old-school four-speed transmission. Buyers voiced their opinions about the lack of fifth gear and, for 2022, the Monkey will be on the receiving end of a parts-bin engine swap, with the Grom’s 125cc unit and accompanying five-speed sliding into the minimoto’s frame.

Exhaust: While the Monkey was never designed for long-distance cruising, the lack of fifth made any sustained speed a bit of a chore and also sapped some pep from the experience. With the fifth gear and wider spread of gear ratios, the cruising not only becomes more comfortable, according to Honda, but also allows for a three-tooth increase in the rear sprocket size to make the bike accelerate quicker. We expect the ’22 Monkey to be an even better combination of style and function.

Bentley’s re-selling 5 limos that stretch the bounds of bespoke cruising

Intake: 39.3 inches of stretch and 3.1 inches of additional rear headroom aren’t colossal additions by limousine standards, but when applied to the iconic Bentley Mulsanne sedan, they made all the difference, producing a classy limo that preserves the Mulsanne’s elegant profile. The Mulsanne Grand Limousine, coachbuilt by Mulliner, started out as a private commission vehicle, but Bentley Mulliner was eventually given consent to make a limited run of the unique model. Its cabin is largely inspired by the jet-setting world of private aviation: Two rear-facing seats encourage conversation amongst occupants swaddled in the elegance of Mulliner’s finest materials. In 2015, the five examples up for resale were originally shipped off to the UAE, where they’ve sat ever since, neither used nor even registered.

Exhaust: 2020 brought the end of the Mulsanne name for Bentley, amping up the rarity of these five fine examples. There’s no shortage of ludicrous money these days that’s willing to flex a truly unique and comfortable commute. These machines will likely fly to new homes, hopefully to spend more time on the road than at rest.

Volkswagen T2 Camper Van is Lego’s latest gem

Intake: Let’s go camping! Ten years after unveiling its popular Volkswagen T1 Camper Van, Lego has turned it up a notch with a turquoise-and-white VW T2 Camper Van with a detailed interior and cool accessories. Selling for $179.99 each (limit two), the Lego T2 camper—which measures 6 x 13.5 x 5.5 inches—recreates the much-loved features from the real deal, including the van’s iconic front windscreen, textile curtains, and the textile pop-up tent. There’s also a new Lego tire style, working steering, sliding door, surfboard, two folding chairs, and flower-power stickers.

Exhaust: Once considered a kids’ toy, much like Hot Wheels and Matchbox, Lego is among the most collectible automotive display pieces for adults. New issues are highly anticipated and sell out quickly. Expect the T2 to do the same.

Lincoln-Shinola Aviator concept is a rose-gold spin on red, white, and blue luxury

Intake: Together with Detroit-born Shinola, a luxury goods company specializing in watches and various leather-bound goods, Lincoln has tricked out the Navigator’s little brother with understated modern glam. Rose-gold exterior accents are just the starting point; the real fun is inside. The seats are finished in Shinola’s whiskey leather, with cream suede center panels accented by a two-tone stripe combination. Said bourbon-hued leather extends to the console and dash, which also feature woven metal mesh and a slathering of suede.

Exhaust: Old-school, genuine materials rendered in classy neutrals and sporting a brush of industrial texture—it’s enough to make any self-respecting millennial swoon. We’re quite taken, even if this collaboration is, for now, only a one-off concept built for Pebble Beach.

Scissor-door Valkyrie to usher in roadster variant at Pebble Beach

Intake: Hypercar aficionados will note that the standard version of Aston Martin’s wildest offering features gullwing doors. What then is this tantalizing image before us, released by Aston just this morning? The company line reads “an exciting new product which extends the brand’s performance credentials a step further;” after some pondering and squinting, we’ll translate that as “roofless Valkyrie.”

Exhaust: The Valkyrie won’t be spawning any hybrid V-12 Le Mans monsters, given Aston’s rather rocky financial straits. However, a more indulgent model could mean that we mortals will glimpse (and hear) these 1160-hp, 11,100-rpm beauties in the wild more often. If you’re around the Monterey Peninsula next week, we suggest popping by Aston’s stand and ogling the open-air Valkyrie in person.

The post See 2021’s Unexceptional winners, Bentley hawks 5 Mulsanne limos, a Shinola-bound Aviator appeared first on Hagerty Media.

For me, it was the Signature Series shot heard ’round the world. For most of 1981, while America celebrated little things like being able to turn the thermostat up but well before the economic tide had actually started to turn for most people, my father drove an ’81 Buick Century Custom wagon as his company car while his business partner continued to steer a 1979 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Regency. At the end of that year, however, the two of them went nuts and bought a pair of ’82 Town Car Signatures, right off a dealer lot, almost on a whim.

Naturally, I was thrilled to see the Sky Blue behemoth post up in our driveway; from the “Premium Sound” knob to the dark-blue velour and the cut-crystal details of the front turn signals, I loved everything about that Lincoln. That being said, I was a little concerned about what the car represented. My friend Ronnie’s father had a Lincoln. Ronnie was rich. He had his own Atari 800. Did this mean that I would eventually get an Atari 800 of my own, thus freeing me from the drudgery of memorizing my programs and typing them in on my school’s TRS-80 Model II, only to see them vanish into the ether after being run because I didn’t own an 8-inch floppy disk on which to save them? Was my family now rich, or were we the same as before, only with a nicer car for some reason?

Those of my readers who haven’t yet seen a 40th birthday won’t quite understand why I was so confused, but the rest of you will. In an era when most people swapped cars every few years, and when the manufacturers diligently preserved what were called the “social distances” before that phrase was co-opted into something else entirely, it was often possible to accurately guess almost everything about someone from the car he (or she) drove. The parochial school I attended at the time served a combination of old money, new cash, professorial dignity, and the so-called “Titans” of Columbus, Ohio. Scott’s dad drove a Ford Maverick; he was just getting by, and Scott didn’t have his own bicycle. Tom’s father drove a Mercedes-Benz 300D; they were unfathomably rich, with a house that had an actual secret passage between rooms. Erin’s mom had a betrunked Saab 900; she was a lecturer at the university, and Erin’s plaid skirt was somehow nicer than everyone else’s.

Beyond the obvious large distinctions, there were smaller ones between cars, and people, everywhere you looked. Dad had a Century because he was the junior partner in his business. One of his top salesmen also had a Buick Century wagon, but it was a Limited, with a V-8 engine. I pestered the old man about this, until Dad explained: it was a perk for the fellow being so good at the job, and Dad permitted the embarrassing (to me) distinction between that flashy red wagon and his own demure ice-blue, vinyl-rear-seat version because it made his salesman happy. Similarly, the nice lady next door to us had a Ninety-Eight, but it wasn’t a Regency because she was old and cautious.

The arrival of identical Town Cars did, in fact, signify something serious: Dad and his partner were on equal footing now, and they were about to make a last-ditch attempt to expand the firm. That Town Car lasted five long years and over 100,000 miles before things changed for the better again, at which point my father did a surprising thing: he abandoned the domestic luxury ladder and bought a black stick-shift Nissan Maxima SE. I’d asked him to do it, but I didn’t think he was actually going to do it, if you understand me. From there there was a string of Bimmers and Jaguars, and eventually a Lexus. Dad always had his thumb on the pulse of what other people were thinking and doing. His two- and three-car fleets were a diorama of the social changes happening in the country. Infiniti to Range Rover to Audi and beyond in the 21st century.

By then, of course, I was making my own choices. One of them was to buy my own blue Lincoln in 2018, when my son was just a little older than I’d been at the arrival of Dad’s Town Car. My purchase did not keep the little sprog up at night, nor did he draw any particular conclusions from it. He knew my MKT Ecoboost Reserve Elite was nicer than his mother’s Honda CR-V EX-L, but the prestige or social impact of it never crossed his mind. He lives in a world where the messaging of the automobile has almost entirely collapsed. Some of his friends have parents with Civics, others ride to school in a BMW X7. It’s all the same to him.

“How do you know if your friends are rich or poor?”

“Well, the poor ones have Chromebooks. And some of their parents have Acuras, I guess.” Score minus-one for Honda’s ground-breaking four-decade experiment in upscale branding, am I right?

Of course, the social-economic-automotive ladder I describe from my Bee Gees-era youth was entirely artificial in origin, coming from the astounding mind of Alfred Sloan and copied everywhere by nearly everyone. The “Sloan Plan” created a world where there was a new car for (nearly) everyone, each one being delivered with a complete set of social signifiers as standard equipment. The advertising was always perfectly on-message, and it never forgot that the purpose of advertising is to invent desire, not satisfy it. As an example, I doubt that the Oldsmobile Toronado was a particular favorite of self-made, immensely handsome 35-year-old millionaires. I never saw anyone but an old codger behind the wheel of one. Yet the excitement of a Toronado was that you might be mistaken, at a distance, for that sort of fellow.

What killed the Sloan Plan? Part of it was societal. The coasts decided, with the help of the “buff books,” that American cars were beneath contempt, so they gravitated to a menagerie of foreign brands among which even the most feckless had a fighting chance; my father’s second choice behind that Maxima was a Peugeot 505 Turbo. It did a young up-and-comer no good to spring for the Ninety-Eight Regency over the plain Ninety-Eight if all The People Who Matter considered Oldsmobile ownership, in general, to be on the same level of respectability as littering or watching The 700 Club.

At the same time, the domestics were abandoning strict Sloan-style adherence at the direct request of the dealers, who never looked more than about 90 days into the future and who therefore wanted everything from the Oldsmobile Firenza to the Chevrolet Traverse to the Lincoln Navigator. Their foreign competitors, meanwhile, were busy making sure that they, too, could cover every corner of the market. Back in 1981, Mercedes-Benz supplied just three chassis to American buyers: the W123 sedan/wagon/coupe, the W126 S-Class, and the R107 SL. The firm now offers six SUV choices, further divisible into “coupes” and whatnot, four sedan/coupe platforms, and three sporting cars. A quick scan of the Benz website shows 28 nameplates from which to choose.

Oh, Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes-Benz? But not a: GLA, GLB, GLC, A-Class, C-Class, CLA, or any of the other cheap ones. Alright, maybe one of the last C63 coupes with the turbo V-8, but still—my neighbors will think it’s a $37,000 car, not a $107,000 car. This is regrettable.

Let’s not neglect the fact that this astounding constellation of vehicular choices, in which BMW and Hyundai are engaged in full-line mortal combat across perhaps $70,000 worth of MSRP range, has been accompanied by an even more improbable increase in vehicle longevity and reliability. Of course, a new car lasts 100,000 miles with virtually no maintenance! It has to! Your loan is six years long!

Sixty years ago, a man might own a new car every year but be married at 23 to a lifelong romantic commitment. Today, the reverse is true; Tinder and Bumble provide you with a new companion every weekend, always riding in the same passenger seat of the same Jeep on which you have 62 (!!!) payments left. This was the final deconstruction of the Sloan Plan, because if we all keep the same car for five or six years it cannot possibly represent who we are at this precise moment, the same way a tattoo chosen at the age of 18 rarely gives you a clue as to who the 37-year-old single mother in front of you actually is when she shows you said tattoo.

Not that we, as human beings, have given up on trying to show everyone how prosperous and successful we are. We’re just doing it online now: by espousing the correct beliefs, the right thoughts, the culturally harmonious concepts. This is not my forte. No doubt you, the reader, can occasionally pick up a distasteful whiff of small business from what I write; I spent more than two decades living month to month as a self-employed person, dealing with the general public, paying my bills on time without a safety net of any type, and growing cynical as a result. By contrast, I have a wealthy friend who, like the Natelys in Catch-22, has never done anything for his money. He shames me with the perfect correctness of his online presence. He is always effortlessly for what is currently thought to be correct, and perpetually contemptuous of the appropriate targets, the same way that Julia yelled “Swine!” towards the telescreen presence of Emmanuel Goldstein at the precise moment when it would be best to be seen doing it.

Perhaps this explains why Tesla is the only true prestige automotive brand left in the world: it is both a consumer product and an affirmation of certain mandatory cultural touchstones. True, the iconoclastic behavior of its founder occasionally worries the people who have spent their lives building perfectly smooth and featureless online identities, but what are you gonna do, buy a Nissan LEAF? While it would be cringeworthy to brag about your new Rolls-Royce Cullinan to the fellow members of your apartment co-op, with Tesla the bragging isn’t just permissible, it’s expected. It doesn’t hurt that Teslas, like the Ninety-Eight Regencies of the Carter era, are understood to be somewhat ephemeral in nature. Who buys a used Tesla, one wonders?

I am told by many people who should know that the Porsche Taycan is a better car than the Tesla. Supposedly, the Mustang Mach-E is also better. But owning one of those cars is the social equivalent of stepping out of a party in 1995 to smoke a cigarette or throw a hamburger wrapper on the ground; it suggests that you haven’t entirely internalized the messages being delivered to you by all the right people and media. Buying something like a new S-Class or BMW 750i, to continue the metaphor, would be like making an openly bigoted comment, in your outdoor voice, at the same party. You’re really not with the program, my friend.

Don’t get the impression that I’m all that bitter about it. I not-so-secretly love the fact that the world’s leading prestige car is made in America. Never in a million years did I think that would ever happen again. I’ve idly considered ordering a “Plaid” Model S in lieu of future club-racing/401(k)/three-square-meals-a-day plans. My son would be impressed. He understands that Teslas are for rich people, at least. Who knows what he would demand in exchange. Let the record show that my father eventually gave in to my incessant prodding by driving that blue Lincoln to the computer store, where he did in fact purchase an Atari 800 like my friend Ronnie’s. Except it had a better graphic chip (GTIA vs. CTIA, all you 6502 hobbyists!) than Ronnie had. I was not shy in pointing this out. Human beings, like dogs, love a clearly defined hierarchy.

Three months ago, I splurged on something called an Alienware Aurora R11, a gaming computer with a powerful processor and graphics card. This made a bigger impression on the kid than my Lincoln ever did. He thinks we are rich now. I am running 150 frames per second in Call Of Duty: Warzone. This is more impressive than a Tesla, I think. But children, like “the street” in Carlito’s Way, are always watching, and it’s hard to keep up. Ask anyone whose Tesla doesn’t go to Plaid.

The post Avoidable Contact #109: They paved the Sloan Plan, and put up a Supercharger lot appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Welcome to The Manifold, our fresh daily digest of news and what’s happening in the car world.

Wing-free for free: 992 Porsche GT3 gets the Touring Package

Intake: Porsche’s seventh-generation 911 GT3 can now be ordered wing-free at no extra cost by ticking the Touring Package box. In lieu of the regular GT3’s huge rear downforce device, the Touring Package features a more subtle extending spoiler and a few other minor visual changes including a new understated grille, anodized-aluminum side-window trim, and a front fascia painted in the body color. Oh, and you get a GT3 Touring logo on the rear grille. The standard transmission is a seven-speed PDK, but buyers–except those poor souls in California with their exhaust noise limits—can also opt for a six-speed manual. The engine is the same naturally-aspirated 510-hp flat six as the “regular” GT3 and the price is $161,100 before delivery and options.

Exhaust: If the last GT3 Touring is anything to go by, this will be the 992 to add to your collection. 

Is June 24 Dino day?

Intake: Ferrari has put out a teaser film asking fans to put June 24 in their calendars. The video puts Esports racer David Tonizza behind the wheel of a simulator and asks him to define “Fun to Drive.” He talks about “when you deactivate the traction control and slide through every turn,” which does sound fun, but also “when you hit the rev-limiter just before shifting,” which simply sounds like a mistake. Don’t expect to see any footage of a car, but the video description does mention a “new revolutionary Prancing Horse sports car.”

Exhaust: The key words are “revolutionary” and “sports car,” suggesting that this will be the much-hyped new V-6 hybrid Ferrari. The big question that remains: Will it wear a Dino badge? Check back next week to find out.

Chips no mo’: Jeep introduces Gorilla Glass windshields for Gladiator and Wrangler

Intake: Jeep is preparing to offer a new Corning Gorilla Glass windshield option for Gladiator and Wrangler models, according to a report from moparinsiders.com. The flat, relatively upright front glass—part of what makes these Jeep icons so instantly recognizable—leaves them prone to chipping and cracking, whether from small stones tossed up by passing cars on the highway, or by debris flung by fellow off-roaders. Using the same chemical treatments as the glass found on most smart phones, these new windshields could boast up to three times more impact resistance over standard glass. According to the report, opting for the Gorilla Glass windshields will set customers back an extra $95. It will also only be offered on higher-dollar variants of both the Wrangler and the Gladiator. Wrangler models include Willys, Sahara, Rubicon, Rubicon 392, Sahara 4xe, and Rubicon 4xe. Gladiator models include Willys, Overland, Rubicon, and Mojave.

Exhaust: They can be a hassle to deal with depending on your specific daily-driver insurance plan, and if left unchecked, they have the potential to spider-web out to your whole windshield. If it works as advertised, Gorilla Glass windshields will give Wrangler and Gladiator owners a bit more protection and confidence to  go about doing what Jeeps do best: slinging mud and getting dirty. That the option will cost less than $100 makes this news all the better.

34 years later, WRC may return to the U.S.

Intake: Though Washington State’s Olympus rally is still active, the international WRC series has been absent from its stages since 1988, when Miki Biasion’s Lancia Delta Integrale took top honors. Now, WRC plans to return to U.S. shores in 2022, as FIA Rally director Yves Matton tells motorsport.com. Don’t expect a championship round, though, Matton says: A roadshow or non-points event would be the first step. Should the WRC set rubber on U.S. soil in 2022, we’d get an earful of the series’ first-ever hybrid powertrains, which ditch the active-style center diff and use electric motors to preserve their all-important AWD capability.

Exhaust: Rally fans have for years clamored for a U.S. WRC stage. Of the three manufacturers currently in the series (Hyundai, Toyota, and M-Sport Ford), the increased visibility to American audiences would be particularly valuable for Hyundai’s fast-growing N performance sub-brand—even if the i20 upon which its WRC entry is based isn’t sold here.

Lincoln lays out roadmap for all-electric lineup by 2030

Intake: Lincoln just announced its intentions to go all-in on electric propulsion by 2030, with the first such vehicle arriving next year. The battery-powered vehicle is planned to be a global model, possibly sharing design elements with the China’s Lincoln Zephyr Reflection Preview sedan concept unveiled in April. Lincoln suggests that half of its global volume will be zero-emissions vehicles by the mid-2020s, culminating in a fully electric lineup in the following decade.

Exhaust: All of this may sound radical, but keep in mind that Volvo made roughly this same commitment three months ago. Like it or not, the transition seems like a foregone conclusion, especially given the positive initial reaction to the electrified F-150 Lightning. Lincoln needs a partner to its perennial profit champ, the Lincoln Navigator, and EV power is likely well-suited to the brand’s quiet American luxury personality.

The post Porsche’s 992-gen GT3 Touring arrives, Ferrari teases hybrid V-6, Jeep adopts Gorilla Glass appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Welcome to What If? Quick Take, a new feature from imaginative illustrator Abimelec Arellano and Hagerty. While the cars shown in our regular What If? features are full 3D renderings and can appear in any number of images, the Quick Takes are off-the-cuff expressions of Abimelec’s imagination. Each one is accompanied by a short story. Enjoy! — Jack Baruth

In his dream, Bob was a child again, fighting with a boy on the playground who had spent all of fourth grade bullying him, shoving him around, taking his lunch money. It was 1955 and he was ten years old at Saint Louis School, his back in the wet dirt of the playground, the nuns who were so omnipresent with a slap of the ruler when he was inattentive in class now seemingly vanished into thin air, and Billy Thompson shaking him hard by the shoulders, yelling in a Puerto-Rican-accented woman’s voice, “They’ve attacked New York City!”

He woke with a vomit-tasting gasp of apnea to see the face of his wife, Juanita, just inches from him. She repeated herself: “They’ve attacked New York City!”

“The Russians?” It was all he could come up with, this close in his mind to a recollection of a childhood spent hiding under desks and hearing his parents agonize over Cuba.

“No,” Juanita keened, “the terroristas! They flew two planes into the World Trade Center!” He blinked and looked around. They were still in the grand suite at the Bellagio. In the years since the money really came, when his mild and somewhat predatory insights into the real-estate business paid off and he started banking more in management fees than he did in his own rental income, the Bellagio had become a third home for him, Juanita, and his trio of sullen, obese adult children. They had the spread in Sewickley, the second home in Naples, but it was often easiest to pull the NetJet share and drag the whole family to the Bellagio. It was pre-packaged, like his condominium builds for investors. You paid one check. Almost everything could be charged to the hotel.

And did they ever charge! His son was a coke addict with a taste for expensive bail-bond incidents, while his daughters had both married grifters whose repugnance at their appearance and behavior was easily overcome with make-work six-figure jobs in the family business. The grandchildren were listless, unlikely to succeed, the detritus of two first-rate private schools. When they all met at the big house for parties Bob would look at their grubby hands fingering various electronic devices even as they shoved more food into their mouths, and he couldn’t help but be depressed at the contrast between his own hard-luck steel-town youth and how his progeny lived. And Juanita! She had been hard as nails and twice as sharp, a lithe beauty who shimmered in beads and dashiki at concerts by the Dead or the Allman Brothers. Now she was old and grizzled like him, but twice as loud.

She was in his face, screaming about the terroristas. It was too much to bear. “Are they coming for Las Vegas next?” he asked. “Because if not, I’d like to go to sleep.”

“You cannot sleep!” she screamed. “We are at the top of a building!” It was true; they were on the Bellagio’s highest floor, far above the gambling rubes and the Chihuly ceiling. Were they actually at risk? He thought not. “Then go downstairs,” he snapped, “and leave me be.”

Around noon he woke up again, the remnants of last night’s wine gone from his head, to find a family council taking place outside his bedroom door. It was Juanita, Bobby Junior, Janie, Felicia, and Felicia’s two kids, aged five and seven. Thankfully, both the husbands were back home in Pittsburgh “taking care of the business”, a euphemism for harassing the female apartment-complex managers, because Bob could only imagine what sort of deeply stupid ideas and comments they would have had in this situation.

“Dad, Mom and I called NetJets. They …” and this is where Felicia started to sob, “… won’t take us home. They say all the flights are grounded. It could be weeks, Dad. Aiden and Cooper need to be in class on Monday! What are we going to dooooo?”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t we get the plane?”

“Because,” Janie screamed, “nobody can just GET a plane, Dad! Our country is under assault!!” There was visible spittle in the air between his two daughters.

“Everybody just SHUT UP,” Bob commanded, and they did. “Okay. Listen. We’ll rent a couple cars and drive home. You kids won’t like this, but plenty of people drive home from Vegas, and most of them even get home alive. Your mother and I drove all over the country when we were young.”

“We have already tried that, Bob!” Juanita was as agitated as the kids. “The rental cars, they all disappear while you sleep!” There was a long quiet moment in the suite, with only Felicia’s shuddering tears audible. What to do here? The idea came to Bob in an instant. He was famed for his decisiveness in meetings, for his unfailing adherence to his idea of the moment.

“I assume,” he snarled, “that we can still get a cab, so one of you should try being useful for once, and call for one.” Four hours later, he wired $60,396.20 from the little “merchant bank” that he’d set up to grind another half-percent in credit-card fees out of his renters and investors, thus becoming the owner of a new-but-leftover 2001 Lincoln Transatlantic, which he drove back to the Bellagio awning with no small sense of satisfaction. He’d actually had his choice of five Transatlantics, all of them a sober livery-ish black. Two of them had the standard-equipment 6.8-liter Triton V-10, but he chose the best-equipped of the diesel-powered ones, figuring that demand for diesel fuel might actually decline on the roads in the days to come while that for gasoline soared.

The Transatlantic was obviously a light makeover of the Excursion that had debuted for 2000; when the public reaction to the oversized, Super-Duty-based SUV had been positive, the Lincoln dealers had screamed for their share of the cut. The resulting vehicle was basically an Excursion Limited with the Navigator grille and not even a chance to take the overworked 5.4-liter V-8 that was the miserable base engine for Excursions. Given how well the Navigator printed money for the Ford Motor Company, the Transatlantic was expected to swell the coffers even more …

… but it hadn’t. The people who bought 3/4-ton SUVs thought the Ford name carried more equity than Lincoln, particularly in Texas and other blue-collar states, while the Lincoln buyers didn’t see the point of spending another ten grand over a Navigator for something that wasn’t as pleasant to drive. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring it to the market with the full F-250 suspension, but the market research had talked a lot about people towing really big boats or Airstreams.

There was also a bit of socioeconomic and possibly racial animus involved, something that Juanita wasted no time in expressing when she caught sight of the Lincoln truck outside the door of the remarkably chastened and quieted casino. “You couldn’t get a Lexus, like we have at home? This looks like something that would be driven by—” Bob cut her off firmly.

“—something that can get seven people home in comfort, and their luggage, unless you want to leave that behind, princess? Our LX570 can’t hold the kids and the luggage. Don’t make me choose. Now let’s get loaded up and on the road.” With the third seat up to hold the already-whining grandchildren, the cargo area was packed floor to ceiling with Louis Vuitton bags, bulging at the seams from the pressure of having been shoved in by two hale and hearty Bellagio valets while Juanita cursed them for every perceived scuff or scratch.

They had about 2200 miles between them and home. The directions were absurdly simple—take 15 to Route 70 then drive to Pittsburgh—but Bob thought it would take the better part of three days. “Call the travel agent from the road,” he barked, “and let’s get going.” It was a relief when the Lincoln’s hurricane air conditioning blew some comfort onto their seven large-ish bodies under the Vegas sun. At least this Transatlantic had no moonroof, which was not unusual. No Excursion had a sunroof, since it hadn’t been engineered into the SuperDuty platform, so in its haste to get the thing to market Ford hadn’t bothered to make it work, and that lack of interest continued into the Transatlantic. The headliner was a depressingly cheap beige mouse fur, and the interior was a mess of massive plastic knobs in the same beige, with rough-feeling white labels printed on where appropriate. Bob wished Lexus made something this big.

Juanita’s travel agent never answered the phone. It was dark by the time they got to Colorado. Their two truck-stop fill-ups so far had been disastrous, diesel fuel spilling over Bob’s loafers and pants while Bobby Junior offered courtside commentary. The grandchildren had bladders the size of walnuts and they needed to snack constantly. Their parents had been scarcely better; nobody could agree on what to eat for dinner, while Juanita had been furious that there didn’t seem to be time for proper-sit down meals. The Translantic’s interior already stank from a half-dozen kinds of spilled fast food.

“We have to find some rooms and stop now,” Bob declared. He pulled off at the exit just east of Vail and they struck out at two hotels before getting lucky at the third. It was nearly midnight. Felicia had been crying for the better part of two hours, while Bobby Junior kept demanding extra bathroom breaks over and above those wanted by the kids, returning from each with a manic gleam in his eye and a rapid-fire monologue about ideas that, you know, Dad, you could take advantage of if you wanted to be a little more on the cutting edge of what’s happening in real estate in other cities, places where people are really on top of things.

They took four rooms for a total of about two grand and tucked in as best they could. That evening, Bob once again dreamed he was back in the playground of his childhood. Billy Thompson would push the back of his head into the dirt, screaming at him that he was a total jerk and didn’t deserve to be at the school, because he was a charity case and everyone knew it. In his dream, as in real life, he had been paralyzed by fear and unable to fight back.

He awoke again to Juanita in his face, with a thousand questions. How close were they to Sewickley? Thousands of miles. Did he understand that Aiden had special meal needs that were not being met? Yes, he did. Was he really going to let Bobby Junior treat Janie that way, bringing up her husband’s indiscretions in front of the children? What could he do? He shaved and dressed in silence, then left Juanita behind him in the room with the intention of finding some breakfast.

The hotel restaurant was nearly deserted and the service people looked listless, scared. Two more days of this, Bob thought. Then the phone rang in his pocket. It was Felicia, already screaming when he answered.

“DAD! Cooper is having some sort of peanut allergy reaction to the room service, and Aiden won’t come out of the bathroom, and …”

“Please hold,” Bob said, and flipped the phone shut. Walking briskly out of the hotel, he caught the eye of the doorman. “Get me a taxi, now. Tell them just to start driving once I get in.” Once in the back seat, he called Juanita. “Honey,” he explained, “I love all of you so much, but this is just a little more than I can bear. You and the kids just get home whenever you can, and I’ll see you there.” Stretching his long, heavy frame in the back seat, he motioned for the driver’s attention. “Say, pal, what do you folks have around here in the way of a Lexus dealer?”

The post What If? Quick Take: 2001 Lincoln Transatlantic appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Since 1998, one name has remained steadfast in Lincoln’s product lineup: Navigator. Is it a luxury truck with a long roof? A rolling couch? However you slice it, the SUV responsible for kicking off an American full-size luxury SUV arms race has, throughout its lifetime, often felt like little more than a thin veneer of luxury over the more everyman Ford Expedition body. That all changed in 2018. Lincoln stepped up its game with the fourth-generation Navigator by taking the world-class interior design philosophy that debuted on the Continental sedan and applying it to the modern-day luxobarge: the big-box SUV. Still, Navigator sales remain well shy of its crosstown rival, the Escalade.

Context is key, so let’s reacquaint ourselves with the current competition, namely the two stalwarts from The General. You know them well: GMC’s Yukon (specifically the Denali trim) and as previously mentioned, Cadillac’s beloved Escalade, long the sales king of the segment. Each is brand-new within the last year, riding on a new frame headlined by the addition of—at long last—independent rear suspension. Since 2005, the Escalade has outsold the Navigator every year on the trot, often times at a two-to-one pace. The debut of the fourth-generation Navigator seems to have drawn Lincoln no closer to that top step, selling 18,656 in its best year (2019) while the Escalade moved nearly twice that volume—35,424—in that same time period. Despite the three-year head start, the Navigator is somehow still playing catch-up. What gives?

To find out, we flung around Michigan’s lower peninsula in a decked-out Navigator. Our $106,115 tester was a top-trim Black Label machine, laden with all the features that lesser trims—Standard and Reserve—have to tack on piecemeal. To the Black Label’s $99,420 base price (including $1295 destination fee), just one package was added: The Special Edition Package, new for 2021. For $6695, you get a black roof, black grille, black sideview mirror caps, and—well you get the point. Black rooflines are certainly trendy right now, but we prefer a single color for body and roof—this test vehicle’s Flight Blue especially.

Two-tone look aside, the Navigator is a remarkably handsome freight car, especially stacked up against the Yukon and Escalade. The Denali expresses luxury in the form of a biker gang’s worth of chrome slapped onto the front end. The Escalade is not much different, aside from its sharper, more squared-off lines. The Navigator’s softer front end still carries plenty of visual gravitas, but the effect is much less ostentatious. The rest of the exterior follows its cues from the front end: strong horizontal lines but nothing too angular. There are echoes of the Ford Expedition with which it shares a roofline and second-row door, but nothing that would offend someone dashing off a hefty down payment. The whole business rides on Ford’s T3 platform and boasts independent rear suspension, which the GM siblings received just last year.

The interior is all-world great, one of the few truly lavish cabins to come from an American marque in recent years. Most notable is the manner in which Lincoln invites customers to choose details. Our tester wore the Chalet theme, one of three atmospheric flavors offered to Black Label buyers (Yacht Club and Destination being the other two.) Pick Chalet and you’ll get special Alpine Venetian leather seats, a matching creamy suede headliner, Silverwood interior accents, and plush carpeting thick enough to backstroke through. The Navigator may fall short on tech, especially in light of the Escalade’s dazzling 38 inches of OLED screen, but Cadillac’s commodities-grade plastic below knee-level is nowhere to be found in the big Lincoln. Plushness trumps pixels.

In that same vein, the Navigator’s familiar controls just plain work. It’s hard to overstate how much more satisfying and straightforward it is to shift the Lincoln into gear, compared to the Escalade’s bulbous console-mounted joystick. The Navigator’s four push tabs—P, R, N, D—slot perfectly into the horizontal line spanning the lower half of the dashboard. Lincoln calls it a “piano key shifter,” and it’s easy to see why; getting a move on is as simple as striking middle C on a Steinway. Then there’s the seats; 30-way adjustable seats can feel like paralysis by analysis at first, but once you set your memory settings the deed is done and the “Perfect Position” nickname feels earned. Second-row seating is passable for teenage kids and dinner companions alike, and the third row offers an impressive 42.3 inches of legroom against the Escalade’s 34.9. Our tester lacked both the optional second-row center console (a no-cost option) and the rear-seat entertainment screens, a $2000 option.