My dad, an accountant, had always bought Chevies, and fairly low content Bel Aires at that. Then during a Chicago snowstorm in 1967, he and my mom brought home this beautiful turbine bronze Plymouth Fury III convertible- his “midlife crisis” car, I guess.
Not a Sport Fury, and only a 318, but what a beauty. It became my high school graduation present in 1973. Wish I’d kept it. By the way, his occasional love of ragtops would crop up now and then- his final car was a Mustang convert, purchased when he was 90!