“It’s about the journey, not the destination”. Tell that to a family of six, one of them seven months pregnant, on the third day being jammed into in a black ’62 Fairlane on a sweltering hot day in July, windows closed and literally glued to clear plastic seat covers. If it hadn’t been for the glamor of the destination (New York City), my father might well have met an early demise at the hands of mutineers somewhere in Ohio. Hey Pop! We’re in America now, where folks ride in big yank tanks; not something European sized. Time for a bit of assimilation! Ford’s decision to introduce the Mercedes-sized Fairlane in 1962 was highly ill-timed, from our perspective.
My father was recruited to the University of Iowa Hospital in 1960, and shortly after our arrival, he bought a used 1954 Ford Mainline sedan (1953 Ford CC here). Six year-old cars back then were already geriatric; but the ’54 Ford V8 baby-blue whale was roomy for a family of six, and did the job, mostly, except for not wanting to break its slumber on cold winter mornings. Who did? But it was feeling its age, so one day in December of 1961, my father unexpectedly showed up with tha black Fairlane, bare-bones except for the brand new 221 CID V8 and the Ford-O-Matic. I had very mixed emotions.
Yes, it was a new car; not just factory fresh, but also a totally new creature from Detroit: the first intermediate-sized car from the Big Three. Sure, Ramblers of the times were essentially mid-sized cars, and perhaps the Studebaker Lark should best be considered one too. And it was the remarkable success of the Ramblers that undoubtedly inspired Ford to take the plunge with their new Fairlane.
But I hold a grudge against Ford’s decision; if they hadn’t made it in ’62, we’d have been riding in a full-size Ford for sure. Unless of course he had bought a Falcon…Nooo!
Keep in mind, this was just two years after Ford’s smash success with the Falcon. And just as the Falcon was the basis for the Mustang in 1964, so it also sired the Fairlane. In fact, it would be fair to say that the Fairlane was really just a stretched Falcon, the kind of thing done routinely nowadays.
And just to confuse matters even more, the 1960 Mercury Comet slotted in between the two in length, although it used the narrower width Falcon body, its wheelbase lengthened from 109.5″ to 114″. The Fairlane added another 1.5″ to the wheelbase, and had a bit of extra width. But the Fairlane and Comet sure did look mighty similar. That really kept me scratching my head back then; just what was the relationship of these three? Well, Ford was ahead of the times, and if you wonder where Lee Iacocca got his inspiration for endless variations and different lengths for all of those Chrysler K-cars, here it is. History inevitably repeats itself.
So why wasn’t I as excited as I could/should have been as a nine year old car fanatic when Dad shows up with the first brand new car ever? Let me count the ways, starting with the neighbors across the street. They had a matching brace of 1960 Bonnevilles snuggled up side-by-side in the driveway; a black hardtop sedan for him, and a navy blue wagon for her. I obsessed on them, and had my heart set on a set of 1962s for the Niedermeyer livery. The fact that the car-nut in the family wasn’t even consulted alone was hard enough to take, but that pattern was to repeat itself endlessly, except for two notable exceptions.
Given the fact that we weren’t exactly a touchy-feely sort of family, I definitely had my eye on a wagon with a third seat for a little elbow room. In 1962, my sister was fourteen, my older brother twelve, and my younger brother three. The painful reality is that the Fairlane is roughly about the size of today’s Civic or Corolla. Extended skin contact with siblings was not my idea of how to spend two days straight on our vacation trips to Colorado. And before I forget, nobody ever rode in the front middle. That meant four in the back, along with the fifth-soon-to be; we had to do skin contact; he didn’t.
Our Fairlane was utterly stripped of any excess ornamentation, worthy of taxi-cab service. But in my father’s eye, the cheap seat upholstery was something to be well preserved, so he ordered a set of clear plastic seat covers from Fingerhut, the perfectly smooth ones, not the more expensive ones with raised bumps on them to create channels to drain the rivulets of sweat away. No, that would have been extravagant. We literally had to peel our thighs off those seats in the summer, given the short shorts of the era.
That Christmas, my present was a new wrist watch. After a few weeks, my skin underneath it started turning greenish-blue, like the verdi gris of weathered copper. And the back of the watch was all tarnished. As was his role in my life, my older brother clued me in: the el-cheapo watch was a free spiff from Fingerhut for having bought that set of plastic seat covers. As if I needed another reminder of the old man’s thrifty ways.
that’s why he always carried three pens
It gets worse. My dear father’s quirks were about as outsized as his talents. He had a severe issue with drafts, especially around his neck. And he was always cold; rarely would you see him without a cardigan (or two), even in the summer. So only the front windows were allowed to be opened a tiny crack, even on the hottest summer days. The back windows: rolled all the way shut, least some turbulence be created. Air conditioning? What’s that? So that’s how we spent two days each way driving to Colorado every summer, and on other trips. But it gets worse yet!
try that for three days straight in July – with the windows closed
In 1964, we were all almost three years older and much bigger, and my mother was seven months pregnant, and we all crammed in for a three day torture session to the New York World’s Fair, a blistering sunburn on a Long Island beach, and then back again. If a child was forced today to endure what we did on that trip, jammed into that hot black Fairlane and the resulting expressions of emotions it engendered, particularly my father, the Child Protective Services would have cut that trip well short, somewhere in Ohio at a gas station, I’d say. Father, somehow I still found love for you , despite the miserable cramped black Fairlane you tortured us/yourself with. Didn’t you know you could buy a full-sized wagon for just a few hundred dollars more? Maybe a year-old one even, given your thrift.
He finally (almost) tumbled to that in 1965, when the Fairlane was traded in on a 1965 Dodge Coronet eight-seat wagon; technically still a mid-sized car, but a huge improvement. Since its arrival roughly coincided with my sister’s departure from the family fold, skin contact issues took a huge step forward. Kids today have no idea what we endured back then. And kids in the Depression would undoubtedly have thought us to be spoiled babies. And so on…
Enough Niedermeyer family carma. The 1962 Fairlane had a good debut, but not anywhere near the success that the 1960 Falcon had been. But then that was a monster, selling almost a half million in its first year. Nevertheless, it was another coup for Ford in its ability to expand at the expense of GM in the early-mid sixties, by expanding into niches that hadn’t been exploited fully yet. But when GM unleashed its A-Body assault in 1964, the Fairlane quickly became a runner-up.
Undoubtedly, the Fairlane was developed and built on the cheap, given its Falcon bones. The only noteworthy thing was its premiere of Ford’s brand new small-block Windsor V8. Why the hell Ford chose to build it in a tiny 221 cubic inch (3.6 L) version, with a modest 145 (gross) hp is hard to fathom. By mid-year, the larger 260 CID version already debuted as an option. And a year and a half later, the definitive 289 replaced them all. Ford liked to keep the boring machines guessing.
The little 221 was a smooth and tidy mill, but it was no more powerful than the Chevy 230 or the Chrysler 225 slant sixes, and because it had eight small cylinders, it intrinsically had a less favorable torque curve. After 1963, the 221 inch V8 was gone; an oddity of Ford history. But the fact that our stripper Fairlane at least had the little V8 was its redeeming grace. That badge on the front fender meant more to my self esteem during that difficult period in my life than my father will ever know. I might not be who I am today because of it. Thanks, Dad!
Mom and lil’ brother Karl
My sister used to come to pick me up from grade school every Wednesday to drive me and a friend to the all-city orchestra rehearsal. On the one slightly longer stretch of road near the school we would goad her to floor it. She obliged, but we had to floor and kick-down our imaginations to experience some sort of actual visceral accelerative sensations. With the two-speed Ford-O-Matic, the little V8 whispered rather than bellowed its efforts to accelerate the fairly light 2800 lb sedan.
The Fairlane may have tortured us on long trips, but it never complained. It served its three years faithfully, and the seats were still like new under the clear plastic seat covers. Not that it made a difference at trade-in time; bargaining was not one of Pop’s talents either.
This forlorn Fairlane 500 sat in front of an old house near downtown, owned by a couple of young sisters who live in the upstairs apartment. I know this because it had a For Sale sign on it, and I talked to the guy who lives below them. He was tired of looking at it, and told me that they would probably take anything for it, since the next stop is the junk yard if no one steps up. He encouraged me, eager to rid himself of the eyesore. I though about it briefly, but then I remembered that other saying: you can’t go home again. And even if I could, I’m not so sure I’d want to.
A story I heard long ago- the Windsor was a new series of engines, with thinwall casting & light weight. It was sized @ 221 cubic inches as some sort of tribute to the flathead V8s, 221 ci being the size of the early ones.
Buick/GM had the smaller 215 ci aluminum V8, usually with a new-type questionable automatic transmission. It would be interesting to see performance comparison with the V8 Fairlane.
The 6-cylinder Fairlane/Meteors used a lot of Falcon hardware; the V8 F/M had a lot of different & more heavy-duty hardware- axles, brakes, etc.
These did lead to the cross-pollination to the V8 Falcons & the later Mustangs.
The story I heard was that Ford engineers picked 221 ci because it was the displacement cutoff for their favorite class of powerboat racing. As you rightly observed, however, that class probably existed because of the stock displacement of the 85hp Ford flathead V8 before 1942.
I don’t want to go back but I do like that car. It was a Ford time and I was still stuck on Flatheads until 1960. I skipped right to 1955 with the 272 but I still like me some flatties. Feels like 1960 here in texas with my AC broken but I bet I fix that before the weather becomes brutal.
My 1st car was a 1963 2-door Fairlane with the 200 six and 2-speed tranny.
Needless to say I had to customize it 70′s style. Wide tires, air shocks, repaint,
cherry bomb, tach..loved that little car. One valve job was the only big mechanical fix.
Bought it for $350.00 sold for $600 years later.
To think then the shrunked 1962 “full-size” “plucked chicken” Dodge Dart/Polara and Plymouth Belvedere/Fury was the same size as the mid-size Farlane. I guess the design of the Fairlane helped for the sales. At least they improved the design of them over the years to morph into intermediates Coronet and Belvedere/Satellite for ’65.
Your posts containing Niedermeyer (and not the Neidermeyer) family stories are among my favorites, they have an almost “Christmas Story” feel to them which is a high compliment in my book, more please
Ha, so it’s not just me who thinks that.,how funny…
The autobio stuff often reminds me of “Christmas Story”. In fact, last year when I watched it again, I kept thinking of how Paul would’ve told us more about that Buick.:)
I can’t tell you how enjoyable I find these articles. It’s like reading a good book, once you really dig in it’s over.
I’m curious about that 3 wheeled rig in the background of the 65 Wagon pic. Is that a little Milk Truck?
Mail delivery. We did a post on one of these recently.
Pieces like this are the reason we all hang around here at CC. Thanks for sharing a great story with us. I presume that the folks with the surfboards in the Pontiac ad are another sighting of the now-famous Not-Niedermeyers? For that matter, they could have been the Not-Cavanaughs, too. Someday you will have to clue us in on why Ford V8s spoke so loudly to your father during his early years in this country.
You had me laughing out loud at the seat covers. My 59 Fury had a set of these, and perfectly preserved upholstery below after twenty years. Don’t think that freespending parents would have helped, though. My family’s new 64 Cutlass was plenty deluxe, right down the the extra-cost vinyl seats (in very dark green). All the seams and graining did was to make the red marks on the back of your legs more interesting.
I have plenty of memories travelling in the back of that Cutlass. At least we had the windows down (and it was only two of us in the back). But the windows down was not always a picnic either, particularly if your dad smoked. Occupying the seat behind Dad often resulted in periodic applications of cigarette ash.
“Occupying the seat behind Dad often resulted in periodic applications of cigarette ash”. LOL, can I ever relate to this. What doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger, or scarred for life, one of those
Hmm, now that you mention it, my windup-windowed 1960 Lincoln had one of those seat covers on the back seat. The clear vinyl looked as if it had started to bond with the factory upholstery on the top of the back seat, so I didn’t try to remove it.
Those seat covers look positively painful. Hoo boy!
Thanks for your continued Auto-Biography. Great stories from a great storyteller.
My bother Dean had a 62 Fairlane 4 door when I was kid, with the same 221 V8. His was that beige metallic. Kind of a slug though. But I thought even then it was reasonably sized car. I’d love 63 Sports Coupe with a 289/4 speed!
His twin, Dennis, had a 61 4 door Fairlane 500 (?) full size with a 390/ 3 on-the-three.
My grandparent’s ’66 Tempest (Sprint 6!) had the “deluxe” bumpy seat covers. The bumps really didn’t help any, Paul… When I got the car years later, one of the first things I did was strip those torture devices out, and the seat fabric still looked factory fresh… Since I had tendencies toward car sickness as a young boy, and this was the favored car for extended family trips to the Great-Grands, it’s probably a good thing those seats were hermetically sealed.
Great yarn Paul your dad sounds like mine brought up on nothing during the great depression and schooled how to waste nothing. I always liked the Compact Fairlanes as they were called here this is where Ford sourced the suspension for the Mustang not the Falcon its where Ford OZ got the stronger parts to improve their Falcon so it could handle potholes and tram lines.
For context, the we had the 1959 Ford called the Fairlane which was produced through to 1963 when it was replaced, and is known as the Tank Fairlane, for obvious reasons! The locally produced Fairlane was a fairly smooth transition from these.
I don’t mind the mid-size Fairlane, but I prefer the 63-64 models to the awkward looking 62, they look like the full-size cars which are great, in a more manageable size. I think they only sold the sedans here, but I’d actually go for a wagon or fastback if I had to make the choice.
Your dad’s Fairlane sounds like the sort of car my father would have bought if I was about 25 years older – The absolute cheapest midsize or “senior compact” sedan from the #1 or 2 manufacturer, which meant Corona/Camry or Accord by ’80s/’90s. The earliest cars still had vinyl upholstery and no A/C, just automatic, floormats and mudflaps. And don’t forget the useless Rusty Jones undercoating! He was also convinced that factory or dealer-installed radios were a ripoff and that he could install a “better” radio from the Crutchfield catalog for less; This was largely true, but it usually required about six months worth of motoring silence before he finally got around to putting the radio in.
The one upshot was that he used to trade the cars in after 5 years, right after they were paid off. So we had the cheapest cars on the block, but they were always pretty new. 5 years turned into 10+ around the time I left for college and the old man currently drivings an aging Camry with keyless entry and a power driver’s seat…it seemed like a luxury car when he got it.
Looks like your father should’ve invested in a nice scarf. Would’ve solved a lot of draft problem.
Also, it seems like a minivan with separate rear a/c blower (and separate controls for such) would be ideal for your dad and his family. Kids can turn the a/c full blast in the rear, and he could set the front blower to off, and enjoy draft-free motoring. I guess there weren’t such vehicles back then, when even a single-blower a/c was not common.
I wonder what the younger you would’ve think when you saw today’s typical minivan ads, with separate captain’s chairs for each kids, each with its own TV monitors and headphone, not to mention its own a/c outlet… Especially during those hot summer trip… And knowing that those kids are probably still saying “Are we there yet?”…
Hitchhiking to the west coast in 1963, an old guy picked me up in a new one with the 221 engine. He was sleepy and wanted me to drive which I did. However, it became appreciably noisier after 65 mph and he would always wake up as soon as I exceeded that speed. I had a 63 Dart at the time and thought that with the exception of the engine, the Dart was the more desirable car.
Many of us had fathers like yours, the sometimes absurd lengths they went to in the name of thrift neverthless brought us financial security that few have today.
By coincidence the Ford Falcon had a 221ci 6-cyl engine in 1968-70 in Australia
I grew up thinking it was natural to have some sort of protective seatcovers. My father’s 64 Biscayne had homemade covers made out of canvas or cotton muslin. When he traded in the car for his beloved 72 Polara 2dr HT, the old Chevy’s seats were like new, while the car itself was delapidated beyond repair.
My mother washed those covers and they resided on the Polara until I returned from the service and bought a black vinyl front seat cover. It cost about $ 4. Every summer, I’d clean and polish the car for Dad when I was on plant shutdown. The seat covers would come off for vacuuming, and I’d cruise around without them, a real treat. Then back on again.
In about 1978, I removed the covers for the annual cleanup and to my horror, I found the driver’s side had a few rips. At that point, the covers came off for good. By 1984, the front seat was in tatters, and the metal springs and frame were broken. Burlap sacks were stuffed into the seat, but I remember ripping a few pairs of pants.
Dad loved that car, even when I bought a mint 75 Eldo (in 1986) to replace his Dodge. He kept the old Dodge until 1987 when he was hit from behind, while taking the car to his mechanic.
My grandmother would buy a couple of pairs of cheap terry-towelling seat covers for my grandfather’s farm ute (Subaru Brumby aka Brat), every so often they would be swapped for a clean set & washed, but only a few times before they became so threadbare they would no longer protect the seat. It kept the seat fabric in very good shape.
Similarly one of the first tasks he did when he bought a new ute was remove the chrome/stainless trim around the edge of the bed, and replace it with a set of angle iron he had made up complete with tie down hooks. He also had a set of pipe racks and a small stock crate for transporting a couple of sheep or a ram. All this would get transferred from one vehicle to the next, he had Subarus for probably 15 years.
Reading Anthony’s comment below I’m reminded of a trip in a 1976 Chrysler Galant (Dodge Colt over there), stuck in the back seat between my sisters in a baby seat and a booster – not much room left! I wasn’t allowed to ride in the front because it was safer in the back seat – and sure enough a rock thrown up shattered the non-laminated windshield. Suddenly I was no longer unhappy to be in the back seat!
I had forgotten about those old terry toweling seat covers. For some reason we never had them in the Kingswood. We had them in the Hillman Hunter before the Kingswood and in both of Dad’s Ford Escort work vans. If ever a car needed them it was the Kingswood. Those dark brown seats on hot Aussie days. Not a good combination. Eventually we (me, my brother and my sister) worked out our Beach Towels helped eradicate the problem
Thanks for the story Paul, every time I read about the your family trips in the Fairlane, I am automatically propelled back to mid 1970′s Australia. I am in the back of a white HQ Holden Kingswood Station Wagon with brown vinyl bench seats (front and back), brown vinyl floor, no air conditioning, three on the tree and a 6 cylinder engine. It is the middle of summer, we are on a long trip and there always a heatwave and a traffic jam. My parents owned the car out of necessity because it was all they could really afford getting a new business off the ground. It got us around and it was ever reliable. None of us missed it when it was traded for a new Datsun Skyline with velour seats, carpet and air conditioning. It was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen.
Paul, thanks for this. Timing couldn’t be better. Wife, two kids and I are about to begin a road trip in our midsize Ford sedan. If I get any whining about spending a few days in an ’06 Fusion, I’ll just recount your tale of woe, with heavy emphasis on all the unwelcome skin contact!
Mid-60′s, riding in Grandma’s ’58 Buick. Plastic seat covers. All four of us grandkids dressed in our best for our annual lunch at the shore with Gram. Although it was the usual hot July, she wore her furs. Her stop-and-go driving style and that Buick air suspension always brought several lunches forward.
In light of your Dad’s recent transition, as always great story Paul.
What I wouldn’t give for one last ride with Gram, or Mom and Dad, in the car….
I stumbled on your site looking for some information about a car I was offered. I have been reading all morning, mesmerized. This one prompted my posting, as I was laughing out loud at the plastic seatcovers and skin contact! My grandfather had a Rambler in the late 60′s. He was a hunter, and had a hound dog. He had a couple of camps, the furthest which was a 2 hour drive away. My two younger brothers and I would visit in the summer and we’d all go stay at camp for a week. The dog had to go too, both for the exercise and spiritual “vacation”, so pappy put those covers over the seats. July/August, 3 sweaty pre-teen boys arm-to-arm, glued to the seats, and throw in a slobbering, smelly hound!
Funny how we’d give it all up today to get back that old misery!
I attended university in Germany. Guess what? You dad’s quirks are typical German.
Germans wear sweaters, year ’round, regardless of temperatures. Germans hate drafts and always ride on trains or in cars with windows – closed. It doesn’t matter how warm, windows in classrooms, stores, restaurants, anything with a window – are closed. Ice cubes are forbidden dangers that can cause some kind of serious problem if you use too many and your drinks end up icy cold – something like that. Underarm deodorants cause breast cancer, as do too much daily usage of soap on the body, (according to my room mates). Hair can go without washing up to a week. Shaving is done when there is a need to shave – (I liked that part!) – except I do prefer a lady to know a razor, which wasn’t common in Oestfriesland and Oldenburg. Lots of female body hair there. So naturally, they also believe that hair grows in darker if it is shaved off, which is of cource, wrong – but hey, we have our “quirks” too, right?
In Germany, the weather is almost always comfortable enough to wear a sweater. They seem to universally believe that drafts are evil causes of illnesses.
Your dad sounds like he was a great German. Knowing them like I do, that’s a great thing!