Enough of this “shared server” business; reminds me too much of some of the shared digs of my youth. I’ve been bitching and moaning about the site being slow for years, mostly in the back end, where we do our work. Which has been almost impossible the past few days, because some other site that’s on our shared server is having a wild party, and all their unexpected visitors means our site is getting “throttled” repeatedly. There have been times in the last couple of days I’ve just not been able to create a new post, or edit one.

So we’re packing up and moving to a “Virtual Private Server” (can’t afford our own genuine private server yet), which means a big chunk of the server is dedicated to us alone, and Blue Host tells us that will mean no more “throttling”. Sounds like my kind of machine. But that means the site will be down for a while later this evening, and hopefully back up within 15-30 minutes or so. But then I’m not sure they realize how much stuff has been jammed into our closets. Anyway, see you on the other side and I hope that it was worth it.

Update: It’s going to happen Thursday, and it may or may not cause downtime. We’ll see….

I have some Clue winner catching up to do. Dave Skinner got the ’94 TC, T Walton ID’d the ’60 Mark V, and Sherlock Homey got the big blue Continental right off the bat, with nbpheights narrowing it further as a ’79 CS. Well done.

As you have surely noticed, we are having Lincoln week here at CC. That makes it trickier to do a challenging Clue, so it’s time to move inside the car. What have we here?

I have long been fascinated with the many stops and starts that eventually led to the automatic transmission as we know it today.  We are likely all familiar with the GM Hydra-Matic Drive of 1940, the first fully automatic transmission.  Its major competitor for shiftless driving was Chrysler’s Fluid Drive, and the many variations of semi-automatic transmission that were attached to that fluid coupling.  Not so well known is that the Ford Motor Company launched its own ill-fated semi-automatic transmission:  Liquamatic Drive.  This being Lincoln Week here at CC, now would seem like the time to take a look.

Henry Ford was, of course, a mechanical genius – in a self-taught, farmboy sort of way.  However, his opinionated way was not conducive to a modern engineering department, as had taken shape to one degree or another at every other major automaker.   Henry Ford’s way was Henry Ford’s way, with some skilled mechanics to take Henry’s ideas and fashion them into metal prototypes and further refinement under Henry Ford’s watchful eye.  But by the late 1930s, Henry was getting on in years and his products were becoming a bit – ahem – conservative.

Still, it must have been clear that some sort of self-shifting mechanism was going to be part of the price of admission for medium and upper priced cars in the 1940s.  And, with great fanfare, Liquamatic Drive was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. America with the 1942 Lincolns and Mercuries.

The Liquamatic was a fairly complicated unit that involved a conventional clutch, a fluid coupling, a three speed transmission and on Lincolns, an overdrive.  In normal operation, the unit was to start in second gear, then shift into third at about 35 mph. The 2-3 shift was by an electrically controlled vacuum cylinder, while the shift into overdrive was by vacuum.  Of course, the unit could be controlled manually through all gears as well.  One feature of the design seemed to be a counter-rotating tailshaft that kept both second and third gears rotating at the same speed.  A beautiful symphony of mechanical, hydraulic, electrical and vacuum systems to make life easier for the discerning motorist.  Or not.

Alas, the new Liquamatic Drive was an utter failure, although the reasons are not completely clear today.  The few units that made it into service were almost immediately replaced by Ford with standard manual transmissions, virtually all within the first few thousand miles.  The only identification of Liquamatic cars was a dash logo that was replaced as well.  Was it a defective design?  A design that was too complex for reliable service in the field?  Or did Henry Ford step in and pull the plug on the design before it had a chance to get the bugs sorted out?  Nobody seems to know, as there were few built and none seems to have survived, at least not installed in a car.    Would this make Ford an early pioneer of the automotive recall?

Lincoln would be limited to a 3 speed manual through the 1948 models, and would finally join the ranks of the self-shifting when they began purchasing HydraMatics from GM for the new ’49s.  Lincoln would not have a proprietary automatic until the 1955 TurboDrive.  But now you know – pre-war Ford engineering, such as it was, at least gave self shifting a good try.

1941-1942 started a major new styling direction in Detroit: out with the graceful and delicate streamline-era front ends; in with the Wurlitzer juke-box look out front. As much as I can appreciate some of the fanciful front ends in their own right, they typically overpowered the rest of the cars, which with few exceptions were still mostly the same bodies as the ’39s. In the case of the exceptionally graceful 1939 Continental, the results of its facelift in 1942 were rather exceptionally jarring.

TheProfessor47 posted these shots of this very fine 1942 Continental, which also had elongated front and rear fenders compared to the original. Obviously, still a very attractive car, and the front end was still much better then the really heavy one that came along in 1946.

These Continentals were appreciated for their uniqueness right from the get-go, and I suspect their survival rate is perhaps the highest of any American car of this era. But they were saddled with what was undoubtedly the worst engine ever built by Ford, the Zephyr V12. Many or most had their engine replaced with the big Lincoln flathead V8 that came along in 1949, or even the later Lincoln Y-block.

Apparently, there were plans for a Continental coupe based on the new 1949 body, but it was nixed due to it just not working on that big, bulbous body shell, as well as anticipated low sales. Or perhaps it was out of respect to Edsel Ford, who died in 1943, and didn’t want his reputation sullied by something less than worthy. Good call.

I’ve passed this ’80-83 Mark VI a zillion times walking the dog. It does move from time to time and it’s kept clean, so it’s a genuine CC. Not my style, but a year or so ago, one of those hand grenade decals showed up on its flank. What’s the deal with that decal anyway, does it mean anything other than ‘look out I’m explosive’? Usually seen on a kid’s pickup, never seen on a car with opera windows. Your reactions?

The 1923 Jordan Playboy “Somewhere West of Laramie” print ad was credited with being the first automotive ad to sell the sizzle rather than the steak. It had evocative art by Fred Cole and the copywriting was done by none other that Ned Jordan, founder of the company. Jordan’s background was in advertising and he found cars somewhat boring. Jordan knew what his customers were looking for-good looks. Jordan cars were known for their sexy styling but totally conventional, “assembled” mechanicals. So I guess that the advertising is in keeping with the nature of the car. Ever been west of Laramie? Windblown, dusty, and very few, if any, cowboys. Not very romantic. Besides, in 1923 the Lincoln Highway was only ten years old and most of it was unimproved, so that “bronco busting, steer roping girl” probably would have felt like she was on a bucking bronc. That’s not to say that the Jordan was not a good car-it was made from quality components-but these were the same components found in most taxis. Hardly the stuff of dreams.

Though not florid as were the Jordan’s ads, this illustration from the 1920 Buick brochure largely dispenses with text and lets the illustration do the talking. It’s pretty subtle. The Buick is obviously in the better part of town with well-dressed people, streetlights, and upscale shop canopies. But the most powerful part of the image is that a woman is driving the car. Plus it’s such a painterly piece. One of my favorites.

Twelve years down the road we find Buick still using evocative, painterly imagery that focuses on the people and the experience of owning a Buick, not the car itself. But good luck. With the depression in full swing, and Buick’s sales going into the tank, most families were wondering how they were going to afford one car let alone two.

Who wouldn’t think that this is the life? Yachts, airplanes, thin women, and of course a new Chrysler Imperial! Oh, and it’s got Floating Power, just in case you weren’t won over after all that. But what caught my eye in this painterly ad is the shadow falling across the body of the car. What does this tell us? Late afternoon? Dinner and drinks to follow at the Yacht Club? Nice life indeed!

My favorite car ads for the early ‘30s are reserved for a series of six or seven that Cadillac ran in Fortune magazine. All followed the same format with flanking columns of silver ink, deco illustrations, aspirational text in the center, and a side elevation illustration of a different body style. I should have bought all seven issues with the Cadillac ads but I bought only this one. I doubt that many Cadillacs were finished in my high school colors of orange and blue, but it makes for a striking presentation.

Sometimes creatively written text isn’t necessary, just a great illustration. I salivate looking at this ’56 Special. Nothing on the showroom floor today calls my name like this car does. I lust after this thing.

We can’t do Lincoln Week without acknowledging the brand’s contribution to popular culture, in the form of the original Batmobile.

The Lincoln Futura was designed in 1955 by Ford Chief Designer Bill Schmidt, inspired by mako sharks and manta rays seen while scuba diving (with Bill Mitchell?). It was built by Ghia in Turin, and sat on an experimental Continental Mark II chassis gathering dust for a few years.

Its Pearlescent Frost White paint was pioneering, and made by adding ground genuine pearls to the paint. The Futura was a huge hit on the auto show circuit for several years.

It even had a career in show biz before turning into the Batmobile, in the 1959 “It Started With A Kiss”, although painted red to show up better on the big screen.

After its first career was well over, the Futura was sold off to George Barris for $1 in the early sixties. It sat forlorn on Barris’ lot until 1965, when the call came for a suitable Batmobile for the new tv show. Batmobile producer gave Barris $15k and 15 days to make it happen, which of course he did.

The Batmobile became a tireless show-circuit fixture seemingly forever. It undoubtedly made the Futura the  most successful show car in history.