There were several correct guesses for the Newport, but AM on FM got there first, with his guess of a mid-’70s New Yorker. Close enough, as the 1974-75 NY had the ’76 Newport Custom and ’77-’78 Newport’s tail lights, just visible in the picture.

Okay, you eagle-eyed readers. What car does this belong to?

bobloblaw2010 left this at the Cohort with the comment: “A special present for Paul N!”  Aw shucks; thanks! Initially, I wasn’t going to run it on the CC front page, because the picture is so tiny. But then I realized that’s the whole point: this is one of the smallest RVs ever made.

I remember these VW Beetle conversions well, and I remember seeing one not all that long ago. It really was an inspired if also equally crazy idea: Beetles were dime-a-dozen then, so why not. I think several companies made them, and there were kits too. And some folks just cobbled them up. I do wonder about their structural integrity, as the VW platform was intended to to be integrated with the body, and by that I don’t mean a bunch of 2x4s. Whatever. Someday, I’ll have to do a full feature on them. But I would have loved one in 1973; instead of selling my Beetle and buying that Dodge A100 van, I could have had the best of both worlds in one package. Or is it the worst of both worlds?

I caught this field of Corn (binders) with obvious runners and picked over support vehicles in Truckee this week.  I’ve seen many parked projects and at least 3-4 runners around town.

Hear that sound?  It’s Eric Van Buren and Michael Freeman slamming their car doors en route to this location!

Now just what are we to make of this? A backhoe mounted on the back end of a school bus? Someone help me out here, because I’m having a hard time finding a practical reason for this none-too small undertaking. stembre (I’m not sure who that is in CC-speak) posted this at the Cohort, and unfortunately the pictures are very poor quality. But I’ll show you another one, if you can come up with a good explanation. I know you will.

(Author’s Note:  In case you were suspicious, my name really isn’t Jack Lord.  Jason is my given name; my surname is of German origin and has an Americanized spelling.  Googling my name reveals a whole host of folks having dubious accomplishments with whom I do not care to be confused, so “Jack Lord” is sticking around for now.)

When pondering the creation of this article, I debated whether it was more of an “Autobiography” or if it would be a better fit under the “Cars of a Lifetime” heading.

Likely the quandary is irrelevant.  This 1963 Ford Galaxie 500 has had the same last name on the title since about 1964, almost nine years longer than I’ve been around.  The Old Gal certainly has stamina, given its life.

In 1963, Ford was marketing their full-size cars as able to fulfill many varied and diverse needs.  Depending upon what advertisement, book, or experience one has, you could option a new full-size Ford in any configuration from stripped down six-cylinder fleet vehicle to a snazzy powerhouse convertible with 427 cubic inches of thrill awaiting under your right foot.  For many this could likely be viewed as the halcyon days of vehicle optioning, as the a la carte method gave you exactly what you wanted with none of the fluff you didn’t.

Sometime in 1964 or 1965, nobody still alive knows for sure, my great-uncle Donald purchased his 1963 Ford Galaxie 500.  For most of the time Donald owned this Galaxie, he worked it.  He constantly was calling upon it to perform all manners of tasks.  It was the family hauler.  It pulled a trailer.  And, briefly, when he served as a town marshal, he used it as his patrol car.

In the fall of 1986, I had just turned 14 and was planning ahead for the magical and wonderful day when the State of Illinois would grant me a driver’s license.  At the time my parents owned a gray 1983 Plymouth Reliant, a gray and red 1984 Ford F-150, and a white 1985 Ford LTD Crown Victoria.  Knowing the teenage adventures awaiting me would most likely involve the ’83 Reliant, I sought something with a bit more, uh, charisma.  Okay, I really mean engine.

My Uncle Donald and his wife Bobbye lived in our small town of 450 people.  She ran the small grocery store and video rental they owned.  For the years prior to Donald’s death in 1985, he had been driving a tan and brown early 1970′s GMC pickup.  With what he did, and Bobbye working long hours at the store, the Galaxie was used little, if at all.

At about the same time my ingenious idea of acquiring the Old Gal was hatched I learned my father was thinking similarly.  It took another great-uncle, Stan, a bachelor brother to Donald and my grandfather, to start laying the groundwork with Bobbye.  Stan was as gloriously uncomplex as people come, yet he certainly knew how to navigate the intricacies of family politics.

One night in December 1986, Bobbye called my father.  She was looking to sell the Galaxie.  They agreed upon a price of $200.  She was happy it was going to a good home.  Dad was happy to have something of his uncle’s.  I was happy, period.

The day after Christmas, Stan, my father, and I went to fetch the Galaxie and take her to her new home.  It was about a mile to get there.  The Old Gal had not moved under her own power in some time, so we decided to pull her back with Dad’s old Ford tractor while Stan steered the Galaxie.  Amazingly, I, without a hint of a driver’s license, was elected to drive the pickup back.  Even more amazingly the dry rotted tires on the Galaxie were still holding air.

Close inspection of the Old Gal revealed much.  The interior was in poor shape.  She had only 73,000 miles.  She had a physically large V8 (this was pre-internet, so I didn’t know what size yet).  Hooked to the V8 was a 3 speed manual transmission with overdrive.  She had no power steering, power brakes, or air conditioning.  And her being a 4 door sedan mattered not a bit.

My Uncle Stan warned me before the chain was ever hooked to the Galaxie: “Jason, if you ever drive this car, be careful.  It runs like a scalded dog”.  While I’m still trying to figure the dog thing out, the advice has lingered in my head.

Over the next few months, while my father and I refreshed the car, I was also hearing more stories about the Old Gal.

There was a dent in the front bumper and directly above it on the hood.  Donald’s house was at the top of a slight hill.  It seems one fateful night the Old Gal popped out of gear, or was left in neutral, and rolled down the hill, through some brush, and right into the corner post of the neighbor’s pigpen.

I found a little dog hair in the back seat.  When Donald was a town marshal, he kept a german shepherd with him just in case.

The ashtrays were full of Donald’s, and other’s, cigarette butts.

Donald had a habit of chasing speeders.  In the part of the county where Donald lived at the time, the Galaxie had earned the reputation as being able to catch anything, which is remarkable for her possessing the mid-range 352 cubic inch (5.8 liter) V8. Only once was Donald outran, a time his german shepherd was howling for mercy due to their going so fast.  (As a side note, Donald always carried a long chrome handled flashlight.  When I was about five, I asked him how it had so many dents.  Uncle Stan, a frequent companion to Donald, said the dents came from “some punk’s head”.)

This Galaxie is also the car Donald used on October 30, 1966, to track down my father upon my grandfather’s sudden unexpected death at age 47.  Years later, Donald told my dad he was so shaken he wasn’t paying attention to his speed.  Several miles north of town was a curve most wisely negotiated at 35 to 40 miles per hour.  Donald said the speedometer was just under 110 mph when he realized where he was, giving him barely enough time to slow down.

Donald’s son told me had had burned rubber in all three gears.

While learning all of this, my dad and I succeeded in getting the Old Gal running.  And run she did.  Ford wasn’t wrong in calling the ’63 models “Super Torque” Fords.

From what I had learned I knew I need not worry about any carbon build-up in the engine, however, my family is terminally guilty of not maintaining vehicles.   While the Old Gal ran great, there were issues with the suspension, such as ball joints, tie rods, and bushings in the rear, that prevented it from being a daily driver.

The Old Gal was driven occasionally during my time in high school and first two years of college.  It was not driven after 1992 when I moved four hours away to finish college.

As one reflects upon their life, it is very sobering to realize how quickly time passes.  The sobriety can also be mixed with some degree of angst and frustration regarding some topics when one realizes how much of the elapsed time is filled with good intentions and no action.  When looking at the time period from 1992, when the car was last driven, to 2008, I finished college, got a job, married, had a child, moved six times, and had several serious health issues.

In 2007, my largest health issue to date made me realize my copious number of good intentions with the Galaxie and how I had acted upon absolutely none of them.  The poor Old Gal was once again dormant, squirreled away in my father’s pole barn, and covered with paraphernalia my parents had bought from countless auctions.

Many miles of the road to hell had been paved with my good intentions.  It was time to fish or cut bait.

So in June 2008, when gasoline was at record highs, I fired up my trusty $400 1987 Dodge 3/4 ton pickup and headed south to retrieve the Old Gal from languishing at my parent’s house.  A buddy helped my father and me load up the poor neglected Galaxie and we headed the 220 miles back to my house.  Dad signed the title over to me with my only investment being the $180 worth of fuel the old Dodge’s four-barrel 360 V8 was able to gobble down in one day.

I was determined to set things right.  I bought a new gas tank and replaced the fuel pump.  I rebuilt the carburetor.  I changed the points, plugs, and wires.  I rebuilt the entire brake system, converting it over to having stainless steel brake lines.  I was on a roll, until…

She did not want to start.  At all.  The engine would turn over, but nothing further would happen.  Finally popping off a valve cover, my suspicion was confirmed.

I had last started the Old Gal twelve years earlier in 1997.  It ran poorly then, the blame going to five year old gasoline.  Not so this time.  The valves had stuck as evidenced by the six bent push rods with one missing in action.

Before I could rectify this, life intervened yet again.  Several large life events occurred not allowing time or resources for the Galaxie.  Upon conclusion of these, restructuring at my employer soon followed.  Now, as I write this, the Old Gal is sitting under a tarp in my garage 100 miles away from where I sit writing this waiting for my house to sell.

This story is still being made.  The Old Gal is yearning for another day in the sun.  She wants her picture taken in front of the Ford factory in St. Louis where she was built.  She wants to drive on Route 66.  She wants her paint buffed and her ashtrays emptied of those blasted cigarette butts.  She doesn’t yet know about the plan I have devised and to be executed upon the sale of my house.

One upside to my lack of action is that I still have my first car.  How many people older than 25 or so can still say that?

So stay tuned for Part 2 of this saga….

Poor Chrysler. They have certainly had their issues, both in the distant and not so distant past, eh? But somehow, they manage to get up, dust themselves off and carry on. Even if you don’t agree with their business decisions through the years, you have to admire their moxie. In the mid to late 1970s, when this Newport came off the lines, Chrysler was in the soup – again.

1974 should have been a good year for Chrysler. While E-body fans mourn 1974 as the end of the line for the Barracuda and Challenger, Chrysler was looking forward to increased sales. And why not? All of their full size models, from plebeian Fury I to luxo-cruiser Imperial, were completely redesigned. While the Imperial was very attractive in your author’s humble opinion, the Chryslers were not too shabby either. They were certainly closer to the squared-off, sheer look that all good Broughams were adopting at the time.

Replacing the lean, smooth Fuselage Look was more rectilinear, creased styling, with more chrome and neoclassical radiator-type grilles. The base Chrysler was the plain ol’ Newport. If you had more green to spend, you could move up the ladder to a Newport Custom, New Yorker, New Yorker Brougham, or if you were really loaded, a classy Imperial LeBaron.

The 1974 models used the tried and true Mopar unibody construction, with front torsion bar suspension, electronic ignition and front disc/rear drum brakes. Depending on the model and the year, 1974-78 full size Chryslers could have a 360, 400 or 440 CID V8, all of which came with the storied Torqueflite automatic transmission.

Now, 1974-78 was a most Broughamiful time in the automotive industry. This was proved in what may possibly be the most Broughamy top treatment ever: the St. Regis landau roof, seen above on a 1975 New Yorker Brougham, natch. This top treatment, an option on New Yorker Broughams (and in slightly different form on Imperial LeBaron coupes) starting in 1975, was available from 1975-78, described thusly in the 1976 brochure:

St. Regis package (New Yorker Brougham and Newport Custom Hardtop only.) Padded canopy boar-grain vinyl roof with unique color-keyed molding trim. Available in 8 standard colors plus a unique silver vinyl roof (and) formal opera windows.

Go Brougham or go home, baby!

While you probably would have gotten all sorts of envious stares, pulling up to a fine dining establishment in a St. Regis-equipped Newport or New Yorker coupe, I would have much rather had the standard two-door hardtop. I’m sure Zackman is with me!

In fact, this hunter green and white 1976 Newport Custom hardtop from the ’76 Chrysler catalog is exactly what I would have gotten, had I been around and of driving age in 1976. I love the road wheels too!

The “Highlander” interior had been a feature on Chryslers of the 1940s, and it made a comeback in the Seventies, as seen above. I’d rather have that white vinyl interior however. I bet it would stay pretty cool in the summer too.

As for the full size Chryslers, the Imperial went away, if only in name, starting in 1976. Thus, the 1975 Imperial became the 1976 New Yorker Brougham and the 1975 New Yorker Brougham became the 1976 Newport Custom.

As for our featured CC, I spotted it on Monday afternoon, about a half hour before I stumbled upon the purple Taurus. I have actually seen this car before, but it’s been a while. It never really registered that it was a Newport St. Regis. I had previously thought only New Yorkers came with this roof, but as I passed it I clearly saw the Newport nose of this one.

It was in rough, but not terrible shape. It must have been garaged as the rust was relatively minor. It was more weathered than anything else, and in much nicer shape than the 1965 Newport Paul located some time ago.

It looked like something Burgess Meredith would have driven in Grumpy Old Men: an aging, tough old land yacht that makes no apologies to anyone, with an owner to match.

Despite the rocky start, full size Chrysler production got healthy after 1975. The ex-Imperial New Yorker Brougham was a hit, despite being virtually unchanged from the 1974-75 Imperial save less standard features and different badging.

As for the Newport itself, it carried on in much the same fashion through the 1978 model year. After that, Chrysler “pulled a GM” in which it hatched a new full size sedan out of the mid-size B-body. It was much less successful than the 1977 Caprice and friends, however, and Chrysler was on the cusp of yet another crisis. Here we go again…

Seems like Chrysler is in the air here currently, so this 1948 Windsor posted at the Cohort by channaher seems like a good fit. Any Chrysler products from this vintage are venerable, due to their highly robust build and component quality. Although the new front end that was stuck on them in 1946, and endured with some changes until the all-new 1949s came along, are a bit odd: the front end looks like it’s from a whole different decade than the rest of the body, which is of course the reality. Or an old Dodge with a more modern Chrysler front end. Same difference. But venerable nevertheless.

From the twin exhausts sticking out the back end,

as well as what looks to be a modern steering column, this one has almost surely had its vital organs replaced. Well, that’s a bit less than ideal; the 250 inch flathead six was the king of the flathead sixes, if there ever was one, and was still being installed in Power Wagons well into the sixties. Perfect for tooling around in this old pile.

The big six was once mated with Chrysler’s famous Fluid Drive, a fluid coupling mated to a three-speed transmission. That allowed clutchless take-offs, but still meant clutching to shift between gears. A hybrid, of sorts.

Fluid Drive (fluid coupling) was also used with a semi-automatic transmission behind it, but that gets really complicated to explain when I’m being called to lunch. But the regular Fluid Drive meant that one could theoretically start in High (third) and not shift, if you want the acceleration of a GMC transit bus. Anyway, this one undoubtedly has a Torqueflite behind a V8. Where’s the fun in that?

I see from the comments that there’s still folks who insist that Ricardo Montalban says “rich” or “fine” Corinthian leather; (or is it “soft”?). We did a post on this really important subject a bit over a year ago, but that has been awhile. So let’s play it one more time. Of course, the ultimate irony is that Ricardo’s Cordoba has “Fine Viennese velour” upholstery. You did hear him say that, right?

How many women would look at this truck and say: “Maybe that’s what I really should have?” And mean it, or at least think they mean it? Let’s just say it gives a window into the nature of the woman I’ve spent the last thirty-five years with. “I want something small, cute, economical, with rubber floor mats and a bed to carry a bale of alfalfa mulch, bags of fertilizer or a bunch of new plants. Nobody builds a car like that”. That is, unless you’re an auto mechanic and can build it yourself, like the one that turned an old beater Metro into this parts chaser.  But as much as she might honestly think this is actually what she wants, after all these years, I know better.

This is what she really wants. It’s just that Morris Minors didn’t come with automatics, A/C, as well as a few other amenities. All these new retro vehicles, and nobody has yet built a Morris Minor pickup (or woody wagon).

How about at least this? Stephanie would take it in a heartbeat. In fact, I shouldn’t be showing stuff like this; she’ll be off the Metro in a flash. What the hell is MINI waiting for? There’s a huge untapped market of women who are fashionable, done with kids, and avid gardeners. Well, maybe not huge, but who else is going to go after it?

The question is: does she mean it when she says she wants something like this, or is it a ploy; to get me to talk her into something a bit less ratty. Of course, she probably didn’t even really see how rough this little Metro hauler actually is. Imagination is a powerful drug, especially in this family.

I suggest a Subaru Baja, but for some reason, she’s not able to conjure up a visual image of one. Here’s it is; is this suitable? Probably not. Too garish.

She’s seeing a Subaru Brat; a modern version of which might be just the ticket. Just replace the firewood with some alfalfa, and the cows would be drooling all over it. Or the chickens, in our case.

But then the idea of an open bed in the rainy winter suddenly loses some of its imaginary appeal. “I guess it could have a canopy”. “Well, yes, but then you’re basically back to a station wagon; like your Forester”.

Hmm. That didn’t end an altogether satisfactory note. When one wants something new and different, it’s no fun to end up back in the same car. After almost thirteen years, the itch is wanting to be scratched. Maybe I’ll go back and talk to this guy about how much he would take for the Metro. But she’s probably forgotten about it, and once she’s seen that picture of the MINI; well they don’t make one, yet.

]]> http://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/curbside-pickup-capsule-geo-metro-pickup-its-perfect-for-you-honey/feed/ 28 http://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/what-if-four-door-monte-carlos-mild-and-wild/ http://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/what-if-four-door-monte-carlos-mild-and-wild/#comments Wed, 16 May 2012 16:00:09 +0000 Tom Klockau http://www.curbsideclassic.com/?p=35335

Since there has been a lot of discussion recently on CC regarding the 1973-77 Monte Carlo, how about a four door version? This Monte Landauyacht sedan is even more space inefficient than the original. Wouldn’t it be fun to parallel park this boat?

Too much? Okay, here’s a much more production-ready variant. There were no Colonnade four door hardtops; perhaps this sedan could have piqued the interest of Monte Carlo fanciers with children.

Still too big? Okay, how about this Mini Carlo? Perfect for that velour lined Brougham experience in congested city traffic. A snap to park too!

For the polar opposite, look no further than the two door Landauyacht. The most inefficient, impractical and most luxurious personal luxury coupe on the market. So, why didn’t Chevrolet make these variants? Well, you know, things like sales, practicality, and not getting mocked, or tarred and feathered by the press during Gas Crisis I – stuff like that!