Continental kits — spare tires carried on the back of a car as a decorative element — are one of the most persistent of all automotive accessories. Some people abhor them, but that hasn’t stopped fans from hanging them on virtually everything with wheels. There’s a common assumption that the Continental kit originated with the 1940 Lincoln Continental, but that isn’t so. Not only are rear-mounted external spares an old, old styling feature, journalist and historian Griffith Borgeson persuasively argued in a 1955 Motor Life article about the then-new Continental Mark II that the styling themes of the 1940 Continental were actually an established body style that predated Edsel Ford’s customized Lincoln Zephyr by over a decade. Here’s that article and some examples of what Borgeson was talking about.
For modern readers unfamiliar with his name, the late Griffith Borgeson (1918–1997) was one of the most respected automotive journalists of his era, and the author of a number of important books on prewar motorsport. Borgeson was a Lincoln collector himself (he first bought a 1928 Lincoln phaeton in 1947) and he was well acquainted both with the original Continental and the Lincoln collector scene as it was in the ’50s. This was likely why Motor Life had sought his take on the new Continental Mark II.
For the purposes of this post, I’m not particularly interested in Griff Borgeson’s take on the styling of the 1956 Continental Mark II or Ford’s attempt to reinvent the kind of ultra-high-quality car “the like of which has not been built in the U.S. for two decades.” The more interesting tidbit in this article from the December 1955 Motor Life is towards the end, but having taken the trouble to scan all the pages, I’ll include them here for your perusal. (As usual, you can click each image to embiggen.)
Borgeson didn’t seem blown away by the styling of the Mark II, remarking, “Only traces of the original Lincoln Continental’s beauty are retained.” However, he was dazzled by the high quality of its production, which completely eclipsed its illustrious 1940–1948 predecessor.
If you’re only vague familiar with prewar cars, it may be helpful for me to explain that the first Lincoln Continental was a customized 1939 Lincoln Zephyr convertible that stylist Eugene T. (Bob) Gregorie designed as a personal car for Ford president Edsel Ford, son of Ford Motor Company founder Henry Ford. This customized design, which drew much praise from Edsel’s well-heeled friends, was then put into limited production for the 1940 model year.
Borgeson conceded that despite the Continental’s styling, “beneath its sheet metal it was a modified, lower middle-class, production car.” (I’d disagree about the “lower” part — the standard Zephyr was a rather expensive car in its own right — but the point remains.) The Mark II was in another class entirely, at least in terms of quality of execution.
Unfortunately, the 1956–1957 Continental Mark II proved to be an impressive but commercially futile endeavor that cost its maker a reported $20 million (a relative worth of almost $700 million in 2025 dollars), sold fewer than 3,000 cars (about three-fourths of what Borgeson predicted), and left Ford Motor Company with a lot of red ink despite prices starting at $9,538 (a relative worth of about $157,000 in 2025 dollars).
The most lasting legacy of the Mark II was its simulated Continental spare tire hump, an homage to the original Continental that Lincoln continued to use for decades afterwards.
With that out of the way, we move on to what I consider the real meat of this article, beginning under the subheading “THE FORM OF QUALITY” in the right column of the page above.
As I said in the opening paragraph, there is a persistent notion that the rear-mounted external spare and other Continental design themes were original to Edsel Ford’s 1939 one-off Lincoln Continental, and that they were inspired by contemporary European design. This notion was even perpetuated by the Continental Division itself. In a presentation to the Society of Automotive Engineers in January 1955, Continental Division general manager Ben D. Mills had claimed:
Edsel Ford returned to this country from a tour of the European continent with a desire to build a truly distinctive American car embodying some of the better features he found in foreign automotive design. … Perhaps the most striking feature of the original Continental — one that became its trademark more than any other — was the rear tire mount. It is said that Edsel Ford had to be firm with his designers when they were working on the car, because they insisted on putting the tire inside the rear deck and out of sight. He insisted that it be exposed, and his decision seems to have been vindicated [emphasis added]. As we all know, this feature became so popular with the motoring public that it was adapted to many other cars, and a number of “kits” for installing the spare tire outside were available as accessories. It is not surprising that they are commonly known as “Continental conversion kits.”
In fact, rear-mounted external spare tires had been a very common design feature for a long time even by the late 1930s, when Edsel’s Continental was designed.
It’s easy to get a distorted idea about this today because modern collectors of prewar cars seem to overwhelmingly favor side-mounted spares, just as collectors often can’t resist hanging a Continental kit on the tail of any car built in the 1950s. If you go to a concours event or browse auction listings, you won’t see many high-end 1930s cars without dual side mounts, whether the cars originally had them or not.
However, in their day, side mounts were extra-cost equipment even on really ultra-high-end cars, and weren’t always fitted. Side mounts had the advantage of allowing a rear trunk rack for luggage, but they could be quite expensive — on a 1931 Cadillac like the Series 370A V-12 car shown above, a set of six wheels with fender wells for the side mounts cost $230–240, at a time when you could have a new Ford Model A for as little as $430! Also, the fender wells tended to become rust traps, which could annoy even wealthy owners. Some preferred to stick with rear-mounted spares, since until the late ’30s, few contemporary body styles had room to carry spare tires inside the car.
Rear-mounted spares were fairly common in contemporary advertising and brochures. In the 1933 brochure for Lincoln’s new Model KA short-wheelbase V-12 cars, for instance, all but two of the 10 body styles illustrated had their spare tires in the rear.
Borgeson could have pointed that out, but he actually went a step further, challenging the Continental Division’s claim that the styling themes of the 1940 Continental were based on “the better features he [Edsel Ford] found in foreign automotive design.” (Borgeson had probably heard Mills’ presentation on the history of the Continental, or variations of it, during the press previews for the Mark II.) Borgeson said:
Partly because of its tasteful but high-spirited elegance, but mostly because of its name, most people have assumed that the old Continental drew its inspiration from advanced European design. I accepted this implication until I saw the first clay mockup of the new car about a year and a half ago. At this point a somewhat radical idea occurred to me, one which has been borne out by careful investigation. The “continental configuration,” I am convinced, actually is a distinct body style, about as rigidly defined as coupe, sedan, or roadster. The formula consists of a combination: low profile; long hood; compact passenger space; blind rear top quarter; short, chunky trunk or luggage compartment; visibly-mounted spare tire at the rear [emphasis added].
You can easily trace the continental formula for decades. In 1921 Jordan had a continental-type coupe. In 1925 Brooks Quinsler designed a body on the Franklin chassis for showing at the New York Salon in December of that year. It had all the “continental” hallmarks and may be regarded as a 30 year-old forerunner of the present Continental. Franklin’s “continental” had lots of chic for its time, was enthusiastically received by the public, and went into mass production.
Here’s a 1925 ad for the Franklin coupe he mentioned in the text:
The ad copy proclaims that the Franklin coupe was “styled by de Causse in the finest Continental manner.” Here’s an actual car:
The above page features photos (which unfortunately aren’t as clear as one might prefer) of two earlier cars Borgeson identified as adopting the “continental” body style, as he defined it: a 1931 Packard by LeBaron and the 1925 Franklin coupe he mentioned on the previous page.
Borgeson continued:
I’m not aware of specific earlier European expressions of this form but do not doubt that they existed.
In the late twenties an American coachbuilder named Waterhouse began to make a specialty of this body style and Rollston, LeBaron, and Weyman [sic — actually spelled Weymann] also picked it up. Saoutchik in Paris, Carrozzeria Touring in Milan, and Pinin Farina in Turin were among many European coachbuilders who also were building handsome bodies to this formula. Then, for the 1931 New York Salon, Waterhouse provided the body of the Stutz DV32 Continental Coupe. This is the earliest example I have of the coupling of the name with the body style.
Through the first half of the thirties coachbuilt continental bodies were used often on Packard, Stutz, and Lincoln chassis, and the style’s popularity grew in Europe. When Edsel Ford—who had been in charge of Lincoln coachwork for years—decided to have a car built on the Zephyr chassis for his personal use, he chose the functional, beautiful, and by then well-established continental form. When it became a production car it was given the same name that Stutz had used eight years earlier. Most critics considered it a design masterpiece. So much for the past.
The Waterhouse-bodied Stutz DV32 Continental Coupe Borgeson described in the text was a one-off that doesn’t seem to have survived (and the only grainy vintage pictures of it I found show it with side-mount rather than rear-mounted spares). However, the Waterhouse-bodied Eighth Series Packard Convertible Victoria pictured above illustrates the same design themes. Waterhouse also made some similar-looking fixed-head coupes and sport sedans, although survivors are unfortunately now scarce.
So, to sum up, Borgeson argued that the “continental” theme, including the rear-mounted external spare, was an existing style that had been well-established in the 1920s and 1930s by American and later European coachbuilders — and that some earlier examples of that body style had even been called Continentals.
What did Bob Gregorie, who designed Edsel Ford’s 1939 Continental, have to say on this point? Here’s an excerpt from Gregorie’s 1985 oral history interview with David R. Crippen of the Benson Ford Research Center at The Henry Ford Museum:
Crippen: Tell us more about the tire on the back because that has become the hallmark of the Continental.
Gregorie: Yes, well that was part of the package, I mean, it was a necessity.
Crippen: But, was this your idea or did Mr. Ford like the idea from a Continental he had seen earlier?
Gregorie: I can’t say. I just can’t pinpoint that. Well, anyway, it appeared on there. I don’t know whether it was his idea or mine–I just can’t say at this point. Well, anyway, it was immediately acceptable to him, and, in fact, the trunk was too small for a spare, so it was the only place available we felt that it would be acceptable. As we all know, rear mounted spares went “back to the year one.” It surely was not for a styling “twist,” though it apparently had that effect.
It’s important to understand here that both Edsel Ford and Bob Gregorie were very familiar with the work of contemporary coachbuilders, and the senior Lincoln cars had offered custom bodies by Waterhouse, Dietrich, Brunn, and others. As Gregorie told Crippen, “It was practice then for Mr. Ford to select from design sketches brought to Detroit by the various builders … He would select maybe ten or twelve, perhaps fifteen bodies from each builder.” So, while Gregorie couldn’t point to any specific antecedent for Edsel’s 1939 Continental, the styling themes and probably some of the specific cars Borgeson described were ones that Gregorie and Edsel certainly knew, and about which Edsel — whom Gregorie called “a keen critic” — had undoubtedly expressed opinions.
I want to add a point that Borgeson didn’t mention, but that’s relevant here: Some automakers used the “Continental” name to refer to a chassis rather than a body style. For example, the Mulliner-bodied Rolls-Royce Phantom II Continental coupe pictured above meets Borgeson’s definition of a continental body, but in Rolls-Royce parlance, the “Continental” name actually referred to the more sporting shorter-wheelbase chassis, which might be fitted with various body styles. Bentley (which Rolls-Royce owned from the ’30s through the end of the century) later used the term “Continental” the same way. So, there were ’30s cars their makers called Continentals that might or might not have had continental bodies as Borgeson defined them.
As is often the case with terminology, certain points of Borgeson’s definition were arguable. For instance, this blue Pierce-Arrow Club Brougham fit most of the criteria — long hood, short deck, low profile, rear-mounted external spare — but its rear quarters weren’t completely blind like the Waterhouse cars.
On the other hand, neither were those of the Lincoln Continental Coupe. I assume the similarity of these body styles is obvious from the above photos, despite the Continental’s more integrated, streamlined shape.
The 1940–1948 Lincoln Continental was not produced in large numbers by Detroit standards (the total was 5,324 cars, not including Edsel’s original and a second early prototype), but it was much more common — and more commonly seen — than most of the rare ultra-luxury cars and coachbuilt bodies that probably influenced it. I don’t dispute that the Continental popularized a lot of the styling themes later associated with it. However, popularizing a design or a style isn’t the same thing as creating one, just as a cover song that becomes a hit single doesn’t stop being a cover just because it’s better-known.
Before any aggrieved Continental or Mark II fans set out to burn me at the stake, I must emphasize that there’s no dishonor in being an interpreter of existing themes. Many of the greatest singers of the 20th century (Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra, Nina Simone, Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby, et al) primarily did material that had previously been performed by many others before them; no one expected them to also be songwriters.
In that regard, there’s a case to be made that who was first matters a lot less than whose version is best remembered. If you want to argue that 1940 Lincoln Continental was that, I won’t quibble. However, I think that Borgeson made a compelling case that the 1940 Continental was not the first — and it was certainly not the first with what we now call a Continental spare.
Related Reading
Curbside Classic: 1940-41 Lincoln Continental – A Creation of a Man of Taste and a Man of Talent (by VinceC)
The Great 28, Car #1: 1940/41 Lincoln Continental Cabriolet – The Most Beautiful Car in the World (by Aaron65)
Curbside Classic: 1940 Lincoln Continental Cabriolet – Beauty for Beauty’s Sake (by J P Cavanaugh)
Curbside Classic: 1956 Continental Mark II – Caught In The Pincers (by Paul N)
Like the Wind: The Lincoln Zephyr and Continental (at Ate Up With Motor)
I wasn’t aware that anybody argued that the “Continental kit” was original to Edsel Ford’s 1939 Lincoln Continental. As late as 1935-36 ordinary Fords and Plymouths sported a metal-covered spare tire mounted on the back of the car, and rear-mounted spares without the cover went back to the very beginnings of the automobile.
What is interesting here is Borgeson’s argument that a “continental” was a recognized body style, and I can see the point he is making with these examples. Quite a few body style designations of that era seemed to be fairly loosely adhered to by body builders. For every “victoria” or “town car” that most of us would recognize as a specific style, there was a “brougham”, a “berline” or (apparently) a “continental” that could mean slightly different things to different designers and body builders. This piece helped me to see the 1940 Continental as a modernization of a classic look that seemed to be out of style by that time. As always, the right eye and presentation can bring something out of date into style again.
As for the Mark II? There is much about its styling that is admirable, especially the restraint that was so absent in the studios for Cadillac and Imperial. But somehow the proportions seem ever so slightly off.
I agree on the Mark II’s proportions, JP. I’ve always thought it was perhaps the too-upright rake of the windshield, but making it steeper would cut into either the hood or the roof. I also think that the lower body could “wrap in” more; it’s a little too heavy-looking down low. Still, it’s a great-looking car, and my comments are picking nits.
I feel like the deck is too long on the Mark II, which, weirdly, contributes to it looking smaller than it is.
I don’t know that the continental style was out of fashion per se so much as it had been most strongly associated with an era of coachbuilt luxury cars that had already largely fizzled out in the U.S. by the late ’30s (Peerless, Pierce-Arrow, and Marmon were dead, Packard was trying to reinvent itself in a lower-priced segment). Because of that, styles that had been fashionable in that lofty realm had mostly disappeared for a while and thus hadn’t gotten updated to reflect the greater visual integration of automobile body shapes that took place in the mid-to-late ’30s. The Continental managed to bridge that particular gap while also becoming a customized car rather than a custom, making it a little better-suited to the way the economic trends had changed.
The other car that played a part in that was the (stylistically quite different) Cadillac Sixty Special, which was much more directly influenced by European styling than the Continental. (In particular, Bill Mitchell essentially cribbed the roofline of the Panhard Panoramique, which I think is also what the four-door Colonnade cars were going for in the ’70s.)
Agree that the Mark II proportions seem off somehow. Alot seems to be the Massive rear overhang, vs. the VERY little overhang on the front (especially compared to later Marks). Maybe the front just looks like a small overhang based on the long hood and huge rear O/H. I dunno, Does seem off though.
I like everything but the Saab 900 windshield.
I think I’ve even seen cars with 3 spares hanging off the back. Not sure what was more important, the style or the quality of roads and tires back then.
In the early 1960s MPC made 1:43 scale injection molded plastic cars that came in a bag just like the military soldiers. Each car had the mfg name molded on it. One car in the bag was a maybe 1946 Continental. I learned a lot about cars from that cheap toy.
Your BaT ’40 Continental example brings up some exciting but disappointing memories from a year ago. I think the prices on them are starting to come down to the point where I might be able to afford one someday, and that car sat at a very reasonable amount for days and days before selling for something like 37 grand, way out of my price range. Oh well, next time.
If there is one accessory I despise, it is the continental spare tire. They sort of worked on 1940s cars, but by the mid 50s, they were just an encumbrance. Trying to park on a steep driveway would be nigh on impossible and gaining access to the trunk is a major pain.
It seems like every Mercury of the late 50s now sports a continental spare tire. I wonder how common they were when the cars were new.
Thanks for this detailed dive into the topic – I admit it’s not something I’d ever thought of before.
I find it interesting that in Ford brochures from the 1950s – where continental kits were offered as accessories, “continental” is put in quotes with a lower-case “c.” I guess it was Ford’s way of evoking its own Continental without officially mentioning it by name.
At the same time, other automakers that offered them didn’t seem shy about calling them Continental kits, capital letter and all. I was looking the other day at a 1958 Pontiac Accessorizer, which had a Continental kit listed among the dealer-installed accessories — I was mildly surprised that there wasn’t some kind of euphemism in the factory literature.