Images of my car in its glory have been lost, but this is its long lost twin, identical except for the wheels.
If you polled the majority of my friends and other kids at the time, the first car of the Midwest teenager during the mid-nineties was anything but memorable. I was the lucky exception. My first car became not only memorable, but the thing of legends during the thirteen years that I owned it. It is a car that probably should have killed me; instead it helped to change the course of my life. It set the bar high right from the get-go, one has been hard to get back to (but did eventually). But most importantly, it taught me to appreciate my Dad during a time when I thought I knew everything. Yes, I truly was the lucky exception.
My old man is an old hot rodder at heart, having had some pretty cool vehicles prior to offspring, like the red Mach 1 that he bought brand new right before he and Mom got married. As a kid, I heard a lot about that car as it seems to have been one of his favorites. While during the 80’s and beginning of the 90’s we had some terribly uninspiring vehicles, Dad didn’t hesitate in sharing his love and knowledge of horsepower with me. While I was a kid I had a Hot Wheels collection to rival the factory itself, and by eight or nine could identify most vehicles on the road. It was just natural that my car search began at, well, age twelve. About the time I was fifteen I realized they didn’t just fall off trees and that I wouldn’t just be given one.
Shortly after I got my license the bargaining began. I was struggling in school and Dad didn’t want me getting a job to pay for a car because of said grades. On top of that, they were getting tired of loaning out their vehicles, and were buying new ones while I also was tired of driving around in a minivan. So a deal was hatched, my grades improved, and I’d get a car whose value was not to exceed $2,000.
After proposing many vehicles that I thought were cool (Dad thankfully saw right through them – think late ‘80s turbo Daytonas and late ‘70s/early 80’s Trans Ams), one night a couple days before moving into our new acreage we saw an ad in the local Thrifty Nickel. “1968 Galaxie 500 Fastback, 390, PS PB, AT, $2500”. Dad was more than interested, so the call was made and the appointment scheduled for the next afternoon.
After a day of barely being able to focus in school, we traveled out to a farm outside of town and met an older farmer outside a large outbuilding. It’s there when the grueling interrogation began, but not by us. This was our first clue the car was something special to him, as he asked question after question while slowly walking around to the garage door. It was pretty clear he wasn’t going to open it up until he was convinced we were really interested, and going to enjoy the car.
From the first second we walked into the Quonset hut that housed the car, I could see why. It was staggeringly beautiful to the point where I was speechless and Dad was pretty floored too. Her maroon paint glistened along the sleek lines of the big car, the slotted mag wheels shone, and the white walls were.. white. Opening the door, the interior was just as phenomenal as the exterior. Clad in all black, the twin bucket seats seemed to call to me to grab the console-mounted shifter and rock the 390 into outer space. As the old farmer pulled the car out Dad simply said “Do you like it?” “Uhh.. yeah” was all I could struggle out.
“Good, because I’m buying it.”
After a seemingly endless thirty hours of waiting, that involved a school lock in prior to moving into our new house, finally Dad and I loaded up in my Uncle Richard’s mid ‘80s Ford F-150 for the ride to pick the car up. Finally we arrived, and after filling the old truck up with the mountain of spare parts the old farmer had I was handed the keys.
My 390, circa 2007
Most know there is a fine line between fear and anticipation. Pulling out onto the highway with even moderate throttle input, I realized the 390 was in a different ballpark than the minivan or Mazda 626 that I’d been driving. Stopped at a light about 5 miles from home in front of Lincoln’s legendary Hi-Way Diner I decided it was time to find out. I ratcheted the shifter down to “1” and my left foot went on the brake while my right touched the throttle. I pressed in just enough to get the big FE rumbling like a lion, then the second the light turned green one went out and the other to the floor, just like I had played over and over in my head the previous thirty one hours. As it had in my dreams, my face erupted in a smile as I counter steered a bit while the right side whitewall erupted, then rocketed me past the speed limit, and past the minivan next to me.
As the year went on, things on the car needed replacing for various reasons as they do on cars such as this. As I knew nothing about auto repairs, Dad and I would always begin repairs together, with his knowledge of older vehicles not lost in the years of malaise-era family hauler ownership. We would take backpacks on a weekend and hit up the local boneyard to scour for parts. And then we worked on the car more. Most of all, we did all of this together during the time where I was previously a loud rebellious teenager who obviously knew more than him (yeah, right!).
So with every trip through the fields of Walkie’s in Malcom, Nebraska and every time under the car handing parts and wrenches to each other, I realized my old man really did know something. During those trips and all that work we did on the car I really began to appreciate my old man, and tried to stop thinking with teenage idiocy.
As for the car itself, it quite simply became a legend with my friends. While the 390 was saddled with a Motorcraft 2 barrel carb, it definitely had no problems in the power department as the old farmer had removed the A/C long ago and given her a “healthy” rebuild. Soon after purchase Dad “borrowed” it one day and had the single glasspack replaced with a true dual exhaust of Super Turbo mufflers dumping out the rear. Many other small performance upgrades added up to a car that was definitely not lacking in power.
Not only that, but it was equipped somewhat oddly, for a non-XL model. It was pretty loaded with front disc brakes, bucket seats, that awesome shifter (that I can still hear the “CLINK” of in my head), a ridiculously awesome rear defroster (fan + heater element), and all other kinds of awesome 60s vintage add-ons that made it not only rare, but endearing.
Back seat capacity – 4 to 5. Thankfully mine didn’t have a bench in front!
Legendary status was earned through many a teenage adventure that was done with good friends during good times, which is where this car really shone. It introduced me to the road trip on the rural highway or back roads, that it ate up with aplomb and comfort. Many a weekend were spent filling the trunk full of camping gear and firewood while hitching up the fourteen-foot aluminum fishing boat to entertain five or six teenagers seated comfortably inside. It had so many adventures that any of my old friends can tell a dozen tales that have the car at the center.
Of course all good things come to an end. At nineteen years old, I chose to go to college at a school about 35 miles from home and still live at home to save money, so another vehicle was purchased that would take me to and fro with a little more economy. So the old gal was retired to date nights, weekends, nice days and occasional use. After almost three years of daily service to a teenage driver, I’m sure she didn’t mind.
Yet the age caught up to her eventually. Or rather, the Midwest weather combined with Nebraska’s penchant for salty roads caught up to her. On one evening, when I was twenty two an, between jobs and cars, the frame gave way at one of the rear torque boxes. Her last act was delivering me to my best friend’s apartment where I promptly finished off a twelve pack of Coors Light before I could stomach calling the tow truck. As we sat around telling stories before the tow was called, it was almost like a funeral for a friend. In a way it was.
I held on to her for another eight years, during which time she moved between the garage at my parents’ home, to a storage shed, and finally back to the garage. I always had the best intentions of a full restoration, or at least simply fixing the frame, but the money to do so never happened. Come 2007, my life and my priorities had changed and I realized that the old Gal would forever live in my parents’ garage were I to be her steward, and that wasn’t exactly the life I promised the old farmer I’d give her.
Agonizing over the decision for a bit I realized that the changes the car made in my life were permanent. Regardless of if I had the car or not, my Dad and I had gone from oil and water back to Father and Son. It had instilled in me the freedom that is the open road, and a love for working on vehicles. It had solidified friendships that last to this day.
She sold quickly to a pair of true gearheads who realized the deal they were getting and were anxious to rebuild her. So for one last time before they arrived, I sat down in her and flicked the key on. Just as always the “cold” light illuminated in the cold February air. Even that light was a cool feature, one that my best friend made for his Trans Am when he was building it late in our teenage years. Just like every time I needed her to, after pumping three times and holding the gas in about a quarter of the way, the 390 fired to life.
I let her idle for a bit as I thought of all the places I’d gone since the last time I drove her. I thought about the afternoon before, when Dad and I spent a couple hours in his garage together getting all the parts ready for the new owner. I also thought about my fiancée and the new house we’d be moving in to in the next couple of weeks.
When I shut her off and closed the door for the last time I was fully at peace with selling the old Gal and ready to continue the adventure and life she had started.
I’ve always liked the 1968 Ford Galaxie and the Ford Fairlane. They have the best looking front end since the 1966 model year.
Maybe that’s why the video for “Doctorin’ the Tardis” uses a Galaxie police car, despite being done by an English band.
I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that video.
More than anything, thank the car for the relationship you forged with your father.
That is all.
That’s a cool story; thanks for writing it.
A wonderful and touching story. Our cars really are more than just transport.
Your story resonates with me, as my first car was a 67 Galaxie 500 convertible, which i bought in 1977. Mine also came with the 2 bbl 390. I really did enjoy mine, and need to write up my story with it some time. Yours is the first non-XL I have seen with buckets – those were not common, and neither was that rear defroster.
I also like that big hulking 2 door fastback body. A family friend had a black 68 Mercury version of this car, which I really loved. We pre-teen kids could sleep two abreast in the package shelf under the back window. 🙂
A plain Galaxie with buckets wasn’t supposed to exist-It’s either A) an owner swap B) a factory flub or C) something the original buyer begged the factory to do-even thought it wasn’t technically available-It wouldn’t have been the first time either
Behold exhibit A
http://www.fmrcoa.org/newsletter/2010/Jan%202010%20news_Screen.pdf
and exhibit B
http://66ford.fordregistries.com/
and click on “The Latest” to see a column shift-with-bucket XL
Man, what a great story!
+1 on a great story and a great car.Fastback Fords and Mercuries have long been among my favourite American cars
+1
+2
Wow,just wow. Not all the stories on here make me think that. That’s truly a COAL.
Ooh, zip ties. A sure sign of a car that is on its way out. I just used the first zip tie on my old Toyota. It’s just a matter of time now.
Seriously, great story.
Zip ties are the new No8 Wire.
True dat.
You know, it’s funny, when we were loading it on the trailer for the last time I was like “how the heck do we keep this up so we can get it on the trailer”? Looked in the back of my buddy’s Tahoe and saw a bucket of zip ties.
“Naah…”
then
“Sure!”
Zip ties are the new duct tape.
wonderful ride. nothing like a big, two door, big block hot rod.
When I first entered the Navy, I drove my “new”(to me) 68 Mercury Cyclone GT the 1000 miles to my first permanent duty station. The 1st guy I met there when I checked in was a fellow car nut with a 67 Fairlane GTA with a 390. We felt we had 2 of THE coolest cars on that fairly large base. Then I met a guy in my new work shop with a 68 Mustang fastback GT….and a 390.
Would love to own a muscle Ford but can’t afford gas AND insurance…much less the current buy-in.
Best thing I’ve read in a while. Thank you for putting it down. So…in the cycle of life it must be almost time to repeat the process – but from a different perspective. I guess there will be some difficulty finding a candidate with as much utility and character.
I almost laughed when I read this because, well, wait until the end of the COAL series. Suffice to say – I found it in the oddest and most unexpected of places.
What a great story! That frame rust was a chronic problem for the ’65-’68 galaxies–you can goodle galaxie frame swap to see all the people that have had to go through the repair process. When I found my ’65 galaxie that was the first step–go over the frame very carefully.
Thanks for sharing!!
Yep, that’s mostly what led me to sell it. I had half tried to find frames over the years, with no luck. I did have some bids on getting it fabricated but those were a tad bit expensive.
In the end part of me wishes I would have kept it and tried a little harder, but at the same time.. naah. I don’t know that it ever could have been the same.
Nice. Very nice.
Are you ready for this startling admission? I’d be hard-pressed to make a final choice between one of these vs. the 1968 Chevy Impala sports coupe!
All in all though, I’d most likely have neither one, as I had moved down a size to the Chevelle and Torino, both nice cars at that time.
Fortunately, I never had an issue with either mom or dad, but sure had a lot of growing-up to do, the USAF took care of that!
These days I’m totally with you – if it came to it again, it would be a really hard choice between it and an Impala. That’s part of why I chose it – a older Boy Scout had a cherry ’67 Impala fastback (with a 307!) and I always liked the look of that car.
What a great story. I only have passenger experience in full-size Fords of this era, and none of them were anything like yours. Wow.
The bonding story is first rate, but boy, that Ford proves that beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder.
There is nothing quite like a FE powered Galaxie to make a long lasting positive impression on a young man. It was a very nice car – thank you very much for this story!
You’re welcome – and it definitely spoiled me from a young age. Torque > * and boy did that FE have torque for days.
And the noise of it and the clank of the shifter.. I’ll never forget that.
Ben, you are a gifted storyteller. I wish my boys were willing to work with me on cars, or even bicycles. Non the less there were instances were they showed a bit of respect to the old man.
The car is almost secondary in this story and it is definitely worth of our admiration.
Thanks!
Great story. Your description of starting the 390 reminds so much of my 390 Galaxie coupe – would love to get one more try at that. Mine also succumbed to frame rot, in Nebraska, and appeared to go to hands that were in a better position to deal with it. It appears yours started life as an AC car as well – very well optioned for a base Galaxie.
Neat to hear how it worked out for you and your dad.
Now THIS is a great story! Cars may be inanimate objects but our ‘stank’ still rubs off on them.
Glad to see Im not the only one that thinks turbo Daytonas are cool. That Shelby Z is pretty much the epitome of the breed: ’84-’86 pre aero model, T-tops, CS version, good color, ‘crab’ wheels…I would imagine its a 5spd with black leather inside!
Great story Ben, thanks for sharing. This reminded me a of my own car and I got a bit teary eyed reading your story because your story opened the floodgates of memories driving my car. Damn do I miss my old gal…
Same, I really get to missing a lot about that car but realize mostly I miss what it brought. More the memories than the machine, mostly I wish I would have kept it so that my sons and I could have restored it.
Fantastic story, and proof that the relationships really are the important things in life. But it sounds like the Galaxie was a pretty special car too. I can sympathize with you on back-burnered priorities, as I’ve got one of my own which life has intervened with, but I’m glad the story ended for you with the Galaxie going to a good home and someone who was hopefully able to give her the repairs she deserved and put her back on the road.
Touching, for multiple reasons!
Great story about a special car, thanks for sharing it. It’s nice to hear that your shared interest in cars brought you and your dad together. You’re very fortunate.
My brother and I both wound-up “car guys”, but our attempts to restore our dad’s abandoned project car, which was just sitting in the garage rusting, were met with not much help and a lot of criticism. That led each of us to buy our own cars to wrench on. Same effort, less hassle.
A terrific story!
Wonderful story. Ford seemed to get the syling thing going in 68 as I liked everything they made that year, even the Falcon.
Here is the “Doctorin’ the Tardis” video mentioned earlier. It helps to be a “Doctor Who” fan to get some of the references.
Great story. I was always interested and working on cars at that age, but Dad really had no interest or mechanical ability for working on cars. But he did allow me to buy a non-running 62 Beetle and put it in the backyard and work on it to my heart’s content when I was around 14. It had a broken crankshaft, and I took the engine and car apart, even lifted the body off the pan. I even ‘installed’ a shag carpet headliner. I was able to replace the crank with a junk yard replacement. and got it to run and drive. Sold it to a guy Dad worked with, a couple of month’s later the crankshaft broke again. It would have been fun to rebuild Galaxie with your son’s, but maybe down the road together you could search around for another project car. A teacher that gave me rides to junior high school bought a brand new red 69 Galaxie XL fastback. When he picked me up in the brand new car I thought I was in heaven. It was a 390 with black interior, a really nice car.
Really nice story, on many levels!
It’s an interesting car with that center console; Fords of this era were never my favorite but I really like this ’68, XL styled, fastback.
Was that your Dad’s ’69 Mach 1? For me that was the best looking Mustang ever. Enjoyed the story of your car and my God those zip ties on the frame!
Good story, Almost made my eyes start leaking Thanks for sharing. I have am doing my part to keep one alive at this time.