Living the Lincoln Life in ’63.
Father bought a ’63 Lincoln in 1967 when I was in 7th. grade. He kept the car until I graduated from high school in ’73. It was powder blue with a silver-blue leather interior. The front seat was a bench with split, curved seat backs and a pull down armrest. Looking at them from outside the car they looked like bucket seats. The a/c vents were housed in bay window shaped structure in the center of the dash, with three sets of louvers that were controlled by a set of toggles at the bottom of each vent. That a/c could really cool down the car impressively. I got to drive this car quite a bit and it had a huge influence on me.
The first time was on a return trip from Southern California. My Dad decided to take my younger brother to Disneyland, since he had never been there. I got to go along for the trip. It was a typical unplanned, low expenditure trip. We got up very, very, early, drove to Anaheim, and spent the day at the park. Even today I love a really early, pre dawn start to a long road trip.
When the park closed at 10:00 pm. my Dad said,” Why bother with spending the night at a motel, we’ll just drive back.” So we did. I had my learner’s permit and he said that he would let me drive once it was daylight. I fell asleep after the first hour, but I woke up at the first gas stop. Dawn was breaking and that’s when he let me drive.
I had quite a bit of experience driving, I had owned a motorcycle and quickly accumulated miles as I explored the back roads and foothills of the east Bay Area.
It was a magnificent car, beautiful, and so smooth, powerful and silent! Just a dream to drive. Is it any wonder that this experience made me a luxury car enthusiast for the rest of my life?
I had made the mistake of selling my ’64 Cadillac for a quick buck. I sold it for twice what I paid for it. On the surface, it seemed like a good deal, but now I had to find another car.
This was a mistake that I continued to make over the years. I would sell a car that I really liked, that was still running and looking good, in anticipation of moving on to the next thing. I was never too concerned, there were lots of cars out there, they were fairly cheap and available. As my Dad used to tell me, “Por carros no faltan.” There is no shortage of cars! At this age I was curious and eager to own different cars, I was never one to make a lasting commitment to any particular car. It’s still a trait that I maintain.
Not my actual car. Mine was dark gray.
Somehow I managed to locate a nearby ’66 Lincoln sedan in somewhat poor condition. It was a bit rough mechanically compared to my ’64 Caddy. Cosmetically it looked good; straight body, okay dark gray paint that should polish up nicely, black vinyl top, and an excellent black leather interior. It had a noticeable shake at idle, and the mufflers had more than a few leaks. These were the first red flags, which I of course ignored. I figured on a quick valve job and a new set of glass pack duals and I’d be in business. I’d just rebuilt my Honda 750’s engine and I was feeling very confident. I should have found a better car, but I was blinded by the low price.
The A/C controls mimicked the radio.
I have learned long ago, that the best way to save money is by starting with a better car. This is before any money is exchanged. Before they buy, the buyer has all the power, he doesn’t have to buy anything. He can afford to be picky, he can afford to drive a hard bargain. He can always walk away, that’s his superpower. If he can’t afford a better car, then he’s better off waiting until he can. Easier said as a guy in his 60’s, than a young man in his 20’s, but my Dad’s advice still rings true.
Coach doors is the correct term.
This was a newer version of my Dad’s former Lincoln. Both had “suicide doors” or rather, make that “coach doors.” This lent an elegant touch. It was a cleanly styled car and it felt quite responsive, even with it’s somewhat ailing 460 engine. It was equipped with front disc brakes and an AM/FM radio. It was also equipped with a/c, but at this price point, I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t work.
The engine’s condition got steadily worse as the valves continued to wear themselves out. The shaking got worse and worse, I wouldn’t say that it resembled a paint mixer, but it was getting bad. I drove it until it got to be too embarrassing. Time to get to work.
This is what a burnt valve looks like.
I pulled the heads and found several burned valves. I’d never seen a burned valve and sure enough, it looked like a pizza with a notch cut out of the edge. Instead of a full valve job, which would refresh the valve guides and regrind the valve seats, I decided to take the cheap route. I’d just replace the burned valves and hand lap the valve seats. Good enough. The shaking had also broken the engine mounts, so I had to replace those.
This was the epitome of false economy. The hardest part of the job was removing and replacing the heads. I should have had the heads properly rebuilt, all I had to do was drop them off at a machine shop, but I tried to save a few bucks.
I would come to regret this decision.
I also discovered that the front lower ball joints were worn. I should have just replaced the ball joints with the lower control arms in place. Instead, I decided to see if I could find a good set of used arms at the wrecking yard. Why oh why?
Are you starting to discern a certain pattern? Penny wise and pound foolish.
Just use a bigger hammer.
The yard man went looking at his crop of Lincolns, checking for a decent pair. When he found some that seemed okay, he unbolted the bottom spindle nut. “Stand back here.” he motioned me behind him. Then he hit the spindle with a sledgehammer until the arm broke free. The spring shot out of its pocket bouncing off the ground with a vengeance! Obviously not the recommended method. He removed the arm’s pivot bolt and repeated the procedure on the other side.
I’ve always liked these, on the right car.
The car needed a couple of tires, and I found two new Remington wide whitewalls that I put on the back. The other two tires were good, and would have to do for now, so they went on the front. The mismatched whitewall tires didn’t do the looks of the car any favors, but I was trying to save some money. Besides I needed to replace the exhaust system, it was much worse than I had thought.
The low buck car guy’s go to. They sure sounded good!
The muffler guy insisted that I couldn’t get by with a dual muffler system, he said that it would be too loud. Something to do with the engine’s valve configuration. The stock system consisted of two big mufflers with another pair of resonators that ended at the bumper. The four glass pack system was going to be quite a bit more expensive than I had anticipated, but he did a beautiful job. He ran two new pipes back from the manifolds, then had the first pair of glass packs kick up over the rear axle at an angle. Then the pipes continued to the back where another pack of glass packs replaced the resonators. It had a good, throaty, smooth sound, with no ragged tones. It was the best thing about the car, but it cost me much more than I would have liked.
The condition of the car seemed to be on the upswing, and I actually drove it quite a bit. To school and work. Maybe this car would turn out okay. But disaster was just around the corner, literally.
One cold morning I was running late to school, and I didn’t want to wait long enough for the windshield defroster to do its job. I just drove off. Things were fine until I turned directly into the morning sun, which reflected on the hazy windshield, temporarily blinding me. I was on a very narrow residential street and veered too far across the center. I never saw the car that I ran into. It was a slow speed collision, but it damaged the bumper of the other car, and the left fender blade and bumper on my Lincoln. Act in haste and repent at leisure!
I think that there is a lesson there.
Imagine this damage to the left side of a ’66 model.
After paying for the damage to the other car, I tried to fix the Lincoln. It never looked right after that. I used a come along attached to a telephone pole to pull the bent metal roughly back into place. Combined with a lot of hammering, I got most of it straightened out. However, it’s the detail finishing that makes the difference between a skilled body man and a driveway hammer swinger!
I continued to drive the car after that, however without much enthusiasm. My quickie valve job started to go bad and the shaking resumed. I was getting pretty tired of the car by now and just decided to sell it. I don’t remember how much I got for it, or who I sold it to. The lesson here is that there’s a buyer for almost anything, if the price is low enough.
I was done with cars for a while. I still had my motorcycle to get around on, and my Dad would lend me one of his cars if I needed it.
I needed a break.
Nice post. Fortunately I had a somewhat better 60’s Lincoln experience than you, though still disappointing. I still can’t help but love them though.
You mentioned a 460, was that a replacement motor? The MEL 462 was standard in 66-67, and early 68.
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/cars-of-a-lifetime/coal-1967-lincoln-continental-coupe-black-on-top-unfortunately-brown-on-the-bottom/
An interesting post that explains a lot about the author and his fondness of big cars.
“a magnificent car, beautiful, and so smooth, powerful and silent! Just a dream to drive. “
It is clear where your love of big cars comes from and it would be hard to imagine any other car having such an impact.
Going back in time, the Lincoln was a favorite of JFK and the shape of that car is, even now 60 years later, closely associated with the vibrant young President (*). That association is even stronger for someone my age (b. 1944).
The odd group of Cadillacs that I drove as a young man, which were owned by either job bosses or relatives, were impressive, but so far out of reach financially that they were never considered as near future DDs. Hence the rusty, leaky, and dented runners that I registered and insured in the hope they’d stay together long enough for me to graduate college, get a good job, and then get a NEW car someday.
While I liked all the Caddys I had the opportunity to drive, it was the six window 1962 Buick Electra 225 (in black) that I loved. A bit lower-keyed than a Cadillac, but just as quiet, just as smooth, and probably just as expensive.
(*) One of JFK’s personal cars was a ’63 Lincoln.
As the one-time owner of a ’64 Lincoln, I’m surprised that you didn’t have much more trouble with it. They are lovely but complicated cars.
I didn’t have any actual engine trouble; just peripheral stuff. A LOT of peripheral stuff.
Your dad’s experience with the ’63 suggests that they were pretty reliable for the first couple of owners, though, which is good to know.
Dad bought a ’64, cheap. He always wanted a Cadillac but this, in metallic turquoise and matching leather interior got him. Found out it was not just a fancy Ford as most parts did not interchange. Whatever the cast iron transmission was, it was not a C6, so no exchange was available, had to pay for a rebuild. Lots of hydraulic leaks from oddball PS pump (on end of crankshaft, not belt driven) that also powered the wipers, go figure. Electrical gremlins and leaky vacuum power door lock plumbing added to the fun.
Nikita ;
Back in the day (before the 2000’s) auto parts were not as affordable as they are now ~ every Mechanic / GearHead wanted a friend who’d price him out at blue sheet .
I remember buying those many, _many_ old klunkers that needed some repairs, in the 1970’s I knew the local power steering pump rebuilder, the place that would re line your old brake shows, on and on…..
That ’64 Lincoln was a very nice car, yes overly complicated but well worth the effort IMO and I don’t like to drive big cars .
I think the ’65 end of design cycle was the best of the bunch, as ten year old they were every where (all those boxy Lincolns) and dirt cheap ~ $100 ~ $350 would get you a really nice one with low miles, perfect interior and easy to polish up paint .
Of course they were only worth $500 ~ $700 when in perfect condition so most were scrapped or driven into the ground .
-Nate
Lots of lovely stuff here, Jose.
The pre-dawn excitement of a road trip, even till now: the cocky over-confidence in mechanical nous just because you’d done one other job right; the unerring belief that your car-buying journey would always be upward and profitable: the seemingly-inevitable crash of the inexperienced (and possibly over-confident) driver. All of these things I recognize from the same sort of age. And, I think it’s worth adding, none of the females of my age at the time made any of the same unforced errors (though if they put a tiny scrape in a carpark, why, how bad women drivers are!)
My first car would’ve fit in the trunk of your Caddy or the Lincoln, so I’m a tad jealous of the quite gorgeous super-lux things that were your first cars.
Looking forward to more.
How else to learn? Well, there are other ways, but not likely to be employed by a young male.
Having owned at one time, 3 61 Lincoln sedans and one 66 Lincoln 2dr hardtop,(Pictured sharing billing with my husband’s 66 Imperial) I became well versed with the issues the “children of Wixom” have. including the mid 60 Thunderbirds, which shred the line. Exhaust manifolds on the Lincolns were a particular weak spot. I still remember them fondly. (Never mention having extra money within earshot of any of them, trust.)
“Hence the rusty, leaky, and dented runners that I registered and insured in the hope they’d stay together long enough ”
This was and remains essentially me .
I’m O.K. with it because I know how to up fix most older vehicles .
Your story is well written, bummed about the crash but that’s life and you learned (?) a good lesson .
I had a ’33, ’64 and ’65 Lincoln, all were IMO stout and good cars if TOO DAMN BIG .
The ’56 had been bought new by my G.F.’s dad and was handed down to her, she caved in all four doors, I re sprayed them black and we just lived with it .
None of those cars were over 10 years old and all were dirt cheap as rich folks don’t like being seen anywhere near last year’s fad .
-Nate
A truly enjoyable story & great lessons.
I was luxury cars all the way , since a boy .Cadillacs my favorite, Buick Electra, bog Mercedes, Lincoln, Mercury , and especially the Marks.
Imperial fascinated , with its huge over the top designs too.
I get to attached to a car to ever turn in a good one for another not so good .
A 64 Cadillac , as a young man would pd been a dream ..
They where one of the fastest, and best Cadillacs ever !
But the author who loved his father’s car , wanted to take a shot at a Lincoln of his own.
One of my mechanical engineering professors at Cal drove an early ‘60’s Continental, black. I rode it in a few times with his son, who was a friend of friends, behind the wheel. His dad mentioned his car to us in class a few times (mid-70’s) as an example of superb American engineering and manufacturing quality. He seemed to be among a minority of UC faculty in those days who drove a non-European car.
As a college sophmore I had a ’63 Baby Blue Lincoln. This was 1974 and I think I paid seven hundred bucks. Absolutely pristine condition. My pals and I decided to take a road trip to the western range of Colorado where I had lived before college. Along the way we picked up some hitch hikers in Oklahoma. The girl had what I guess was a grand mal seizure in the back seat and threw up all over my leather! We promptly put the poor girl and her boyfriend out at the next town.
It was winter time and we had no snow tires, yet we made it through Denver to the western range to Breckenridge and Alma. Never touched the carburetor or made any adjustment to the timing despite the eleven thousand foot altitude.Just ran like a tank. Once again I sold a car I never should have. Errrr……
Another great story, repeating some of the lessons I was learning around the same time. I also got some highway wheel time in a big Lincoln when I had my learners permit. My father borrowed a business partner’s 74 Continental for a trip to Philly over the Thanksgiving holiday, probably around 1975 or 76. Once I got used to the car’s width on the none-too-wide Pennsy Turnpike, I marveled at the car’s liquid-smooth ride and endless torque.
“I should have found a better car, but I was blinded by the low price.” – no truer words have ever been spoken. I was fortunate to learn this lesson early (because of my 63 Fleetwood). And I will also agree that with used cars, the buyer is king!
It is funny when you have a memorable car yet can’t recall how or to whom you sold it. I have one of those too (the 59 Fury). And I regret that I never got to experience one of these Lincolns for myself.
Big American luxury cars have had a hold on me most of my automotive life. I strayed away for a time, but have found my way back recently. Memory is a funny thing, this series of COALS covers my post high school years up to my marriage, a very impactful period of my life. I know the starting and ending dates of this period, and should be able to interpolate the time of the specific events a bit better, but I’m satisfied to leave my recollections a bit fuzzy. My only hope is that readers will find my stories entertaining.
I want to thank Paul and Rich for allowing me to share my memories. I will ask for their indulgence one more time, I’m going to plug my own automotive blog. I’ve been producing this for almost ten years, and it (and this site) are two of the most enjoyable parts of my automotive hobby. Just click on my avatar for the link.
Valve damage like as in the pictures caused by running low octane fuel instead of the leaded premium required.
The bane of so many second hand luxury cars. They pass into the hands of people who just plain can’t afford them beyond the purchase price and something so small as the price of premium fuel (though it’s not small if you can’t afford it) kills what would other wise be a nice ride. This is not the car for you if your poor.
There is not one experience of the author’s that I did not have myself with my own ’66. In many ways, I had it worse: For example, it had sat dead for 15 years–part of that time “immersed”–when I came across it. The only things that worked were the door hinges. It took me four years to get the car revived enough to drive, and even then it was not ready for full-time service. I went through two transmission rebuilds (8 years and 200 kilomiles apart, incidentally) and two coma-inducing engine failures (the first I did a partial rebuild, piecemealing parts from a donor engine that needed obvious replacing; the second, 17 years afterward, was a full core-rebuild, which cost a lot but a lot less than many would imagine); brake issues that caused the first of three collisions I’ve sustained with this car (all for different reasons); chewed up lower control arms, not by bad ball joints (which I did have but replaced–incidentally, you don’t need to replace the whole arm to replace a lower ball joint) but bad bushings; hazardous vision thanks to heater core pinholes spraying misted coolant onto the windshield; even mysteries like the heater blowing hot in city traffic then going cold on its own at highway speed. And that’s just a handful of my ordeals. Guess what? I still have that car, over 23 years later, as my sole source of motorized conveyance.
You don’t get one of these cars just because it’s a car. These are America’s most distinguished motorcars, and you really have to know and love these cars above all others to own one. Anyone can own and patch a Caddy. It takes a special breed to give a clap-door Lincoln the love it needs and deserves.