It was late 1997, and after nearly a year and a half of struggling to make it in Seattle, I was throwing in the towel. The job market was great for young techies, but not for liberal arts grads with no marketable experience. The cost of living exceeded my income, I didn’t quite fit in with my peers, and I was homesick. The only true friend I had made while in Seattle had just returned home to Pennsylvania, coincidentally about 30 minutes from my hometown. The only thing left was to admit defeat and retreat to the safe familiarity of home, where I could lick my wounds and start over (again). I had determined that the Dodge Rampage would not be up to the cross-country slog, so I found a car that also offered a comfortable sense of familiarity: a 1976 Mercury Cougar XR7.
When I set out to find a reliable vehicle to ferry me safely across the country in the depth of winter, a 20-year-old American personal luxury coupe was not my initial target. I had looked at more sensible vehicles and came close to getting a bargain on a 1987 Mercury Sable wagon that just needed a new heater core. As was frequently the case at that time in my life, money was the limiting factor. The seller (understandably) wouldn’t hold the car until I received my paycheck at the end of the week, and it was gone before I got paid. Shortly afterward, a classified ad for another Mercury caught my eye. The advertised mileage was low — as was the asking price — so I made arrangements with the seller to see the car that evening.
As has been told in these pages before, Mercury repurposed and re-platformed the Cougar nameplate in 1974. From its birth in 1967 through 1973, the Cougar shared its unibody shell and base mechanicals with the Mustang, filling a market niche as an upscale, gentleman’s pony car. With the muscle era all but dead, Ford diverged the platform mates to serve two distinctly different places in the market. The Mustang was downsized onto a modified Pinto platform to take on the rising influx of economical, sporty imports that were seizing the youth market. Conversely, the Cougar was moved to the (large) midsize Torino platform, where it would be a posh PLC extension of Mercury’s mainstream Montego line and compete with the likes of the Monte Carlo and Grand Prix.
Mechanically, the bigger Cougar was standard midsize Ford fare. It shared its perimeter frame construction, “road-hugging weight,” and proven powertrains with, by my count, no less than 17 concurrent or subsequent Ford products in coupe, sedan, wagon, and pickup form, together tallying over 5 million units between 1972 and 1979 (as Mr. Shafer documented here). One of those products was the Ford LTD II, which also happened to be my first COAL. First-year 1974 models came standard with Ford’s excellent 351 Cleveland, but the Q-code 351 Cobra Jet could still be ordered, though these were exceptionally rare (about 2,800 produced). In 1975, the 351M replaced the Cleveland, and the Q-code was history. The 351 made all of 154 net hp and 286 lb-ft of torque, delivering a 0-60 acceleration of just under 13 seconds and returning about 12 mpg. The 400 and 460 were optional all three years, each taking an incremental second off the acceleration time, but adding between 300 and 400 lbs to the car’s already prodigious 4168 lb curb weight. The 460 took the output all the way to a very respectable (for 1976) 202hp and 338 lb-ft of torque, reducing elapsed time and fuel mileage to 10.6 and 10.2, respectively.
When I arrived at the seller’s house, I found the Cougar parked along the street with a “For Sale” sign in the window, and I knew instantly that I was going to make this my car. I had always liked this generation of Cougar. The long, low hood and short deck with exaggerated hips gave it a striking silhouette, much like a cat preparing to pounce. The three-piece front end, whose theme carried over from the prior generation Cougar, was handsome and confident, whereas the Montego’s was dull and dorky.
Beyond the basic styling of the car, I was also taken by its color. As I noted in my prior installment, I have an affinity for things that are a bit oddball, and this beast fit that description. Ford called the color 2726 Light Green, and offered it on Cougars from 1975 through 1977. The name does not aptly describe the hue. If you were to take 1 cup of that day-glo ectoplasm slime that the kids love, and mix it with two quarts of eggnog, you would approximate this color. Under certain conditions, the car looked pale yellow, but if it caught the right light the green tones would be enhanced. This was offset by an avocado skin dark green quarter vinyl top (surrounding opera windows with inset chrome cats) and matching vinyl rub strips running the length of the car’s lower flanks.
Peering through the window, I could see that the entire interior – from the vinyl “Twin Comfort Lounge” 50/50 split bench seats to the carpets, headliner, and dash – was enveloped in this same dark green. While this combination may sound repulsive, it was striking on this particular car. That it was all riding on four lovely magnum 500-style steel wheels perfected the look. It was as close as you could get to classic muscle-car styling on a mid-70’s luxobarge and to my eyes, it was stunning. I own the opinion that this was the best-looking car on that platform that is not a 72 Torino SportsRoof.
Walking around the car, I found it to be in near pristine condition. The paint looked thick and shone under the streetlamp, and the vinyl and chrome trim were all in perfect condition. And, being a Washington car, there was not a spec of rust visible in any of the typical areas. It was perfect. Well, at least three quarters of it was. As was stated in the ad, the reason for the low asking price was that the car had recently suffered minor accident damage. The area of the right front fender between the wheel opening and bumper was caved in, and the impact had also shifted the bumper laterally an inch or two and broken a piece out of the headlight trim. No other panels were damaged, so I figured this would be a simple fender replacement.
Sliding into the car for a test drive was an immediate rush of familiarity. The large split bench and dual armrests felt just like my LTD II. The dash layout was identical and, other than the inclusion of a tachometer, all of the gauges and controls were right where I remembered them. The test drive confirmed it was running well, and the owner explained that he was selling it because he had bought it for his son, who shortly thereafter was “screwing around” and had the mishap that resulted in the damaged fender. As punishment for the accident and subsequent insurance hike, he was selling the Cougar and making him share a car with his mom for a while. $750 was exchanged, and I picked up the Cougar the following day.
In those early days of the internet, sourcing a 20-year-old fender meant calling every wrecking yards in the SeaTac metro, but I was fortunate to locate one and my brother helped me swap it out with the damaged unit. I was also able to get a quart of 2726 Light Green, and my brother applied it with a sprayer in his garage. Once it cured and was rubbed out, the match was excellent. The bumper ended up being a bigger challenge. The hit tweaked the bumper mounts and we didn’t have the right equipment to pull them, so we removed the bumper, propped it into position on a couple of jackstands, and my brother welded it directly to the mounts.
Once the repairs were completed, I sold the Rampage to a guy who seemed to collect them and began using the Cougar as my daily driver. While I was hopeful that it would not present any serious issues, I also hoped that if it did, it would do so before I set off to cross the country. My first morning commute was auspicious. As I approached work, it started stumbling, and I noticed smoke coming from the trailing edge of the hood, in front of the windshield. I pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car.
As I raised the massive hood, I found a small fire at the base of the carburetor, its orange flames illuminating the pre-dawn parking lot. Terrified and not knowing what to do, I slammed down the hood, and strolled into work as if my car wasn’t on fire. I had seen enough episodes of “CHiPs” to know what could happen, and I spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on my work while praying that the Mercury would not explode in a spectacular fashion in my employer’s parking lot. By lunchtime, no one had mentioned a burning car, so I figured it was safe to investigate. I was pleased to find the car was not a smoldering cinder, but I was still fearful of what damage may have been done. I clinched my eyelids shut and popped the hood, and as I slowly opened my eyes they revealed no visible signs of damage. I got in and turned the key slowly (while praying that it wouldn’t explode upon ignition), and she fired right up and settled into a smooth idle. It never exhibited the same stumbling, nor did it ever again catch fire.
Crisis averted, I spent the next several weeks getting to know the Cougar. The prior owner had installed an aftermarket stereo and removed it when he put it up for sale, so I filled the hole with a Sony in-dash CD head unit with an oh-so-‘90s removable faceplate. Otherwise, the car was truly in like-new condition. While far from fast, the 351 and C6 auto moved the Mercury effortlessly, much more so than the 302 in my LTD II, and it rode like a big, heavy luxury car should. Yes, this smooth, quiet, comfy beast would certainly be an upgrade over the buzzy little Rampage for my 3,000-mile solo journey.
Early on the morning of January 3, 1998, I rolled out of Seattle and pointed the Cougar east. It would not be an uneventful trip.
Related CC Reading
CC Outtake: 1972 Mercury Cougar XR-7 Convertible – Pony Up From That Mustang
Curbside Classic: 1971-1973 Mercury Cougar – Mercury’s Pony Goes Brougham
For further enjoyment, Bud Lindemann provided rather humorous commentary in this comparison of the new 1974 Cougar and Cutlass on Car and Track.
Your description of the car’s color (ectoplasm + eggnog) is excellent.
“It’s like nobody else’s car! Cougar! GRRARRRERRR!!!
At the Sign of the Cat!”
I was in heavy stop and go traffic on my way to work at the mall back in the 80’s. I could smell gas and wondered if it was my car. My car ran ok, so I was not too concerned. Suddenly a 70’s LTD station wagon pulled on to the shoulder of the road, smoke billowing from the unopened hood. I continued past since I did not have a fire extinguisher. As a retired auto mechanic at Sears, we had many Ford’s that came in with gas leaks. It was almost always at the little rubber hose from the fuel line to the fuel filter screwed to the carburetor. If I remember correctly, new fuel filters for these type Fords had a new hose and clips. We always changed these little short hoses, but some did not. These hoses would wear from the heat and crack, causing fuel leaks onto the intake, and sometimes fires.
This comment brought back memories… my grandfather being a long-term Ford guy… when he picked up a triple black LTD Brougham four-door hardtop with a 351 in it he showed me how to swap out that exact factory rubber tube with a better quality replacement with a glass fuel filter… I also remember carrying extra Ford solenoids in glove box after he passed that LTD Brougham to me… for the inevitable 2:00 a.m. in the rain solenoid change out on the highway! My beloved little Scion FRS just ate up a rod bearing, so I’m actually thinking about looking for something from the Brougham Malaise era while I figure out what to do with my little Japanese sports car… years experience with 351s 460s and Cadillac 425s…just need something with a plush leather interior, air conditioning, and preferably Naples yellow or one of the 70s green colors!
Nice Looking Cars shown here. Yikes, the rims on that green one though (and I’m usually ok with a LOT of aftermarket wheels) THOSE are hideous.
I’d take either one of these for the right price.