My 1977 Ford LTD II – You Never Forget Your First Girl

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– Posted on October 1, 2025
LTD II image from 1977 brochure.

“You never forget your first girl…” was the tagline for St. Pauli Girl beer in the late ’80s/early ’90s.  St. Pauli was one of the top German imports at that time, due to a massive marketing push and posters like this one, which hung on my bedroom wall throughout my high school years:

As I started driving during that (awesome) era, I’ve always associated that jingle with my first car.

While I received my driver’s license the very day I turned 16 in early 1989, it would be another 18 months until I actually had my own car.  In the meantime, Dad would occasionally let me drive his 1982 Cutlass Supreme (with the gawd-awful 267 V8 2bbl that never ran properly.)  The Olds was our family’s only car, as Mom never drove and my two older brothers were, by that time, serving in various geographies in the USAF.  My brother’s 1976 Spitfire 1500 was stashed in the garage, but it had thrown a rod and was immobile for a decade or so while he was base-hopping.  As such, I was on a short leash because any incapacitation of the Cutlass meant that Dad would not be able to earn his day’s wages at NCR, the company that kept a roof over our family’s heads for some 40 years.

I spent the summer between my junior and senior years working as a waiter at a local diner, with the goal of securing my own wheels that fall.  I befriended many of the diner ‘regulars’.  Most were middle-aged divorcees and retirees who would belly up to the bar for a coffee and maybe a slice of strawberry pie, and to escape boredom and loneliness for an hour or so.  They all came to know my goal, and several offered to sell me their tired old wheels.  I can recall a green 1977 Royal Monaco (asking too much), a 1985 Shelby Charger (too many issues to list), a truly sad 1973(?) Corolla in white with baby blue vinyl roof and an automatic (I had some standards), and a brown 1972 Matador sedan that was close to returning to its elemental components.  None was a match, and by mid-August I was desperate to put a second car in our driveway.

Two-a-day football camp had started, so I had to reduce my hours at the diner and thus my cash flow slowed to a trickle.  Mornings and weekends were spent serially scrolling the print classifieds in the Bethlehem Morning Call, praying that some little old lady would post her low-mileage creampuff for an absurdly low price.  Alas, I had only amassed about $500 toward my car fund.  In 1990 Pennsylvania, that limited my choices to rusted and thrashed-out 10-year-old Corollas and Datsun 210s, or rat-trap Novas and Mavericks that would make the state safety inspection a pucker and pray experience.

I REALLY wanted the Charger, but it had clearly been in a major accident, and my brother had recently had a nightmarish ownership experience with the related Omni GLH.

Salvation came one day at football practice, in the form of the passing of my line coach’s grandfather.  He had bequeathed his grandson a relatively clean 1977 LTD II Sedan, in stripper “S” trim, with reasonable mileage (IIRC, it was just under 100K).  Coach had no need for the car and nowhere to store it, so it could be mine for the low, low price of $450.  Dad and I went to kick the tires that Saturday morning, and found the white whale to be in fine running condition.  Tires would be needed before winter, but otherwise it was simple and solid, with the tried-and-true (if somewhat overwhelmed in this 4000lb ‘intermediate’) 302 2bbl.  We extracted my summer’s savings from two local ATMs (daily limit of $250 per ATM) and the big girl was all mine.

Similar to mine, but my ‘S’ Model didn’t have the rear quarter window. Courtesy of the internet.

First order of business was a pit stop at the local Parts Authority, where Dad sprung for a Chilton’s manual.  When we got her home, Dad oriented me with both the manual and the most-used automotive tools in his workshop.  His guidance to me was that whenever something broke or didn’t seem right, refer to the manual and try to troubleshoot and repair it myself.  He told me there is nothing I could break that he couldn’t fix, so I should try it myself first and, if after a few honest tries I couldn’t figure it out, come and get him for help.   And when I’m done, be respectful by cleaning and replacing the tools exactly where I found them.  Dad led mostly by example, but of all the guidance he ever gave me, this remains among the most impactful in shaping my character.  In that one simple exchange, and without directly saying so, Dad told me:

  1. You are smart enough to figure things out;
  2. There’s nothing that you can’t do yourself with a little bit of information and the right tools;
  3. Respect other people’s property and space; and
  4. Above all else, I have confidence in you, and I’ve got your back if you get in over your head.

That afternoon, I cleaned and polished that old Ford as if it were a priceless classic.  The Frigidaire white paint was thick and shined up well in most places, and the blue, full-length vinyl top was in good condition and responded well to a little Armor All.  The blue vinyl interior had no tears or excessive wear, and also received a thick coat of the then-ubiquitous shiny protectant fluid.  No one had bothered to tell me (and I had not bothered to read the bottle) that you should never apply this slick solution to seat surfaces or steering controls.  I picked up a friend that afternoon for our first spin around town.  Remember that in 1990, most people did not impulsively buckle their seat belts, especially when driving in town.  Upon the first sharp right-hander, he slid clear across the front bench and slammed into me, knocking the slippery wheel out of my hands and nearly causing us to turf a neighbor’s lawn.  Luckily, I was able to recover control, and made a mental note not to be so exuberant with the Armor All.

The coupes were almost cool with the rare Sport Appearance Package.  A nearby resident had one in red that I always found unique and attractive.

The LTD II has been documented at CC (links below), but in general, the model is largely forgotten other than by those who have owned one or who frequent this site.  And that’s understandable, as it’s a wholly forgettable vehicle.  While simply a reskin and rebadging of the Gran Torino, it was not nearly as omnipresent as others in that era, and it didn’t have the facial recognition that comes with being the star of a popular TV show.  It also had the distinct disadvantage of sharing showroom real estate with a sexier, vivacious, uber-popular fraternal twin.  It was antiquated at birth – too big, too heavy, too space-inefficient, and too thirsty for rapidly-changing times and tastes and lasted just 3 model years.

Being the wrong product for the market, however, doesn’t mean it was a bad car.  Its mechanicals were reliable as an anvil, and it was comfortable and secure (if more than a bit wallowy in the twisties).  It also felt substantial and well screwed-together, in a way that many of its contemporaries did not.  While I have always been more attracted to GM products, I recall that by the time their vehicles of similar vintage were 15 years old, they were typically plagued by disintegrating bumper fillers, rusted out rockers, chalky oxidized paint, and brittle interior plastics.  The Ford’s interior looked as fresh as it did in 1977, and there was no rust to be found, even around the vinyl roof.

My interior looked just like this one. Courtesy of the Internet.

I didn’t have the LTD for terribly long, but I’ll never forget my first girl and all the fun we had that Senior Year.  In November, I drove several friends to see Fleetwood Mac at Lehigh University’s Stabler Arena.  Driving from downtown Bethlehem to the arena required climbing the north slope of South Mountain, where Lehigh’s campus overlooks the Bethlehem Steel complex.  While approaching a particularly steep incline, I slammed on the accelerator to ensure enough forward momentum to keep the 2-ton beast moving smartly up the mountain.   As we hit the apron of the hill, there was a distinct pause as the old C4 kicked down into 2nd, the throttle plates opened and audibly sucked in enough cool November air to fuel the ascent, and the car reared back on its softly-sprung suspension like a cat preparing to pounce on a rodent.  As the torque converter engaged, a rush of power was sent to the drive wheel, further loading the rear suspension and lifting the impossibly-long hood toward heaven.  Suddenly the massive beast lunged up the slope with a ferocity never before demonstrated, as if she’d been waiting her whole life for that very moment. I vividly recall the fear on my friends’ faces (which I’m sure was mirrored in my own) as we roared up the hill with nothing in our field of vision but a vast blue sky and a spring-loaded hood ornament.

Fleetwood Mac in 1990 – Lindsey Buckingham was out, replaced by Rick Vito and Billy Burnette. Stevie would leave the stage for long stretches while the others performed.

Later that winter, I had my first fender-bender experience.  The season’s first sleety, icy mix had been falling while I was working at the Bradlees department store, and the parking lot exit consisted of a steep downhill grade to a lighted intersection with one of our busiest boulevards.  My colleague, in her 1982-ish Grand Prix, was stopped at the base of the hill, awaiting a green light.  I hit the top of the hill and began to apply my brakes gently and gradually, but to no effect.  The massive sled kept sliding, and despite pumping the brakes and trying to steer toward a curb, I could neither change the velocity nor the vector of the Ford.  It finally came to a stop by transferring all of its forward energy into the Pontiac, launching it through the still-red light and straight through the intersection.  By the grace of God, cross-traffic had already come to a stop as the lights were preparing to change. The slick surface prevented the GP from suffering any real impact damage, and the LTD’s battering ram bumper showed no evidence of impact.  My colleague and I shared a hearty laugh on our next shift.

The ad copy is pure gold. You had me at “Mustang II”.

The following spring, I somehow scored a prom date with one of the prettiest and sweetest girls in my high school (on a purely ‘we are going as friends’ basis).  In the weeks leading up to the big event, the Ford’s brakes started to fail.  I would have to pump the pedal two or three times before it would generate enough pressure to pinch the calipers (front discs, IIRC).  I worked through it by starting the braking process early and clinching my cheeks tightly.  This, of course, meant that we would not be taking the LTD to prom.  Luckily, we were invited to double date in our mutual friend’s parents’ beautiful navy-on-navy, nearly-new Cougar XR7.  A rebuilt master cylinder soon brought the Ford back up to basic safety standards.

“Trim” and “Sporty” are a bit of a stretch.

By that time, the school year was winding down and I was going to have to surrender my license to the Commonwealth of PA for the summer due to an underage drinking offense.  I and two of my buddies were at a house party earlier that Spring, and were the only ones to be honest enough under police questioning to get cited.  Despite the brush with the law, my parents were feeling sympathetic toward me.   I had been accepted to several great colleges, but our lack of both finances and familiarity with the financial aid process meant that I was going to be attending community college in the fall.  They knew I would need something more reliable and economical for the college commute, so they proposed that I sell the Ford, and they would give me some of the (little) money they had saved for college to help me buy a car once my license was restored.  Coincidentally, the very Grand Prix that I had so rudely pushed into an intersection 6-months prior had given up the ghost, and my colleague needed cheap wheels.  I sold the Ford to her husband for $350, just before I ventured down to the Jersey shore with a group of friends to party work all summer.  A few weeks later, my dad called to tell me the Ford’s transmission had failed, and that he had refunded the purchase price so that the buyer could afford a rebuild.

Ford offered a full range of LTDII models, including a wagon that clearly showed its Torino roots.

Thus ended the first, short fling of my automotive life.  While I would never forget my first girl, I already had my eye on the next one, and she would be my first long-term relationship.

 

Related CC reading:

Curbside Classic: 1977-79 Ford LTD II – The Longest Mid-Size Ever Or The Stripper Mark V Sedan

Curbside Classic: 1977 Ford LTD II Brougham – The Thunderbird’s Less Successful Brother

Vintage Ad: 1977 Ford LTDs – “Trim and Sporty”