My 1996 Mercury Sable Wagon: A Bad Bet

1996 Mercury Sable 1

In late 1998 or early 1999, I traded my Chevy Beretta for a 1996 Mercury Sable wagon in Pacific Green Metallic. Because I was fully busy with my young family, this is the only car I’ve owned that I never photographed, so I found other photos of this model around the Internet.

We loved our five-speed coupes, my Beretta and my wife’s red 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5 coupe. My Beretta was used up at 150,000 miles. Her Corolla had plenty of life left at 170,000 miles.

She was reluctant to give up her manual transmission, which I understood. But she drew an unexpectedly hard line: she would not own a car with cruise control. I couldn’t understand it. “Just don’t use it,” I said. “No. I won’t have it on my car. Period. You can have it on yours all you want.” It was nigh unto impossible to find a family car without it, even in 1999.

I thought it made more sense for her to have the family car since she was the one who toted the kids around the most. But I wasn’t going to be without cruise on long trips, so I would be driving the new car. I was ready to move on from the Beretta anyway, and this would let my wife keep her beloved Corolla for a little while longer. I liked that.

At the same time, this was part of a larger pattern of me accommodating my wife rather than being clear about what I wanted. I didn’t see how it was eroding our marriage until it was too late.

I had a visceral negative reaction to the thought of owning a minivan. I considered a couple SUVs, but I didn’t enjoy their tippy handling and poor gas mileage. Then here was this Sable wagon. A little rear-facing seat even folded out of the cargo floor in case our oldest needed a respite from his small siblings. Wagons had been out of favor for so long that owning one might seem retro. “This won’t be so bad,” I told myself as I signed the loan papers.

1996 Mercury Sable 2

The Sable’s wayback proved sufficient for packing three kids and their gear. Two babies needed a mountain of stuff to go anywhere. But when it came to riding in the third row, our oldest said not just nope, but heck nope. I could already see that as our younger kids grew, we’d need something bigger.

1996 Mercury Sable 3

Say what you will about the styling of this generation of Sable and Taurus, but I liked it. I thought the wagon was its best expression. The ovoid dashboard was neat in concept, but the materials were cheap and, much like this pictured dash, it had large gaps between some panels.

I missed shifting my own gears, but the Sable was powerful enough with its 3-liter Vulcan V6 that it made up for it. At 157 horsepower, it was a big step up from the Beretta’s 90. I loved shoving the gas pedal to the floor and letting the car peel out. I’ve always been the driver who likes to get to speed fast.

It wasn’t a sporty handler — the car leaned and the tires squealed when you threw it into a curve. At least it didn’t wallow under normal handling. It was remarkably composed in the snow, a prized trait in Indiana.

I owned the Sable barely more than a year when the problems started. First the head gasket blew, lightening my wallet by $1,200. Six months later, a freeze plug blew. The lowly freeze plug is designed to pop out when too much pressure builds in the cooling system so the engine block doesn’t crack. The idea is that it’s cheaper to replace a six-dollar freeze plug than an entire engine. Good thinking, but unfortunately the one that popped on my Sable’s engine could be reached only by dropping the engine out of the car. That cost $1,300 in labor.

As I wrote the check, my mechanic warned me, “These Sables, once they get cooling system problems, they never seem to get rid of them. You’ll keep dumping money into repairs. I’d get rid of this car if I were you.”

I traded it in the next week. That car’s story is next.