In 1985 my grandmother died and was to be buried in her birthplace, North Carolina, beside her deceased husband. I never met that grandfather; the closest I came to anything of him was when he passed away in 1972 and my mother came home from his burial driving his 1971 LTD. It spent a few days parked in our garage. That was weird to me; cars had owners, yet here was a car without an owner, just sitting there. What happens to ownerless cars, 7-year-old me wondered.
An LTD like my grandfather’s, only his was basic old-man spec with the base taillamps.
My grandmother had left my grandfather decades earlier, done with his philandering and abuse (the story was that, finally fed up, she chased him through the backyard with a shotgun, firing as he ran from tree to tree). I know she wouldn’t have wanted to spend eternity resting beside him, but that was the choice my aunts and uncles made. So in August of ’85 I went to North Carolina to see her buried.
I had to ride down with my mother’s cousin, Fred. (I know technically he was my cousin too, but to me a cousin is someone in your own generation, so to me he was always my mother’s cousin.) Fred was a dour, no-nonsense, stick-in-the-mud sort of dude, kind of like Hank Hill, except even Hank Hill would have seemed zany compared to Fred. (Fun story about Fred: not long before he died, as an old man living alone, he built his own garage, only to realize he had messed up and built it a couple of feet over the neighbor’s property line. So he jacked it up and moved it – by himself.) A Ford employee, Fred had always been impartial to T-Birds so it was a surprise when I got to his house and he was preparing to depart in a newer Riviera.
What Fred used to drive (Wikimedia source)
I always liked that generation (sixth) of Riviera although it lacked the drama of the earlier years. The corresponding Eldorado was too boxy and angular and the Toronado just looked like a placeholder, but the Riviera had style.
What Fred was driving in ’85 (Wikimedia source)
It was a long ride down. Fred didn’t talk much, so I read my Robert Heinlein paperback (Number of the Beast, with demonic artwork on the cover. Looking back, that must have caused Fred, a devout Christian, to have So Many Questions about me). Naturally Fred didn’t offer to let me share the driving duties and I knew better than to ask.
In retrospect, this probably wasn’t a good look in front of the strait-laced Fred
We got to North Carolina and I was free of Fred for a few days while I stayed at the house of another of my mom’s cousins, a lady named Cloris. Parked in Cloris’ carport was the vehicle pictured in the lead photo, which I was instantly drawn to: a 1967 Mercury…Something.
That lead photo is all I have of the car. I know Cloris said it was a ’67 and she had bought it new. The extra trim on the trunk lid between the taillamps identifies it as something above a base model. A Park Lane? The small rear window, just barely visible in the shadows, seems to be a brougham roof, but I’m sure it was a pillarless hardtop. Maybe it was a Brougham? A Park Lane Brougham? I’m not sure, which is why the title to this post just calls it a Mercury. I’m sure commenters will chime in to help out.
The brochure IDs this as a Brougham but makes no mention of Park Lane
It was a long, black four door. It looked like a baby Lincoln, and I mean not that it looked lesser than a Lincoln, but somehow more pragmatic, as if Cloris appreciated a Lincoln’s style but wanted to fly a bit below the radar. (If so, I can relate; that’s why I drive a VW instead of its Audi cognate).
But what struck me most about this car was the fact that it existed at all. In Ohio where I lived, you just didn’t see clean 18-year-old cars as daily drivers. Not in 1985. On summer weekends, the muscle car guys would drag their clean 442s and Chargers out of mothballs for a cruise around the neighborhood, and a woman in one of my college classes drove a rattling, rusty, late-60s Olds, but clean 4-door luxury sedans had been eradicated (erusticated?) from Ohio roads by the mid ‘70s. Yet here was one, chilling in the carport like it was no big deal.
I had a couple of days to kill before the funeral. Cloris, sensing my boredom, asked me if I wanted to go with her to the grocery. Of course I didn’t. But I did want to ride in that car! So off we went.
Backed out of the carport, the Mercury was revealed to have a parchment interior, wrapped in clear plastic slip covers. It was a high-spec model with power everything. Gliding through the summer afternoon on Southern small-town streets, all windows down, my mom’s elderly cousin at the wheel of an ancient luxury car: it all felt very Southern Gothic…Capote-esque, even. In spite of the black exterior, the interior was bright and airy, an impression enhanced by bright metal trim on the dash and door panels. Everyone should cruise, at least once, in an old luxury hardtop with all the windows down through the streets of a small town on a summer afternoon.
A different year and spec but this captures something of the brightness and airiness of the interior.
A couple of days after the funeral it was time to go home and I was searching for a graceful way to say to Cloris “Hey, we just met and we’ll probably never see each other again, but when you’re ready to get rid of the Mercury, hit me up, K?” But there’s no way to tactfully tell someone the greatest impression they made on you was their car, so I thanked Cloris for her hospitality and left, heading back north with Fred in the Riviera.
On the way back we got stuck in an epic traffic jam outside one of the tunnels on Interstate 77. Traffic was at a dead standstill, with people getting out of their cars to hang out on the roadway. It was a little bit of a party atmosphere but Fred was having none of that. Even though I rode hundreds of miles and many hours in Fred’s Riviera, it failed to make an impression on me as four miles in the Mercury had. Today I have a full stable (three vintage Porsches and three more-or-less current VWs), but if a black ’67 Mercury 4-door with a parchment interior popped up on my radar, I’d find a way to give it a home.
Oh, what a great short story this is! Capote link in more than one way, you know.
Got to admit, the most striking part for me is your grandmother being buried next to her abuser, the choice (it seems) of unthinking relatives either wanting to make the past all smoothed over, or, just as undesirable, enforcing a type of code that had no place here. Every time someone mentions the good old days, I think that where we are right now is someone young’s future good old days, and in so many ways, I really like them. The rest is the fog of nostalgia.
Btw, I too wondered, as a little kid in the ’70’s, what happened to ownerless cars, like ones traded in. Surely, they got sad and lonely once we’d abandoned them?
Yes, I was a future car nut from the start.
Great story! First, I believe the car was a Parklane Brougham or a Marquis (which debuted in 67). It definitely appears to be a Capote SWAN. I have only purchased a NEW car, enjoying upscale previously owned vehicles, including 72 LTD convert, 78 Grand Marquis, 78 Town Coupe, 89 Crown Victoria LX, 89 Town Car Signature Series, and current low mileage 2007 Town Car Signature Limited. All have attracted admiration, as is their due. But the current 17 year old Town Car gets huge attention and frequent offers to buy. Sad that we now live in a world obsessed with sports cars, SUVS, crossovers and melted jelly beans. And YES, a beloved car can become like a member of the family. When I was 15, my parents traded our 55 DeSoto for a 🤮 62 Plymouth Belvedere. For weeks, driving past the DeSoto on the sales lot, I thought I could feel it with a tear from a head light wondering why it was no longer loved. Whenever I have let one of my cars go, I try to send it to a good home and hope it will be lovingly cared for. Guess this may be a sob (definitely not a SAAB 🤮) story!
In 1967, if 2 door hardtop, it was Marquis then Park Lane. If four door hardtop it was Park Lane Brougham and then Park Lane. If four door sedan it was again Park Lane Brougham and Park Lane. If convertible it was only Park Lane. Author claims hardtop and so the four door roof line either makes it a Park Lane Brougham or Park Lane. Externally they look the same as the difference is in the interior. You can see what one actually looks like in the video below by Adam. Most obvious clues are the tuffed seats and the chrome door pulls which my optioned Park Lane doesn’t have.
https://youtu.be/IC_xHByKwqI?si=OOaeeqsm_kocpyBZ
The Park Lane interior. When I got the car in 2003 the seats were also covered in plastic covers which is why it looks so good.
You’ve covered a lot of ground very well here, Mark. Within about five minutes, I’ve felt angry for the injustice foisted on your grandmother by your extended family; I’ve felt empathy for your having to spend a significant chunk of time with a little-known relative (I would have HATED that, cool Riviera or no); and I’ve related to you for preferring books to conversation (much of the time), imprinting with a car, and thinking of cars from an anthropomorphic perspective.
You have also dredged up memories of those “what-am-I-doing-here” situations in which a seven year old sometimes finds himself.
And he had a highly memorable ride in the Mercury. An excellent short story indeed.
Great Saturday morning coffee read. Having grown up (and still living) in Ohio, I can attest to the shock of seeing an abundance of clean old cars whenever I travel to the south or west, something that still happens to this day.
BTW, a 1971 Ford without the deluxe brake lights isn’t an LTD at all, but rather a Galaxy 500. The fancy schmancy brake lights were standard on the LTD.
My first car was a 1971 LTD. It was my father’s first new car, and it eventually became mine. I loved the taillight pattern and the unique braking pattern, trouble is, everyone behind me was seeing it instead of me, LOL. when they were common, it was nice to get behind one. A similar braking pattern was found on the 1969-1971 Mercury Marquis. When the 1974 Mercury Cougar XR7 came out, I was excited to see another join the look. But I soon learned that the center section was only a reflector (along with the Ford Elite and Gran Torino Brougham). My next car, which I bought myself, was a new 1978 Thunderbird, while it had the full width lights, it was not as impressive because the center two lights were a smaller bulb than on the outer lights.
Gramps had a 1957 Merc.
4-yr-old Me spent every visit clicking each toggle switich, button (including pushbutton transm.), and lever I could find
Running my hand over the textured gold-colored aluminum rear-fender strips was a special thrill.
As we’ve all observed —
Look at the remarkable shifts in design, style, safety & power- plants, between 1957 & 67.
(Indeed, for any 10-yr span between 1950-1980).
Great story, well-written, Mark.
I also believe that yours is the second CC mention in 2 days of the classic Fingerhut plastic seat covers. Man, I hated riding in a car with those things back in the day, but what I DID love about them were the little samples/swatches they sent in their direct mail ads. Those things seemed to show up every few months or so in the 1960s and early 1970s, and my sister and I would fight over who got to keep the swatch from the mailing. Usually, she got the fabric ones (Fingerhut, you may recall, was also trying to sell you suits made out of a slightly different interpretation of the same plastic that they also formed into seat covers). I got the seat cover samples. Loved those things, although I have no idea now what I actually did with them besides accumulate them.
There were two kinds of Fingerhut clear plastic seat covers; the embossed kind that most folks had, which created spaces for the sweat to drain out, not unlike those rainguard house wraps used in new construction. And there was the smooth kind, which of course my father bought, which meant that one literally had to peel oneself off of them on a hot day.
Bonus: I got a wrist watch for Xmas one year. Wow! Within a few months I started getting a green circle on my skin under the watch. It wasn’t stainless steel! It was a hard choice whether to wear it or not. I didn’t really want to show up at the pool every afternoon with a bright green disk on my wrist.
My brother finally clued me in: it had been a free bonus from Fingerhut for buying those damn smooth clear seat covers. Thanks, Dad!
My 59 Plymouth had the same smooth Fingerhut plastic covers on the seats. Fortunately, I mostly drove the car in the fall, winter and spring, so I missed the peak of hot summer seat sizzle.
Jeff, thanks for confirming my memory! I debated including the detail about the plastic seat covers because I had never seen them anywhere except on this car, and I was wondering if maybe my memory had fabricated them. I see now that they were a thing.
A friend’s parents had those plastic seat covers in their Pontiac. They addressed the heat issue by putting yet another seat cover on top of the plastic seat cover. Of course, the parents only bought two. One for the driver and one for the front seat passenger. I remember those seat covers as having inner metal springs that created some ventilation space.
For the kids loaded into the back seat, it was still sweat city. We used to amuse ourselves on trips to the lake by seeing who could generate the largest “sweat river” on their portion of the seat.
From the rear trunk molding it’s either a Park Lane or Park Lane Brougham. It’s not a Marquis, as that was only offered as a 2 door for 1967. Both had the 330 h.p. 410 V-8 as standard, making for quite the cruiser. If this wasn’t enough, a 345 h.p. 428 was optional.
And, your grandfather’s car was probably a Galaxie 500. All LTDd’s had the wide middle tailight.
Another truly excellent read, great from start to finish. I could sense the silence and tension in the car with Cousin Fred in the Riviera. From the lead photo, and completely forgetting the title, I thought I was about to read about a ’71 Cadillac…
Had “67” model, like the one pictured, roaming round our hometown into the early “80’s”.
Was red inside; kept it’s looks ‘reasonably well”, for western PA.
In February, I gave instructions for my 96 y.o. father to be buried between my mother and step-monster. The funeral parlor lady said something like, Isn’t that nice?, and I replied, No, could you dig her up and burn her, just to be sure?
i love these stories. My aunt Gwen in South Carolina loved her cars. Gwen passed in 2005, but that is another story. When Gwen passed I went back to SC from Canada to help my cousin, her only daughter, sort through all the stuff. Shock to my cousin, we found documents showing Gwen had a previous marriage. The previous first marriage, in the mid-1940s, was to a Nazi spy. During WWI, Gwen was working with the US military. Gwen found out her husband was a spy and she turned him in. Husband finished, arrested, and government annulled the marriage. But Gwen kept all the paperwork which we did not find until after her death. Shock to my cousin to find her mother had previously had a spy husband.
My mother, Gwen’s younger sister, also married an Air Force boomer pilot during WWII. When my Dad died in the late 1990’s, I had a box full of Air Force medals. I spent years contacting the US government to find out when and how he earned his medals. All the US military’s has said. “classified”.
So many secrets from WWII remain un-announced.
Mercury Monterey. Like Steve McGarrett would drive around in Hawaii 5-0
Wonderful reading, and I think this was some of the best years for Ford.
I loved this story! Isn’t it true how peoples cars can imprint on us so deeply when we are kids.
I am a longtime fan of the 1967-68 Mercury. These seemed to sell quite well (for a Mercury) and I remember that they were relatively common in my part of the world. And how has nobody made a mention of Steve McGarrett or Hawaii Five-O? That black 68 Mercury 4 door hardtop was the star of the show, as far as I was concerned.
The car you describe was sold in Canada as the Meteor Montcalm. My Papa had one, sky blue with a white roof, and drove beautifully. My dad bought if off Nana a couple of years after Papa passed away in the 80s, One of my teachers actually then bought it in 91 and love the heck out of it, looked after it very well until it just wasn’t reasonable to maintain any longer. Wish I had pics, they were rare to begin with.
As was said above, Mercury Monterey. My folks had a blue one. Loved that car. After I got my license it was my go to to borrow. Other option to borrow was a ’73 Mercury Marquis. Liked it, but loved that ’67.
Memories.
Though my Dad eventually had 3 Mercury Sables in a row, back in the 60’s our next door neighbor was into Mercury, they had a ’63 Comet and a ’68 Colony Park wagon. I didn’t get the round speedometer; to me back then sporty cars had round speedometers while regular and luxury cars had strip speedometers…of course by the 80’s and 90’s my Dad’s Sables had round speedometers, that “convention” I believed disappeared.
As for funerals, the first one I attended (and the only one which I was not a pall bearer in, seems I’m always one for family at least) was my Mom’s Dad in 1966. We were in the family car which was a Cadillac limo of some type, my first ride in one, and I was more interested in the jump seats than the solemnity I should have had losing my grandfather.
When his wife died some 48 years hence, I wasn’t in the limo, which ended up having a dead battery and had to be jumped on the way to the funeral meal.
Yes, my family back then always had seat covers on our cars, guess it was because cars were thought of as expensive, and did get traded so you wanted the seats to look nice. Always thought it odd to be covering vinyl seats with plastic covers…wasn’t the vinyl for easy care anyhow? Nowdays I think of seat covers for seats that have since already deteriorated and need to be disguised or maybe the cover just keeps the seat guts from further spilling out…but do people put seat covers on new cars…maybe some with pets or little kids, but seat covers on every new car seems like a vestage from the past to me.
I didn’t quite get the part about Truman Capote other than he was from the south…did he drive a Mercury? I remember driving my (other) Grandfather’s ’72 Impala with my Grandmother in the back seat (she never learned to drive) and my parents on a beautiful day in June a couple years after he had died…we were going to visit one of her brothers (he wasn’t home so that part of the trip was a bust). She died the next year. As we lived 1700 miles from them we no longer got to see them much, We were borrowing Grandpa’s car in lieu of a rental since we flew there but subsequent trips for the next 20 years we drove up (3400 mile round trip) as my Dad retired and I got an extra week of vacation time made the time not so prohibitive.