CC Swap Meet: Monacos, Meteors, Baby Flatheads, and Autolites – Monday Swap Meet Miscellanea

We’ve all been there.  The dusty paths, the “Radio Flyer” aired up for a weekend of walking, the families with no spatial awareness, the golf carts, the DJ who thinks that “Runaround Sue” played at amphitheater volume is still a good idea: yep, it’s local car show and swap meet season.  Although I can’t remember the last time I spent more than twenty dollars at this particular gathering, I wouldn’t dream of missing it without a good reason.  After all, when was the last time you saw a two-door hardtop version of the Bluesmobile?  Follow along for some truly uncommon random snapshots.

Not being an expert on mid-1970s Chryslers past a primal car lover’s predilection for watching The Blues Brothers whenever it’s on, I can only do what anyone would do and peruse the brochures to identify this big Dodge.  I think this is a 1974 Monaco Brougham, one of 18,226 built in 1974 (in all variations), and what can only be one of a few remaining two-door hardtops.  The 360, 400, and 440 V8s were available in the Monaco, so this one could have any of those, in addition to Chrysler’s electronic ignition.

The interior is appropriate for its era and manufacturer, and aside from the clashing “Dodge” steering wheel cover, it is in exceptionally good condition.

Short on opera windows and long on everything else, this Monaco was worth seeing simply because you never see them.

Somewhat more timeworn but equally photogenic is this 1961 Mercury Meteor.  Compared to last week’s 1960 Mercury Commuter, the Meteor was a barely-disguised Ford Galaxie, as Mercury continued its search for a niche to occupy in a crowded mid-priced scheme.

This one has the basic 223-cubic-inch six, which appears to have been treated to a recent tune up.  Something to discuss: Why didn’t Ford just incorporate the expansion tank into the radiator like everyone else?  It’s not too inconvenient on a six-cylinder full-size Mercury, but it is on a ’63 Thunderbird where every other square inch has been spoken for.

This two-door sedan has the two-speed “Merc-O-Matic,” which was the only automatic available with the “Super-Economy 6.”  The interior is holding up fairly well, and it’s nice to see this one out on the road again; it has all the signs of a car that sat for a long time.

The Meteor name can be confusing.  After one year of service on the full-size body in 1961, it was shuffled over to Mercury’s version of the Fairlane intermediate for 1962, then summarily dismissed after 1963 as Mercury focused on the compact-intermediate Comet.  Of course, Meteor was a separate nameplate used by Ford of Canada for decades.

As an indicator of how lost Mercury was in 1961, Mercury’s 1961 brochure had to tell the potential buyer which cars their Meteors were designed to compete with (excluding the Fords, of course).  This is a rare tactic in the world of 1950s and 1960s brochures, and it’s clear that the plan to move Mercury down market into Ford territory was a questionable one.

Another one of Ford’s questionable decisions, this one supposedly from Henry Ford himself, was the V8-60.  All three of these were for sale for $450.  Available from 1937 to 1940, the V8-60 can be identified by its 17 head studs, not to mention that it simply looks small.  It filled the gap left by the old four cylinder, and was replaced (finally) by a six-cylinder engine in 1941, the precursor to the six-cylinder in the aforementioned Meteor.

From what I’ve read, the horsepower production of the V8-60 wasn’t the problem; it was the fact that it produced under 100 lb.-ft. of torque, rendering the growing Fords of the late 1930s woefully underpowered in real-world driving situations.  They did, however, enjoy a long life powering midget racers in the 1940s and 1950s, so there’s a silver lining for this much-maligned little engine.

As I mentioned already, it’s a rare swap meet that finds me spending more than twenty dollars, but I was able to pick up this package of spark plugs for a mere five.  If nothing else, I’ve always enjoyed the Autolite/Motorcraft box art, which depicts a GT40 (a Mark II, most likely) speeding down the Mulsanne straightaway at LeMans.

What’s better is that they fit both my 289 Mustang and my 390 Thunderbird, and were made in America back in the late 1960s or early ’70s.

What’s better than that is that there are ten of them, so I paid fifty cents each.  *Why ten, by the way?  There were no V10s in Ford’s lineup back then.*

What’s better than that is that they’ve never been used.  At my current not-even-close-to-daily-driving rate, I may not have to put plugs in either car for decades.  And when the time comes, will I be mean enough to wake these shelf-dwellers from their slumber to put them to work in the fiery confines of an antique combustion chamber?  Time will tell, but the probable answer is yes.

Swap meet Saturday was also fun because I entered the Riviera in the show, not because it’s a show car, but because it doesn’t cost any more than being a spectator.  Since show cars park right in the middle of the event, it’s a no-brainer.  Unfortunately, this picture is fuzzy as a result of my dodging cars, strollers, golf carts, and wagons, but it’s indicative of your average midwestern car show and swap meet: dust everywhere, guys with sleeveless tees, exaggerated bench racing, pie-in-the-sky asking prices for goods of dubious value…

It will be a sad day for me when and if events such as these disappear.  Ours has already been pared down to twice a year from its previous three, but this has been the first one in a while that seemed well-attended by vendors and attendees.  There are few better ways, however, to spend a Saturday morning if your personality inclines to hoarding, so long live the local swap meet.