One class down, the Ford Elite suffered the same kind of problem. The Thunderbird retained a certain cache’, but the cars themselves became less and less special, until it had more-or-less become a budget Continental Mark IV with dumbed-down styling and less standard equipment.įord’s personal coupe wilderness was not just about the Thunderbird of the mid-1970s. This became a tougher market once the Continental Mark III came along midway through the 1968 model year, and lots of those upper-income buyers chose the Lincoln-branded personal coupe over the one sold at Ford dealers. Part of the secret was that Thunderbirds had always been fairly expensive cars. The Thunderbird name always punched above its weight, and was responsible for more than a few Ford-branded automobiles sharing garage space with much more expensive and exclusive vehicles. The Thunderbird name was affixed to cars that were “Unique in all the world”, cars that were almost universally desired. But Ford had ownersip of one name that was head and shoulders above the rest – Thunderbird. And as popular as the Chevelle and Malibu might have been, it was the Monte Carlo that hit the big time when it came time to sell a “personal coupe” in the 1970’s.įord had done pretty well naming cars, with Mustangs, Mavericks, LTDs and even Torinos. The F-85 was never anywhere near as popular as the Cutlass. We DO know how it worked out after those guys changed their names to Cary Grant and John Wayne. People all over the world might have grown up loving movies made by guys named Archibald Leach or Marion Morrison, but we will never know. What’s in a name? A lot – which is something that everyone knows. So let’s do something about that, shall we? But enthusiasm to write about it? That was kind of an unusual thing too, and I just never got there. I stopped to shoot this one because even in 2011 it was becoming unusual to see these cars in this kind of condition. I am nearing the end of photos from 2011 that I have never written about.
Other times there were constraints on my enthusiasm. Sometimes there were constraints on my time.
My ability to find cars outstripped my ability to write about them. It seemed that every day I stopped to shoot photos of cars and trucks that were potential subjects to grace these pages, which were the the joy and delight of millions. I was in the thrall of my new avocation, which was that thing called (then, as now) Curbside Classic.
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