Opinion/Harrington: Long live the glorious Town Car
Daniel F. Harrington (danielfharrington@yahoo.com), a monthly contributor, lives in Warwick.
It makes no sense to purchase an antique car and use it as a daily driver. But that’s just what I did two years ago, and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
I purchased my Medium Willow Green 1996 Lincoln Town Car when it had only 35,000 miles; I’ve since doubled that amount. I bought it from a man in his late 60s, and, of course, it was his Dad’s car. But make no mistake, this isn’t your grandfather’s antique. The Lincoln has a modular V-8 engine, anti-lock brakes, dual airbags and — thankfully — a live rear axle.
The adventures have been many.
First the bad. Mafia jokes, mostly. “How many bodies can you put in that trunk?” Or old-man asides. “Love the Senior Assault Vehicle!” Apparently, these stereotypes run deep.
Once, while I was parked outside my office and texting a friend, a police officer pulled up behind me, sirens blaring. Shocked, I asked the young man what was wrong. “Just makin’ sure you’re all right,” he said. You see, my office abuts a cemetery, so the cop thought “Gramps” had collapsed in the car before making his daily pilgrimage to visit “Lovey” over in the boneyard. Talk about geriatric profiling — I’m still in my 50s!
I thanked him anyway.
Mostly, the Lincoln has been a blast to drive and a genuine conversation piece. Dozens of people have told me about someone in their family who once owned one. Oddly enough, it’s the twenty-something men who treat the “Old Girl” with the reverence she deserves, frequently offering a thumbs-up or catching themselves staring down her flanks and imagining the modifications they’d make if she lived in their garage.
I once quizzed a group of middle-schoolers as to the function of the small metal boxes in the rear door armrests. “Charging portals?” one clever kid suggested. Every one of their jaws dropped when I explained to them what an ashtray was. They didn’t believe me.
The styling of the Town Car has aged nicely. Today automakers strive to design cars that give the illusion of motion even while they’re standing still. Not the Lincoln. She looks like she’s standing still even when she’s barreling down the road. And, by the way, guess what happens if you take your seat belt off while you’re driving?
Nothing!
Because the basic architecture of the car (delightfully called the Panther platform by Ford) is shared with Crown Victoria police cars and limousines, parts are still plentiful, and their reliability is bulletproof. Still, old cars, like old humans, break every now and then and TLC is required.
Sonically speaking, the interior is a time machine. I’ve assembled a fantastic new collection of cassette tapes (still readily available) and have discovered that the analog Frank Sinatra, for example, bests the bits and bytes version of him found on modern downloads (too much compression).
Listening to “Summer Wind” while driving at dusk with the moonroof open and my teenage daughters in the back seat accompanying Old Blue Eyes on the song’s aching refrain is heaven. This is how memories are made.
Ultimately, the Lincoln Town Car was both wonderfully ahead of and confidently behind her time; and we both look forward to seeing you all out there on the road.
So, as the rest of the world continues its adolescent crush on electric vehicles — which will always be slaves to power plants and the politicians who run them — remember the Town Car and its siblings powered by the glorious internal combustion engine and the miracle of living in a country where a gallon of gasoline is still 33% cheaper than a gallon of milk.
Yes, long live the Town Car.