1968 Ford XL - Such is Life

We lost our local engineer in the latest round of company downsizing recently. Tom (name changed to protect the guilty) was quite the character; "character" an overused term to describe someone who's charmingly quirky. Tom is nothing if not quirky. Let's leave it at that rather than character-assassinate the poor guy, who can't defend himself here. Let's instead talk about the 1968 Ford XL he had "stored" out in the back of our 10-acre compound in Youngstown, Ohio.

Obviously, there's a lot to unpack here.

This showed up less than a month after he was told by corporate to remove all his other junky cars, trucks, engines, transmissions, lawn mowers, garden tractors, toys, and who knows what else from the property. On one hand, I respected what I perceived to be his gumption in doing so, a metaphorical middle finger to "the man." Well, it was either that or he didn't quite grasp the "you-need-to-do-this-now-ness" of the directive. An edict from the very people who ultimately decided whether he had a job or not. Would he still be employed if he had hauled his stuff out of here? Probably not, but still.

I never asked Tom what his plans were for this thing. It's in, no kidding, terrible shape, and having it sit out here in all this soggy glory on the Ohio-Pennsylvania line isn't doing it any favors. The hood is so rusty that when I went to lift it, I felt it had all the structural integrity of a matchbook cover.

My father had a 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon, essentially the exact same car, only completely different in scope and purpose, if that makes any sense (it does to me).  Therefore, I feel a kinship to full-size '68 Fords. They're uniquely different from the other 1965–1968 big Fords, and I think—and apparently, I'm in the minority on this one—they're the best-looking of the era of very good Fords. 

While I loathed my father's rental-grade wagon, these rare XLs are a different story.

Available only as two-doors, either as a fastback like this one or a convertible, the XL was Ford's sporty full-size offering. Ford associated the XL name with "Extra Lively," a tip of the bumper to the sporting elan these cars were supposed to have. Tom's is equipped with a 390-cubic-inch two-barrel, 265-gross-rated-horspower V-8, that's maybe, give-or-take, 180-hp net. A four-barrel 390 was also available, rated at 315 (gross) horsepower, along with limited-availability 427- and 428-cubic-inch engines. The 427 was rated at 390 horsepower, while the 428 made 340.

Judging by the buckets, console, and shifter, this one may have the optional GT Equipment Group. The GT package added a number of performance-oriented goodies, including special suspension, wide-oval tires, power front disc brakes, and available distinctive exterior stripes. XLs could be ordered with three- and four-speed manual transmissions; this one appears to have Ford's C6 three-speed automatic.

Introduced for 1967, the Ford XL continued through 1970 and was positioned as the sporty member of Ford's full-size lineup, a rung below the luxury-oriented LTD and above the more conventional Galaxie 500, and the entry-level Custom 500 and Custom.

Would my woe-begone childhood have been less miserable had my father driven home one day in this rather than the Ranch Wagon? Of course not, but at least I'd have something physically tangible to remember him positively by. 

In its day, with the fastback roofline, buckets, console, and even just the two-barrel 390 engine, this car was totally badass. I'd love to be able to say that my father wasn't the man I needed him to be, which is sad but true, but at least he could have driven a wicked-cool car. Such is life. 

My plan is to find a salvage company willing to haul all this stuff away and send Tom the bill. Naturally, we'll give him an ultimatum first; get your crap out of here ASAP or else. 

It's getting late in the year, though, so this may have to wait until spring. It's not like corporate is on me to get this done now anyway. That'll give me five or six months to watch it all sink further into the ground. Five or six months more to try to make sense of it all too. 

Wish me luck.