1969 Ford Thunderbird - The Last Fabulous Thunderbird

Of all the fabulous Thunderbirds made between 1955 and 1969, through my scratched up goggles, the 1967 through 1969 Thunderbird coupes are the most fabulous. I have such regard for them I find little to fault with this fabulous 1969 Town Landau Coupe I found for sale on Facebook Marketplace recently. Even in Linda Blair, "Exorcist Green", the vinyl top, the landau bars and the asking price an above average retail $13,000. Bonus, you get a dented and bent driver's side front fender. 

Whenever I see a fabulous Thunderbird and, my blog, my rules, Ford didn't build any "fabulous" Thunderbirds after 1969, I can't help but think of the Austin, Texas based R&B\rock band that calls themselves "The Fabulous Thunderbirds" and wonder what the impetus to call themselves such was. 

The band was formed in 1974 with lead guitarist Jimmy Vaughn, who's the older brother of the late Stevie Ray Vaughn, percussionist Mike Buck, bassist Keith Ferguson and lead singer Kim Wilson. Although they continue to tour, save for Wilson, none of the original members are still with the band. 

Was their name inspired by a Ford Thunderbird? Perhaps an original band member or three were car people or Ford Thunderbird fans. Given the state of moniker when the band first came together a then current T-Bird (above) being the inspiration seems unlikely, but you never know. Perhaps it was by "Thunderbird", the cheap fortified wine that can make you feel, ahem, fabulous? Seems more plausible it was inspired by what many North American Indigenous people believe is a supernatural being of power and strength. Talk about a literal "fabulous Thunderbird". 

If I was a betting man, I'd say someone, not necessarily a band member, simply put the superlative "fabulous" as a pre-fix in front of the magically lyrical word, "thunderbird" to create a "fabulous" name for the band. As simplistic as that is, it's not uncommon in art (and in life) for what appears to have a higher power to need a larger-than-life genesis story. 

Our '69 here is part of the last the last of the fabulous Thunderbirds that also included a vinyl-top (and landau bar) free hard top (coupe) and a four-door "Town Landau Sedan" version.  These weren't and still aren't everyone's cup of tequila, but in the late 1960's, if buyers wanted something domestic to make a swanky automotive fashion statement "they had made it", and a muscle car was out of the question, their options were limited. They either had a Thunderbird or GM's Cadillac Eldorado, Oldsmobile Toronado or Buick Riviera to choose from. Ford's Lincoln division also had their snazzy (and more expensive) Continental Mark III (as of 1968). Their Continental too but you'd think those buyers would be more inclined to shop Cadillac deVilles than a Thunderbird\Eldorado\Toronado. 

The class-of-1967 Thunderbird evolved from the 1958 "four-passenger" Thunderbird that itself evolved from the primordial ooze that was the original two-passenger model. You wouldn't be alone, though, scratching your head wondering how the Thunderbird got to this overly large state when it started out as Ford's answer to the Chevrolet Corvette. 

Then again, we have to understand that from the get-go in 1955, about the only thing a "Ford Thunderbird" had in common with a Corvette was that both cars could only seat two-passengers. A "Thunderbird" was marketed first and foremost as a luxury-car and one targeted primarily at women. Despite trouncing the Corvette at the box office, Ford executives weren't happy with the number they sold and added a rear-seat for 1958. To make way for the back seat, the car got bigger. Much bigger. 

Many give the four-passenger, 1958 Thunderbird credit for spawning the personal-luxury-car niche that would slowly grow in popularity through the 1960's and become the defacto definition of domestic automobilia in the 1970's. With that came subsequent larger and heavier redesigns in 1961 and 1964 with the 1967's being the largest and heaviest of the flock. 

Contemporary road testers didn't mince their words when it came to these cars claiming they were so big and ponderous to handle they were clumsy. Brakes and engine power barely adequate too. Oh, the sacrifices we make to look fabulous. No wonder that starting in the mid-1960's, seemed like Mercedes-Benz simply waltzed into the backfield of the Big Three and stole the ball. Made out with their cheerleaders, ate their hotdogs and guzzled their beer while they were at it. 

Back then, though, to the unwashed, luxury-car adoring masses how would they have known there were better options to blow their dividend checks on? Overtly styled cars with cushy, mushy, "cloud-like" rides were the stuff of dreams to the "Greatest Generation" that grew up on primitive, purposely styled vehicles that rode like agricultural vehicles or at best trucks. Ersatz style with lots of plush? That notion sold a lot of cars back then. And the Ford Thunderbird delivered it buckets. 

Through 1969 anyway. Ford mucked the whole thing up for 1970. Sure, they mercifully dropped the suicide door, four-door versions, but they inflated the thing way past where it could comfortably stretch (it's a bird, it's a plane, it's a bloated pigeon!) and the "Bunkie Beak", named after former GM executive Bunkie Knudsen who came to Ford for a cup of coffee, paved over any sense of design cohesion and balance. Knudsen was a GM executive instrumental in the 1969 Pontiac Grand Prix who insisted the updated, 1970 Thunderbird have a protruded front end like the Grand Prix did. Perhaps without the silly front end and more handsome wheel trim these might have had more elan, but all I see is the start of the mess the car would become from 1972 through 1976. 

On the interior, seemed Ford took copious notes from General Motors; forget the Age of Aquarius, the Age of "Plastiwood" was upon us. And acres of it too. The dash on these cars has nowhere near the swagger of any T-Bird before it and I can only imagine what those trading in an older Thunderbird must have thought when they slipped behind the wheel of one of these for the first time. The '67's retained some of the jet fighter cockpit ethos of earlier models but that theme had grown passe. That changed for 1968 and 1969 and not for the better. 

The dictionary defines "fabulous" as resembling or suggesting fable; of an incredible, astonishing or exaggerated nature. I can't think of a more apt description for Ford Thunderbirds made between 1955 and 1969 and especially these 1967-1969 coupes. The closer this bought to $10G I think it bought well. Save the money to fix that dent and buy some tickets to see "The Fabulous Thunderbirds" in person next time they're in town. They are, here's that word again, "fabulous". 

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The only mainstream success the "Fabulous Thunderbirds" had was with "Tuff Enuff", a single off their first album when they were signed to a major record label in 1986. "Tuff Enuff" reached number-10 on the Billboard chart that year and became their signature song. The above video for it was ranked number-96 on VH-1's list of greatest one hit wonders of the 1980's.  

1996 Ford Thunderbird - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

If you're shopping for an older used car, I've learned there's no guarantee that a car purchased off the used car lot at a major dealership is going to be any better than one you'd buy off of Facebook Marketplace, Craigslist, the community bulletin board at Kroger's or one sitting on the side of the road with "FOR SALE" painted in shoe polish on the windshield. And if my track record is any indicator, you're probably better off not buying a used car from a dealership. Save of course for anything that's "certified" or has the bulk of its factory warranty left on it. Case in point, this 1996 Ford Thunderbird I found for sale at a big Ford dealership on the east side of Cleveland. 

It popped up on my Facebook wall the other day and I bit. I'm always looking for that oh-so-nice older car that no one wants that has low mileage and is in great shape. Only 60,000 miles on its twenty-six-year-old, (surprisingly still) analog ticker and although its asking price of $6,990 is on the high side of reasonable, I thought it a decent deal. Especially in these Covid-inflated times where a ten-year-old Chevrolet Impala's with 100K on it is going for twelve-grand. 

Getting a real handle on what this should be priced at, though, is easier said than done. Even in this day and age of easy info at your fingertips. NADA price guidelines peg this at $4,400 "high retail", KBB lists a trade-in value at $2,500. Quite the proverbial old spread. 

A nationwide search on cars.com doesn't have much info on Thunderbirds of this vintage because there aren't many out there. I tried to run "comps" anyway and found a '97 in Yakima, Washington with 66,000 miles on the odometer for $4,995 but there are no pictures of it. Another '96 in Grandin, North Dakota with a body cladding kit, 1986 vintage T-Bird Turbo Coupe wheels and driven just 26,000 miles in twenty-six years has an ask of $11,000. Lots of pics on that one, though. Cladding looks silly and the wheels are out of place on it too. 

On the way to the dealership, I figured the closer all-in to the asking price the better I might be. I'm talking tax, tags, dealer prep and whatever nonsense Ohio allows used car sellers to charge. Trust me, there's a whole lot more wiggle room on used cars than new and dinosaurs like this rear-wheel-driver in a "snow city", not to mention one with a big V-8 aren't exactly in high demand. 

Things started to go south when I noticed that the rust on the driver's side fender, that was, in fairness, disclosed to me prior to my ninety-minute slog up there, was a whole lot worse than what I was led to believe it was. That metal is super-spongy and it's ready to give way. And when it does, seeing that's where the fender bolts to the frame of the car, that's got to be fixed immediately. Pricey. Perhaps I could find a clean fender used and even if it's not white, I could get it painted and still be ahead of the game. 

This is how fast I can rationalize a vehicle purchase that has glaring signs that I should sprint away from it as quickly as possible. 

Trunk lid didn't sit quite right either but, after all, this is a twenty-six-year-old car. I do have to be reasonable. Well, try to be reasonable. Carfax report indicated it had been hit on the passenger front fender in 2004 but it was minor, apparently. Looked clean enough to me. 

I find the styling just so-so on these Thunderbirds; I think the Mercury Cougar a better-looking car but the interior is to die for. Whatever your definition of luxury is, mine is seat comfort. And these are more supple, supportive and luxurious than the thrones in my wife's 1995 Lexus SC400. That's saying a lot too. Not to mention the very good seats in my 2002 Chevrolet Monte Carlo. 

I thought about how nice it would be taking this on the long road trip to visit my wife's niece at the University of Mississippi in September. The ice-cold AC wafting over us, the luscious leather buckets keeping us refreshed and comfy. My dreaming quickly came to a screeching halt when I turned the ignition key, and nothing happened. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nuttin'. 

Figuring it was just a dead battery, my wonderful salesperson Kareem went and got a jumper. He certainly looked like he knew what he was doing when he attached the positive cable to the negative and vice versa. I swore that battery caught fire for a split second. He quickly deduced what he did wrong and put the cables on the right terminals, but the car still wouldn't start. Dead as a door nail. I told Kareem it was the starter. He looked at me like a deer in headlights. Nice kid. Not a clue about cars. 

I wish I could say I was my "best me" at that point but I wasn't. The rust bubble on the fender, the out-of-alignment trunk lid, the fairly high asking price and then the no-start had me caustically thanking them for wasting my time. Kareem's boss, who couldn't be older than my older son, smarmily snapped back, "sir, things break." I uttered a muffled, somewhat stymied eff-bomb with my back turned to them as I walked away. 

After I figuratively cooled off, the AC's not working in my younger son's Malibu that's my ride this week as the Monte Carlo is in the shop again, I was somewhat kicking myself for not low-balling them, buying it at a steep discount with no questions asked and having AAA tow it to my home. Then I thought about all the trouble I'd have fixing that nasty rust bubble. Having to buy rims for snow tires too and who knows what else.  

Pretty car, though. And, oh, those seats. But recalling how my son's Malibu I bought from a used car lot wouldn't start the day I picked it up, how the check engine light came on soon after I bought our Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder from a Honda store, all the trouble the dealer bought Camaro I bought my older son gave me, not to mention how awful my 1982 Oldsmobile dealership purchased Buick Riviera was, I figured it best to let the earth cool and forget about it. You'd think you're better off buying a used car from a dealership but if you're buying something "as is", caveat emptor. 

Dealership emailed me the next day saying it turned out to be the starter like I suspected. They invited me back for a test drive. Thanks, but I'll pass. Once bitten, as they say. Twice shy. More like bitten a half dozen times. Had this thing started and I enjoyed it as much as I probably would have, who knows. There might be a blue oval in my driveway today. 

1964 Ford Thunderbird - None of that Ever Happened

A Ford Thunderbird just like this is what my parents brought me home from the hospital in back in early April of 1964. My father had just gotten a fat bonus check from raking a client over the coals and he blew a good portion of it on it along with putting a substantial down payment on an inground pool my mother wanted. Mom wanted the plushier looking "landau", she had a tendency to appreciate things that were Liberace gaudy, but the John Wayne meets Frank Sinatra of a man my father was, he put his boot down and insisted on the hard top. Good for you, dad. 

Of course, that's complete nonsense. My father was far from a corporate raider, frankly, I don't know what he did for a living, and I was brought home in either a worn out, early '50's Desoto or a 1961 Rambler Classic. And I can't say which one of those bombs I would have preferred to have spit up on my mother in. My mother claimed I was a cranky, colicky baby, I love that fact, and I'd say a major reason for that was that I didn't approve of the car they had. 

If my parents were of the means to afford a new Ford Thunderbird when I was born, honestly, GM girl that I am, I would have much preferred they'd have a Buick Riviera. But I wouldn't have kicked one of these out of my basinet. Sigh. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like growing up had my parents been wealthy and indulged themselves and their three sons materialistically. Knowing what I know now, whomever it was who said money can't buy happiness really did know what they were talking about. Although, it can make things seem a whole lot easier. If not fun. Having money means you just have one less thing to worry about and growing up in that household, there was a whole lot more to be concerned about. 

Not that the Ford Thunderbird was ever meant to be a "driver's car", but the new-for-'64's obliterated any pretense of performance the "bullet 'bird" it replaced did. Weighing 4,700-pounds with a full-tank of premium gas, the near two-and-half-ton curb weight due to the hefty unibody it shared with the Lincoln Continental, the oh-so-softly sprung '64 sprang from zero-to-sixty in 11.5 seconds. The quarter mile breezed by eventually at 18 seconds and 76 miles-per-hour. Despite the zoomie sheet metal, top speed was just 105.  

The good news was it was closed, bank vault quiet at speed. Nice to know new-born me wouldn't have had to endure any undue road noise on the jaunt from the hospital to our North Shore mansion with the inground pool under construction in the backyard. 

Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting none of that ever happened.