1966 Mercury Comet Woody Station Wagon. on 2040-cars

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Auto Show Notebook: Legendary Continental name inspired Lincoln's designers

What's in a name? A lot for the Continental concept, and it gave Lincoln designers a sense of purpose as they styled the brand's upcoming flagship sedan. "The moment that we told them, it was amazing," Lincoln president Kumar Galhotra said. "They totally got it." "It" is cutting-edge technology wrapped in stately, large-sedan design. It's a nod to Lincoln's storied past, but a signpost for where the brand is heading. Though the Continental name dates to the late 1930s, Lincoln designers avoided making the concept overtly retro. "You can't let it pull yourself back too far in history, but you've got to design a car that lives up to the name," Galhotra said. Speaking to Autoblog on the floor of the New York Auto Show where the Continental formally debuted Wednesday, the Lincoln president reiterated that the car is on track to launch in 2016. It will compete against the Audi A6, Lexus GS, BMW 5 Series and other large luxury sedans. After its debut, the concept in New York will fly to China – another critical market for Lincoln – for display there. It will be replaced in New York by a prototype without an interior. The Continental is the latest high profile play by Lincoln to raise its image with consumers, who have either ignored or forgotten about it amid steep competition in the luxury sector from German and Japanese brands and a potentially resilient Cadillac. Lincoln sales are essentially flat compared with 2014 through the first quarter of this year, with total volume of 21,478 units. The middling start to 2015 comes on the heels of nearly 16-percent sales growth last year spurred by the launch of the MKC and the prominent signing of Matthew McConaughey to star in Lincoln advertisements. Other News, Notes & Quotes Speaking of names, Chevrolet did its homework before deciding to proceed with "Malibu" for its new generation of midsize cars. "We went out and researched it," said Alan Batey, president of General Motors North America. "People actually like the name 'Malibu,'" he said. Admittedly, the current Malibu has struggled in the marketplace against entrenched competitors, Batey said, but he's optimistic its awareness and historical value are assets to the dramatically redesigned sedan."The name's strong," he said. Meanwhile, in other Chevy news, the brand kicked off a new marketing campaign, "Real People, Not Actors" Wednesday. It will show consumers interacting with Chevys and their spontaneous reactions to the vehicles.

Junkyard Gem: 1971 Mercury Comet 2-Door Sedan

When Ford introduced the original Maverick for the 1970 model year, Dearborn tradition required that a Mercury-badged version be created. That car ended up being the Comet, built from the 1971 through 1977 model years. Here's one of those first-year Comets in rough but recognizable condition, found in a Denver self-service yard not long ago. The Comet name had spent the 1960s affixed to the flanks of Mercurized Ford Falcons (1960-1965) and Fairlanes (1966-1969). Since the Maverick was the successor of the Falcon — sales of which went into an irrecoverable downward spiral once its sportier Mustang first cousin hit the streets — it made sense to move the Comet name over to the Mercury version. Nearly every American Mercury model ever sold was a U.S.-market Ford model with a different name and some gingerbread slapped on. Notable exceptions to this tradition include the 1999-2002 Mercury Cougar (mechanically based on the Contour but with a unique body) and the 1991-1994 Mercury Capri (an Australian-built mashup of Mazda components borrowed from the Ford Laser). The Comet was by far the cheapest Mercury model available in 1971, though it was considered more prestigious than its Maverick counterpart. The price tag on the '71 Comet two-door sedan started at $2,217 (about $16,505 in 2022 dollars), while the '71 Maverick two-door sedan cost $2,175 ($16,193 today). Meanwhile, AMC would sell you a new Hornet two-door sedan for one dollar less than a Maverick, Chevrolet had the Nova coupe for a dollar more than the Maverick, and Plymouth offered the Valiant Duster for $2,313 ($17,220 now). Toyota had a Maverick competitor as well that year, with the Corona at $2,150 for the sedan and $2,310 for the coupe. Having driven every one of the aforementioned models, I'd take the Duster if I went back in time and had to choose one (as a 1969 Corona owner, I'm not a fan of the 1971 facelift, though the Corona's build quality beats the Duster's). The build sticker on this car tells us that it was built at the Kansas City Assembly Plant (where Transits and F-150s are made today) and sold through the Los Angeles district sales office (there was a DSO in Denver, so it's a near-certainty that this car didn't start out in Colorado). The paint started out as Bright Blue Metallic (it's neither bright nor metallic 51 years down the road) and the interior was done up in Medium Blue Cloth & Vinyl.

Car Stories: Owning the SHO station wagon that could've been

A little over a year ago, I bought what could be the most interesting car I will ever own. It was a 1987 Mercury Sable LS station wagon. Don't worry – there's much more to this story. I've always had a soft spot for wagons, and I still remember just how revolutionary the Ford Taurus and Mercury Sable were back in the mid-1980s. As a teenager, I fell especially hard for the 220-horsepower 1989 Ford Taurus SHO – so much so that I'd go on to own a dozen over the next 20 years. And like many other quirky enthusiasts, I always wondered what a SHO station wagon would be like. That changed last year when I bought the aforementioned Sable LS wagon, festooned with the high-revving DOHC 3.0-liter V6 engine and five-speed manual transmission from a 1989 Taurus SHO. In addition, the wagon had SHO front seats, a SHO center console, and the 140-mph instrument cluster with mileage that matched the engine. When I bought it, that number was just under 60,000 – barely broken in for the overachieving Yamaha-sourced mill. The engine and transmission weren't the only upgrades. It wore dual-piston PBR brakes with the choice Eibach/Tokico suspension combo in front. The rear featured SHO disc brakes with MOOG cargo coils and Tokico shocks, resulting in a wagon that handled ridiculously well while still retaining a decent level of comfort and five-door functionality. I could attack the local switchbacks while rowing gears to a 7,000-rpm soundtrack just as easily as loading up on lumber at the hardware store. Over time I added a front tower brace to stiffen things a bit as well as a bigger, 73-mm mass airflow sensor for better breathing, and I sourced some inexpensive 2004 Taurus 16-inch five-spoke wheels, refinished in gunmetal to match the two-tone white/gunmetal finish on the car. That, along with some minor paint and body work, had me winning trophies at every car show in town. And yet, what I loved most about the car wasn't its looks or performance, but rather its history. And here's where things also get a little philosophical, because I absolutely, positively love old used cars. Don't get me wrong – new cars are great. Designers can sculpt a timeless automotive shape, and engineers can construct systems and subsystems to create an exquisite chassis with superb handling and plenty of horsepower. But it's the age and mileage that turn machines into something more than the sum of their parts.