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Question of the Day: Most degraded car name?

When Ford came up with a not-so-sporty version of the Pinto and slapped Mustang badges on it in 1974, that was a low point for the Mustang name. When Chrysler applied the venerable Town & Country name on perfectly functional but unglamorous minivans, it saddened many of us. But perhaps the biggest demotion for a once-proud model came when, in 1988, General Motors imported a misery-enhancing Daewoo from Korea and called it the Pontiac LeMans. The original Pontiac LeMans was a great-looking midsize car with fairly advanced (for the time) suspension design and engine options including potent V8s and a screaming overhead-cam straight-six. The Daewoo-based Pontiac LeMans was a cramped, shoddy hooptie that served only to ruin the LeMans name forever, while stealing sales from the Suzuki-based Chevrolet Sprint. Sure, using the once-respected Monterey name on the Mercurized Ford Freestar was bad, but Mercury didn't have long to live at that point. I say the downward spiral of the LeMans name was the most agonizing in automotive history. What do you think? Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Auto News Ford Mercury Pontiac Automotive History Classics questions ford pinto names

Junkyard Gem: 1970 Mercury Cougar

The plot of the Mercury Cougar story took a lot of strange twists and turns during its 35 or so years, from ponycar to immense luxobarge to family sedan to station wagon to Integra competitor. Examples of the first Cougar generation are nearly extinct in American wrecking yards, so I was excited to spot this one in Denver. Lest you shed any tears over this car going to the crusher, know that it was suffering from the ravenous teeth of the Rust Monster long before it got here. The 1967-1970 Cougar was based on the Mustang platform of the same era, and so it was a sleeker and quicker cat than its successors. Still, the longer wheelbase, extra equipment and all the cool-looking bodywork added some heft; the 1970 Mustang hardtop with V8 scaled in at 2,923 pounds, while the 1970 Cougar weighed 3,307 pounds. The current Ford Focus would fit just between those two weights. There was also a mid-cycle refresh in that era, with the '67-'68 and '69-'70 having different exterior styling and interiors. The '69 and '70 had different front end styling as well, with the latter re-adopting the vertical grille slats featured on the earlier model years. The '69 has horizontal slats. The drivetrain and just about everything else of value has been shorn from this car, perhaps before it arrived in this yard. In 1970, a bewildering assortment of V8 engines was available in the Cougar, including a Boss 302, two completely different 351s, and a 335-horse Cobra Jet 428. The base engine was a 351 Windsor making 250 gross horsepower. Since car rooftops mostly don't rust, why would someone cut out this one? Sheet metal needed for patching a leaky shed roof, perhaps? This 2005-2006 Denver Nuggets window sticker indicates that the car was on the street (probably) as recently as 11 years ago. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. It's savage. It's cool. It's primitive. It's sleek. It's wild. It's elegant. Password for action in the 70s! Featured Gallery Junked 1970 Mercury Cougar View 18 Photos Auto News Mercury

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.