Tag: Jeff Koch

Hiding In An Idaho Barn For Half Its Life, This Late-’31 Ford Model A Coupe Will Quietly Adapt Newer Tech For an Enhanced Driving Experience – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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An A-wesome Barn Find

Confession: The Ford Model A you see on these pages is mine, passed down through half a century of single-family ownership. For the bulk of its lifetime within my wife’s family, the Ellers, it lived in a barn in Sagle, Idaho. Does that make this late- ’31 coupe a barn find? Truth be told, it’s never been lost… the Ellers always knew where it was. And they certainly know where it is now. How did it come to be?

Doug Eller was conscripted into the United States Armed Forces two weeks before the end of World War II. By the time he arrived in Southern California and got the lay of the land there, the war was over. Needing to get back to Spokane, he bought a car and hot-footed it home, after which he immediately flipped it for triple what he paid. Faster than you can say “There’s a business model here!” he opened Eller Motors on Sprague Avenue in his hometown.

Soon Doug’s son, Dick, was drafted into regular trips to the City of Angels to buy new stock for the dealership. As the years passed, Doug amassed an array of vintage machines of varying quality for his own collection and amusement. By the late 1960s, Eller Motors was profitable enough that Doug bought acreage on Mount Schweitzer in Sagle, not far from Lake Pend Oreille.

During the spring of 1969, a farmer from Western Montana drove across two states to be rid of the Ford Model A seen on these pages. All reports from the Eller family indicate that little beyond maintenance (and truth be told, barely even that) was given to the coupe. When it arrived in Spokane, the Ford had already been given its thick coat of Earl Scheib green, on both body and (incorrectly) the fenders, which then lost its gloss and faded into something more resembling suede. Its original mechanical brakes had been converted to a 1939-’48 “juice” system, and the mohair cloth interior had been replaced with a root-beer-colored Naugahyde. The vinyl top patch had been replaced with a piece of riveted sheetmetal slathered with white house paint. But rather than flip the forlorn Ford, it was absorbed into the family collection.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Koch

There’s junk in the trunk because there’s no rumble seat.

By the mid-’80s, Doug had retired, Dick moved on from the used-car business, and Eller Motors was no more. The family story goes that a barn was built around Doug’s cars, just as he called time on the business. Fifteen years later, Doug passed; his three kids split the cars, but only Dick held onto any of his father’s collection—including this Model A.

When relocated, the (perpetually flat) Allstate tires—last sold by Sears in the mid-Seventies—mounted to the wheels had sidewall cracks that you could stick a nickel in. The trunk full of bumperettes, spare grille shell, and other parts had never been emptied, and an Eller Motors stock number was still taped to the rear-quarter window. It was all there, though not entirely as-factory-built stock, and needed to be thoroughly gone through and sorted.

Alas, with time and talent in equally short supply, I sent it out to Sam Guthrie at Arizona Model A for all sorts of work to get it drivable again: brakes, wiring, and heaven knows what else. A local shop cut out the parcel shelf and moved the front seat-track hardware to the rear bolt holes; it did wonders for the ergonomics of driving, with me no longer hunched over the oversized steering wheel, and better able to access the start button located between the steering column and cowl. Once that was completed, we pooted around the block a couple of times, with Dick grinning like a Cheshire cat the whole time, and that was that. The Ford sat once again.

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This ’78 Pontiac Firebird Esprit Clocked 250k original Miles and Counting! – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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Then and now, Pontiac’s second-generation Firebird occupied a strange spot in the car world. Mind you, we’re not talking about the spatted, stickered, and spoilered Trans Am; its place known and secure. After the summer of 1977 and Hal Needham’s good-ol’-boy Smokey and the Bandit saga, America suddenly remembered that the Trans Am was the closest thing this country still had to a muscle car, and in between the fuel crises, that shot T/A sales up 35 percent year-to-year.

No, we mean the non-T/A chunk of Pontiac’s F-body lineup, consisting of Firebird, Esprit, and Formula. An Esprit (pronounced uh-SPREE, not EE-sprit—French for “spirit”) may have been pretty, and may have shared DNA with the beefier Trans Am, but it wasn’t a showy peacock of a car, a corner-carving terror, or tire-smoking recalcitrant. There was no secret life beneath that long nose or behind that new-for-1977 split-grille beak. Nor did it have the bones of something with greater potential, or the raw material for a hot-rodder to mess around with. (Why would Jim Rockford, arguably the world’s most famous Esprit pilot, drive a car that drew attention to itself?) A Firebird Esprit was simply, in the parlance of the day, “a nice car.” Looked a little sporty, felt a little plush. But in a division that had the Ventura, Grands Prix, Le Mans, Grands Am, Bonneville, and Catalina, all of which offered two-door versions and any of which could fill the division’s personal-luxury-car quota… what sense did the Firebird Esprit make?

Consider: Pontiac painted itself as the “excitement” division of GM, and while the Trans Am (and even the Formula) may have bullseyed the target, the Esprit… well, how do you define excitement? Esprit was “The Firebird with luxury,” according to the 1978 brochure, although with a shape like that you could be easily convinced that any Firebird was infused with sporting moves. Esprit’s luxury touches included (mostly) bright and body-colored trim: all-vinyl buckets; added interior grab handles on the doors and dash; added sound deadening; rear ash trays; color-keyed “luxury cushion steering wheel” and outer door-handle inserts; brightwork on the pedals; body-colored sport mirrors with left-hand remote; bright moldings on the roof, windowsills, hood, rocker panels and wheel openings; and deluxe wheel covers. That’s $304 more than a base Firebird cost. Do rear ash trays, chrome trim, and grab handles excite you?

It’s unclear whether the buying public at large was convinced either. In 1978, a year when Pontiac sold 187,000 Firebirds (a solid 20-percent gain year-to-year across the whole Firebird line, with base, Esprit, Formula and Trans Am models all benefitting from a sales boost), nearly half were Trans Ams. Had Pontiac convinced another 300 buyers out of Esprits and Formulas and into a T/A, the numbers would have been half Trans Am, and half everything else combined.

Today, four-and-a-half decades on, Trans Ams are getting all of the attention. The chasm between Esprit and Trans Am seems even greater, both on the secondary market and at auctions nationwide. Trans Ams are seemingly everywhere. Where are you going to find an Esprit (besides, perhaps, in pieces under a restored T/A)? The Esprit is considerably more rare than the performance variant, but certainly not price-guide valued up there with the far more common Trans Ams. Yet consider: For every five Trans Ams in ’78, Pontiac built just two Esprits.

Trans Ams got Shaker scoops and 400 cubes, but the Firebird Esprit’s top engine was this Canada-built 350-cube small-block Chevy. With the four-barrel carburetor on board, it was rated at 170 horsepower. Air conditioning was an option.

Bob Lane of Yorba Linda, California, didn’t have to go searching for his ’78 Firebird Esprit because it found him —all the way back in 1979. Bob was commuting round-trip more than 40 miles to USC and home again in the late 1970s, en route to his law degree, and discovered that his econo-car ride had a terrible habit of melting its engine at regular intervals.

“My dad was a directional driller in the oil fields around Los Angeles, and a co-worker on the rig in Culver City, California, had purchased this Firebird Esprit new in Ohio in June of ’78. After he brought it to California, he decided to sell it,” Bob says. His dad knew young Bob needed a better ride, and this Esprit was it. Visions of banzai missions for cases of Coors Light danced in Bob’s young head, and when presented with the very Esprit you see here, he was elated. “My previous car was manual, with no air conditioning and plenty of mechanical issues. This Firebird was perfect for me — 6,500 miles on the odometer and only a small dent on the B-pillar from when it was hit with a baseball.”

As with any American car of the era, Firebirds could be optioned to the hilt, and this one was loaded to its wingtips. A Van Nuys-built car that was sold new in Ohio (something of a mystery, since the Lordstown plant that also built F-bodies was right there in the state), it was built with air conditioning, automatic transmission, and the top Esprit engine, a 170-net-horsepower, four-barrel Chevy 350 — an engine that was called out as a Chevy engine on the Monroney, and a considerable step-up from the standard two-barrel 3.8-liter Buick V-6. Those three options alone added $1,111 to the bottom line

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Getting dirty and making memories – this is what 50 years of off-roading in a 1972 Bronco looks like – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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On and off the trail with the Mixed Nuts four-wheelers

Recently we ran the story of Vern Pfannenstiel’s 1972 Ford Bronco factory-built with all sorts of 1973 Ford goodies. We also included a handful of his vintage off-road shots from Colorado and Utah, along with his memories of these four-decade-plus-past off-roading adventures. By popular demand—well, the Bronco piece was one of the most-read Hemmings online pieces that week, anyway—we asked Vern for some more shots, and to conjure up some memories of his time on the trails. Having seen the Bronco up close, it seems hard to believe that this is an original-paint truck, particularly after looking at Vern’s off-roading scrapbook. The Bronco is retired from off-road duties—it’s now a show pony in the greater Flagstaff, Arizona, area—but Vern was keen to relive the memories that helped make this Bronco his forever machine

“That’s Ed Keller’s Bronco; he’s the guy who knew about the ’72 Rangers, he’s the one who convinced me to get a Bronco, and he was the leader of the Mixed Nuts Four Wheelers crew in the ‘70s. It looks pink in this picture, but it’s really silver. He did the flares on my Bronco; he was an excellent mechanic, a great four-wheeler, and he helped me so much getting set up and teaching me how to be a good off-roader. You can see in this shot that the Bronco has a rollcage; it doesn’t anymore. I ddn’t want to use it but thought I’d better have it. Here it’s wearing 15×8 steelies and 31-10.50 tires. They looked good on there. Later I traded for 15×8 white-spoke wheels. The slot mags it wears now came along about five years ago.”

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Restomodding a house has America swooning; restomodding a car divides us. Why? – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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During the weekend, my wife is addicted to watching fixer-upper home shows in between naps on the couch. Lots of Chip and Joanna, and their various handy pals, dancing across the screen smashing old walls and painting new ones neutral grey on any given weekend. And that’s fine, considering the fact that I’m likely to nap through one of their marathons.

Staffer Tom Comerro celebrates the removal of a sheet of drywall during a kitchen renovation.Photo by Daniel Strohl

I managed to stay awake for one tale of what was pitched as a restoration project. A near-century-old home in Detroit had been sold off decades ago, then re-purchased by the original owners’ grandson, who also happened to be a contractor. He was going to bring this disheveled, fire-damaged wreck of a house back to new, he said, and would once again enjoy the place where a million childhood memories flowed. Period photos? History? All there. If it was a car, I thought to myself, I’d want to photograph it for a Restoration Profile piece in one of our magazines.

But a car is not a house (unless you’re in a motor home, which is a different question altogether). Outside, refinishing is practically mandatory on a house: Fix the crumbling fixtures, sort out the loose bricks with new mortar, and cover it all in a coat of paint. In the world of car restoration, preservation is huge. Original parts and original finishes all give a period-correct and accurate feel for what the car once was. If it needs to be refinished, restoration demands that it be done using period colors and finishes.

But it’s inside the house that the big transformation takes place. For a place that supposedly holds so many memories, gutting the inside of the place and knocking down walls feels (at least to this geezer-adjacent old-car fan) against the point. The living is done inside. What remains after the refurb is absolutely a more functional place to live, and I’m sure that the feng shui is vastly improved and makes it more comfortable. Many who love their cars and cherish the memories they generate want them frozen in amber. Car restorers will go to unreasonable lengths to make their cars look and feel correct—installing cloth wiring looms, developing methods to replicate otherwise-impossible finishes, finding entire other cars to crib parts from. No one in these home shows is looking to get a 1950s-era fridge running for the new kitchen or track down the original style sconces or re-use knob and tube wiring; those interiors are going to be full of new equipment and acres of counter space, taking up part of a previously-walled-off room that incorporates a newly-devised open-plan concept that takes up the entirety of the bottom level of the house.

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Corvette as a luxury car? One 1964 ad suggested it – Jeff Koch @Hemmimgs

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America’s personal-luxury car scene exploded in the late ’50s. Studebaker’s Golden Hawk was among the first, back in ’56. Ford’s Thunderbird helped prove the market when the four-seat Squarebird came out in ’58. By 1963, Buick’s Riviera had eased onto the scene, and suddenly most car brands wanted in on this new niche. Chevrolet naturally sought a way to capitalize on the near-luxury-car game, but the Impala was too big (and the ritzy Caprice was coming for ’65 anyway), the Nova was too small, the Chevelle was brand new for the year and just finding its feet, and the Monte Carlo was half a dozen years away.

Why not try it with the Corvette? This ad is trying to convince people to see the Corvette’s softer side. It’s printed in color, but the image is a study in black-and-white contrasts. Black suit, white dress. Black pavement, white Corvette. Black tires with whitewalls. And maybe the ultimate contrast: presenting the Corvette as a luxurious proposition.

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Hemmings Auctions sets world record for a non-Wayne’s World AMC Pacer auction sale. Again. – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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For years, AMC Pacers have suffered the brickbats and ignominy that only come with being a little too different, the marketplace having long ago decided which side of the intersection of daring and dopey the Pacer parked on. The airy greenhouse, the long doors, the last-minute change from GM’s aborted rotary engine to an inline-six out of the Rambler parts bin… it wasn’t an easy birth for the Pacer, and it wasn’t an easy life, either.

The previous record holder sold this past January for $31,000 plus the auction’s ten-percent fee.

Time heals all wounds, it seems. Yesterday’s wackadoo freakshow is today’s individualistic outlier. The ’70s weirdo is the ’20s’ brave choice. For the second time in just two years, Hemmings Auctions has set a world-record sale price for a non-Wayne’s-World Pacer: a stunning $37,275 inclusive of buyer’s fees (a modest 5 percent, it’s worth noting). Showing less than 27,000 miles on its odometer, this first-year Pacer X spent its first dozen years as a showroom attraction in Pennsylvania and has a complete history from new. The result was only $125 shy of the movie car’s 2016 sale price, but well shy of the Mirthmobile’s most recent result of $71,500 at the 2022 Barrett-Jackson Scottsdale auction.

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Can a ’65 Ford F100 on a Panther-platform Chassis Work as a Daily Driver? – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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My wife loves her daily-driver Ford Fiesta ST to bits—the power, the keen handling, rowing through the gears—save for one thing: the gas in the shock absorbers feels more like quarry gravel. She likes cars, a consequence of growing up with a father and grandfather who ran a used car lot in Spokane in the ’70s and ’80s. She learned to drive on a Trans Am from the lot, I’m told; when we met in Los Angeles 20-odd years ago, she was driving a stick-shift car. By choice. When I talk about car things, she doesn’t automatically roll her eyes, tune out or scold me for thinking crazy. So when she has the slightest inkling about anything car-related, I try to feed that. (Similarly, she indulges me when I get a home decorating idea; it’s not often, but it happens.)

She has forever loved the look, feel and even the smell of an old truck (old defined as a time before she was born in 19-cough-ty8). Yet she knows that she is not willing to put up with the nature of an old truck, particularly if it’s going to be something reliable enough to daily. The cut-and-thrust nature of morning traffic is far better suited to her 197-hp hot hatch than it would be to a properly restored vintage pickup. The perpetually-under-construction roads in our town would feel no better with two solid axles beneath her, and there wouldn’t be enough oomph to make her anything but an impediment in traffic, no matter how adorable she looked behind the wheel. Hot rodding might be the answer, with a bigger engine and Mustang II front suspension and all sorts of aftermarket components that might well be engineered to work with a stock truck, but not necessarily with each other.

Recently, an intriguing alternative came to our attention. This ’65 Ford F100 pickup now lives on a Ford Panther chassis. Panther, you may recall, was the codename given to the downsized full-size platform underpinning the Ford LTD and Mercury Marquis starting in 1979, with other applications coming on line later. From the mid-90s through 2011, when production ceased, and even long after, a Panther was probably your local PD’s cop car of choice. And while the beefy P71 cop-car package was built for beatin’, plenty of grandma-spec Grand Marquis models came down the pike as well—and benefited from regular updates. By the year 2000, a Grand Marquis came standard with overdrive automatic transmission, four-wheel disc brakes with both anti-lock and traction control, set-it-and-forget-it climate control, smooth suspension with anti-roll bars on either end, dual exhaust, power windows, and more. All of it was rigorously tested by engineers in Detroit and elsewhere. Here in the desert Southwest, there are approximately 17 billion of them, plenty of which look just like your great Aunt Helen’s last ride—low mileage examples with questionable roof treatments and scraped bumpers—and lots of them for sale around the $5,000 mark. Could something like this be a viable replacement for the Mrs.’ little orange rocket?

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1971-’76 Cadillac De Ville and Fleetwood Buyer’s Guide – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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*Strong ’70s sales mean that a rear-drive Caddy from the era remains an affordable, driveable classic*, *Photography courtesy of GM Archives and author’s collection.*

Even though Cadillac’s lineup was all new for 1971, it remained distinctively Cadillac. The generous proportions, the toothy grille, the clean flanks, the subtle fins —you could never mistake it for anything else. The Calais (available as a two-door or four-door hardtop) was the entry-level ’71 Cadillac; from there you stepped up to the de Ville (Coupe or hardtop Sedan, depending on the number of doors you choose). The two-door Calais had a unique roofline but both Calais and De Ville rode a 130-inch wheelbase. The Fleetwood Sixty Special Brougham, at 133 inches between the wheel centers, was a pillared-sedan-only proposition. The Fleetwood 75, with its 151.5-inch wheelbase, was a full-on limousine, with strictly limited production. The lineup held until 1975, when the Fleetwood Sixty Special was renamed the Fleetwood Brougham, and the Fleetwood 75 limousine became, simply, Fleetwood.

Despite power and torque numbers dropping, and a fuel crisis that made single-digit thirst resolutely unfashionable, Cadillac had some record-breaking sales years in the first half of the ’70s. For 1971, sales were down 21 percent overall from ’70, and Cadillac sat in 11th place in Detroit’s annual tally of who sold what. Non-Eldorado Cadillacs accounted for 159,155 copies. But a year later, customers returned in droves: Cadillac shot up 42 percent and straight into 9th place with 225,291 rear-drivers sold that year, with hardly a change made to the cars themselves. Sales jumped again for ’73, with Cadillac topping 300,000 units, 251,103 of which were rear-drivers. Alas, it was a strong year for Detroit overall, so despite its favorable sales performance, Cadillac slipped into 10th place.

You might imagine the fuel crisis, arriving in late ’73 as it did, would pummel Cadillac for 1974, but the division still sold 199,543 Calais, De Ville, and Fleetwood models, and remained in 10th place. Cadillac sold 218,651 full-size rear-drivers in ’75 and remained 10th during a strong bounce-back year for the industry. Finally, Cadillac stormed into 9th place for 1976, with 274,801 Calais, Deville, and Fleetwood models sold (and a healthy 3.74 percent of the overall market).What all this means is that there are plenty of these big C bodies available. Consider: More than 611,000 Coupe de Villes were sold from ’71 to ’76. But how can you tell if you’re getting a good one? We spoke to Mike Steiner of Palm Springs, California; we feel that the two-dozen-plus ’71-’76 rear-drive Caddys he’s owned and restored over time, including the dozen currently with his name on the title, qualify him as an expert worth talking to.

BODY

Lower fenders, front and rear, as well as rockers, and what lies beneath the vinyl top are all places to look for rot. Front fenders can be swapped out, and quarters can be patched, but it’s what’s lurking beneath the elk-grain roof cover that’s the scariest. “Rainwater and dirt seep in under the chrome molding at the edge of the vinyl covering,” Mike says. “The dirt that gets in there stays —and stays wet. By the time you see a hint of it beneath the roof on the rear quarters, it’s a huge issue.

“”If the car spent any time in snow country, check beneath the doors, where the outer skin folds over the inner stamping; if there’s any rust, you can’t fix that. The metal is thin and if you try to take the doors apart you won’t get them back together.” Speaking of doors: “Door strikers had a plastic sleeve starting in 1973; if these break, the door won’t close properly, and you have to slam it.” The sleeves are not reproduced, but Mike has a solution: “The sleeve is the same size as a half-inch copper pipe coupling. Cut some to the appropriate length, remove the bolt from the door, wrap electrical tape four times around the bolt, then slide the copper sleeve over and you’re done.

“But the toughest part of making the body look right? “The ’74-’76 back bumper fillers are the worst! GM used a rubber that disintegrated in the atmosphere. Something about the formulation just saw them dissolve over about a dozen years. Olds and Buick had the same issue. Several aftermarket companies make replacements but none of them fit well. With originals, you could make them fit; the aftermarket ones are fiberglass or hard plastic and will shatter on impact.”

ENGINE

Cadillac’s 472-cubic-inch V-8 lasted through 1974. It was rated at 345 gross horsepower in 1971 and 220 net horsepower in 1972, with 8.5:1 compression both years. By 1974, the 472 was rated at 205 horsepower. Starting in 1975, Cadillac pivoted to its 8.2-liter (500-cu.in.) V-8, essentially a stroked 472, for all of its C-body models. Power dropped to 190 horsepower, while torque stayed the same as the previous few seasons, 360 lb-ft at just 2,000 rpm. Electronic fuel injection became optional in 1975, while new open-chamber heads were standard.”That Cadillac V-8 is indestructible if you don’t run it out of oil or water,” Mike reports. “I’ve pulled desert parts cars out of the yard, thrown a battery and gas in, and had them start up and drive.” Occasionally, “the diaphragm in the fuel pump can go bad.” Carburetors are GM Quadrajets and are infinitely rebuildable. Ignitions ran breaker points until GM’s popular and durable HEI ignition, with its integral coil, arrived on some models for 1974; all Cadillacs had HEI for 1975. “I’ve seen coils burn up on HEI ignitions,” Mike reports, “but it’s not a normal occurrence.”

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GM’s New Pump-Gas ZZ632/1000 Crate Engine: 1,000 Naturally Aspirated Horsepower in a Box – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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Modern rally cars fling themselves sideways around woodland courses with 400 turbocharged horsepower on tap. Today’s Indy cars make between 600 and 750 horsepower to go 230-plus mph at the 500. DTM touring cars from Germany top 600 ponies. And contemporary NASCAR racers churn out 750 horses and regularly touch 200 mph on superspeedways.

This is all context for Chevy announcing its ZZ632/1000 crate engine at SEMA, the annual automotive bacchanalia-infused trade show in Las Vegas. It’s all in the name: The engine displaces 632 cu.in. and makes 1,000 naturally aspirated horsepower (or 1004 horses, but when you’ve entered four-digit-horsepower territory, it’s probably okay to round a little). It also delivers 876 pound-feet of torque on pump gas. That’s more power than a NASCAR stocker or an Indy car has. All that in a box—and maybe between the wheel wells of your own car.

Other crate engines with 1,000 horsepower have been made available, but the ZZ632/1000 is all engine, no power-adder required. The block is shared with GM’s already-available 572-cu.in. crate engine, which includes four-bolt mains and a forged rotating assembly. For 632-cube duty, the block has been treated to a 0.040 overbore and was redesigned to fit connecting rods that are 0.375 inch longer. Those new rods are topped by pistons that, in conjunction with the new CNC-machined aluminum cylinder heads, squeeze the air-fuel mixture as 12.0:1 compression.

The RS-X Symmetrical Port heads were designed by Ron Sperry, one of his final jobs at GM after more than half a century of building hot street and racing engines for GM. Rather than the uneven port shapes of previous big-blocks, these heads feature symmetrical intake and exhaust ports so that no cylinder is “starved”; all eight chambers get an equal air/fuel mix. It’s a trick Sperry used on the Gen III small-block (i.e., the LS engines launched in the C5 Corvette). While not strictly new, it remains an effective power strategy.

This 1963 Ford Falcon convertible’s hidden secrets inspired its owner to write a novel, starring… a 1963 Ford Falcon convertible – Jeff Koch @Hemmings

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An artist’s duty is rather to stay open-minded and in a state where he can receive information and inspiration. You always have to be ready for that little artistic epiphany.”— Nick Cave, Australian musician.

Ken Blaisdell, now of Gilbert, Arizona, didn’t realize he was soon to have an artistic epiphany when he found this 1963 Ford Falcon convertible for sale online locally. “It was a true 20-footer—rougher than I expected. All of the plastic dash knobs were deteriorated and broken from the Arizona sun; the seller had replaced the top, but left the original gaskets in place; he removed the old door gaskets but didn’t install new ones. The original engine had been swapped out, and while the evaporator was still under the dash, the original York compressor was gone. I told the seller that it was rougher than I had expected, and that I was going to pass.” A month later, however, “I went back and bought it.”

*A replacement 170-cubic-inch inline-six, rated at 101 hp, now shines between the shock towers; a contemporary A/C compressor is hidden low beside the block*

Inspiration for finding this Falcon came from Ken’s salad days in the early ’70s, when a used ’61 Falcon sedan was his daily driver. “It was ‘just an old car’ that served as cheap transportation,” he says. “I paid $50 for it, and drove it until the rear end gave out. I used to work on that one because I had to; now I own one and work on it as a hobby! The style brings me back to the days when I first became interested in cars, and it’s so simple to work on that it’s actually enjoyable. It keeps me in shape; I refer to all of the crawling around beneath it, the bending over into the engine compartment, and the twisting to reach under the dash as my ‘restoration yoga.

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BODY

ENGINE

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