I grew up in the Midwestern United States (Michigan, specifically), and I had been exposed to a somewhat limited range of culinary delights that much of the rest of America was accustomed to by the mid-1980s. This is not to say that ethnic foods were foreign to me. My Liberian father and many of his west African cohorts and their families were the reason, prior to my having spent my fourth grade year in Liberia, that I could claim some familiarity with foods considered unusual to many of my friends and peers.
Still, aside from that and despite a great selection of authentic Mexican restaurants in the Flint area (La Azteca and Tia Helita’s, to name a couple, are noteworthy establishments that still do great business today), about as “Mexican” as the Dennis family had dared to eat when I was growing up (quite sadly) was the occasional Taco Bell dinner near the Dort Mall.
“The Bell” may have been exactly what I needed after nights of revelry in my college years (and beyond), and there are things on that menu that I still really like, but in terms of authenticity, the offerings of this fast food chain simply don’t count. Never have, and probably never will. And that’s alright.
I say all of this to set the stage for my first experiences of “green” salsa with my tortillas. I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to a lot of things, even as I know basically what I like and what I stand for. I’ve eaten many foods some would consider exotic, including alligator, monkey and even a type of termite called a “Bug-A-Bug”.
My taste palate as an eight or nine year old was about as adventurous as in present day, and I also remember being fascinated with and in awe of the culture of my father’s people. If Dad said something was good to eat, I usually tried to do so (sometimes also suppressing my urge to vomit, to the best of my ability) to try to impress and also feel some kinship with him and his culture from which I am just barely generationally removed.
Still, when it comes to familiar foods, I have certain expectations in terms of what things are supposed to taste like. We all do. I can’t recall the exact instance or even time period when salsa verde came into my life, but I remember thinking it was all just so wrong – the color, the texture… everything about it. Salsa is supposed to be red, darn it. Only guacamole is green. According to a semi-recent DNA test, I have absolutely no ancestry from Latin America, but at the time, I had somehow felt qualified to make this judgment.
And all of this was before I actually tasted some of the green stuff. I was like that Dr. Seuss character who remained solidly unmoved by the annoyingly persistent Sam-I-Am in the latter’s quest to get him to try the titular “Green Eggs And Ham”. Like the protagonist of that children’s book, though, once I tried green salsa with my chips, I got hooked – and the rest is history.
I thought it was very fitting that I had spotted this four-door Thunderbird outside of one of my favorite, local Mexican restaurants in my neighborhood, particularly because the salsa verde at Susupuato No. 2 is among the absolute best I’ve ever had – and its color reminds me a bit of that of the paint of our featured car.
Like my first time being exposed to salsa verde, the first time I had seen a Thunderbird sedan, it was a genuine “What… the…” moment for me. I was born in the mid-’70s, so seeing even a ’77 Mercury Cougar sedan (or even Cougar Villager wagon) didn’t make me scratch my head around that time. These four-door T-Birds, though, were somewhat thin on the ground when new, and even more so a decade later in the very GM-centric town that Flint used to be.
I want to state right off that I really, really like the style of the new-for-’67 Thunderbirds. I know this is not popular opinion, and I’m not saying I like these cars just to be different. The full-width look grille with its hidden headlights looks elegant, square-jawed, and slightly menacing all at the same time.
I have also always liked the look of full-width taillamp lenses, and the ones on this generation of Thunderbird are among my favorites. From what I’ve read, here at CC and otherwise, perhaps quality and exclusivity had started to take a slide with this generation, but to a guy who has never driven one (or any of the ones before it), I can’t just take someone else’s word for it.
This interior looks like a very “premium” place to be, and the bright, metal accents and its aircraft-inspired aesthetic make it look very lounge-like – in the best way. The added ease of access and egress made possible by the extra pair of rear doors seems to be a fair enough tradeoff for the loss of a “coupe” profile. In fact, I’d say that the Thunderbird sedan gives up very little in the looks department to its two-door counterpart. The extra formality of the sedan’s profile with its vinyl roof and dummy “landau” bars delineating the door frame openings almost has the same effect as an automotive top hat.
The Thunderbird sedan was a reasonable sales success in its first year on the market, accounting for about 25,000 sales out of about 78,000, about one-third of total production that year. While the coupe was offered in both base and Landau trim, the sedan came only as an upmarket Landau. The percentage of four-door sales steadily eroded over the fifth generation Thunderbird’s five-year life span, with only about 6,600 sold in ’71 out of about 36,000 total (18%). All up, there were about only 77,500 four-door Thunderbirds ever produced. It should also be noted that though a four-door bodystyle was added for ’67, the convertible (with 5,000 sold for ’66) was also dropped for that model year. Overall sales did increase for ’67 from 69,200 sold in ’66.
My initial impression of this bodystyle of this famous, pioneering personal luxury model was that it was bizarre, odd, incorrect. Eventually, it found my acceptance, which then morphed into downright adoration. As a photographer, I love little details, and this car was rife with them. The “for sale” sign on the window (the seller was asking for $8,000) tempted me for only a few minutes, as I have neither the means nor the space to garage a car like this… yet. Its color and fine shape, however, did whet my appetite for some salty tortillas with a big bowl of salsa verde. Perhaps this weekend.
Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois.
Sunday, October 25, 2015.
Well, Dennis, I am one of those who was not fond of the ’67 remodel. The ’66 is my favorite; but I have to admit, that I have developed somewhat of a liking for the 2 door. I still don’t care at all for the 4 door. It’s akin to my relationship with the (now discontinued) 4 door Charger. After the later remodel, there came a faint Iiking for them, but Chargers and Thunderbirds had NEVER been four door cars! Sacrilege! This one is a nice survivor though, and I have come to appreciate ANY car that has survived well past its’ built in obsolescence date!! 🙂
I have to agree with you Joseph, my first impression of these was that they were an abomination! T Birds had only two doors, just like a bird has only two wings. What was Ford thinking? The sedans may have been much more practical, but they lost the cozy curved lounge style rear seat, which was one of the T Bird’s most attractive features, at least in my eyes. Though of course, the driver was never going to sit back there. Many years later it dawned on me, the attraction of the Thunderbird was that it was a glamorous, “fancy car” and the sedan retained all that, plus it made it easy to have a night out with another adult couple. I’m sure that they would appreciate the extra doors instead of having to climb over a folding seat back. And the carriage doors ( I don’t like referring to them as suicide doors, I’ve never had a death wish!) were a very stylish addition.
Now I see these cars as a blending of the ’61-’63 Lincoln Continental spirit with the flash and dash of the Thunderbird. Those early Lincolns were very much a four door coupe, more of a personal car than a family sedan. My Dad had a ’63 Lincoln and I distinctly got a personal car vibe from it when I rode in it, or later drove it. It seems appropriate that the Thunderbird got an opportunity to keep that vibe alive, at least for a while.
I too was not a fan of the 4 dr Bird when introduced for ’67. Dad briefly had a bright red ’64 that I was crazy about and these just seemed to have lost a bit of the sporty-ish edge of the ’66 models and earlier. Now I really like it, and dig those suicide doors to the max….a good friend has a ’68 he wants to sell, it’s tempting! But yet another Olds is calling my name right now.
When I was a child in Vancouver, my uncle and aunt had a dark-blue ’69 fourdoor T-bird. I thought it was very cool at the time, and loved the suicide doors. But I also remember being not so impressed when the suspension bottomed out as my aunt drove it through a dip at high speed.
This was likely the first car that I begun my car obsession with as a child of the Malaise Era. Gen X, missed boomer by two years.
Compared to all the Citations, Ford Fairmonts, and bland Toyotas, the Thunderbird was something exotic and unique. Had an elderly neighbor with one he kept dialy driving until the late 80’s. I understand.
I admit it’s pimpish. Only word I can think of. Also Baroque but modern. Art like even. Not for everyone like a Galaxy could have been. Almost is something like the Sevile Opera Coupe but factory made. Love it though for it’s darong style and swagger.
I begin to wonder if the 4-door Thunderbird sedan might have been a little bit ahead of its time? Maybe the idea of a 4-door Thunderbird would had probably worked better in the 1980s or 1990s. One of the T-bird rivals, the Pontiac Grand Prix got a 4-door sedan in 1990.
Thought these 4 door thunderbirds were UGLY and still hold that opinion. Same thing for the two doors. But I do admire them for the wackyness/kitsch/shear audacity that Ford had to build something different. That landau bar, oh man looks like they were inspired by the Munsters mobile lol. Id love to see one of these at a car show, Id totally geek out over it.
That being said, the 70-71 two door Thunderbird with the beak is IMO a great design. Especially without a vinyl top. Those fat rear hips, the way the roof flows into the rear quarter, that nose and big dome on the hood, its over the top but really works for me.
I like /liked the “67”, variation. Recall a trqse,blue, one in the local “dealer” showroom. It was likely a “68” The “C/S”, wagon in there was for sure “68”.
Seems to me it was center ((the bird)), in the showroom, for a bit a time.
Anyway, was quite an eye catcher.
A white tudor was on the lot at the used car dealer near the “h/s” .((mid 70’s time))
It too was a looker.
Now, got to recall the name for the used car dealer.. H’mm.
I’m with you, Joseph: I like this model year T-Bird although I am not fond of the roof treatment and I thought the same when I first saw salsa verde: salsa is supposed to be red! I also tried bonding with my father over foods that he liked including blood sausage 🤢 which actually is pretty good. Thank you for your thoughts on this very cool car.
If Thunderbirds were divided between the good and bad, I’d put the 1967-69 right in the middle. While not beautiful, it was distinctive without being hopelessly bizarre. I think these got the nickname of ‘Hoover Birds’ with their vacuum cleaner-like grille.
Mom bought a ’67 T-Bird “Tudor” from her sister for $800 in 1972, because her brother-in-law drove it, and when he passed, Mom’s sister didn’t drive, so she sold it to Mom. My Dad was like “what do you want to buy an old car like that for?”, until Mom brought it home! It looked brand new, with only 29k miles on it, and Dad couldn’t get the keys into his hands fast enough! The 390 V8 was smooth, powerful and quiet, with just a bit of a growl on acceleration, but only a few of these had the “big dog” 428 V8. Mom’s had the painted steel roof (no vinyl top), with a T-Bird badge on the B-Pillars in place of the Landau bars. The badge came with a body-colored insert.
The front grille always reminded me of the engine intake in the nose of a North American Aviation F-100 “Super Sabre”.
Ah, Thunderbirds. What can I say about them that hasn’t been said?
Just You Wait! 🙂
I liked the two-seater; it looked like a cut-down ’55 Customline. But after that success, Ford Design staff went a bit weird, jacking up the nameplate and driving a new concept under it. And seemed to bounce around all over the shop in terms of inspiration. Each new generation seems to alternate beween beautiful and strange. Until this one.
They gave us the Gaudy Bird, with such an overabundance of creases, curves and pointy bits that I reckon the sheetmetal must have screamed in terror at the thought of being turned into a Thunderbird. “No, no, anything but that!”
Then they repented and gave us the Spacey Bird, a marvellously clean design that still looks good today. Undoubtedly my favourite Bird.
But three years passed, and we got the Wrinkly Bird, all sharp creases and crinkles, all formal and Grandpa-ish. Hey, hang on, I’m a grandpa, and I still don’t like it! Make that disappointingly formal, as though the designer had me in mind as the perfect antithesis of his intended customer.
Then we come to this. All the wrinkles ironed out, as you’d jolly well expect by 1967 – but it’s no beauty. That long, long front end looks a bit strange. I’m having trouble framing my words here. I think the problem is that way the hood and bumper stick out in the centre beyond where it looks like the fenders ended originally – as though a downward angled line from an earlier sketch was insufficiently erased, and ended up getting stamped in by mistake.
The rear end is a hangover from the previous generation, and those C-pillars really were needlessly thick, but the rest of the design sort of works. Sort of.
Until Bunkie turned it into the Nosey Bird.
All pretensions of sportiness had been erased, so a Bird Sedan didn’t seem totally out of the question. Sort of an inter-inter-mediate sedan between the Fairlane 500 and the mighty Ell Tee Dee. I rather like the way half of the C-pillar opens with the rear door. Quaint isn’t quite the word, but it’s what comes to mind so we’ll roll with it.
Yeah, I like it, really I do.
I had a Hot Wheels one as a kid.
The shape (and its similarity to some German Taunuses) fascinated me.
I’m still a sucker for fake hood irons, too. and full-width tail lights and…
If you’re gonna do kitsch, do it big. Or get a brutally-rational little Eurobox instead.
My 1967 – rear view
My 1967 – front view
My 1967 – tail lights lighted
Bill, that is a beautiful 1967 white two door Landau (are you a member of VTCI?). I was just a few months shy of age 16 when these 1967 T-Birds hit the streets in late 1966. My family had both 1963 & 1966 T-Birds at that time and I also thought T-Birds should be two doors only. I had an older male cousin, about 22, and a jock. His sister had just wrecked his 1965 gold Impala SS fastback when he showed up at our home to show Dad his new 1967 four door T-Bird. Thought what a odd choice for a young single good looking jock, not exactly a chick magnet. But thought it was beautiful mostly because of the color, bright red with black top & interior. Perhaps in certain colors the 1967 four doors look good to me. Still think the 1967-68 two door T-Birds look a little sporty without the vinyl tops or all in a solid color combination like Bill’s white 1967 Landau. Many decades later when I lived in Dallas one of my neighbors had a restored 1967 T-Bird two door, bright red with black interior and no viny top parked in our condo parking garage. It was stunning.
Regarding food I was fortunate growing up in an Air Force family, traveling the US and abroad, exposed to many types of food. Both my parents were excellent cooks and never kept it simple. When my older brother married and asked Mom for some of her recipes Mom said no as she was not fond of his new wife (the marriage only lasted a few years anyway). But when I, the youngest single son asked for her recipes, she typed them on index cards and sent them to me, and I still have them to this day. Some foods you don’t mess with. In the late 1970s I lived in Houston and fell in love with real Tex-Mex and Texas toast. I moved to NYC in the early 80s and unfortunately experienced Yankee style Tex-Mex and Texas Toast. What an abomination and a new meaning for “Don’t Mess with Texas”.
My Aunt Janie bought a new 69 Thunderbird four-door Landau at Ed Maher Ford in Downtown Dallas. Indian Fire Metallic with black Cayman top and Brougham cloth and vinyl interior. Stunning! I was a seven year-old car nut, and immediately fell in love with it. Hidden headlights, center-opening doors, power everything, stereo, blinking lights in the roof, sequential turn signals and a steering wheel that sprung up and over when the driver’s door was opened. Mind blown!
I bought it from her in the mid eighties and regret ever letting it go. I now own a loaded 68 Hardtop in Sunlit Gold Metallic with Nugget Gold vinyl. 67-69 Thunderbirds are my absolute favorites and always have been. Such special automobiles.
Bill, I’d love to see a closeup photo of the front fender upper turn signal lights on your beautiful 67. I have never actually seen these in person, but I remember seeing early press release photos with them, and also receiving a couple of 67 Philco radio T-birds for Christmas that had them.