(first posted 9/10/2013)
Louis Gendron! That’s all I could think of when I spied this ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon at a four-way stop down the street.
I’m uncertain whether I ever met the man or not. However, seeing this wagon showered me in a tsunami of a mixture of forgotten, pleasant, and bewildering childhood memories. The subconscious definitely has a way of reminding you who is in charge of your psyche.
Growing up in a town of 450 souls is a mixed bag of the highest order. You know everyone, and everyone knows you. Starting from my days in elementary school (where my cousin worked in the office taking attendance, my grandmother was head cook, another cousin was my fifth-grade teacher, and my father was president of the school board) onward, I realized that doing anything in a small town is akin to posing in your birthday suit in a storefront window in downtown Manhattan–lots of people will see you and talk about it. But my experience with a particular 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon was the absolute inverse of what I expected (1968 Galaxie CC here).
To me, Louis always was an enigma of sorts. From what I can determine, he was every bit as ordinary as white milk, but there was a mystique about his behavior. Louis had moved away after his wife’s death and his daughter had moved into their house. However, Louis had left his cars parked under the pecan and walnut trees beside the house, and among them was a green ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon.
The alley that ran beside Louis’s house went directly behind my aunt’s house as well as the house of my bachelor great-uncle, who lived next door her. Walking out the back door of my aunt’s house netted you a fine view of both Louis’s Ranch Wagon and its mate, an aqua ’68 Pontiac Catalina sedan.
For the life of me, I never could understand why Louis left his cars behind. Nor could I understand why he allowed his daughter to place the burn barrel for her trash right next to the Ford.
My memories of Louis’s ’68 Ford are quite vivid even though I have no idea how long his cars sat there. Two years? Ten years? Time is an abstract concept to many children, you see. It must have been for quite a while, since all the glass on each car had been rendered little more than translucent by sap from the nut trees.
Of the two cars, the Ford always spoke to me louder. Perhaps it was the angry demeanor of the Pontiac’s handlebar tail lights in contrast to those on the friendlier-looking Ford. The Ford was very much intact and seemed not to be aging, likely due to its encapsulation in tree sap and soot. There was no engine call-out on the front fenders stating “390” or “428”, leading me to believe it was powered by either the 240 CID straight six or the 302 V8. For 1968, Ford had a rather large gap in their V8 engine lineup, jumping from the 302 to the 390.
My seemingly frequent inquiries to my father never revealed why Louis had left his cars. I was always told, “He left them there”, a statement so ridiculously obvious that it insulted even an innocent and curious child. Even my probing questions to my great-uncle across the alley (who knew everyone in town, and whose living room was the clearing house for all local gossip) netted me nothing: “Louie left them there to rest; he may have had to leave town quickly. Did you know some members from the Chicago mob used to hang out up at the Purple Crackle?” The leaving town part was likely a red herring for my uncle’s amusement, but it surely created a wealth of possibilities in my fertile young mind. Was the mob after him? Did he owe somebody money–like, for instance, the mob? Was he trying to outrun the authorities? How did his wife die? I suspect the workings of my mind have provided a source of idle entertainment to others for over four decades now.
Even asking Louis’s granddaughter, three years my junior, proved a profound exercise in futility. However, if one believes the stereotype of females being amazingly disinterested in automobiles, her response would have only reinforced the perception: “Mom hates them; grandpa leaves them there.” Of course, in retrospect, she was right around ten years of age at the time, so why would she have cared? I never was able to muster the courage to actually ask Louis’s daughter, a very friendly woman who oozed an intoxicating aura that accentuated her femininity. One must overcome awe before regaining the ability to speak coherently.
Perhaps I am the only person who actually cared why such a fine ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon was being left to deteriorate. I certainly couldn’t detect the first wisp of concern from anybody else.
One sad and gloomy day, both the Ranch Wagon and Catalina vanished without a trace. Perhaps Louis finally had a change of heart and realized he was missing out on a most awesome slice of Ford wagon goodness. Let’s just hope.
That triggers a flood of memories for me, too. We had our ’68 Country Squire LTD from when I was around nine or so right through my Freshman year of college.
Like you, I have always had a fascination with people who will park a car one day then leave it to sit for years. In my high school years, I had an acquaintance whose father owned a rental house. In the driveway were three cars – an early 60s Beetle, a 63 Cadillac and a 68 Chevy Caprice. None of them had moved in years, and all were dingy from tree sap, leaves, dirt and who knows what else.
I never understood who would rent a house that had the owner’s cars parked out front, but I guess all things can be resolved by price. I eventually was given the Cadillac after I asked about buying some parts off it. It had belonged to the owner’s father, and had last been licensed about 8 years earlier. I later asked about the VW, but was told “with gas prices going up, we will be doing some work on that one ourselves.” I don’t think they ever did, though.
There was always something appealing about the Ford Ranch Wagon. I don’t know why, but a strippo Ford wagon has some appeal to me. This one is in amazing shape for a midwestern car. This generation of Ford wagon was very attractive, though I prefer the 66 or 67 a bit. I’m a sucker for stacked headlights.
My uncle, who managed the public golf course my family ran, was a Mopar guy, and used a white base model ’68 Coronet was his work car, followed by a green base model ’73 Polara wagon. Good for hauling smaller parts and sprinkler heads that needed repair.
I’ve read elsewhere – maybe here?- how both the Willys wagon and the first Plymouth Suburbans were promoted heavily as handyman’s cars, sort of an enclosed Ute or windowed panel truck you could haul your tools in during the work week, and your family over the weekend.
Dad always rented a big Ford wagon for our holidays in America and Canada,sadly no woodys though.I can remember Mum Dad,big brother,little sister and me being in a white one just like this in California in July/August 69.
This brings back memories! In my case, the “forgotten” car in my neighborhood was a white 1968 Olds Cutlass sedan. It sat parked under a Crepe Myrtle tree at the “Spooky House”–basically an old house with badly peeling paint and an overgrown yard. An old lady lived there, and she had clearly stopped driving as the Cutlass never moved. The car was covered with the debris that was constantly falling off the tree, and the white paint was filthy. Fit the house perfectly though, and presented a charmingly creepy tableau, even before Anne Rice had anointed New Orleans as a city filled with vampires. My buddies and I were mesmerized by the car and the house, inventing all kinds of stories and ideas about what went on there. We would also tip-toe onto the property, never getting up the nerve to look in the windows of the house, but willing to get close to the Cutlass. One time, my buddy Roy and I tried the door handle on the right passenger door–unlocked! We actually crawled inside, and it was in remarkably perfect shape, though it had that pungent “old car” smell. No sign of mice though…
As these things go, one fine day we went by the Spooky House and the Cutlass was gone. Trucks were parked outside, and the house had been opened up. Perhaps the owner had passed away? I don’t know what happened to the car–hopefully it was cleaned up and got a new lease on life, though at the time it was about 12 years old and would have had very little value. I am happy to say that the house was restored and renovated (nice that it wasn’t torn down) and still looks great to this day.
Great, vivid description. Reminds me of Miss Havisham’s mansion from Dickens’ “Great Expectations” or Boo Radley’s house in “To Kill A Mockingbird”. Every neighborhood has to have a spooky house.
There was a similar house in a buddies neighborhood that had a 1967 Cutlass Coupe in the carport for decades, same nasty condition house, with a back yard that looked like a forest. About a year ago the Cutlass was gone from the carport and one of those rent-a-dumpsters was on the front lawn.
Just my opinion…what a difference a nose makes.
The ’67 is dynamic and a little bit sexy…the ’68 just says…”generic car”.
Maybe the white color adds to that perception, but it just seems like Ford designed the ’68 LTD hidden-headlamp nose first, then came up with the “standard” equivalent as an afterthought.
My money says you’re right on this.
Ford, for about ten years starting in 1968, used different grilles to bump people up from the stripper loss-leader into the profitable lines. The grille was part of that.
I don’t have a problem with the Custom/Galaxie grille; probably because I grew up around one. And because that one I grew up around, was SUCH an improvement over our lemon-car, a 1962 Rambler.
I like the front styling on this one. Never cared for the stacked headlights on the ones a couple years earlier.It just looked awkward.
Big one, little one, and those in between. Those are the wagons that I like. Somehow they wound their way into my brain and, just like old VWs, I will probably never drive them again or forget them.
To answer your question in the article’s caption, “Did anybody care?”
My simple answer: No, I certainly don’t!
“Intoxicating aura that accentuated her femininity” – what a great turn of phrase. Made my morning. I’ve been lucky enough to know many women with that exact quality.
Whoa. A ’68 Ranch Wagon! These are hard to find!
We had this car in light blue. 302 V-8. My father purchased it off a Hertz Rental Car lot in New Jersey in 1970 to replace our ’62 Rambler. My brothers and I used to wrestle on the steel floor behind the back seat on long trips. The thought of how dangerous that was never crossed our minds.
It was very reliable (if very plain) for the seven years we had it. Neighbors across the street from us had a ’68 Country Squire. It seemed liked a full on luxury car in comparison to our humble Ranch Wagon.
One major issue—this car was terrible in bad weather. Dad even tried to weigh it down with sand bags in the “trunk” under the steel floor in the back. I can hear my dad now yelling, “This car would fish tail on a sunny day!” Of course, that meaty, pre smog 302 and cheap tires may have had something to do with that! 😉
Great stuff!
I had a 68 ranchwagon,drove it 7 or 8 years. In all the winters we drove it in Illinois ,it was never stuck and believe me, we tried.paid 150.00 for it,unstuck the points and drove it home,kept 2 sets of plugs to change out spring and fall,ran wide ovals on the back and it rode and drove really well.sold it for 200.00,biggest mistake ever made
Extra nice find. What happened to all the old Ranch Wagons?
I love it now, but these were the cars I loathed as an insolent teen. I probably don’t have to explain why.
Gutted to make V8 Mustangs & hot rods then crushed or banger raced sadly
Demolition Derbys at every single county fair.
Outstanding find, even if the rounder, sleeker ’68 styling from the sill down totally doesn’t work with the upright ’65 greenhouse.
Even Appliances of the 60’s like this one are really cool. They don’t come more plain than this!
I’ve never been able to warm up much to the ’68 Fords. I think this wagon still has the simple crisp greenhouse of the ’65 – ’67 wagons, but the kick up character line just never looks right to me, the wheel openings are awkward, and the grill is very plain, and must have been too fragile as they always seem misaligned or dented. High trim levels help cover the basic, boring, awkward styling.
Even denuded of trim, the ’65 – ’67 cars, especially the ’66 and ’67 models had a simple and elegant look to them. I would have gone to Mercury in ’68, and probably would not have been back to any Ford / Mercury full size until 1971. There were just too many better styled full size cars to choose from.
Full disclosure, I briefly owned a ’67 Galaxie 500 2 dr hdtp until I learned one should inspect these cars for frame rust! White over turquoise with the 390, factory air, power steering and the full wheel covers it was a car that got compliments everywhere it went with me, probably the summer of 1985.
On the forgotten car theme, growing up our next door neighbors had a carport on the side of their house, way at the back of the house. A parade of forgotten cars sat there. When we arrived in ’69, a ’57 Bel-Air Sedan stored tires and some junk. It was followed by a ’61 Impala, probably a 4 dr hdtp, with the strangest large deep dent in the rear driver’s door. The entire dent bowl was black, on a white car. I can recall the neighbor spreading on something that looked like roofing “Black Jack.” I guess to keep it from rusting. Saddest, a ’70 Camaro sat there for a few years while their son was in Vietnam. Probably loved and not entirely forgotten. Dan came back, married, had a child, the Camaro disappeared, he visited occasionally in a ’74 LTD, and died of cancer around 1976. The cancer was blamed on Agent Orange exposure.
Reminds me of the 1958 Ford Country Sedan Wagon my father bought used around 1963… he traded in a 1953 Pontiac …Straight 8. It was Wimbledon White on top Corinthian Green on the bottom…I loved that car…It turned me into a car guy! Four years later he traded in for a 1962 Ford Falcon :-(….The Ford dealer used the 58 Wagon as their tow car for the Dragster they raced at Epping Dragway in NH.
We didnt get any Ranchwagons stopped coming after 57 with the custom 300 model, bastards they woulda sold here in pre OPEC NZ,
Ford Wagons were everywhere when I was a kid growing up in the ’60’s/’70’s. My first girlfriend (7th grade) had as their family car (one of them) a white ’68 Ford wagon like this only it was the Country Sedan with the nicer interior. White with blackwalls and dog-dishes like this one, but with a red/maroon interior and it had the 390 callout on the lower front fender behind the wheel well. Another that rings a bell was in second grade, our class (St. Raphael’s) went to the Maritime Museum in San Francisco on a field trip. One of the Mothers’ (Mrs. Buffi) took out group in her then brand new 1967 Ford Ranch Wagon. White like this, but with a blue interior. Of course, three of us were in the far back (sitting on the cargo area – this was a six seater) and six other parochial school kids took up the other seating positions. Big fun!
The wagons in my childhood household were a ’61 Pontiac Catalina Safari and then the ’71 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser. No Fords. The Missouri relatives went to Fords in the 70s after a slough of Mopars.
Granted the featured CC is a little dinged up, but the side sheet metal on these Ford wagons looks so awkward. Too many bumps, bulges, and inconsistent angles. The perfectly square greenhouse only accentuates this. At least the Country Squire’s Di-Noc covered some of this up.
As for the mystery of Louis’s cars, it’s possible that some shady business went on. I don’t know how old Louis was, but more likely if he was elderly he may have went to Florida where he either bought a new car or didn’t use one, or went to a nursing home where he obviously wouldn’t need a car.
I actually now have a fondness for plain jane cruisers. Certainly back in the day as a kid/teenager – definitely no way. There were high school acquaintances (the Mazza Brothers) whose folks had two IDENTICAL ’68 Chevy Bel Airs – one a wagon; the other a sedan. Metallic green with the black nylon cloth/vinyl seats. P/S, P/B, AM Radio and Powerglide. 307 2-bbl V-8’s. According to Phil the oldest brother (and at the time, old enough to have been driving the Bel Air sedan), their folks got them “for a song” at a company car fleet sale in the City (San Francisco), although they must’ve come from out of state as both were issued blue plates (this would be around 1972).
Us spoiled kids whose folks had nice wagons thought these guys were cheap . . .
“Louis had moved away after his wife’s death and his daughter had moved into their house”
I think that maybe the answer. Who knows the wife may have played a big role in the buying or ownership of those cars. Perhaps that is why he left the home and cars as they reminded him too much of his wife.
There is a famous place in Illinois called Voorhies castle
http://www.voorhiescastle.com/
It was built by Nels Larson who came over from Sweden and became rich. He bought land and built this castle for his family. In the 1870’s he sent over to Sweden for his wife and they started a family.
Nils was very devoted to his wife and when she died in 1914 he was so saddened that he left the house the same day of her death and never returned to it. He left all of his possessions and rolled out.
We(CC readers) see each car(curbside classic or just plain daily driver) as a story waiting to be told but there are some cars that have such a tragic story behind them or remind them of such a great loss that the owners choose to turn away from them and let them rot away pretending they don’t exist.
Was this the place that inspired Kronsteen castle in Robert McCammon’s They Thirst?
I can’t remember what was so luxurious about the Squire (what my family had) vs. the Country Sedan & Ranch Wagon trim levels, beyond the fake wood & possibly trim & upholstery. Can anyone give me a clue here?
Well, what else except nicer interior appointments defined “luxury” back then, or now? Sort of like a basic Toyota and a Lexus, eh?
+ the Hidden headlight!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you could get the “Brougham” interior on the Country Squire, only on the coupes/sedans/hard tops.
Hidden headlights, yes. They were vacuum-operated, so one could cycle them open & closed a couple times (as I did) with the engine off, using a manual valve under the hood, until the reserve was exhausted. One of the perks of getting to wash the car.
But it just didn’t seem luxurious; our Squire’s seats were heavy-duty vinyl, which along with the steel-lined cargo area, could withstand anything we put in it. Not much Broughaminess here. This is why I have trouble imagining what owners of lesser models were missing that we had. Was it the Dual-Facing Rear Seats, the cargo rack, or towing package? Surely they also could get power steering & brakes, which were vital on a barge like this. That’s all I can think of.
Well, the Country Squire got you a nice strip of vinyl woodtone on the door panel. If that isn’t the height of sybaritic decadence, I don’t know what is.
This car has an owner in mind….Edward Herrmann. For some reason I always associated the guy’s nose with the fender lines…
NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL -AMERICAN-. BIG, TOUGH, AIN’T AFRAID OF NOBODY. Try to over-take one of these babies with your stupid li’l turds from god knows where. ECONO-CRAPboxes. DON’T TAKE SHIT FROM NOBODY. MOVE OVER, LOSERS. ‘MERICA. GIT’R DONE BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can’t say I was big fan of the evolutionary (rather than revolutionary) nature of Ford full sized car styling during this era.
I could see a coroner driving this wagon.
I have fond memories of a ’68 Ford wagon, a navy blue Country Squire. It was my Mom’s car from 1968 until 1975, and the car in which I learned to drive. Fairly nicely equipped, Dad ordered it with the 390, disc brakes, A/C and positraction (which, along with studded snow tires made it an excellent car for ski trips).
I still consider the ’68 Squire to be a great looking wagon, and would be tempted by a nice one if I came across it. But… it was a troublesome beast. I recall three water pump failures, three motor most failures (reputedly the same mount was used with the small block 302), a bad A/C compressor, a broken front seat support, a faulty switch for the power tailgate window, and a rebuild of the C6 transmission. I’m sure there was more, but needless to say old Buckshot was always regarded as a bit of a lemon.
I spent a lot of hours in one of these wagons. We had family friends who had 7 kids and they had at least two wagons at all times in their fleet of, as my dad would call them, “Junkers”. The two that hung around the longest were a green metallic, “Fly’s ass green” as we kids called it, Ford, with wood grain on the sides, of course, and a Plymouth Satellite wagon, old penny bronze, no wood grain. The Plymouth was probably the best of all the wagons they had, it never seemed to break down, unlike the 2 Fords I remember, one of which died at the drive in movie we went to one night. At the end of the show, it refused to start for about the sixth time in a little over a week, so AAA came out and ended up hooking it as they couldn’t get it going either. My dad came and we all crammed into his Caddy to go home. The last two of their wagons were pretty sad, the last Ford was another Fly Ass Green, no wood on that one. It lives on in the memories of his kids and me of the axle coming out of it when their dad came around the corner of their street one night. It rusted amazingly badly too, and at one point it had garbage can sheet metal pop riveted to it’s rear quarters. It’s replacement, his last wagon, was a Pontiac Parisienne that had cardboard floors, as the steel ones had rotted away, before he bought it. We called it the “Flintstone Wagon” as you could see the street most of the time unless new cardboard and later plywood had been put in. No more wagons, the husband’s last car was a ’79 Chevy Malibu, and his wife had a Plymouth Valiant that she inherited from a neighbor when he died. She eventually went to Chevy S10 Blazers and then Trailblazers, and finally at age 90, when she stopped driving, a GMC Envoy that went to one of her many granddaughters at age 16. Of all my friend’s parents, only one other had a wagon, that was a Chevy Chevelle wagon, white with a 283, I think in it. My best friend’s parents drove it until it fell apart, and it was replaced with a VW bus, which was just plain sad.
Some neighbors of ours had a succession of rusty old beaters, and in the early ‘70’s (when they moved in) one of them was a maroon ‘68 Ranch Wagon. Looking back, it’s funny to think of a five year old car as a rusty old beater, but that’s what many of them were back then. I always liked the big Ford wagons, but they seemed to rust away quickly here in Ontario.
Before vans got larger and more popular, these base-level full size wagons often got picked up cheap second-hand by carpenters, painters, etc., who usually were the ones who ‘used them up’, which is why there are hardly any survivors today.
You just described my late father, a British immigrant carpenter. After his ’73 Chevy Van was vandalized beyond repair in ’86, it was followed up by a plain Jane ’74 LTD, brown over brown and a ’75 Country Squire, white over green. Never saw either of them devoid of tools, lumber and coffee cans full of fasteners. I remember him complaining loudly about how terrible the 400M was to repair, the reason lost to time. I always felt terrible for the fate of them, as they both were so nice when he got them, surely for very little.