— Dedicated to my dad.
As I mentioned in previous articles, my mom never drove. This meant, in Dad’s opinion, that he could just drive a higher-shelf car.
However, when I was only a few months away from getting my license, Dad came up with the idea of a second car. You see, he owned a construction business and a real estate company. At this time, he was driving a brand new 1978 Buick Electra. He reasoned that he should also have a beater sort of secondhand car.
To that end, he found a really nice 1967 Ford Country Squire wagon. He bought it for $500 bucks from a church couple. Virtually no rust, black with wood sides and a red interior that showed very little wear, the question was why so cheap? Well, it seems the rings in the 390 were dissolving like Alka Seltzer in a glass of water, and they simply didn’t want to rebuild the engine.
He bought it in August of 1978 and pressed it into service right away. I was still about 8 months before my license. Every chance he got, and it was nice out, he’d take me out driving. Sometimes in the Buick, other times in Horse Head (my name for the CS due to the emblem in the back.)
One afternoon in December, he asked if I wanted to drive him to the store in the Ford. “Of course!” I said running out the front door. We started out and as I adjusted my rearview mirror, I saw dark stains on the back window. Oh, that’s right, he’d bagged a nice-sized buck while dealer hunting and I was looking at the blood. Yuck. That trip was to a car wash!
“This is a really sharp car…” said the deputy. Image from the ’78 brochure.
Well, the day had come for me to take my road test. Dad suggested that I take it in the Buick. The deputy got in, looked around, and said “This is a really sharp car and your dad sure must think a lot of you.”
I passed with a flying 100% (Maybe it was the car?!)
Dad dropped me at home and said “Do not drive today until I get home.”
When he got home, dinner was over and he told me his plan. You see, it had rained all afternoon and was still so at 8 in the evening. His challenge was simple: He explained that often times when going through deep puddles of water, the steering wheel can be sharply pulled into that water. So, he was giving me a route that he knew was flooded and told me if I could get through it without losing control, at 35mph, I could have the Buick all next day. (Keep in mind that this Buick had maybe 475 miles on it, so oh my goodness yes!)
With that, he gave me his keys, buckled into the passenger seat and said “Good luck!”
For those of us a wee bit older, we can remember the numb useless feeling in those Ford steering systems. And, if you’ve driven a worn-out Ford, you can also concur that these systems could get quite loosey-goosey. With my hands firmly gripping that wheel, we were off. I turned onto the road he made out to have “some deep puddles”. No, more like full on flood waters. I was looking for buoys! I gunned the tired 390, did the 35 and held on hard. It was about 3/4 of a mile of completely flooded roadway.
Alas, I did it and I was so proud! Better still was that my dad was proud, though he didn’t say it. Instead, he had a big smile on his face the next morning when he handed me my own set of keys to both cars and a Sohio gas card.
I spent the first part of the day cleaning and waxing the Buick, and the second part driving all over!
…
The Ford and Buick were shared cars now, and I learned so much from having the brand-new and the well-worn versions to compare.
For the CS, we used to keep a full case of oil in the third row seats and would drive until the oil light came on. (We kept the mosquitos under control with every jab of the accelerator with that car!) Of course, oil burning causes spark plugs to be cleaned or changed more frequently, so I learned how to change plugs, how to gap them, and most of all, I learned to take pride in whatever I was driving.
That car had the slightest amount of rust on the passenger side rear fender, right behind the wheel. Dad said that if I wanted to, I could practice on Horse Head to learn rust repair. On a trip to the local auto parts I learned that fiberglass and Bondo were the way to go, so I did. I made it look good as new.
About six months after I got my license, we left the cold Ohio winters and headed to Florida. With my dad driving the U-haul and me, the Buick, the Ford was being left behind. The CS was given to my middle sister’s family. They really needed it as she and her husband were raising several children, a number that would go to seven. They were able to get a few more years out of that old Horse Head. In fact, the pictures are of a much younger me changing plugs for them.
Dad and I were both working on it that afternoon. We finished and he jumped in to take a ride. It was to be the last one. As he was coming around the block, my wife, Cindy, and I were standing there when we heard a pretty loud metallic sound that got bad quickly and the engine stopped. We ran up to see and found that two rods had come through the block.
That car, special ordered by the original owner had served three families, still looked newish, had traveled I want to say 188,000 miles, had drank plenty of fuel and probably as much oil.
I believe my brother-in-law had it towed to the scraper. I’m sure had we still been there, Dad would have dropped a junkyard engine in it.
Related CC reading:
CC Capsule: 1967 Ford Country Squire – Another Bites The Rust
As a guy whose first car was a 67 Ford and whose father had a 66 County Squire, so much of this hits home. Fortunately, my own 390 dis not have the appetite for oil that yours did.
I love the name Horse Head! I remember that emblem on Dad’s wagon so your name for the car made sense immediately. And a black Squire with red interior would have been a really sharp car!
I went to school with the daughter of the family where we bought that car. When we discussed that it may be on its way to the great rusting area in the sky, she asked for those emblems!
Fun memories for sure.
Chip, I love this story. You really are able to convey the bond you and your dad created around for no other reason (and I am sure that there are many others) than being the only drivers in the house. His flood water test resonates with me as being similar to the sometimes bizarre tests my dad used to construct for me. Lord knows from what dark corners those sorts of ideas came (and hopefully I’ve never done the same to my kids), but it seems entirely in-character for a dad from the 1970s.
And I would contend that anyone who hasn’t had to drive with a case of oil in the car due to bad rings/serious leaks just hasn’t really driven.
Too bad (although totally understandable given the time and the circumstances) Horse Head never got an engine transplant. That would be a sharp car today if it had survived.
Back the.vehicles just seemed to have more style and personality
Our used “67” was a “Galaxie”. Got it in “75ish” for about $585.00. Had a “289”, under the hood. Did not burn a lot of oil until “78”. Caught fire and was totaled in summer “79”.
My husband and his love for cars!
We were visiting Ohio when the old Ford finally gave up. Chip had a fun time driving me around in that car. He’s always loved his growing up years.
Another thing I saw was that the picture of his dad’s Buick shown in here is actually the center fold of the 1978 Buick sales brochure. I know this because, of course, he has kept it all these years!
40 years of marriage coming up in December.
I am the middle sister that the Horse Head was passed down to. I had five children at the time. There was a set of twins in the mix. I loved that station wagon because the third set of seats in the back faced each other and that’s where I would put the twins so that they could see each other. They would laugh and smile at each other. That car fit our family perfectly! We thought it was a pretty neat looking car. It definitely had its issues with all the oil it was drinking. I don’t remember how long we had it but sadly, it wasn’t long enough.
My mother also never learned to drive, so as the oldest child, as soon as I had a license, we became a two car family. However, dad was a practical engineer, so I took my test in a three year old workhorse of an Impala wagon. He helped my buy a late model VW. Did not want me driving a cheap “beater” as the second family car. So, I proudly filled the role of running mom and my siblings around while dad was at work. I’m sure my aunt, who lived across the street, was grateful that she was no longer chauffeur to her sister in law.
Adding my appreciation for the recollection… While I did most of my learning in Dad’s ’69 F-100, Mom’s ’68 Country Squire LTD (390/4bbl) played a large part in my driving ‘coming of age’ years (not to mention Dad’s ’71 Vega that became my first car).
Many family vacations were made in the wagon, which often was pulling our “Swinger” brand camper. I was entrusted with driving my brothers to and from school not long after I got my license, and while I probably never topped 75 MPH, it was sure hard to resist feeling the kick when the secondaries opened up.
Head gaskets and engine fires (we had two) seemed to be the biggest bugaboo with the 390, and it eventually was sold off when the engine again needed some internal work (likely with close to 200K miles on the clock).
A nice story about a lucky family .
I remember those big Ford wagons, very good cars as I recall .
-Nate