2004 Ford Crown Victoria Police Intercetor Clean Low Miles Ready To Roll on 2040-cars

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Fitting Retirement: Grand Marquis last Mercury off the line

The signs have come down and retail production ended back in October of 2010. Now, the very last Mercury model has rolled off the assembly line. This last Mercury somewhat fittingly takes the form of a Grand Marquis reporting for fleet duty. It was built at the St. Thomas plant in Ontario, Canada, which is the same facility that continues to produce the Ford Crown Victoria and Lincoln Town Car for fleet and livery duty.
St. Thomas' days are numbered, however, as the factory is slated to close on August 31. When it goes, the Panther platform is likely to follow. So long, and thanks for all the fish memories.
[Source: Autoweek]Read | Permalink | Email this | Comments

Autoblog editors choose their favorite racecars of all time

If you like cars, there is a good chance that you like racecars. There's something about the science and the art of going faster, of competition, of achievement, that accelerates the hearts of enthusiasts. It doesn't matter the series, the team or the manufacturer – there's something about racing that stirs emotions and lifts spirits. It's that way with many of you, and it's that way with our editors. With that in mind, we offer a list of our favorite racecars of all time. Of course, we'd like to hear some of yours in the comment section below. 1970 Porsche 917 Compared to some of the obscure choices by my colleagues, I feel like the Porsche 917 is almost so obvious a pick as to not be worth mentioning. Still, when coming up with my answer, my mind invariably went back to this classic racer – specifically in its blue-and-orange Gulf livery – while watching Le Mans on DVD and later Blu Ray with my dad. Long, low and curvaceous, few vehicles have ever looked sexier lapping a track than the 917. More than just a pretty face, this beauty had speed, too, thanks to several tunes of flat-12 engines over the course of its racing life. In the early '70s, Porsche was a dominant force throughout sports-car competition, and the 917 (shown above at the 1970 24 Hours of Daytona) was the tip of that spear, including back-to-back victories in the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Largely without dialogue or really much of a traditional plot, Le Mans is like a tone poem of racing goodness. While the 917's importance to motorsports history is undoubtedly fascinating, it's still this cinematic depiction of the Porsche racer that draws me in most, especially with the volume cranked. – Chris Bruce Associate Editor 1964 Mini Cooper S How could everyone not be selecting the 1964 Mini Cooper S piloted by Paddy Hopkirk and Henry Liddon? That car, 33 EJB, took the first of British Motor Corporation's four Monte Carlo Rally wins (it should have been five, but French judges got the British Minis [and Fords] disqualified on a technicality regarding headlights... which its own car, the winning DS, was also in violation of). The tiny red car and its white roof beat out Ford Falcons, Mercedes-Benz 300SEs and scores of Volvos, Volkswagens and Saabs. This, along with the several years of dominance that followed, cemented the idea that not only could the tiny, two-tone Mini be a real performance vehicle, but that family-friendly city cars in general could be fun.

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.