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Shelby American cleans house of 14 concept cars

Typically when an automaker rolls out a concept car or pre-production prototype, it does its tour and then disappears into the company's archives. Maybe it will be displayed for the public to see in the company's own museum or maybe it will spend most of its time under covers in a warehouse somewhere, but every once in a while, an automaker will open up its history and start selling off its concept cars. For Shelby American, "once in a while" has just rolled around.
The House that Carroll Built is moving from its previous headquarters at Las Vegas Motor Speedway to a new facility off of the Las Vegas strip, and in the process is liquidating fourteen of the rarest cars in its collection. That presents a tremendous opportunity for muscle car collectors to bring one or more of these snakes home.
As you might expect, the catalog is composed mostly of Mustangs, but not exclusively. There's a pair of 289 Cobras: the last of the 50th anniversary slab-sided continuation cars and an original development vehicle, offered at $200,000 apiece. At the other end of the spectrum you'll find the 2013 Shelby Raptor concept for $125k and Focus concept for $50k. And of course there are the Mustangs.

Junkyard Gem: 1991 Mercury Grand Marquis LS

Ford's now-defunct Mercury Division first began using the Marquis name in 1967, on a sporty full-size hardtop based on the Ford LTD, then began offering the Grand Marquis beginning in the 1979 model year. These big, boxy luxury sedans were replaced by big, curvy luxury sedans (on the same platform) starting with the 1992 model year, so today's Junkyard Gem is one of the very last squared-off Grand Marquises ever built. The 1991 Grand Marquis (or "Grandma Keith," as many refer to it today) looks nearly identical to its 1979 predecessor at a glance, just as the 2011 model doesn't differ much from the 1992 model. Ford saw no reason to follow short-lived fashion trends with its simple, sturdy rear-wheel-drive sedan. Only two Grand Marquis trim levels were available for 1991: the base GS and the (somewhat) upscale LS. The former listed at $18,741 and the latter at $19,241, which comes to about $41,494 and $42,601, respectively, in inflated 2022 dollars). This interior would have seemed comfortingly familiar to a 1968 (or even 1958) Mercury owner time-traveling to 1991.  This is the optional "full grain leather seating surface," which cost an extra $489 (about $1,083 today). Dig those opera lights! Air conditioning was standard equipment in the 1991 Grand Marquis and its wagon counterpart, the Colony Park. The engine is the good old pushrod 5.0-liter Windsor V8, which would be replaced by a far more modern 4.6-liter SOHC mill in the '92 Grand Marquis. This engine was rated at 180 horsepower. A four-speed automatic was the only transmission available. The early 1990s ended up being the last gasp for padded vinyl roofs being considered mainstream equipment on new Detroit cars; this one was called the "Formal Coach" roof and cost an additional 725 bucks ($1,605 now). Such roofs were still available on a few cars later in the decade, but their time had passed. Why would such a clean Grandma Keith end up in a place like this? That's easy: it got T-boned directly into the right front wheel, mangling the body and bending up the suspension. This damage might have been worth fixing when the car was five years old, but it's a write-off when it happens to a 31-year-old Ford Panther. 1991 Mercury Grand Marquis Commercial - Savings Ad The granddaddy of them all, and on sale in South Texas! Related video: 2008 Mercury Mariner Hybrid test drive Autoblog

The fascinating forgotten civil defense history of Mister Softee trucks

Hemmings came across an interesting article from the Throwin' Wrenches blog about the intersection of ice cream, cars and civic duty in America's late 1950s. In particular, it focuses on the Mister Softee trucks, which criss-crossed neighborhoods of the eastern US serving ice cream. Looking past the ultra-durable vehicles used - heavy-duty Ford-based chassis, for what it's worth - the article delves into some deeper national-security territory.
See, Mister Softee truck owners were voluntary members of the Civil Defense, thanks to all the useful stuff (potable water, generators, freezers and fridges) that the machines carried with them for serving ice cream. Click over to Throwin' Wrenches for the full run down of how Mister Softee would have stepped in to help fight if the Cold War ever turned a little hotter.