Very Rare 1931 Ford Model A Deluxe Delivery Project, Needs Restoration on 2040-cars

Auto blog

Junkyard Gem: 1971 Mercury Comet 2-Door Sedan

When Ford introduced the original Maverick for the 1970 model year, Dearborn tradition required that a Mercury-badged version be created. That car ended up being the Comet, built from the 1971 through 1977 model years. Here's one of those first-year Comets in rough but recognizable condition, found in a Denver self-service yard not long ago. The Comet name had spent the 1960s affixed to the flanks of Mercurized Ford Falcons (1960-1965) and Fairlanes (1966-1969). Since the Maverick was the successor of the Falcon — sales of which went into an irrecoverable downward spiral once its sportier Mustang first cousin hit the streets — it made sense to move the Comet name over to the Mercury version. Nearly every American Mercury model ever sold was a U.S.-market Ford model with a different name and some gingerbread slapped on. Notable exceptions to this tradition include the 1999-2002 Mercury Cougar (mechanically based on the Contour but with a unique body) and the 1991-1994 Mercury Capri (an Australian-built mashup of Mazda components borrowed from the Ford Laser). The Comet was by far the cheapest Mercury model available in 1971, though it was considered more prestigious than its Maverick counterpart. The price tag on the '71 Comet two-door sedan started at $2,217 (about $16,505 in 2022 dollars), while the '71 Maverick two-door sedan cost $2,175 ($16,193 today). Meanwhile, AMC would sell you a new Hornet two-door sedan for one dollar less than a Maverick, Chevrolet had the Nova coupe for a dollar more than the Maverick, and Plymouth offered the Valiant Duster for $2,313 ($17,220 now). Toyota had a Maverick competitor as well that year, with the Corona at $2,150 for the sedan and $2,310 for the coupe. Having driven every one of the aforementioned models, I'd take the Duster if I went back in time and had to choose one (as a 1969 Corona owner, I'm not a fan of the 1971 facelift, though the Corona's build quality beats the Duster's). The build sticker on this car tells us that it was built at the Kansas City Assembly Plant (where Transits and F-150s are made today) and sold through the Los Angeles district sales office (there was a DSO in Denver, so it's a near-certainty that this car didn't start out in Colorado). The paint started out as Bright Blue Metallic (it's neither bright nor metallic 51 years down the road) and the interior was done up in Medium Blue Cloth & Vinyl.

Which is more fuel efficient, driving with a pickup's tailgate up or down?

Thanks to the smoke wand in the wind tunnel, you can actually see the difference in our video.
Should you drive with your pickup truck's tailgate up or down? It's an age-old controversy that's divided drivers for decades. Traditionalists will swear you should leave the tailgate down. Makes sense, right? It would seem to let the air flow more cleanly over the body and through the bed. But there's also a school of thought that argues trucks are designed to look and operate in a specific manner, and modern design techniques can help channel the airflow properly. So don't mess with all of that: Leave the tailgate up.

2016: The year of the autonomous-car promise

About half of the news we covered this year related in some way to The Great Autonomous Future, or at least it seemed that way. If you listen to automakers, by 2020 everyone will be driving (riding?) around in self-driving cars. But what will they look like, how will we make the transition from driven to driverless, and how will laws and infrastructure adapt? We got very few answers to those questions, and instead were handed big promises, vague timelines, and a dose of misdirection by automakers. There has been a lot of talk, but we still don't know that much about these proposed vehicles, which are at least three years off. That's half a development cycle in this industry. We generally only start to get an idea of what a company will build about two years before it goes on sale. So instead of concrete information about autonomous cars, 2016 has brought us a lot of promises, many in the form of concept cars. They have popped up from just about every automaker accompanied by the CEO's pledge to deliver a Level 4 autonomous, all-electric model (usually a crossover) in a few years. It's very easy to say that a static design study sitting on a stage will be able to drive itself while projecting a movie on the windshield, but it's another thing entirely to make good on that promise. With a few exceptions, 2016 has been stuck in the promising stage. It's a strange thing, really; automakers are famous for responding with "we don't discuss future product" whenever we ask about models or variants known to be in the pipeline, yet when it comes to self-driving electric wondermobiles, companies have been falling all over themselves to let us know that theirs is coming soon, it'll be oh so great, and, hey, that makes them a mobility company now, not just an automaker. A lot of this is posturing and marketing, showing the public, shareholders, and the rest of the industry that "we're making one, too, we swear!" It has set off a domino effect – once a few companies make the guarantee, the rest feel forced to throw out a grandiose yet vague plan for an unknown future. And indeed there are usually scant details to go along with such announcements – an imprecise mileage estimate here, or a far-off, percentage-based goal there. Instead of useful discussion of future product, we get demonstrations of test mules, announcements of big R&D budgets and new test centers they'll fund, those futuristic concept cars, and, yeah, more promises.