1966 Comet Cyclone Gt With 408 Stroker Sbf on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 1996 Nissan Quest XE with 338,549 miles

When I hit the junkyard, I always look for vehicles with impressive final figures showing on their odometers. I find so many Hondas and Toyotas with better than 300,000 miles that I don't consider them especially noteworthy (the exception being super-low-spec cheap models, such as a Tercel or Civic VX), and it goes without saying that the bar is quite high for Mercedes-Benzes as well. It has been surprisingly difficult to find discarded Nissans that made it past the 300k mark; today's Junkyard Gem is just the fourth I've documented. The highest-mile junked Nissan I'd found prior to today's minivan is a 1994 Maxima with 364,238 miles, followed by a 1987 Maxima with 341,176 miles and a 1986 200SX with 309,222 miles. Keep in mind that Nissan didn't go to six-digit odometers on most of its US-market cars until the early 1980s, and then went to tough-to-read-in-the-junkyard electronic odometers in the early 2000s; this means the pool of potential high-mile Nissans is limited to about the 1983-2000 range of model years. Ford has just as much right to claim credit to this van's impressive mile total as does Nissan, since the Quest was a collaboration between Ford and Nissan that also produced the Mercury Villager; this van was built by Ford at the Ohio Assembly plant. The Quest/Villager platform was derived from the Maxima's, and the engine is pure Nissan: a 3.0-liter VG30 V6 rated at 151 horsepower. The only transmission available in the first-generation (1993-1999) Quest/Villager was a four-speed automatic. This one appears to have been sold new at Landrum Nissan in Pueblo. The rear glass has been painted flat black, possibly to keep prying eyes from seeing valuable cargo. The rear seats are long gone, so this van probably hauled cargo for much of its long life. The front interior seems to be in good shape. Why is this van here? There's body damage on the left rear and right front, suggesting a crash that may have bent the suspension past the worth-fixing threshold. Perhaps the crinkled metal just made this van too unsightly, or maybe some powertrain problem was the culprit. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. It's time to expect more from a minivan. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. It's all fun and games until the toddler takes the wheel.

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.

Impala SS vs. Marauder: Recalling Detroit’s muscle sedans 

Impala SS vs. Marauder — it was comparo that only really happened in theory. ChevyÂ’s muscle sedan ran from 1994-96, while MercuryÂ’s answer arrived in 2003 and only lasted until 2004. TheyÂ’re linked inextricably, as there were few options for powerful American sedans during that milquetoast period for enthusiasts. The debate was reignited recently among Autoblog editors when a pristine 1996 Chevy Impala SS with just 2,173 miles on the odometer hit the market on Bring a Trailer. Most of the staff favored the Impala for its sinister looks and said that it lived up to its billing as a legit muscle car. Nearly two-thirds of you agree. We ran an unscientific Twitter poll that generated 851 votes, 63.9 percent of which backed the Impala. Muscle sedans, take your pick: — Greg Migliore (@GregMigliore) April 14, 2020 Then and now enthusiasts felt the Impala was a more complete execution with guts. The Marauder, despite coming along later, felt more hacked together, according to prevailing sentiments. Why? On purpose and on paper theyÂ’re similar. The ImpalaÂ’s 5.7-liter LT1 V8 making 260 horsepower and 330 pound-feet of torque was impressive for a two-ton sedan in the mid-Â’90s. The Marauder was actually more powerful — its 4.6-liter V8 was rated at 302 hp and 318 lb-ft. The ImpalaÂ’s engine was also used in the C4 Corvette. The MarauderÂ’s mill was shared with the Mustang Mach 1. You can see why they resonated so deeply with Boomers longing for a bygone era and also captured the attention of coming-of-age Gen Xers. Car and DriverÂ’s staff gave the Marauder a lukewarm review back in ‘03, citing its solid handling and features, yet knocking the sedan for being slow off the line. In a Hemmings article appropriately called “Autopsy” from 2004, the ImpalaÂ’s stronger low-end torque and smooth shifting transmission earned praise, separating it from the more sluggish Mercury. All of this was captured in the carsÂ’ acceleration times, highlighting metrically the differences in their character. The Impala hit 60 miles per hour in 6.5 seconds, while the Marauder was a half-second slower, according to C/D testing. Other sites have them closer together, which reinforces the premise it really was the little things that separated these muscle cars. Both made the most of their genetics, riding on ancient platforms (FordÂ’s Panther and General MotorsÂ’ B-body) that preceded these cars by decades. Both had iconic names.