1967 Mercury Comet Caliente Very Nice 87,400 Miles on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 1989 Mercury Tracer Four-Door Hatchback

During the life of the Mercury brand, which began in 1939 and ended in 2011, nearly every Mercury sold in North America was a cosmetically enhanced version of some Ford model also sold here. The exceptions to this rule came when Mercury sold Fords originally designed for non-North American markets, and for which no Ford-branded version existed on our shores. The 1991-1994 Capri was such a car, as was the 1999-2002 Cougar (the Mondeo-based Cougar was unique among all Mercuries in that no other cars in the sprawling Ford Empire shared its body). The 1970-1978 Capri was sold through Mercury dealers here, but never had Mercury badging. One of the rarest of all these Mercury cars was the first-generation Tracer, a Mazda design that made its way here via Australia. The bloodline of the Tracer goes back to the Mazda 323, the ancestor of today's Mazda3 and the platform used for all those US-market Ford Escorts of the 1990s. Starting in 1991, the Tracer name went onto badge-engineered Escorts, according to Mercury tradition, but the 1988-1989 Tracers were based on the Australian-market Ford KE Laser. Underneath all of those cars (as well as the early-1990s Capris) lived Mazda 323 running gear, of course. This one nearly made it to the 175,000-mile mark during its time on the road, which is respectable by the standards of 1980s Mazdas. With an automatic transmission transferring the 84 horses from its Mazda B6 engine to the front wheels, this car wouldn't have offered a great deal of driving excitement. 1989 Tracer buyers could choose between a two-door hatchback, a four-door hatchback, and a four-door wagon. Not many Americans hurried over to their local Mercury dealers to buy Tracers, despite the fact that the nearest Ford-badged identical twins were on the other side of the globe. Mercury still seemed relevant in the late 1980s, but its days were numbered. The actress driving the Tracer in this TV commercial seems to have the same deer-in-headlights facial expression of the hapless driver-training students in the 1968 AMC Rebel commercial.

What do you do with a fake Bugatti Veyron for $60k?

Replica cars are a challenging labor of love because builders spend countless hours recreating a vehicle that people immediately compare to the real thing. Perhaps, the person behind this Mercury Cougar-based Bugatti Veyron should look for another way to pass that time. The coupe is currently for sale on eBay Motors for $59,900. The builder deserves some credit because the fiberglass body looks acceptable in the photos from farther away. The car might even fool a few people from a distance. However, the devil is in the details, and the closer you look, the worse this gets. The side intakes are especially rough. The red interior is atrocious. It's essentially the Cougar's cabin but in an eye-searing shade accented with lots of fake carbon fiber. The seller's eBay Motors ad really tries to market the look, though. "You slide in to [sic] this extremely comfortable leather interior and you feel like your bank account just quadrupled in size," the listing says. Don't expect to win any top speed titles in this Veyron replica, either. Rather than a mid-mounted quad-turbo W16, a 3.0-liter V6 from a Mercury Sable sits at the front. Thanks to an upgraded intake and exhaust, the seller claims, "It doesn't sound like your grandmas [sic] Sable." We wish the seller the best of luck, but the asking price of nearly $60,000 is probably too optimistic. We would still think twice about buying it even after taking a zero off that figure, but at least this thing is fun to look at. Related Video:

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.