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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.

Car companies used to cook up sales with recipe books

The evolution of automotive marketing has undergone a number of strange phases. Few, though, match the strangeness of the 1930s to 1950s, when automotive marketers turned to cookbooks as a means of promoting their vehicles. Yes, cookbooks. We can't make this stuff up, folks.
This bizarre trend led to General Motors distributing cookbooks under the guise of its then-subsidiary Frigidaire. Ford, meanwhile, offered a compilation of recipes from Ford Credit Employees (shown above). The cookbook-craze wasn't limited to domestic manufacturers, though. As The Detroit News discovered, both Rolls-Royce and Volkswagen got in on the trend, although not until the 1970s.
The News has the full story on this strange bit of marketing. Head over and take a look.

For EV drivers, realities may dampen the electric elation

The Atlantic, a decades-old monthly journal well-regarded for its intelligent essays on international news, American politics and cultural happenings, recently turned its attention to the car world. A piece that ran in The Atlantic in October examined the excesses of the GMC Hummer EV for compromising safety. And now in its latest edition, the magazine ran a compelling story about the challenges of driving an electric vehicle and how those experiences “mythologize the car as the great equalizer.” Titled “The Inconvenient Truth About Electric Vehicles,” the story addresses the economics of EVs, the stresses related to range anxiety, the social effects of owning an electric car — as in, affording one — and the overarching need for places to recharge that car. Basically, author Andrew Moseman says that EV life isn't so rosy: “On the eve of the long-promised electric-vehicle revolution, the myth is due for an update. Americans who take the plunge and buy their first EV will find a lot to love Â… they may also find that electric-vehicle ownership upends notions about driving, cost, and freedom, including how much car your money can buy. "No one spends an extra $5,000 to get a bigger gas tank in a Honda Civic, but with an EV, economic status is suddenly more connected to how much of the world you get to see — and how stressed out or annoyed youÂ’ll feel along the way.” Moseman charts how a basic Ford F-150 Lightning electric truck might start at $55,000, but an extended-range battery, which stretches the distance on a charge from 230 miles to 320, “raises the cost to at least $80,000. The trend holds true with all-electric brands such as Tesla, Rivian, and Lucid, and for many electric offerings from legacy automakers. The bigger battery option can add a four- or five-figure bump to an already accelerating sticker price.” As for the charging issue, the author details his anxiety driving a Telsa in Death Valley, with no charging stations in sight. “For those who never leave the comfort of the city, these concerns sound negligible," he says. "But so many of us want our cars to do everything, go everywhere, ferry us to the boundless life we imagine (or the one weÂ’re promised in car commercials),” he writes. His conclusions may raise some hackles among those of us who value automotive independence — not to mention fun — over practicalities.