1965 Mercury Comet Caliente 6 Cyl 200cid on 2040-cars

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Is this '47 Chevrolet a rat rod or a sports car?

These days there are plenty of vehicles that blur the conventional automotive class structures. For instance, was the Honda Crosstour a wagon or an SUV? And what exactly was the Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet? Regardless, those line-blurring cars (or trucks) are out there, and though this one didn't roll off a production line, it's still quite the automotive head-scratcher. Hailing from Missouri, this epic creation is one part mad science experiment, one part 1947 Chevrolet pickup, and one part '95 Mercury Cougar. Add it all up and you get an awesome truck-sports-car hybrid, complete with an outrageous wing and a V8 to boot. And interestingly enough, it's up for sale . RELATED: Check out this Wild-Styled Lamborghini Rat Rod So how does it all come together? According to the listing, the Chevrolet truck cab (which had previously been chopped) was sanded down to bare metal and given a thorough shellacking of clear coat. It was then melded together with the front end of a 1995 Chevrolet S10 pickup truck, and set low to the ground on Bilstein suspension drop spindles. Stance achieved. But instead of fielding an engine from either of those pickups, it pulls its heart from a 2005 Chevrolet Tahoe SUV—a big 5.3-liter V8 heart, that is. It comes backed-up to a GM Turbo 400 automatic transmission. Towards the rear however is where things get really interesting. A Copper Pearl coated tube frame chassis both attaches the rear independent suspension (a la Mercury Cougar) to the racy spoiler, as well as secures the rat rod's rear-mounted radiator, fan, and fuel tank. I'm not quite sure why, but it just looks glorious. RELATED: Reports Say Mid-Engine Corvette Will Arrive in 2018 Inside the vintage cab, the Chevrolet furthers its racing proclivities (it's said to have won burnout and auto-cross events) with a pair of harnessed racing seats, a drift brake, a detachable steering wheel, and a tachometer with oil and temperature gauges, but oddly no speedometer. The shifter is a crescent wrench. And its shift boot? That's a Crown Royal Purple bag. All in all, this grin-worthy Frankenstein creation tallies up bits and pieces from four different vehicles (five if you include the Camaro wheels), which make it truly a mash-up of epic proportions. Internet, what do you think? Related Video: This article by Zach Doell originally appeared on Boldride. Design/Style Chevrolet Mercury Auctions Coupe Special and Limited Editions Classics eBay rat rod

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.

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.