1999 Mercury Sable Ls Wagon 4-door 3.0l - 37k Miles, One Owner - No Reserve ! on 2040-cars

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Junkyard Gem: 1991 Mercury Grand Marquis LS

Ford's now-defunct Mercury Division first began using the Marquis name in 1967, on a sporty full-size hardtop based on the Ford LTD, then began offering the Grand Marquis beginning in the 1979 model year. These big, boxy luxury sedans were replaced by big, curvy luxury sedans (on the same platform) starting with the 1992 model year, so today's Junkyard Gem is one of the very last squared-off Grand Marquises ever built. The 1991 Grand Marquis (or "Grandma Keith," as many refer to it today) looks nearly identical to its 1979 predecessor at a glance, just as the 2011 model doesn't differ much from the 1992 model. Ford saw no reason to follow short-lived fashion trends with its simple, sturdy rear-wheel-drive sedan. Only two Grand Marquis trim levels were available for 1991: the base GS and the (somewhat) upscale LS. The former listed at $18,741 and the latter at $19,241, which comes to about $41,494 and $42,601, respectively, in inflated 2022 dollars). This interior would have seemed comfortingly familiar to a 1968 (or even 1958) Mercury owner time-traveling to 1991.  This is the optional "full grain leather seating surface," which cost an extra $489 (about $1,083 today). Dig those opera lights! Air conditioning was standard equipment in the 1991 Grand Marquis and its wagon counterpart, the Colony Park. The engine is the good old pushrod 5.0-liter Windsor V8, which would be replaced by a far more modern 4.6-liter SOHC mill in the '92 Grand Marquis. This engine was rated at 180 horsepower. A four-speed automatic was the only transmission available. The early 1990s ended up being the last gasp for padded vinyl roofs being considered mainstream equipment on new Detroit cars; this one was called the "Formal Coach" roof and cost an additional 725 bucks ($1,605 now). Such roofs were still available on a few cars later in the decade, but their time had passed. Why would such a clean Grandma Keith end up in a place like this? That's easy: it got T-boned directly into the right front wheel, mangling the body and bending up the suspension. This damage might have been worth fixing when the car was five years old, but it's a write-off when it happens to a 31-year-old Ford Panther. 1991 Mercury Grand Marquis Commercial - Savings Ad The granddaddy of them all, and on sale in South Texas! Related video: 2008 Mercury Mariner Hybrid test drive Autoblog

Junkyard Gem: 1977 Mercury Bobcat

Cultural memory of the Ford Pinto, 38 years after the last new ones were sold, boils down to one thing today: the notorious "exploding Pinto" stories of the late 1970s. Yes, many Pinto jokes were told, the resale value of Pintos crashed, and few paid any attention to the fact that most of the cars sold with the fuel tank between the rear axle and the bumper — that is, just about every Detroit car made during the era — suffered from the same weakness. The Mercury version of the Pinto was badged as the Bobcat, but nobody told Bobcat jokes. Here's a '77 Mercury Bobcat 3-Door in vivid Medium Jade paint, spotted in a Denver self-service yard. The Pinto with glass rear hatch was known as the Pinto Runabout in 1977, while Mercury called this car the " Bobcat 3-door with Glass Third Door." When a car sits for years or decades in High Plains Colorado, rodents tend to nest in it. This Bobcat's air cleaner made a cozy home for our Hantavirus-carrying friends. The 1970s were the last gasp for eye-searingly green vinyl car interiors. Since the Bobcat was a luxed-up Pinto, the door panels have shinier trim than what you'd have had in a proletariat-grade Pinto. Pinto/Bobcat transmission choices boiled down to two: a four-speed manual or a three-speed automatic. Unusually for a Malaise Era Mercury, this one has the manual. Most Pintos and Bobcats came with four-cylinder engines, ranging from the 1.6-liter pushrod Kent to the 2.3-liter engine that lived on for many post-Pinto years in Ford Rangers. This car has the 2.3, rated at 89 horsepower, but the same 2.8-liter Cologne V6 that powered the Capri was available as an option in the Bobcat. That engine made a mighty 93 horsepower. These cars were not too miserable to drive by econobox standards of their time, at least when they had three pedals. You'd blow the doors off a '77 Corolla with a 4-speed Bobcat in a drag race, though the Corolla got better fuel economy. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Gives you hundreds of pounds more car than most small imports and includes standard self-adjusting rear brakes! Related Video: This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. Featured Gallery Junked 1979 Mercury Bobcat View 15 Photos Auto News Mercury Automotive History ford pinto bobcat

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.