2010 Mercury Mariner Premier on 2040-cars

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This Mercury Cougar Eliminator is a lovely '69 survivor

If you have an overachieving brother/sister/cousin/friend (or whoever), you might know this feeling well; it can be tough to live up to those standards. In many ways, that notion can also describe the Mercury Cougar and its pioneering Ford Mustang sibling. Quite the act to follow, no? Happily though, the Cougar proved to be different enough from its Mustang relative to make a big splash, and perhaps no more so than in its racy "Eliminator" trim, new for 1969. This is one such heady Mercury, dressed in sporty Competition Orange paint, and claimed to be an unrestored "survivor." Need it in your life? The '69 Mercury Cougar Eliminator recently popped up on eBay in Chepachet, Rhode Island . The genesis of the Mercury Cougar began in 1967, really with one singular purpose—to bridge the gap between the Ford Mustang and the Ford Thunderbird with a more upscale, stylish, and chiefly more "European" feeling pony car. It's safe to say the Cougar fit the bill. Using the Mustang chassis as a base, the early Cougars were about three inches longer than their 'Stang cousins and offered better legroom, sleek front and rear fascias, and a more luxe interior. Don't mistake "upscale" for "soft" however; come 1969 the Eliminator package gave the Cougar a seriously mean attitude. Spec-up the interior package and you received high-back bucket seats, a Rallye clock, wood-rimmed steering wheel, and padded interior moldings among other custom trims. Outside is where the Eliminator really struts its stuff, though. Eliminators came equipped with a blacked-out grille, special steel wheels, an aggressive front splitter and rear wing, plus racy decals and side stripes. Four color choices were available — Competition Orange, Bright Blue Metallic, White, and Bright Yellow. As standard, the '69 Mercury Cougar Eliminator came equipped with a 351 cubic inch V8, boasting 290 horsepower, as seen in the case of this car. More powerful options were also available, as noted by Barnfinds, which included a big 390 cubic inch V8 (320 hp), a high-revving Boss 302 V8, and the gargantuan 428 Cobra Jet V8. Peek beneath the body of this Cougar and the 351ci V8 is hooked up to a desirable close-ratio four-speed manual transmission, showing a claimed 35,243 miles. Though the mileage isn't verified, the car's overall condition and wear would suggest the readings to be true. Befitting those low miles, this unrestored Cougar does carry quite the high price — a tall $32,000.

Junkyard Gem: 1955 Mercury Montclair Coupe

I find plenty of 1950s Detroit vehicles in the big self-service car graveyards I frequent, but most of them are fairly ordinary sedans that never stood much chance of getting fixed up and put back on the road. Such is not the case with today's Junkyard Gem, which is a top-trim-level, heavily optioned hardtop coupe from one of the most desirable model years of the tailfins-and-chrome postwar era. Nearly every Mercury model ever made was a Ford model with some cosmetic changes applied, and the '55s looked very similar to their mechanically identical Ford brethren. In 1955, the new Mercury came in three trim levels: the entry-level Custom, the medium-zoot Monterey, and the glitzy Montclair. Each was available as a hardtop coupe and four-door sedan, with wagon versions of the Custom and Monterey. The Montclair could be purchased as a convertible or with the wild "Sun Valley" glass roof. The Montclair got its own line of hallucinogenic two-tone interiors, in order to make the daily lives of Europeans feel even more gray and penurious (the UK only dropped food rationing in 1954, and the two Germanies were still clearing the rubble of their blown-up cities). This car's upholstery has been bleached by decades of sitting outside in the harsh High Plains climate, but it started out as vivid red and white "Chromatex" fabric. The list price on this car was $2,631, or about $29,200 in 2022 dollars. The Sun Valley and convertible Montclair each cost $2,712 ($30,100 today). Ford didn't offer a corresponding hardtop coupe in 1955, though the Fairlane Crown Victoria two-door did look extremely snazzy (and cost a mere $2,302— $25,545 now— with the same V8 engine as the Monterey). Meanwhile, Oldsmobile offered the handsome 88 Super Holiday Coupe for $2,714, though the Montclair had the more powerful engine. Oldsmobile had been selling new cars with overhead-valve V8s since the 1949 model year, while Ford didn't ditch the Model A-era flathead V8 for new U.S.-market cars until the 1954 model year (you could buy a new Simca Esplanada in Brazil with an Ardun-headed Ford V8-60 all the way until 1969). GM's Chevrolet Division got all the press in 1955 with the introduction of the brand-new small-block V8 engine, but Ford's 292-cubic-inch (4.8-liter) Y-Block V8 made more power than the 265-cube (4.3-liter) Chevy and the 324ci Olds Rocket 88.

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.