Featuring: Jack B. and Bark M.
While Peak Brougham was, in my opinion, 1976 (last year of yuuuge GM B- and C-bodies; Cordobas, Grandes Prix, Monte Carlos, Elites, Cougars, need I say more), Peak Muscle Car was 1970. That vaunted first year of the Me Decade saw the wildest colors, options, myriad rally wheels and sport wheels, factory and aftermarket, Hemis, 440s, 427s, 429s and Hurst shifters. And there were two newly minted additions! The Plymouth Barracuda. And, today’s subject, the Dodge Challenger.
In 1970, Cadillac first offered a power sunroof on selected models. Up until that time, sunroofs on American cars had been rather limited. It was available on the Thunderbird in 1960, and I imagine there were other instances, but by and large it was not common.
Today, sunroofs are no big deal. Heck, you can get them on just about any 2018-19 model, from a Civic to a Rolls. But back in the early ’70s, they tended to be limited to premium European cars. Mercedes-Benz, BMW, Jaguar and the like.
Note: Today’s spectacular Nimitz-class luxocruiser, a 1970 Fleetwood Brougham, is owned by a friend of mine, Laurie Kraynick. The first time I saw pictures of her 1970 Fleetwood Brougham, I knew I would have to share it here on RG.
Isn’t it cool when your own car is the same color combination as the one in the showroom brochure? I have a copy of this brochure in my collection, and when I saw the Fleetwood Brougham in this color, Lucerne Aqua Firemist, I was smitten! But my love for these cars goes much further back. The 1970 Cadillacs are a favorite of mine. Especially the Fleetwoods. You see, the first Cadillac I ever rode in was a 1970 Fleetwood Brougham.
Mr. Lido A. Iacocca is a polarizing figure. For some, he took all the glory, imposed his will at his own peril, and took credit for the work of others. Alternately, he was a super salesman, made his career from nothing, created some new market segments no one else had ever thought of, and saved a car company at the brink of being toast. Few are neutral about the man. But I fall a bit more into the latter camp, and the subject of today’s daily dose of Lincoln is why: The magnificent Continental Mark III.
1970 was a big year for Lincoln-Mercury. The Continental Mark III was a sales success, the recently refreshed Marquis/Monterey were strong sellers, the final performance Cougars, namely the 1970 Eliminator and XR7, went on sale, and there was a new Continental. Yes, the 1961 Continental had single-handedly saved the marque from oblivion, and its clean, classic lines and throwback center-opening doors made it an icon of the 1960s.
And the look was deftly maintained throughout the decade. These new Sixties Continentals looked nothing like prior Lincolns, and especially unlike the enormous 1958-60 models. Sounds a lot like 2017, when the new Continental appeared, doesn’t it? But I digress.
Note: Please welcome Joel Miller to Riverside Green. Another emigre’ from the old site, Joel’s passion is 1970s Detroit rolling stock, particularly the 1977-81 Firebird and full-size 1973 Pontiacs. -TK
The car that first really hooked me was the Mercury Cougar. I was probably four or five when I first spotted a ’69 or ’70 Cougar though the window of my mother’s Mark III Lincoln. Whoa, what’s that? The sequential turn signals were mesmerizing!
At around age six, I finally figured out what I was looking at. From that point on, everything was about the Cougar. My half-brother drove a white ’69 XR7 for a few years, although I don’t ever remember riding in it. I probably stared rust holes in it though!
The Ford Thunderbird underwent multiple personality changes throughout its life. What started out as a two-seat convertible had, by the time the fifth-generation Thunderbird debuted in the autumn of 1966, become a much different automobile. Sure, it was still flashy and typically loaded with power gadgets, but one thing was missing for the first time since the first T-Birds appeared: A convertible top.
Well, the writing had been on the wall for some time, with topless T-Bird sales dropping across several previous years. Indeed, by the early ’70s nearly all the topless cars built in the Land of the Free were gone, or on borrowed time. But what to replace it with? The answer was — believe it or not — a four-door sedan.