by Michael White

Originally published in the January-February 2019 issue of Continental Comments (Issue # 346.)

How does someone become a vintage car enthusiast? For me it was simple: the cars I grew up with became “vintage” while the cars of the present and future didn’t interest me so much anymore.

It all began in 1984 when I became fascinated with the Ford LTD that my family rented for a road trip. I passed the miles trying to spot others like it on the highway. I learned to identify a lot of cars on that trip and just kept doing so when I got home. That led to collecting car ads, brochures, and magazines. Before I knew it, I was a certified car nut. On another trip that winter, we rented a Lincoln Continental Mark VII. Immediately, I knew that this car was something special, and my love affair with Lincoln began.

Fast forward about 20 years. I realized that my favorite cars of the ‘80s were within my grasp financially. I hesitated to buy one because I thought it would be too difficult to maintain. In 2016, I started searching online seriously for my own vintage car, viewing hundreds of potential choices in a few months. Nothing clicked until I was at a show and overheard some one discussing a 1982 Lincoln Continental. The 1982 Continental represented something of a new start for Lincoln. It was much smaller and lighter than anything Lincoln had produced in recent years. With the standard V-8 and gas-pressure shock absorbers, the car combined traditional Lincoln comfort with just a touch of sporty handling. The styling referenced the Mark series with its spare tire hump while the creased roofline paid homage to vintage Rolls-Royces. Looking closely, you see a hint of the budding aerodynamic trend at Ford which would reach full bloom in the Mark VII two years later. I immediately walked over to ask about it. It turned out the man’s friend had one for sale on an online auction site. Within hours I had called the seller, and the next day I was at his garage looking over the car.

The Lincoln was neither a Designer edition nor the Signature series. The only major options were leather upholstery and wire wheels. Although a 3.8 liter V-6 was available, this car had the venerable 5.0 liter V-8. Like all 1982 Continentals, it had a four-speed automatic transmission, first offered by Ford just two years earlier. The gleaming exterior was finished in a subtle off-white shade called “Pastel French Vanilla.” The digital dash had only three gauges (speed, fuel, and temperature) and a 12-button trip computer, all of which still functioned. Everything checked out, so I placed a bid for the car the next morning. Amazingly, nobody else bid on the car after that. I won the car later that day. I now had about a week to arrange storage, insurance, and registration for it. I found a private garage for rent online. The state motor vehicle offices were closed on the Saturday that I planned to pick up the car. It took visits to three “tag and title” shops to complete the necessary paperwork, leaving little time to spare before picking the car up at the seller’s house.

I had visions of a triumphant first drive in the car, but the Lincoln struggled to go much faster than 20 mph. I thought that there might be something catastrophically wrong with the vehicle. I soon realized that I needed to move the seat forward so my feet could fully reach the pedals. Having never owned a carbureted car before, the whole routine of pumping the gas and cranking the engine was new to me. I knew there would be issues since the seller had mentioned a problem with getting gas into the bowls of the Lincoln’s unconventional “variable venturi” carburetor. I eventually got the knack of  starting it and within a month was driving the Continental on a local driving tour. Two-and-a-half months later I drove it all the way from the Washington, DC area to the Delaware shore for a show.

As the leaves turned and the weather cooled, the car got harder to start. Just before Thanksgiving 2016, I noticed the car wasn’t cranking as eagerly as usual so I spent Black Friday acquiring and installing a new battery. As winter progressed, driving opportunities became more infrequent. Starting the Lincoln now took several minutes and usually required the help of a more experienced car hobbyist. Sometime in January, the new battery failed. I knew something had to be done. Without a dedicated garage and little technical knowledge, wrenching it myself wasn’t an option. I located a shop that had a good reputation for carburetor work and waited several weeks until the salt was off the road before delivering it. Weeks went by with little to no update. Towards the end of April, I called with an early May 2017 deadline in mind.

When I came to retrieve the car the first weekend of May, I learned that the primary issue was gas leaking out around the edges of the carburetor. They had rebuilt the carburetor, resolving the starting problem. It still ran rough, so they installed an NOS variable venturi carburetor intended for a full-size Ford While the shop completed the mechanical work, I reassessed storage for the Lincoln. A few weeks after purchase, I moved it to a friend’s garage on the outskirts of town. It then spent the winter in an underground parking garage. Neither situation was ideal. In the spring, I discovered a public storage facility 10 miles from home that would take the Continental. Although it would be much more expensive, I now had a dedicated garage with easy access to my car. The car drove well on the way to its new home. Since then, the Continental has become the fun entry into the vintage Lincoln hobby that I had sought in 2016. It’s still not as easy to start as a modem fuel injected car, but I ’ve learned its rhythms and can usually get it started on my own in two or three minutes. I drive it every week when I can, and I’ve mastered the art of maneuvering it into its narrow parking space. The Continental has been to a few more shows and back to the Delaware beach. Living with this car has involved some work, but it’s been a labor of love. The most important lesson that I learned from all of this is that you can’t wait for just the perfect moment to get started collecting classic Lincolns or anything else worthwhile for that matter. Take the first step, and the rest will come. My only regret is not doing so sooner.