ABOVE: The object of interest during the editor’s nocturnal stroll, a 1940 Lincoln-Zephyr Continental Cabriolet.

Originally published in the November-December 2025 Lincoln and Continental Comments magazine (Issue # 387)

By Jeff Shively.  Photos courtesy of the author.

Sometimes, the night is just better. I’ve written about my love for driving after dark, a passion that dates back to my earliest days behind the wheel as a teenager over 35 years ago. I’m equally fond of nocturnal walks. My neighborhood is the perfect place for such forays: secluded, yet well-lit for safety. I can make a loop in about 40 minutes. It is the only exercise that I actually enjoy, so I do it several times weekly.

Physical health is not the only reason you might find me on foot after dark. Oftentimes, it is required to maintain my mental health. If you go outside to check on your Lincoln one evening at one of our meets, you might find me walking the show field.

I formed this habit a very long time ago. In 2004, I was in my sixth year as the director of the Indiana Region of the Cadillac & LaSalle Club. That June, we hosted the annual Grand National in South Bend, Indiana. As I recall, we had over 200 cars and 600 people, which was large for the time. I was the activities chairman for the meet, so there was a lot of stress trying to ensure that everyone had a good time and that as little as possible went haywire. In the evening, I would go down to the parking garage where most of the show cars were parked. Sometimes, I’d ride along with our security guy, a retired police officer, as he patrolled the garage and grounds on his golf cart. Other times, I would walk the same route in silence. It was a way to unwind and forget about the stress of the day.

From that day forward, I made it a habit to walk the show field, usually after the evening’s events had concluded. Today, I find that it is even more critical. While I enjoy our LCOC National Meets and CLC Grand Nationals, I am, by nature, an introvert. I make it a point to get out of my comfort zone by riding with or dining with different people as much as possible. While it is wonderful to meet new people and see old friends at these events, sometimes, it is just too much stimulation. I need to take a little time to collect myself and refocus. At that point, it’s time to grab my walking shoes, put on some music, and see what awaits outside.

 

The 2025 Eastern National Meet was a prime example. Like the Mid-America National Meet three months earlier, it was a great time, with lots of wonderful cars and equally wonderful people. I had visited this same hotel in June 2024 with the Cadillac & LaSalle Club. During that event, I saw very little other than the hotel grounds, not once leaving them between Tuesday and Friday. I do appreciate the somewhat looser schedule of LCOC Meets, where there is a little more room to breathe between events. That said, the Awards Dinner is a hectic time for me. National Chief Judge Dan Staehle reads the winners while John Walcek captures them on film for the Lincoln and Continental Comments. My job is to make sure the name matches the photograph. After the dinner concludes, John has the top award winners pull their cars under the front portico for more pictures.

This saves a lot of time on Sunday morning, but this does keep us hopping until 10:00 p.m. Considering that I’d been running since the Judges Breakfast 15 hours earlier, I was a bit spent by this point.

With my duties concluded for the night, I made a beeline for the show field. As it was pretty late, I needed something mellow to listen to, so it was mod-revival rocker Paul Weller’s post-Jam project, The Style Council, pumping its blue-eyed soul through my earbuds. Many cars were covered and others were already loaded onto trailers, ready for an early Sunday-morning departure, but there was plenty to see. A pair of mid-1950s Premiere Convertibles. A trio of 1970s Marks. A lone Mark II. A slab side convertible. The car that I most wanted to see was still there—Paul Willson’s 1940 Lincoln-Zephyr Continental Cabriolet. As readers of this column know, 1940 is my second-favorite year for the Continental, right after 1963. I had enjoyed talking with Paul earlier about his car. There is something magical about the combination of street lamps and moonlight on these cars. I photographed it from every angle, allowing the limited illumination to create a study of light and shadow.

Some time later, I found myself sitting on a bench, not far from the hotel’s entrance. I’d put the appropriately titled “Walking the Night” on repeat and then just soaked in the sounds. Sunday would be a long day, requiring me to cover 650 miles in under 11 hours to get home in time for dinner. When I awoke the next morning, I was refreshed and ready for the journey ahead, thanks in part to the previous night’s nocturnal stroll.

Reference: The Style Council. “Walking the Night.” From the album The Cost of Loving. Polydor. (1987).

Jeff Shively, Lincoln and Continental Comments editor, lives in Kokomo, Indiana.

ABOVE: A fine variety of Lincolns at MK Coach, from the 1960s through the 1980s, an on to the 2000s.

Originally published in the September-October 2025 Lincoln and Continental Comments magazine (Issue # 386)
by Jeff Shively

Webmaster’s note:  This is a segment of the full article Up and Down the Dial – Tuning into the 2025 Mid-America National Meet In Cincinnati, which started on page 30 of the September-October 2025 issue.

Title footnote:  Genesis:  “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (1974)

Thursday morning was a treat for those who enjoy the niche of the hobby dedicated to professional cars. In this age of cookie-cutter transportation pods, the age-old art of coachbuilding lives on in rural Amelia, Ohio, at MK Coach Company. Once upon a time, a prospective buyer of a high-end automobile could commission a unique body to be mounted on a chassis of his choosing. The possibilities were limited only by the buyer’s imagination and bank account. Today, those same skills are used to create funeral coaches that provide dignified last rides for countless people every year.

The process of converting a production automobile into a hearse is mind-boggling. Much of the original vehicle ends up in the scrap heap. It was shocking to see dozens of brand-new doors stacked up, awaiting disposal, and entire roof sections sitting in the dumpster, ready for the scrappers. Much of the rear portion of the vehicles is crafted from fiberglass, and MK Coach employs specialists skilled in working in this medium. Once the major body and suspension modifications are completed, the painters go to work. The company employed talented trimmers who make the interiors of these machines as stunning as the exterior.

In times not so long past, Lincoln had a significant stake in the professional car market. Despite being well over a decade old, Town Car-based hearses are still in use all across the country. There were two Lincoln-based hearses at MK Coach, in for upgrades or repairs. All of the new hearses in the shop were based on Cadillac platforms. Perhaps in the future, Lincoln can get back into the professional car trade.

ABOVE: The rear compartment is a fiberglass shell, and replaces much of the original body.

ABOVE: In the funeral business, the highest levels of professionalism must be maintained, and that includes the condition of the hearse. Before a new one leaves MK Coach, it is made immaculately clean.

After spending the morning at MK Coach Company, some attendees made the drive to Lebanon, Ohio, for shopping and sightseeing. Your editor rode there with John McCarthy to check in on my ailing ’63 Continental. It is a picturesque locale, with all the charm one would expect from a modest Midwestern small town.

Dinner at the Golden Lamb on Thursday evening was a treat like no other. The restaurant was opened in 1803, the same year that Ohio became a state. The current four-story building dates to around 1815. In those days, the Golden Lamb would have been called a tavern. In modern parlance, the term conjures up images of a place to purchase adult libations. However, starting in Colonial America and continuing well into the 19th century, taverns were much more than that. They were hotels, where travelers, weary from a day on horseback or in a stagecoach, could find a hearty meal and a bed for the night. They were also community centers, where locals could meet with their friends over a pint of ale and share thoughts on the day’s events. In a world before the telegraph, where newspapers were not yet all that common, these travelers brought with them news of happenings outside the local community. This synergy is one of the reasons some historians argue that the American Revolution was born in the numerous taverns of the thirteen colonies.

No revolutions were being birthed at the Golden Lamb that evening, but the meal and camaraderie were second to none. Our group enjoyed dining privately on the second floor. Afterwards, many explored the ancient building. The list of luminaries who have visited the Golden Lamb over the past two centuries includes U.S. Presidents John Quincy Adams, William Henry Harrison, Martin Van Buren, Ulysses S. Grant, Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Benjamin Harrison, William Howard Taft, Warren G. Harding, Ronald W. Reagan, and George W. Bush. It was an excellent way to cap off Thursday.

 

ABOVE: The ’63 was a rude guest, leaking transmission fluid on its host’s garage floor.

Originally published in the September-October 2025 Lincoln and Continental Comments magazine (Issue # 386)
by Jeff Shively

As old car enthusiasts, we can all remember the times when the mechanical failure of one of our classics left us stranded with no clear way to get home. Of all the episodes I’ve endured over the past 36 years, the one that stands out as most heartbreaking occurred in the summer of 2019. I was driving my 1965 Cadillac on Interstate 465 from what was supposed to be the best shop in Indianapolis for that marque to my home in Noblesville, Indiana, about 25 miles north.

The job, which was supposed to take two weeks, ballooned into six months. Here I was, having spent a considerable amount of money, with a car that was running worse by the minute. After a spectacular backfire, it ground to a halt near the Interstate 69 exit, about 10 miles from home. I have seldom felt the sickening mix of rage, disappointment, and hopelessness as I sat there on the tailgate of my dad’s truck waiting for the rollback to arrive. Today, while it is much better than it was six years ago, it is still not right, and I am skeptical of most mechanics.

This summer, I experienced a similarly catastrophic issue with my 1963 Lincoln Continental on the way to the Mid-America National Meet. The transmission failed in the parking lot of the host hotel. There were sights and smells I’d not experienced before. But here is the difference. As much as I hated the idea of major transmission work, I realized that there was no better place for it to fail. After all, there were no fewer than four 1963 Lincolns registered for the event, plus a bevy of both older and newer slab sides. Where else could I hope to find a better brain trust that could help me out of this jam?

The first person to step up was Ted Hilton. Ted used to have a garage, and he is very familiar with the shops in the area. He recommended Mr. Transmission in nearby Sharonville, Ohio. They couldn’t get to me for a few weeks, and part of the reason was that the rebuilder was working on the transmission of…you guessed it, a 1963 Lincoln! When I was young and broke, I rebuilt the transmission on my ’65 Cadillac, and it worked great for well over 20 years. But this is not a TH 400. No shop in my area has worked on that vintage of Lincoln transmission in years, so this would be worth the wait.

In the meantime, I decided to see if I could get the Lincoln to move. John Hannon gave me a lift to the parts store to buy some Type F transmission fluid. Putting in a few quarts didn’t help, so I covered up the car for the night.

 

ABOVE: The wind ripped the cover off the Lincoln, but the water still beads on the 62 year-old paint!

Reviewing the shop manual, I surmised that the vacuum modulator might be the problem. On Wednesday, during lunch at Ford’s Garage, I called Green Sales Co., conveniently located in Cincinnati. They had the part in stock, and Tony Blaine ensured that when Lincoln of Cincinnati’s parts truck passed by Green Sales, that the modulator would be retrieved. Hearing of my trouble, Tim Wilson, who owns several of these early slab sides, commissioned one of his employees to cut a proper transmission pan gasket and then bring it 80 miles to the hotel, because he doesn’t like the quality of many of the off-the-shelf gaskets.

On Thursday morning, Tony brought his truck and trailer to the hotel. After we pushed the ’63 into place, he winched the car into the trailer and hauled it to his home. That afternoon, John McCarthy drove me to Lebanon, Ohio, where Tony & Michelle live, to see what could be done for my car. We stopped at a great local place for lunch that Tony had recommended before heading to see what progress he’d made on my Lincoln. By the time we arrived, he’d replaced the vacuum modulator, but it didn’t solve the issue. With that in mind, Tony agreed to keep the ’63 in his garage until Mr. Transmission was ready for it.

While this escapade was expensive, there is a larger lesson to be learned from it. In this day of electronic hyper-connectiveness, in-person connections are declining. Many of us don’t even know our neighbors. You no longer have a favorite pew at church because you can “attend” online. Mom-and-pop establishments that have served communities for generations are disappearing. However, there is hope in this hopelessness, and groups like the LCOC play a crucial role. As odd as it sounds, I wasn’t upset, even when things looked their worst. I knew that I was in the right place with the right people, and everything would be OK. It’s hard to put a price tag on that level of peace of mind.

Jeff Shively, Lincoln & Continental Comments Editor, lives in Kokomo, Indiana.