Here we are, finally at the end of what must have been an interminable week of me selfishly droning on and on about the various used-car listings I found. We have finally arrived at our winner, the sub-$1,500 car that I liked enough to actually purchase with my own money.
As you have no doubt deduced, the winner is a 1973 Ford Gran Torino Wagon. I'm fully aware that this is one of the few contexts in which anybody would call a '73 Gran Torino Wagon a winner, and I expect many of you to be perplexed by this decision.
I'll do my best to explain my choice below, but I'll start with a short history of the Torino and Gran Torino model line. I'll also tell the story of this particular example and how I found it, and what it's like to own and drive this monster.
Unfortunately I haven't yet had time to shine up the car and take some artistic or at least flattering photography, so for now I'm using pictures from the seller's listing. But, for now, let's get on to the story.
The History
The Torino name debuted in 1968, when Ford added it as an upscale trim for its successful intermediate Fairline line. The Torino was distinguished by slightly different styling and trim, as well as a more powerful standard engine. Torinos were available as coupes, sedans, and wagons, and they could be ordered in normal, sedate, grocery-getter trim, with engines as small and unprepossessing as a low-tech, 250-cubic-inch inline six.
Very few people remember the Torino as a grocery-getter, though. By 1968 the muscle-car era was in full flower, and the intermediate class was where the action was. The Torino was Ford's direct competitor for GM's intermediate Chevrolet Chevelle and Pontiac Le Mans lines, and so muscle-bound Torinos were available to counter the likes of the Chevelle SS and Pontiac GTO. Torino engine options included such powerhouses as the 289 and 302 Mustang small-block V-8s, the 390 high-performance big-block V-8, and the two legends--the 427 V-8 and the 428 Cobra Jet.
The 427 is a justifiably legendary engine, powering such legends as the Ford GT40, the Shelby Cobra, the Shelby Daytona, and a gaggle of NASCAR Torinos. Three-time champion David Pearson famously drove a Torino 427 in NASCAR in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
The 427, however, was more suited to racing than street use; the 428 Cobra Jet, however, combined massive big-block horsepower with a flood of usable torque and excellent streetability. It's one of my all-time favorite muscle-car engines, and it turned the Torino and its Mercury Cyclone sibling into bona fide muscle-car heroes. The Torino was so successful that Ford eventually dropped the Fairlane name completely.
Let's fast-forward to 1972, when the car that we know as the Gran Torino debuted. The Gran Torino was a new car for 1972, larger, heavier, and more visually muscular than the old Torinos.It was still available in coupe, sedan, and wagon form but, curiously, used a truck-like body-on-frame construction rather than its predecessor's more modern and car-like unit-body construction.
Unfortunately, its mechanical horsepower couldn't quite measure up to its visual muscle. By this time rising insurance costs, fuel shortages, and emissions concerns had choked off the performance movement and were atrophying the muscle cars. The Gran Torino was still available with 400- and 429-cubic-inch engines, but they were docile, torquey engines. The hottest plant you could get in a Gran Torino was a four-barrel (4-V) 351 Cleveland V-8 that produced 248 horsepower.
Combined with the fact that the Gran Torino was also significantly bigger and heavier than its predecessor, dropping power levels meant that the Gran Torino's gorgeous, muscular styling promised performance that the car itself couldn't deliver. It's tempting to look at Starsky & Hutch's iconic, power-sliding Gran Torino and assume that these were bona fide muscle cars, but the hottest 1972 Gran Torino available took 6.8 seconds to do the 0-60 sprint. That's not bad by the standards of the early 1970s, but things kept getting worse--in 1973, the same setup took 7.7 seconds to do the same run. Within the next few years, the 351 4-V Cleveland would disappear entirely.
None of this is to say that the Gran Torino was a bad car--quite the opposite, actually. The Gran Torino was not quite the fire-breathing marauder that its predecessors had been, but it could still be optioned to be quite quick for its time. Even more importantly, given the criteria of its class and its era, it was quiet, smooth, luxurious, and attractive. Car and Driver raved about the new Gran Torino's ride, which provided smooth refinement without crippling handling.
America responded; for the first time, Ford outsold the Chevelle in the intermediate market. Nearly a half-million customers purchased Gran Torinos in 1972 and again in 1973, and by the time Ford ended the Gran Torino's run after the 1976 model year, nearly 2 million had been sold.
Finding my Gran Torino I was moderately excited when I spotted the listing for a 1973 Ford Gran Torino for sale for $1,300--I knew some of the Gran Torino's history and knew that it could either provide classic American land-yacht handling or interesting poseur muscle-car style. That moderate excitement turned to ecstasy when I opened up the ad and saw that this Gran Torino was also a massive and stylish wagon. Other Audi owners may kill me for this, but I can't help thinking of it as a Gran Torino Avant.
The listing had just enough information to tease me along, but once I saw the car in person my excitement began to spike. The car had only 61,900 original miles on it--a claim verified by extensive repair records dating back to when the car had been new. The original owner had kept the car until 2003 and had babied the car religiously. He then sold it to a neighbor of his, who had driven it sparingly and sold it to the current seller only a few months ago. To reinforce this continuity, the seller's father owns the repair shop that had maintained the car for its entire life since new.
The good points were obvious. For one, the receipts showed that the car had been meticulously maintained since new, and the entire brake system had been rebuilt and revamped within the last few months. The interior was absolutely pristine, original, and looked as if it had just been driven off the lot. The car still had its original Philco AM stereo and its center-dash-mounted speaker. The car had its original, functional air-conditioning, and all of its wiring and accessories worked--including the dealer-installed oil pressure and voltometer gauges.
Under the hood lurked a clean, two-barrel (2-V) 351 Cleveland V-8. The two-barrel Cleveland wasn't quite as hot as the performance-minded four-barrel 351-C, but it was still a torquier, more powerful engine than either the base inline six or the 302 V-8. "It's a 351 Cleveland, in a 1973 station wagon," my brain screamed to me. "It's a muscle-car station wagon!"
Speaking of the wagon aspect of the equation was nothing less than sensational. To begin with, I was amazed by the Gran Torino's sheer size--it's hard to imagine that this car could have ever been considered a mid-size. Even with the back seats erect, the wagon area was cavernous. With the back seats folded down, the Gran Torino sported a commodious and completely flat loading floor that could easily handle a 4X8 sheet of plywood.
The Gran Torino also had the mounting bracket for a rear-facing third-row seat--though, sadly, with no seat. The tailgate was of the three-way type; by default it opens to the side, but as designed you can roll the window down or fold it flat as well.
I'm intoxicated by the space and load-hauling potential that wagons provide, and the Gran Torino's mix of space and 1970s flair put me directly in heaven. In fact, I'd put the Gran Torino's sheer load-hauling ability up against virtually any modern SUV. The capper to the Gran Torino's utility charms was the presence of a factory tow hitch and wiring harness. The Gran Torino wasn't just an interesting old car; it was also potentially very useful.
As you'd expect, there were a few bad points. As you can see in the pictures, the front fenders have some light surface rust--it's not structural and could be easily sanded off and repainted, but it's more than I'd be able to get out with a clay bar or polish. The rest of the paint has faded into a patina that I find pleasing but that others might find shabby. The final obvious weakness was that the tailgate opened only to the side; the latch that would allow it to drop flat was broken.
Oh, and the Gran Torino had been built without a passenger-side mirror--a feature that it shared with some Ferrari Testarossas. A previous owner had compensated for this with one of the most visually impressive and incredibly useful mirrors I've ever seen, a blind-spot mirror made up of several individual panes of mirror glass that gives you an unbroken view on all sides. It's essentially a constellation of mirrors and looks something like this.
Otherwise, the Gran Torino was impressively original. As I mentioned, the interior was original and pristine and even featured the original floor mats; the exterior paint was faded, but the sheetmetal, glass, and trim were all present and in good shape.
The test drive went well. The 351 Cleveland started right up and burbled merrily out of the dual tailpipes, with just enough lope to let you know that it had some muscle. The brakes bit hard and stopped the wagon quickly and easily. And the steering ... well, the steering and suspension were vague, floaty, and helped make the Gran Torino feel roughly as large and agile as your average mountain.
I was sold. After some negotiation, I purchased the Gran Torino for $1,100 and readied myself for the 90-minute drive home.
First Impressions I learned during the purchase of my 1986 Audi Coupe GT that the first drive home is when you first really get to know your new car--when all of the car's vices become apparent and the stress of car ownership really sets in. With the Audi, that first drive home was a nightmare that set the stage for the ensuing year of maintenance and enhancement.
After purchasing the Gran Torino, I had just entered the freeway on the drive home and was contentedly bobbing along at freeway speed when I heard a sound that immediately pumped adrenaline into my system--the sound of the tailgate unlatching. I frantically into the panoramic mirrors and saw the tailgate swinging wide towards the car immediately behind me--and it kept swinging towards the lane to my left.
Heart pounding, and praying that my tailgate didn't swing into another car, I quickly exited, stopped the car, and closed the tailgate with a certain exasperated firmness. I then leaned against it and even got my fingers underneath it to try to pull it loose. It didn't budge, which meant that it was ostensibly closed and latched, but I could no longer trust it to stay closed.
The rest of the long drive home was spent worrying that every corner and every bump would cause the tailgate to unlatch and swing open again. Happily, it behaved itself for the rest of that drive--though over the next few days I was forced to tie it closed with cheap green nylon rope to prevent it from opening unexpectedly again.
The rest of my drive home was spent in full butt-clenched mode, using my gluteal muscles to will the tailgate to stay closed, but otherwise the trip home was relatively uneventful. The steering wandered like a young puppy at an off-leash park, which made things a bit harried when inattentive drivers wandered into my lane. I also had some very significant belt squeal when I changed the climate control settings.
Over the following few days, the belt squeal escalated to nearly epic proportions--noisy, chronic, apocalyptic squeal that persisted regardless of the driving conditions. Once tightened, however, the issue disappeared and the Gran Torino now drives nicely, quitely, and easily--albeit massively--around town.
The only other issue came when one of the Gran Torino's tires deflated unexpectedly while parked in front of my house. My wife had my inflator and the car doesn't have a spare, so I had to call AAA to tow the car to a shop to have it fixed. There are few things more mournful than watching your recent car acquistion being slowly winched onto a flatbed tow truck, sitting lopsidedly on a flat tire and with cheap green rope tying the tailgate shut. Happily, the tire itself was fine--some surface rust on the wheel had disrupted the seal. With a simple reseal, I was back in business.
I've also had the car checked out by a mechanic to help give me an idea of what needs to be done. The report was encouraging--the mechanic was surprised by how well the car had been maintained, and aside from the tailgate latch it only needs a new fan clutch and a rear-end fluid change to be in tip-top condition.
The Verdict
So far, the Gran Torino has admirably met my criteria.
It had to cost $1,500 or less. I was ultimately able to purchase, license, and insure this car for less than $1,500. One aspect of licensing proved to be a bit of a challenge; the state thought the Gran Torino was worth $8,000 and wanted to charge me tax on that amount. I told them that if somebody wanted to offer me $8,000 for it I'd be happy to sell it to them, and eventually I won my point.
It had to offer a different ownership and driving experience than the Audi. The Gran Torino satisfies this condition in spades. Dynamically, it's a big, heavy, floaty car that drives almost exactly like a boat--you set the throttle several seconds before your momentum begins to change, and you have to be deliberate about how you plot your corners. There have been times when I have amused myself when driving by yelling, "Full right rudder!" and "Flank speed, if you please!"
The Gran Torino makes the Audi feel like a running shoe, and our Honda Accord feel like a space ship. Heck, by comparison my floaty old Malibu Wagon drove like a trim little sports car. I love this kind of driving character--it's like stepping back 40 years in the past.
The interior of the car is also right out of a time capsule. When I'm slouching in the perfect vinyl bench seat, with the V-8 burbling happily away, listening to some college football on the AM radio and watching the mellow backlighting behind the vintage 1970s instrumentation, I'm in heaven. It's a very nice counterbalance to the racier feel and the red backlit instrumentation in the Audi.
I had to find it genuinely lustable. Even when you're shopping for a lustable car, there's the temptation to veer towards a car that provides simple usability and reliability. I don't mean to damn the Gran Torino with faint praise, but I think I dodged that bullet. After all, this is a car that I really don't need--so why not find a car to love?
The Gran Torino definitely has its hooks in me. I think it's spectacularly gorgeous, and I love marveling at its period details. I love the sound of the V-8, and the way its myriad character lines work with its bluff, aggressive grille. I love driving it and daydreaming about breathing more power into the 351 Cleveland.
Passers-by seem to like it as well--this isn't particularly scientific, but I got my first thumbs-up while driving it on my second day of ownership, compared with two thumbs-up for the Audi in six months of daily commuting.
It had to be a car that I don't feel bad parking outside. While I'd prefer to park the Gran Torino in a garage, its faded paint means that I don't have to worry about tarnishing a pristine finish by leaving it outside. My wife isn't particularly thrilled about having this 1970s mastodon parking in front of her home, but she's proving to be a good sport.
It had to offer an ownership dimension that our other cars did not. With incredible load-hauling and towing capability the Gran Torino promises utility beyond any car I have ever owned.
I also hoped my purchase would help me relate better to my Audi. I combine a love for old cars and a strain of perfectionism in a particularly unfortunate way--I love automotive quirks in theory, but when I actaully own a car I get obsessive about its faults. I have spent lots of time and money in turning the Audi into an excellent daily driver, but there are still tiny niggling issues that can make me crazy if I allow them to do so. The Gran Torino is absolutely excellent at stepping between me and this mania. Aafter a quick spin in the wagon, the Audi not only feels quick, light, and agile, but extremely well-sorted. The Gran Torino gives me the perspective that I need.
Overall, I love this car. I'm not planning on driving it on a daily basis, but I could. It looks, sounds, and drives exactly as I'd want a big American wagon to look, sound, and drive, and I can't wait to begin addressing its rough edges and, ultimately, showing it and the Audi together next year. They make an interesting pairing. My five-year-old daughter has named the Audi "Elizabeth" and the Gran Torino "Dairy Queen," both of which seem somehow appropriate and more evocative than simply CGT (Coupe GT) and FGT (Ford Gran Torino).
This has been a lot of fun for me, and I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. I'll post my own, hopefully more flattering pictures as soon as I take them, and will otherwise keep you posted when something even remotely noteworthy happens with the Gran Torino, just as I have with the Audi.
The 1970 Torino picture came from Wikipedia; the other Torino pictures were original Ford press photos or advertisements.