kaha
Dedicated LVC Member
When I first joined LVC, I posted a coupla pics of my ride, being a firm believer in the "Pics or it didn't happen!" philosophy. Here's one:
One owner, was love at first sight, love at first long drive, and still love at even a short trip to the supermarket. In the process of replacing the worn components in the front suspension. UCAs, etc.
Been thinking of what to call it.
My first thought was "Black Betty", and then I noticed that Eddie already had that one claimed with his sweet ride. Developed a slow air leak in the left rear air spring about the same time that it started blowing a fuse due to a pinched wire in the steering column. I then considered "Black Beeyotch".
Then I remembered being a kid in the Seventies, and my dear departed Dad telling me that his dream car was a Lincoln Mark V.
Dad was a police officer, retired from the PD in Torrance, California after 27 years of service.
His name was Archie Lowell Jackson, but he'd get mad if ya called him Archie. He hated that name. My brother and I called him Dad, and his friends all called him Al. He didn't care for Cadillacs, thought they were a woman's car. He bought Mom a nice Sedan de Ville, and she drove it until she died.
But he never got his Mark; was too busy making sure that we had it decent, was always just a thought and a desire simmering on a back-burner somewhere in his mind.
He died early in the spring of '96 after a winter-long fight with ALS, I was there with him.
I remember that when I'm driving my '96 Mark VIII; I often pat the dashboard and say "hey Dad, we finally got your Mark."
So my (our) Mark is now named Al.
Not Archie.
One owner, was love at first sight, love at first long drive, and still love at even a short trip to the supermarket. In the process of replacing the worn components in the front suspension. UCAs, etc.
Been thinking of what to call it.
My first thought was "Black Betty", and then I noticed that Eddie already had that one claimed with his sweet ride. Developed a slow air leak in the left rear air spring about the same time that it started blowing a fuse due to a pinched wire in the steering column. I then considered "Black Beeyotch".
Then I remembered being a kid in the Seventies, and my dear departed Dad telling me that his dream car was a Lincoln Mark V.
Dad was a police officer, retired from the PD in Torrance, California after 27 years of service.
His name was Archie Lowell Jackson, but he'd get mad if ya called him Archie. He hated that name. My brother and I called him Dad, and his friends all called him Al. He didn't care for Cadillacs, thought they were a woman's car. He bought Mom a nice Sedan de Ville, and she drove it until she died.
But he never got his Mark; was too busy making sure that we had it decent, was always just a thought and a desire simmering on a back-burner somewhere in his mind.
He died early in the spring of '96 after a winter-long fight with ALS, I was there with him.
I remember that when I'm driving my '96 Mark VIII; I often pat the dashboard and say "hey Dad, we finally got your Mark."
So my (our) Mark is now named Al.
Not Archie.
