Found this hilarious comment on some random blog post about the LS.
2000 Lincoln LS – Junkyard Find
Gerard just liked it.
Gerard locked the front door of his townhouse, and went in the garage to tend to the Lincoln. He rolled up the sleeves on his white collared shirt, and then hesitated before picking up the jug of coolant. “Perhaps I should take my shirt off?”, he pondered. He decided against it, grabbing the Zerex pre-mixed antifreeze. After all, he had done this many times, and knew how to be clean about it. He popped the hood, which had an air of precision as it slowly raised on it’s pressurized struts. Access to the recovery tank was hampered by it’s peculiar placement. He braced his shoulder against the underside of the hood while glugging the coolant into the opening. The seal of the jug, where Gerard had punctured with his finger, then flipped into the stream. The direction of flow was directed from the tank to the top of the engine. “Oh god DAMMIT!”, said Gerard, checking his clothes for splattered antifreeze. After topping off the reservoir, he placed the jug in the trunk for later.
Gerard slipped into the driver’s seat, charmed by it’s soft, smooth leather. The Jaguar AJ V8 growled from it’s slumber, and after completing a brief self-test, the airbag module illuminated it’s warning light yet again. The shifter’s action was isolated, and imparted an expensive feel to Gerard’s hand as reverse was engaged. He hit the button on the Homelink to close up the garage, and set course for I-5. That’s when Gerard noticed the thick black smudge on his shoulder. The Lincoln squealed it’s tires in the fervent u-turn, and screamed to a frustrated halt in the driveway.
With a fresh shirt, Gerard joined the rest of the rat race on the way to Anaheim. An ’81 Corolla rolled past, it’s driver enjoying the luxury of being able to roll down his windows without the likelihood of them dislocating themselves. Fortunately, this particular LS was equipped with a fresh DCCV, and Gerard could enjoy the comfort of air conditioning yet again. Traffic slowed, and he glanced at the cheap-looking temp gauge again. “Not overheating yet. So I have that going for me.”, he said to himself. He turned up the sports talk using the radio’s panel instead of the abandoned wheel controls, and then leaned back into the leather. He was swaddled in luxury, totally isolated from the chaos happening all around his Lincoln. Loose suspension clicked away, tires ended themselves, the driveline clunked sloppily, and a misfire in cylinder six came and went with it’s ignition coil’s morale. The lathered LS finally gasped to itself in the Cheesecake Factory parking lot.
Gerard’s clothing off-gassed garlic and cheese when he returned to the car at the end of another tiring day of breaking in the new servers. He turned his headlights on, and was bathed in a green glow of Ford. Gerard accelerated briskly up the onramp. As soon as he lifted his foot, the engine fell on it’s face. There was a soft bang, that ran through the chassis into his backside. Then, there was nothing. The Lincoln coasted off to the shoulder. Gerard cranked the engine repeatedly, but there was no life. He popped the hood to remind himself that there was nothing to look at, as it was all hidden by a sea of black plastic covers and tubes. Not that he knew what to look for in the first place. He leaned against the concrete wall for the tow truck, noting it’s abrasiveness against his skin. The LS was towed to Gerard’s favorite repair shop. “Hopefully, they can get her going again quickly in the morning. Probably another sensor or coils again.”, he thought. Gerard wrote “Engine just stopped. Won’t start.” on the envelope, and placed the keys in the drop box.
News came quickly the following morning at 7:15AM. “Hey Gerard, I have some rather bad news on your Lincoln…” Indeed. Gerard was not pleased to learn about timing chain tensioners so early in the morning. The comment by the service writer of “Yeah, this happens all the time with these engines unfortunately” sure as hell didn’t provide him with any solace. He ended the call, and whipped the iPhone into the couch. “Fuck!!!”
The LS spent several months on Craigslist as a “Mechanic’s Special” at $1000, then $800, and finally $500 before the junkyard was called. Gerard watched his car climb lifelessly onto the flatbed for the last time. The tow guy adjusted the steering, and remarked “Oh wow, the interior is actually pretty nice.” Gerard responded with a disillusioned “Yeah.” He was done. Done with BMW’s, Done with the three brands associated with this car. Done with luxury cars of any sort entirely. He folded his check into his pocket, and then stepped into his new Chevy Cruze.
“Meh, this seat sucks.”, Gerard said to himself before starting the car with a shrug.
2000 Lincoln LS – Junkyard Find
Gerard just liked it.
Gerard locked the front door of his townhouse, and went in the garage to tend to the Lincoln. He rolled up the sleeves on his white collared shirt, and then hesitated before picking up the jug of coolant. “Perhaps I should take my shirt off?”, he pondered. He decided against it, grabbing the Zerex pre-mixed antifreeze. After all, he had done this many times, and knew how to be clean about it. He popped the hood, which had an air of precision as it slowly raised on it’s pressurized struts. Access to the recovery tank was hampered by it’s peculiar placement. He braced his shoulder against the underside of the hood while glugging the coolant into the opening. The seal of the jug, where Gerard had punctured with his finger, then flipped into the stream. The direction of flow was directed from the tank to the top of the engine. “Oh god DAMMIT!”, said Gerard, checking his clothes for splattered antifreeze. After topping off the reservoir, he placed the jug in the trunk for later.
Gerard slipped into the driver’s seat, charmed by it’s soft, smooth leather. The Jaguar AJ V8 growled from it’s slumber, and after completing a brief self-test, the airbag module illuminated it’s warning light yet again. The shifter’s action was isolated, and imparted an expensive feel to Gerard’s hand as reverse was engaged. He hit the button on the Homelink to close up the garage, and set course for I-5. That’s when Gerard noticed the thick black smudge on his shoulder. The Lincoln squealed it’s tires in the fervent u-turn, and screamed to a frustrated halt in the driveway.
With a fresh shirt, Gerard joined the rest of the rat race on the way to Anaheim. An ’81 Corolla rolled past, it’s driver enjoying the luxury of being able to roll down his windows without the likelihood of them dislocating themselves. Fortunately, this particular LS was equipped with a fresh DCCV, and Gerard could enjoy the comfort of air conditioning yet again. Traffic slowed, and he glanced at the cheap-looking temp gauge again. “Not overheating yet. So I have that going for me.”, he said to himself. He turned up the sports talk using the radio’s panel instead of the abandoned wheel controls, and then leaned back into the leather. He was swaddled in luxury, totally isolated from the chaos happening all around his Lincoln. Loose suspension clicked away, tires ended themselves, the driveline clunked sloppily, and a misfire in cylinder six came and went with it’s ignition coil’s morale. The lathered LS finally gasped to itself in the Cheesecake Factory parking lot.
Gerard’s clothing off-gassed garlic and cheese when he returned to the car at the end of another tiring day of breaking in the new servers. He turned his headlights on, and was bathed in a green glow of Ford. Gerard accelerated briskly up the onramp. As soon as he lifted his foot, the engine fell on it’s face. There was a soft bang, that ran through the chassis into his backside. Then, there was nothing. The Lincoln coasted off to the shoulder. Gerard cranked the engine repeatedly, but there was no life. He popped the hood to remind himself that there was nothing to look at, as it was all hidden by a sea of black plastic covers and tubes. Not that he knew what to look for in the first place. He leaned against the concrete wall for the tow truck, noting it’s abrasiveness against his skin. The LS was towed to Gerard’s favorite repair shop. “Hopefully, they can get her going again quickly in the morning. Probably another sensor or coils again.”, he thought. Gerard wrote “Engine just stopped. Won’t start.” on the envelope, and placed the keys in the drop box.
News came quickly the following morning at 7:15AM. “Hey Gerard, I have some rather bad news on your Lincoln…” Indeed. Gerard was not pleased to learn about timing chain tensioners so early in the morning. The comment by the service writer of “Yeah, this happens all the time with these engines unfortunately” sure as hell didn’t provide him with any solace. He ended the call, and whipped the iPhone into the couch. “Fuck!!!”
The LS spent several months on Craigslist as a “Mechanic’s Special” at $1000, then $800, and finally $500 before the junkyard was called. Gerard watched his car climb lifelessly onto the flatbed for the last time. The tow guy adjusted the steering, and remarked “Oh wow, the interior is actually pretty nice.” Gerard responded with a disillusioned “Yeah.” He was done. Done with BMW’s, Done with the three brands associated with this car. Done with luxury cars of any sort entirely. He folded his check into his pocket, and then stepped into his new Chevy Cruze.
“Meh, this seat sucks.”, Gerard said to himself before starting the car with a shrug.