Thankfully dead automotive relics
In the mid-aughts, Jackie Mason wrote occasional features for a magazine called The Comical that covered the stand up industry. He used the opportunity to explain how awesome Jackie Mason is and heap mountains of bile on recently dead peers such as Henny Youngman (“lowlife bastard”) and Rodney Dangerfield (“fucking jerk”).
Though I strive to come in lower on the scale of Self-Important Paranoid Jerks, I did feel decidedly Mason-ish last week when I greeted news of Mercury’s pending demise with a shrug. Though I don’t have a strong hatred of the 72-year old brand, I don’t have any love either. But passion, whether positive or negative, is important for a writer, so I thought I’d spend a moment peeing on the grave of some automotive relics whose death I welcome.
Perhaps you’ll pee with me?
Personal Luxury Coupes
Remember how ubiquitous these were? Chevy had the Monte Carlo, Chrysler had the Cordoba, and even Volvo got in the act with the comically-styled 262C Bertone Coupé Just as large as the family sedans on which they were based, these long-hooded land cruisers were neither sporty nor practical, just flashy. With few exceptions (the AMC Matador and most pre-Reagon era Buick Rivieras) these were wildly tacky cars. They thankfully died a slow death after the 70s ended and are now rarely seen outside the high end of the market by brands like Mercedes, Cadillac and hysterically, Maybach.
Vinyl Roofs
Also pretty ubiquitous, these were originally meant to evoke the look of a convertible top, but took on a life of their own by the 60s and became a popular styling element. Even Rolls Royce offered a vinyl covering called Everflex until well into the 1980s.
My hatred for these things began at a young age, when park officials at the Wild Safari drive-thru zoo at Great adventure prevented my family from entering certain sections of the park grounds with our 1972 Buick Electra because the primates housed there found vinyl delicious and might peel off and eat our roof.
The park rangers NEVER asked me or my young sisters if we wanted to see monkeys eat our roof. A terrible oversight on their part.
Giant Signage
A lot of European sports car manufacturers decided that they didn’t want their cars to speak for themselves in the late 70s and early 80, so they decided to let oversized signs do the talking. If you owned a Lotus Esprit Turbo from the era, there was a very good chance it had gigantic gold or black lettering on its sides, front, and rear indicating that it was, in fact, a Esprit Turbo, and not a wheel barrel, puppy, or any other non-Esprit Turbo object that exists in the known universe. This is very useful for people who are literate, but also really, really easily confused.
Porsche got in the act too, making use of the entire rear light bar on its 911 for branding. And, if you were lucky enough to be able to afford one of Audi’s rare Quattro coupes, the company made sure everyone knew about it by painting its logo on each side in script large enough to be visible from space.
Fake Woodies
The rear cabs of station wagons were made out of varnished wood well into the early 1950s, but afterward, safety issues and common sense put a stop to this and wagons were made out of steel like other cars. But by the mid-60s car manufacturers began regularly adding tacky fake wood appliques to their wagons in a manner that both invoked and insulted the legacy of the real woodies. Thankfully, mainstream manufacturers had by and large stopped offering these homely homages by the 90s. Lincoln’s short-lived Blackwood luxury pickup truck of 2001-2002 had fake black wood covering its cargo box, but then, it’s not a wagon (or a real pickup, for that matter).
I hope the popularity of oversized rims and fake air vents suffer painful deaths in the near future and I can add those monstrosities to this list, but for now this will have to do.

















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