One I should have kept

Not mine but same color, different wheels.

 Many of us have had at least one car we regret selling. My 1967 Fairlane GT, 390 with a 4-speed is one I wish I had kept.

I bought the Fairlane where I worked, Moriarty Brothers, in Manchester, CT. It was a trade-in. Maybe it was owned by a farmer; it had bits of hay all over the interior. But it was low mileage (I think it was only six months old when I bought it), and the price was right. The new price was just around $3,000, and I paid around half that. It was the first almost new car I owned.

Here's the specs - 390 cubic inch V8, 320 hp, 427 lb-ft, Holley 4-barrel, close ratio 4-speed. The open differential ratio was 3.25:1. The Fairlane weighed around 3,500 lbs.

I was eighteen when I bought it. In hindsight, I was too young to fully appreciate it. But damn was I proud of it. It was the muscle car era and I wanted in.

Up to the time I bought the Fairlane all the cars I'd owned were well used. Some were outright junk. Now I had a car that still had that new car look.

One of the first things I did after buying it was taking it around to show all my  buddies. Most likely the next thing I did was see how long a strip of black rubber I could lay down.

I raced the Fairlane once officially. Connecticut Dragway used to have a "run what you brung" day. I borrowed a set of M&H slicks from Donny, who bought the '66 C/S Big Red Comet, and the slicks came with the car.

Two or three of us drove to the strip, Danny Dorval and I in my Fairlane, and Stan Ferrell in his '64 GTO. 

Once the slicks were on it was time to get in line - and wait. Once staged on the line, I brought the RPMs up to 2,000 (any less and the car would bog off the line, any more and it would smoke the slicks), and watched the lights. In that millisecond between when the last amber light goes out and before the green snaps on, I'd dump the clutch and make my run. My timing was pretty good; of the half dozen or so runs I made I never red-lighted.

My memory is a little fuzzy but as best I can remember my best run was around 14.5 seconds at just over 96 mph. My reaction time, and/or the grip of the slicks, let me best Stan's GT0 even though his times and speed were slightly better. Stan was running some wide Mickey Thompson street tires.

On my first couple of runs I used a shift point of 5,200 rpm. Doing so I ended up shifting into 4th while in the traps. On one run, probably against Stan, I was so focused on where he was I forgot to shift and went through the lights in 3rd, at 5,500 rpm! No harm, no foul (maybe).

I did some street racing as well. Never for money. Once I raced Stan's brother John stoplight to stoplight on Main Street, Manchester. Not exactly the smartest move for either of us. We got stopped. Luckily I knew the cop (one of the perks of working for Moriarty Bros.). Unluckily one of us had a 6-pack in our car. Again, because I knew the cop, he just made us pour it into the storm drain.

Another time I raced Donny in the ex-Big Red '66 Comet. It was an unfair race. I knew the road (South Street, Coventry), and it wasn't dead level. I beat him but I did roll on the start. Bragging rights were good though - I beat Big Red!

My time with the Fairlane wasn't all great. One night coming home from work, I decided to drive on the unfinished I384. Maybe a mile before it merged with Rte 44 it was unpaved, and rather sandy. I got stuck. It took Stan and I forever to get us out, and when we did I took the Fairlane immediately to a coin-op car on Rte 44. I washed all the sand and silt off the car, including the engine compartment. When I was finished the engine wouldn't idle!

I drove back to Coventry, where Stan and I spent the whole night cleaning the carb, and replacing parts until we finally got it to idle.

There are two examples of my immaturity when I owned the Fairlane. The first was me thinking I was a great driver, especially when drinking (no I didn't smash into anything). One night a few of us were going over to John Howland's house. I think there were three cars - John's MGA, Stan's GTO, and my Fairlane. I decided I was going to race John, a race of horsepower over finesse. If you are familiar with Connecticut back roads you know there are more curves than straights. I could keep up with John but I could not pass him on the short straights. I had the Fairlane flying, at one point literally. 

There was a slight hump that I crested flat-out in third gear. When the Fairlane landed there was a horrendous noise that would not go away. I nursed the Fairlane to John's house, and while everyone else went in to listen to music and drink beer, I crawled under the Fairlane to find what I had broken.

Ford use to have clutch inspection covers for their manual transmission cars. When I went over the hump, and then landed, the clutch cover hit the road, smashing it into the flywheel. How it didn't damage the flywheel is beyond me. I removed the cover and all was good.

The next stupid thing was a much bigger deal. The Fairlane had a factory tach, a puny little thing on the dash.

I decided I need a big Sun tach on the steering column, and I wanted that puny little one gone. So I took the stock tach off, cutting the wires. I hooked up the Sun tach, tried to start the Fairlane and it wouldn't start! It took me forever to figure out how to fix it (yeah my mechanical talents were not fully developed). 

Eventually I had to sell the Fairlane. But the Fairlane wasn't finished with me. I was swapping the Fairlane for a '65 Mustang (I'll write about the 'Stang later), and some cash. On the way to the car lot the wiring I'd cobbled together decided enough was enough; the driver's compartment filled with smoke! I got it re-cobbled, and did the swap. 

I really wish I was more fully developed and had the brains to keep the Fairlane. But immaturity and life got in the way.