Ferraris are only as cool as the software nerd driving it; Hondas are only as cool as the kid's rich dad who bought it; and Rolls Royces are only as cool as the queen mum—but the Continental will spot you ponying up to the cool bar and will kick your ass faster than you can pull your Louis Vuitton wallet out of your damned designer jeans. The 1961–1969 Lincoln Continental is cooler than you are, without any doubt. Posers need not apply.
After all, the Continental was even in The Matrix—and since it was the first Matrix, it's pretty damned cool.
So what's so cool about it? Well, I'll wait until the plus/minus section below to get into details—first, some history.
This generation Continental was made from 1961–1969 with a refreshes in 1964 (stretching the back end by 3") and 1965 (updating the front fascia). The Continental was available as a four-door sedan and convertible, and as a two-door hardtop from 1966—although we'll stick to the four-door models here. All Continentals got 430in3, 462in3, or 460in3 big-block V8 engines, depending on the year. These were big luxury cars, and were fitted accordingly—all had automatic transmissions and the typical 1960s rich-guy fittings like electric windows and a wife who cooks delicious ham dinners every night. Ha ha, just kidding.
Collectability: Excellent. The Continental is undervalued and won't stay that way forever.
(+) It's a big, old, American sedan. I've said this before, but I think that big American cars from the 1950s and 1960s are fantastic collectibles.
(+) It's a convertible. That's right—this bigass four-door car was available as a convertible. This car is so outrageously huge in the first place that the only way Lincoln could really top it (ugh, oh the puns!) was to put a folding canvas contraption up there. Convertibles nearly universally fare better than their hardheaded counterparts in terms of collectability, and that means that the Continental has just that more going for it.
Plus, it's really damned handsome.
(+) It's got suicide doors. Suicide doors are doors hinged at the back, instead of the front—the suicide part is because these doors would presumably be more likely to pop open at speed than traditional doors, although any car built after 1930 or so didn't ever have this problem. Suicide doors had all but vanished by the 1960s; the Continental and the Thunderbird were the only American models to offer them at the time—and the Continental is monumentally better looking than the T-bird. The Thunderbird and Continental share platforms, and it's likely that both cars got the doors because the Continental's convertible model wouldn't be possible hanging the heavy rear doors conventionally.
The doors are responsible for a good chunk of this car's novelty. Groovy.
(+) There is no name factor for this car. Like I say in the introduction paragraph—there's nothing about this car that downgrades its coolness. When you're driving your Porsche or BMW around, it's hard not to look like a 1980s corporate raider or a total asshole (respectively), but this car oozes with genuine cred. It's big and gas-hungry and heavy and has suicide doors and giant slab sides. If you find one in black, you're officially the coolest person in the entire universe.
(-) It's not a Cadillac. I've said this a bunch of times already, but I really mean it—if you absolutely have to have the ultimate 1960s Big American Car, it has to be a Cadillac. The Lincolns and the DeSotos and the Buicks aren't quite what everyone wants, and although a secondhand 60s-era Lincoln goes for about as much as a secondhand 60s-era Cadillac, the Cadillac is likely to appreciate more.
That being said, I've heard that the build quality on these Lincolns far exceeded that of similarly aged Cadillacs. It's worth kicking a few tires and flipping a few switches on a few different bigass Lincolns and Cadillacs to see for yourself.
(-) That convertible top is worthless when it's up. This isn't a four-square-foot patch of canvas here—it's enough to sail the entire Spanish Armada. Unless you've had it replaced recently, expect it to creak and leak worse than an octogenarian.
(-) It's big. I don't have enough expletives in my vocabulary to describe just how goddamned big this car is. If you've got trouble squeezing your Accord between the lawnmower and the kid's bikes, the only way you're going to garage your Continental is if you install an overhead door in your living room.
(-) It reminds people that they're old. This has always been the trouble when it comes to collecting old luxury cars; unlike old sports cars, which rich old men like to spend their mountains of money on in order to feel young again, luxury cars are things which are bought new to keep from bothering you too much. The Continental is a reminder of age, not a distraction from it—and that's hard to sell. Nevertheless, I think we'll see some interest as the boomers age a bit more and have trouble climbing into their Mustangs.
Expect to pay: $20,000 for a stellar convertible or $8,000 for a great hardtop.
What to look for:
- Go for the 1961–1963 models if you like the small rear doors or the 1965–1969 models if you like the updated fascia.
- It's worth holding out for the cars that were, "driven only on Sundays by a lady with blue hair," because there are enough of them that it's possible you'll find one.
- Absolutely check the operation of all of the doors. They're ridiculously heavy and tend to sag with age. It's not as bad as models with front-hinged rear doors, but do take your time to do a thorough inspection for worn latches and excessive rubbing. Doubly so for convertibles.
- Hose it down if it's a droptop—unless you live in Seattle, in which case you can just wait fifteen minutes for it to start raining again. Really though, make sure the top is somewhat leak-free; chances are that it won't be perfect, but at least you'll know how bad it is.
- Watch out for big puffs of smoke ejected on a cold start. This means worn valve stem seals, which are common on engines that don't get a lot of heavy use.
- Modifications are discouraged, although it's likely that all you'll ever see are some Nixon bumper stickers and maybe a CB radio. Anything that damages the chrome, however, is strictly verboten.
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