David Heiller
THE EDSEL, Ford’s greatest fiasco, was introduced to the American
public on September 4, 1957, as the first of 110,000 rolled off the assembly
lines in Detroit that year and 1958.
| Edsel |
The Edsel, named after a Ford son, soon became the laughing stock
of the country. They were big cars, with a lot of electronic gadgetry, and
perhaps ahead of their time. But most people agree that the reason they didn’t
catch on is that they just plain looked funny.
It was the round grill on the front end that created the belly
laughs, commentator Harry Reasoner said on the radio this week. No car had ever
had a round grill before. It made the car look like an Oldsmobile sucking a
lemon, Reasoner said.
Ford, I think has the last laugh, though. Just try to buy an Edsel
from someone who has one of those originals. They are collector’s items, worth
far more than their original purchase price.
Cars are really an important part of our lives. Whether you are
one of those people who can curse an engine to life lying on your back in a
grease puddle, or you simply write the checks to pay for them, you probably
have some stories to tell about a car or truck.
But it seems to be always the negative we remember about autos.
Except for those occasional memories of a drive-in movie or a trip to·a Twins
game, I can’t think of much good to say about cars. Take my truck, for
instance, (Please.) It’s name is Oscar, for my wife’s bachelor uncle, and it
shares the Edsel’s reputation for being a laughing stock.
The truck is rusting badly, and leaks air, dust, and snow in the
winter. The right door is dented from a tree while hauling wood two years ago.
The steering shaft broke last spring, while my wife and son were driving in
McGregor at about 10 miles an hour, fortunately. The brakes quit periodically,
so that I always carry an extra can of brake fluid. It gets 10 miles to the
gallon, going downhill with the wind.
On Monday, while driving about 50 miles an hour on Interstate 35
through Duluth, the latch of the hood came open and the hood flew against the windshield,
blocking my vision. I pulled off to the side of the highway, feeling my way
like a blind person, and slammed the hood back into place, broken hinge and all.
I’m not complaining. You get what you pay for, and $600 wasn’t a
bad price for Oscar. With 90,000 miles, he’ll probably last a good while
longer.
But I don’t like to think about Oscar much, because when I do, I
think, “What will happen next with this truck?” The answer scares me.
Instead I’ll think about the Edsel, Oscar’s distant older cousin,
celebrating its seventieth birthday this week. I knew I should have bought one.
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