Lincoln Continental Mark III RestoMod

My Lincoln journey began one stormy spring day in a Montana junkyard. 

It was 2003 and I was fast approaching my high school graduation. I’d caught the car bug a few years prior and had helped my friends with their projects.  They were the sons of gearheads, which meant they were gearheads-in-training, fascinated with this new world of metal, bolts, and odorous fluids.  At that point I didn’t have a car of my own.  I shared the family pickup with my younger sister.  

It was a no-frills ‘91 Dodge D150.  Single cab.  Two-wheel drive.  Straight 6.  Vinyl seats with a cassette player that could play CD’s if you used that weird cassette-to-discman conversion cord.  I’m sure there are plenty in the Dodge community that could laud the old truck for its potential. As far as I was concerned, it was the family vehicle. Not to be tinkered with.  Besides, for no better reason than why people suddenly become fans of certain sports teams, or why we are attracted to certain people… I had fallen in love with Ford.  

On the Hunt for a Project

My buddies were split between the GM and Mopar (“if I have to explain what Mopar means–you wouldn’t understand,” Mel Shay) camps.  I was representing the Blue Oval with the least amount of knowledge and minimal experience. I was constantly at the ridicule of the Chevy and Dodge guys who were better schooled in their fealty and insisted that Fords were garbage…found on the road dead and how the company had circled their problem.  Yeah-yeah, whatever.  My allegiance was unwavering.  And I was determined to make my devotion tangible.  I was going to find a project car, and it was going to be a Ford.   

If you’re a teenage boy during the late 90’s early 2000’s who’s into Fords and you’re not a truck guy, what is the natural solution?  A Mustang.  Obviously!  Most were small, relatively light and either came with a V-8 or were accommodating to a swap.  One of my friends already drove an ‘86 Camaro that may or may not have been an IROQ (sorry Derek, I can’t remember).  A Mustang would be the natural competitor.  If I was going to represent my brand, I would come out swinging.  

Two Problems

1. I was a poor high school kid and even back in 2002 a 60’s era Mustang could set you back a few grand.  I had no interest in the much cheaper Fox bodies (and am still blown away by how much money they are fetching these days if you can find one that hasn’t been chopped up and Chevy 350 swapped!)  As far as I was concerned, the only thing good to come out of the 80’s was me. I believed that any Mustang after 1970 was ugly.  The rest of the country agreed, and the price reflected when I looked at a rusted out 1967 heap, sans drivetrain and no wheels for $4000.  Sorry, it was out of my $5.15 minimum wage price range.
2. My second problem (not so much a problem as it was a word of caution) was my mom’s concern.  I was living in a cold part of Montana, about to head off to a colder, snowier area in Bozeman to begin my college experience.  She insisted that a two-wheel drive muscle car was not the best selection for a town nestled between two ski resorts.  She wasn’t wrong.  If I got into an accident, she wanted me in a vehicle that could survive a wreck.  Especially as a new driver.  

Introduction to Land Yachts

The Mustang was out. Meaning I was on the prowl for a different project.  That’s fine.  My Mopar buddy had failed to poach me to his team, but after helping with some Chrysler Newports and 1st Gen Chargers, he’d taught me that big cars could be cool too. Especially as a sleeper.  Permission to come aboard Skipper, I’d step into the world of Land Yachts.  

Besides, a full sized 60’s or 70’s car satisfied my two problems: they were big enough to survive a mishap on icy roads (at least from a mass times acceleration standpoint) and most of these boats were cheap.  Check and check.  

Back to the start of my journey…

Treasures in the Salvage Yard

When I wasn’t tinkering on Chryslers with my buddy Stuart, one of our favorite pastimes was roaming around old salvage yards.  A-1 Johnson’s Salvage (that everyone called Johnson’s, but was probably named A-1 to land it the first spot in the yellow pages) was our playground.   It was neatly organized by manufacturers and loosely by year.  All the GM’s in one section, Fords another, and then Chryslers.  They had tons (literally) of gems from the 60’s and 70’s.  Not so much in terms of project cars. Most were pretty far gone or missing. But they had lots of valuable parts that are only getting harder and harder to find.  

We were usually hunting for something for Stuart’s Newport, Dart, or one of two of his late 60’s/early 70’s Dodge pickups, but when-in-doubt we would also scavenge unique badges from any of the Big 3 and their array of models.  I had a collection of Lincoln emblems long before I actually owned one!  

Shelter from the Rain

It was a hideous brickish car with blotchy gold paint and a corroding white padded top.  The exterior was only slightly improved when washed–but the interior was really the selling point.  Dripping wet, we sank into a burgundy leather couch masquerading as a split bench.  Nothing beats those old 70’s era seats!  For as worn as the interior was, the interior was complete and in outstanding condition.  Don’t drop anything on the floor, you’d lose it in the plush carpet.  And I still remember looking up to a flawless headliner–as crisp as the day it was made–and to my delight, discovered that it also came equipped with a sunroof.  No–better.  A moonroof, meaning it could retract and not just crack open at the back.  I pulled back the first layer and watched the rain patter overhead.  No leaks.  

The Luxury of a Continental

Perhaps it was the circumstances–salvation from the storm–but suddenly I found myself occupying a space that I didn’t want to leave.  The rear opera windows denoted a cozy sophistication.  I realized then and there that Continental wasn’t a car…it was a hotel.  It was a lounge (probably a cigar lounge considering the 87 cigarette lighters and ashtrays mounted about the cab). The Continental was Matthew Mcconaughey cool in a way that you’ll never understand until you’ve experienced it.  

By the time the storm passed, I knew one thing.  I had to have this car. It was big, making my mom happy, affordable, and technically a Ford since the Blue Oval had been powering Lincolns as far back as 1958 with the 430 MEL (before that Continental was its own Division and not technically a Lincoln, although this part of the history is admittedly confusing).

Picking Up My Ride

After a series of negotiations with my parents, I returned a week or two later with my friend Stuart, his dad Mel.  I had to act fast because I was afraid someone was going to scoop up my first ride.  Little did I realize, no one wanted a broken down ‘79 back then, and only a few do today. 

I paid $200 for the car, and an extra $50 for the original turbine style aluminum wheels.  We hauled the car off to Mel’s property out in the middle of nowhere because it was too much of an eye-sore for my suburban neighborhood.  Plus, I didn’t have any tools.   Mel’s property was perfect for my early-automotive education.  He’d been divorced years before that, and decided to buy all the cars his wife wouldn’t allow while they were wed.  He had an array of Dodge and Chrysler projects, plus one super cool 1958 Ford 2-door that was the Shay’s only concession to a good Ford.  They would tolerate my Lincoln because in the end they loved cars–and it was still American with a V-8. 

Hindsight is a fabulous teacher.  Had I known what I did now, ten, or maybe even fifteen years ago, I would have never bought my Lincoln Mark V.  I was caught up in the moment–not so different from the magic of new relationships that aren’t always good for us.  But I hadn’t done my homework. I was impatient. And I would soon discover there were reasons someone was willing to offload a ‘79 Mark V for $200.  The biggest reasons were all under the hood.   I suppose naivety implied that with a hood long enough to land an aircraft on, there must be a monster caged beneath. 

The Ford 400M

Technically, there was.  Dimensionally, the Ford 400M is kind of a bastard, landing between small block 351’s and the big block 460’s.  The majority of all that under-hood space is dedicated to a tangle of vacuum and emissions tubing that rivals a Covid respirator ward. 

The mid to late 70’s did a nasty thing to all the glorious American V-8s.  We didn’t know how to handle the oil crisis, and couldn’t part with our big cars. So in 1979 your 6.6L V-8 was churning out an embarrassing 159 horsepower, and maybe 315 ft pounds of torque.  Meaning that at the time a Fast and Furious 2002 Honda Civic’s four little hamsters could easily churn out the same amount of horsepower in a car that weighed half as much.  Whatever gains the 300+ ft/lbs of torque was negated by a highway friendly 2.75 rear gear.  In other words, this was going to be a very comfortable 5000-pound rolling living room that took longer to go from 0-60 (13.6 seconds) than any respectable muscle car was completing the quarter mile. 

Bringing it to Life…Hopefully

I wasn’t going to let any of those deficiencies stop me.  Like anyone who has taken the dive into a 1970’s emissions engine, Step 1: remove all that emissions crap, especially something called a smog pump.  Step 2: replace the iron intake and 2-barrel carb with something aluminum with four venturis.  In my case, I turned to Edelbrock for both solutions.  

My engine had lived a rough life, and before we could bolt on any goodies, it would need a complete rebuild.  So we brought in the cherry picker and pulled the engine.  Off to the rebuilders!  This was when I learned my first major lesson on the value of patience in the automotive world.  I have since learned two very important things about car buying.

Luke’s Rules for Car Buying

1. Make a list of your top ten favorite cars.  Make these cars realistic to your life’s trajectory.  I love Shelby Mustangs, but I’ll probably never be able to afford an original 60’s version…however I might be able to get my hands on a late model version now that I’m no longer a high school kid.  I will never include things like Bugatti or Pagani supercars because, for as incredible as they are, I can’t dump my annual salary on an oil change, and I’m definitely not pronouncing any of their models correctly. 
2. Be patient and wait for one of these cars to become available.  Years ago, as I was at the end of my Marine Corp enlistment, I was in the market for a new Mustang (finally!).  I made these stipulations, it must have the new (then) 5.0 Coyote V-8, a six-speed manual, and I wanted it in black.  I’d almost pulled the trigger on a silver 2011 Mustang GT, but fortunately held out a few more months and found a car that completely fit my desires, plus it had the Brembo Brakes package and 3.73 rear gears.  The wait was worth it. 

These rules are important because most of us only have so much money, and none of us has enough time for all their projects.  I wish I could go back to my 18-year-old self, put a calm hand on his shoulder, and say “Just wait two months, trust me, it’ll be worth it.”  

1st Lesson on Car Buying

Stuar’s dad received a lead only a week after my engine was being machined at the rebuilders. Someone was selling a 1968 Lincoln Continental in my price range.  I’d received some graduation money to help supplement my Mark V resurrection, but I couldn’t afford to have my engine rebuilt AND buy a second Lincoln.  Besides, my building the car hinged on getting it running.  I don’t think Mel wanted to add a Lincoln to his yard’s collection–besides I needed wheels when I set out for Montana State University in a little over two months.  The Mark V project was already underway and there was no time to pump the brakes (besides, they didn’t work!) 

I will admit, this is probably one of my biggest automotive regrets of my lifetime (well, maybe not, I did end up buying a ‘74 Camaro that ended up being a total dud…plus Chevy, ew). The 66-69 Lincoln Continentals are in my top ten list.  I prefer the grills over the earlier 60’s Continentals, but those are still very cool.  And it was probably a 1965 Continental featured in the 1999 special effects spectacular The Matrix that really turned me on to Lincolns.  Those suicide doors are unbeatable!  Today, the 60’s Lincoln Continentals also have a pretty incredible aftermarket.  Guess what doesn’t then, and it still doesn’t now?  1979 Lincoln Mark V’s!

Had I bought that ‘68 Continental, I’m sure I would have messed up plenty during the learning process, but still would have it today–which is more than I can say for my Mark V.  Whatever, I missed my boat (see what I did there) on my ‘68 Continental.  

A Little Underwhelming

The Mark V’s engine returned, freshly rebuilt at 30 over with a respectable RV cam, 10.5:1 compression pistons, and soon to be an Edelbrock Performer, dual plane intake and a 600 CFM carb.  The ignition was all stock, but new.  I never had the engine dynoed, but it was estimated at 300hp and maybe 350 ft/lbs of torque. Much more respectable than its 160/315 factory configuration, and nothing to sneeze at back in 2003 when a stock Mustang GT was putting out 260hp.  The Mark V was still heavy, but with some new aluminum and less emissions gizmos we’d shaved maybe a hundred pounds from its weight.  

The first time I put my foot into the accelerator, I was expecting a comparative rocket ship.  Instead I learned that there’s three stages to installing a Ford C6 torque converter and if you don’t have everything synced up, you’ll blow the front seal.  Long after the sun had set, my C6 hemorrhaged its red fluid all over the gravel.  I took my frustrations out on the thick quarter panel of a rusting 70’s Chrysler and miraculously didn’t break any of my knuckles.  

Rebuilding Transmissions

Disheartened, my mom ended up making some calls and found a guy from our small town who had retired from working on transmissions, but still took some side jobs from his home.  A few days later I helped him rebuild my transmission, plus update it with new clutches and internal goodies.  Over my lifetime I’ve only rebuilt maybe 3 automatic transmissions, and always with an expert next to me.  I’m sure with more practice and the right equipment, they are fairly manageable, but they still scare me.  There’s a lot of check balls and springs that aren’t optional and make a big difference on the function of the machine.  

After rebuilding my C6, we bolted it back into the car, taking special care with the torque converter. Finally, only days before I was supposed to drive off to Montana State University, I was able to start my car and drive it under its own power for the first time. 

It Drives!

I drove my Lincoln with the pride every new car owner feels, knowing it was because of your blood, sweat, and tears (so many tears) this previously broken machine is able to drive.  You gave it new life.  Sure you put your money into it, but not the same way that someone buys a car off a lot.  In the end I’d sunk a few grand into rebuilding my Lincoln, and I probably could have bought something reliable from a used car lot for the same price.  But I’d gained irreplaceable knowledge. 

I could now identify every part (by name) under the hood of the car.  I knew that the internal combustion engine depended on fuel, spark, and air.  Rear gearing had a lot to do with how fast a car got off the line.  Functioning brakes are just as important as functioning motors.  Green fluid under cars is not great.  Red is worse.  Always check the gaskets on an oil filter as the old ones like to stick.  A person who has simply bought a car never has the right to talk shit about someone who’s rebuilt one.  But most importantly, I learned the value of patience.  

Take your time, both before, and during.  Fall in love with a car (preferably before you’ve signed your name to a title) and then research it.  Research everything you can. Inevitably, for all your research, you’re only dipping your toe into the vastness of all that it will teach you.  

Lessons Learned

For those of you Lincoln Mark V lovers, God bless you.  I am no expert on that model.  It was my first project car, and for that I owe it a debt of gratitude. The Mark V truly was the car that got this car obsession rolling.  It served my purpose for the first few years in college. Then I paused my educational career to enlist in the Marine Corps and fight bad guys overseas.  The car sat while I was deployed. Eventually I let another friend pull the engine and transmission for his 79 F-150 (which also came from the factory with that anemic 400M).  He disposed of the car after he was done so I didn’t have to shed anymore tears at seeing its short resurrection cut short.  

No, this isn’t about Mark V’s, it’s about the predecessor, and likely the reason you’re reading this today.  Rewind a decade earlier, to the glory days of unbridled Big Blocks and Small Blocks. Before the Middle East didn’t want to sell oil and “emissions” hadn’t even been defined by Webster.  Let’s return to 1969. To the era of the Lincoln Continental Mark III.  And for all those Ford Thunderbird enthusiasts, most of what is discussed applies equally to 1968-71 Thunderbirds. The design of body and interior panels is the major difference. Mechanically, they are basically the same.