What's Your Crown Vic Story?

My Crown Victoria story stated about 13 years ago. One evening, my grandfather called and offered me his ’96 Crown Vic—for free. “I’m getting too old to drive it,” he said.. Heck yeah. How could I turn down a free car? That call started it all!

My 96 Ford Crown Victoria

I didn’t know much about Crown Vics at the time. Once, after church services, a friend pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to see his Crown Vic out in the parking lot. We walked outside together and slowly circled around it as he enthusiastically talked about the smooth ride and all its other benefits—most of which I can’t even remember now. He was especially proud of a headlight restoration he had just finished. Honestly, I didn’t see what he saw. To me, it just looked like an old car. At the time, I thought he was being a bit over the top. Still, I politely shared in his enthusiasm until he had said everything he wanted to say.

That was the full extent of my Crown Vic knowledge when my grandpa called. When I went to pick up the car, he handed me the key along with an old zippered notebook—the kind you’d expect a grandfather to keep. I unzipped it. Inside were meticulous, handwritten notes detailing every repair and maintenance job he had done since buying the car brand new. Wow! He really loved this car.

First entry by my grandfather in his maintenance book

As its second owner, I've grown into the role of being a responsible Crown Victoria owner. I was regretfully neglectful to start. In all honesty, there have been a few times when I've almost given up on the car and considered having someone from a junkyard pick it up. There was the time I got the driver's side window stuck in the door. It had fallen down in the past, but I had always been able to grab and pull it back up with pliers. That night, it fell too far into the door, and I was unable to pull it up. I marched into the house, ranting that it was time to get a new car (which I didn't do). Then there was the time I had a ball joint fail while I was pulling out of a school parking lot after dropping off my girls. The lower ball joint on the passenger's front side just fell out of its socket. We towed it to a mechanic shop, and they quoted way more than I wanted to pay to fix it. So we towed it back to the house, and I went to work. That job took a long time—but I did it! A Crown Vic Victory!

I've done multiple oil changes, replaced the air suspension bags, updated the parking shoes, installed a new intake manifold, replaced the brake pads, and much more. As I complete each repair, I find it so gratifying. The satisfaction of jumping in my Crown Vic after finishing a job is always worth the struggle. I've even pictured my grandpa looking down at me from heaven, smiling proudly at me for following in his footsteps (although not so diligent in the record-keeping as he was). I understand now what my friend was feeling when he expressed pride in his headlight restoration. With each job completed, the more I fall in love with the car.

There is still a hefty list of repairs that need to get done.

• ABS light is on

• Some windows don't roll down

• A power steering sensor plug somehow melted off

• Ripped leather seats

• Broken blend door actuator

• Missing parking brake release handle

But, I'm not getting rid of that car. It has too much sentimental value considering all the effort I've put into. Not to mention that it reminds me of my grandpa. When I was younger, my grandpa would take me, my brother, and guy cousins on a hike once a month. "Grandpa's Patrol" was what he called it. As we drove to different hikes in San Diego County, I noticed that my grandfather would rub the center of the steering wheel in one place with his thumb. It was a twitch like bouncing a knee or tapping a foot that my grandfather had while driving. He didn't own the '96 Crown Vic then. It was an Oldsmobile. But, when I look at my Crown Vic steering wheel, guess what I see? In the same place where he used to rub his thumb on the Oldsmobile, there is a black spot where he had done the same thing on the Crown Vic. Occasionally, I'll put my thumb there while I'm driving and think of my grandpa up in heaven. I feel close to him when I do that. Nope, I'm not getting rid of this car. I'm fixing this car up in his memory.

Guess where my grandfather's thumb used to rest?

What's your Crown Vic Story or Crown Vic Victory? Share in the comments.