I’m not entirely certain what’s going on here, but I feel like were you to wander onto this scene, alone and confused, and saw that huge V8 two-door “personal car” parked cavalierly on manicured grass, and just aft of it stands a very pissed-looking woman in a white skirt, holding what appears to be a full-grown cougar on a leash. What the hell is going on here? Is this person the leader of some sort of cult? Why does she look so pissed? Did I do something wrong? Is that cougar going to leap at my crotch, sharp teeth and claws bared, at any second? Can I just leave the way I came?
These were pretty sinister-looking cars, I always thought, with their inscrutable eyeless faces, long hoods and that sweeping arc of a character line coming from the front side of the rear wheelarch. I also like how the three-speed auto for these was called a Merc-O-Matic, because that’s a hell of a lot of fun to say. Merc-O-Matic, Merc-O-Matic.
None of this explains why this lady looks so disgusted with me, though.