Tuesday, Aug. 19, 2003: It's difficult to describe the impact a T-Bird makes, unless you've experienced it. You bet, I enjoy attention (of the right kind) and when a black T-Bird pulled into the Sun parking lot, all eyes were on it. Then me. Lucky me. It could only be me, my co-workers said. No one buys a new Thunderbird on a reporter's salary.

Probably true. The first question I got was "How much?"

With test cars, a window sticker is usually left in the glovebox. I opened the compartment and pulled out the sticker. "$39,190," I said, "is the bottom line. Not many accessories. This has a base price of $37,760."

I'm not sure if the resulting whistle was at the price or the beauty of the T-Bird.

Wednesday, Aug. 20, 2003: The newspaper's sports editor, roughly my age, goes ga-ga over the T-Bird. He wants to show it to his wife. He wants to buy one.

He can't afford one.

His eyes are pleading as he asks to drive it. Just a little ways. I tell him that is often a no-no with the agreements auto writers sign in order to test drive cars. I promise to check and let him know Thursday.

Shoot, he wasn't this excited when the Bucs won the Super Bowl.

But I do understand. I, too, love this car. Ford has hit a generational home run with the retro styling, harkening back to the original T-Bird of 1955, with a few design touches from the 1957 model. Those three years were THE years for Thunderbird. What follows post-1957 is a sorry tale of a good car gone bad, a two-seat funster that morphed into this godawful fat sedan that Ford would eventually perform a mercy killing on.

I've told the tale in great detail in a review of last year's model -- and I encourage you to read that (linked from the end of this piece).

The only styling detail I don't like is the wheels. They just look completely out of place. No retro there. Why couldn't Ford have created little spinner hubcaps, huh? Or made wire wheels standard? These look like today's aftermarket items.

Did I mention I don't like them.

Thursday, Aug. 21, 2003: Editors and reporters, for the most part, begin the day at a 9 a.m. meeting with the editor and managing editor, where the day's expected stories are discussed. From that meeting comes both writing and illustration assignments.

The minute I exited the door, the sports editor was at my side.

"Here," I said, and pulled the keys from my pocket.

Ever see a three-year-old's eyes light up after spotting that new toy?

I swear, his eyes lit up.

He marched to the managing editor's desk and they had a conversation and then the ME and sports editor walked out to together. Ha. He was taking the boss along.

I set about my work.

"Gotta have one," he said about 45 minutes later, handing me the keys over my shoulder. "Great car."

I agreed and I knew his desires meant Ford had hit the bulls-eye for buyers of this two-seater. We're older. We've got money. And we just love the good old days. To us, everything was better. So we play oldies music, keep our hair cut short, and attend reunions -- which I just happened to have coming up Saturday.

Friday, Aug. 22, 2003: Weather again is a player in Florida.

So far during test week, we'd had our daily downpours, but I'd managed to drive exclusively with the top down. The T-Bird has a lovely interior, somewhat retro in design, with a two-tone steering wheel. Under the hood is a 3.9-liter V8 that pumps out 280 horsepower, enough to send the tail wagging if you goose it while turning. But the sound that V8 makes is thrilling, so very far removed from the buzz of those fast and furious little four-cylinders popular now with young people.

My generation likes a throaty exhaust. Corvette. Mustang. T-Bird.

The V8 in the test T-Bird is mated to a five-speed automatic transmission. There is no manual available, and that's fine. The mature types who lust after this car will not want to shift.

Particularly noteworthy is the speed with which the top goes down and back up. Probably no more than 10 seconds for everything. Push a button and flip a latch, then press the power button. Down drops the top.

I did discover that my head brushed the headliner when the top was up -- but that was because someone had jacked up the driver's seat with the power controls. I lowered the seat and had plenty of headroom with the top up and AC on.

Most everything about the T-Bird is familiar, but I do wish Ford had done the following: Use a pull switch for the headlights, as Ford does for its trucks and we did long ago; use an old town-and-country style radio with real, honest knobs to tune stations and adjust volume; put cruise control entirely on the steering wheel (the on-off is behind the wheel and I had to hunt it); put some rolled and pleated Naughahyde seats in there as an option (leather is standard).

The audio system is excellent, as it has to be on a ragtop. I have a six-stack CD to play with.

Other amenities I discovered included auto headlights and dual zone controls for the air conditioning. The safety features are up-to-date: air bags front and side, traction control, plus anti-lock brakes.

Everywhere I drive I get thumbs-up.

Gotta love it.

This car is a keeper.

Saturday, Aug. 23, 2003: I adjust my Saturday work hours to I can attend a very special reunion at 6:30 p.m., 25 miles away.

See, many moons ago, in the then-tiny town of Fort Myers, Florida, seven babies were born during the same hot August week. They would play together as children, attend the same elementary school, the same high school, and graduate on the same day. They saw the first day of television; heard the birth of rock and roll; followed the Korean War events. Troubles -- whether drugs or disease or crime -- happened someplace else. We seven shared a bond that growing up in a magic era in this small town provided.

Sadly, the spouse of one died. To bolster the spirits of the wife, a kind of reunion was planned.

We were invited to the 50th Edison Park Elementary School Reunion.

Shoot, I couldn't miss that.

But I knew I needed a special car, 'cause that's my identity, you understand. I was a car nut back in high school. Everyone recognized my '49 Merc lowered to the ground, flamepainted, with Moon disc hubcaps and Lakes Pipe exhaust system. That's why I asked Ford for the T-Bird this week. There are only two cars in world I'd want to drive to that reunion: a Porsche Boxster or the T-Bird. Since the brother of one attendee already had a Boxster, I knew I would opt for the T-Bird.

And doncha love it that the senior class president drove a T-Bird back then? Black, even. Course, he's become a wealthy recluse now and I figured he wouldn't attend. (He didn't.)

Half way there, I remember that I forgot a camera. Unbelievable. I have this neat car and all these wonderful friends to see again, and I forgot a camara. Normally, I have one in the car, but I'd taken the Nikon Coolpix out of the T-Bird earlier in the week.

Well, sir, the T-Bird was welcomed, but frankly it was nice that I got most of the attention, not the car. Lordy, it's good to see old friends again.

There was my crib mate, a former state representative who hosted the event at his house on the river; my college roommate whom I hadn't seen since we graduated; my boyhood pal with the stratospheric IQ; a girl I had crush on now married to a friend; my best friend in high school; and the guest of honor, who cried at some tributes. My early childhood best friend, born Aug. 20, was remembered on a shared cake - a halo over his high school photograph. He died of a fast-spreading cancer five years ago.

But the most telling thing might be this: We had a great time eating barbecue, catching up on decades of living .. and then went home at 9:30.

9:30? I remember when we partied all night!

9:30.

My wife and I drove the 25 miles home with the top down, an oldies station on the radio, and she even remarked on the stars. Imagine.

Sunday, Aug. 24, 2003: Last day for moving son into new house. Wife and I need to help. But no way am I not taking the T-Bird, even though we need the moving capabilities of my wife's minivan.

So we caravan north on I-75. She leads with her Honda Odyssey. I follow with the Bird.

I keep the top down, and am not terribly disheveled by the 70-plus mph winds. The T-Bird does a fair job of keeping blasts out of the driver's and passenger's faces.

The car is a big hit with the three-year-old twins on hand for the move. Oh man. And even the seven-year-old wants to ride. I remove the key from the ignition and insert it into a spot on the dash that allows me to turn off the passenger-side airbags. Both of them. I'm not sure this is safer, but their momma is happy now.

They're all girls, and all girl. Each is a kind of parade queen in the making. And they treated their ride like that. The bold one didn't want to get out. The shy one wanted papa's cap and plopped it atop her head as we rode. And the seven-year-old laid back and watched the sky. Turn black. She was with me as a rain storm appeared dead ahead. I pulled over, did the 10-second dance on the buttons and we stayed dry from then on.

Monday, Aug. 25, 2003: The car sits all day. I'm writing and videotaping and photographing. Is that a bummer? And it goes back tomorrow.

Safe to say nothing can take its place. I'd own this one in a heartbeat, if I could. My personal car. For special days. Not a daily driver. A special car for special people doing special things. That's how I think of this T-Bird. Ford, you did it!

PRIOR REVIEW: The review of the 2002 Thunderbird (at a time when I had lots of time to devote to this) was one of the complete ever done here. It includes the popular "Amish Test Driver" video clip, and a slide show. Click here to check it out.

Home, James