As I approached birthday number 70, the thought entered my mind that I needed one more hot rod before I reached the other end. During my high school and early college years, life was all about hot rods, drag racing, and Saturday night cruising. In my junior year of college, however, I discovered dirt bikes and motorcycle racing, and in the following 40-some years, bikes, racing, and my motorcycle shop became my focus.
Initially, my late-life quest was for a ’37 Ford. I still felt guilty that I had never finished the coupe my father and I spent evenings and weekends laboring on in my high school years. Alas, the candidates I found were either beyond my budget or overwhelming projects.
My second choice was easy: I had always been attracted to the 1964–65 Ford Rancheros. They are from an era I am very fond of and were (still are) relatively inexpensive. The Ford Falcon Ranchero is small, lightweight, and could be had with V-8 and four speed. A HOT ROD! A hot rod with a pickup bed. I would be able to haul my dirt bike preservations to the many local gearhead social gatherings. And that styling; I realize it is personal taste, but to me these two years of Ford Falcons were to automotive styling what “midcentury modern” homes were to architecture. The sculpted body panels and “afterburner” taillights bring to mind the Convair F-102 Delta Dagger and NASA’s rockets. The exaggerated shape of the era.
So, the search began …
The Ranchero I was looking for was the base model (minimal chrome) with a bench seat and the 260-cubic-inch V-8 four-speed option. After almost a year of casual searching around my home state of Colorado and beyond, I located a candidate—a silver ’65 in California. Initially I thought the asking price was more than I wanted to spend, but once I factored in the newly rebuilt drivetrain and fairly fresh paint and interior, I decided it was the one. It arrived by truck and was unloaded in the slush of a recent snow storm. Upon inspection, I found that the Ranchero surpassed my expectations. The paint and interior were very nice (bonus: the upholstery was era-correct roll and pleat). Everything worked, and the exhaust system from the headers back was new, producing a throaty rumble that at times was borderline obnoxious. Just the thing for a 70-year-old adolescent.
End of story, right? So thought my wife. “Good, it’s all done. You won’t be working on it all the time.” Well, it did not quite work out that way. She had forgotten that her husband has this incredible ability to create projects. Her assessment is that my garage projects generate “smelly noises.” Every spare minute over the next three years was spent perfecting the silver Falcon.
My first focus was the chassis. I added a larger front sway bar, an under-engine cross member, and welded-in frame connectors. A stiffer chassis for those Saturday morning traffic-circle Grands Prix. The next priority was the hood. The previous owner had installed Camaro-style hood louvers. Not exactly my thing, but removing them left 14 holes in the hood. I decided a hood scoop would be era-correct. I spent three weeks crafting a mid-’60s-style scoop from fiberglass. At that point, I decided that the bent and dented grill was not up to my standards. After a week of tapping and polishing, it was acceptable. Those in my household found the constant plink-plink of this process quite annoying.
Other projects included converting the front brakes to disc, modifying the transmission linkage for a tighter shift pattern, replacing the stock instrument cluster with individual gauges, and cleaning the engine compartment. “Cleaning” is a gross understatement, because years of rust, grease, and grime had simply been painted over. I am obsessed with engine aesthetics, so that would not do. I took the engine bay down to bare metal and repainted it. I removed and replaced the stamped sheet metal shock tower braces with tubular braces I fabricated myself. I replaced the single-reservoir master cylinder with a dual-reservoir style and the original generator with a single-wire alternator, which aided in cleaning up the wiring. I cleaned and painted the engine and rusty headers and polished all the polishable metals, including the radiator tank. I couldn’t resist.
Next I tackled the pickup bed. It had amassed lots of dings and dents over the years. I was retired by this point, so I was able to spend a full week with hammer and dolly making it right. Of course, that bed had the resonance of a gigantic kettle drum. I’m sure the process didn’t endear me to my neighbors, but amazingly no one complained. The final major project was to clean and paint the undercarriage.
An old Hot Rod magazine featured a clean little Model A roadster. The owner described it as “just plain pipe racks.” As I recall, the phrase came from the clothing industry and described an item off the pipe racks. The item wasn’t fancy or cutting edge, but good, clean, simple design. Hopefully, that describes my Falcon Ranchero. Of course, I’m interested in cutting-edge technology, but this little truck is the replica of a vehicle I might have had in the 1960s or ’70s. And the huge bonus is that I can throw a dirt bike in the back.
Report by Roger Dowden for hagerty.com
