After many years of detective work, I finally located the original owner for our Torino. For better or worse, my mom still remembers everything… how much they paid for the convertible, where the funds were originally dedicated to and who was with them that day in July 1976. What started out as a casual review of the classifieds over breakfast, eventually led to a drive up into the West Hills of Portland. An eye Dr. was selling his 1970 Torino convertible for $1400. Upon reaching the house, my dad noted two teenagers who were ‘kicking the tires’ and attempting to negotiate with the owner. Wasting no time, my dad took the convertible out for a quick spin, only to return and offer the full asking price. The Torino was sold, to the chagrin of the two teens. My dad next asked if the black ’55 T-bird sitting in the garage was for sale. The Dr. quickly let him know it wasn’t. As they were leaving, the Dr. mentioned that the top boot might be somewhere in the garage, but it was never found. My folks kept their info for years, and even called on them once to confirm the top operation procedures.
Years would go by and on occasion, either my mom or dad would reference the original owners. Each story would reveal a tad more detail about the day they purchased this now cherished family member. For instance, my dad recalled the owner breaking the back glass due a poorly packed bicycle in the trunk. The detail that there were a couple kids running around. Or the fact that there was tons of sand on the floorboards, likely due to this being their family’s ‘beach car.’ It was also confirmed that the Torino was Mrs. eye doctor’s car. And of course, the mention of the West Hills, a very specific and affluent location in Portland. It became this epic story how the little guy finally got something really cool, for almost nothing (in today’s dollars)!
Flash forward to 2006. I had just taken over ownership and commenced restoration of the Torino. My Marti report revealed lots of great build information, including that it was sold at Joe Fisher Ford in downtown Portland (at the foot of the West Hills). I started to be more curious about the original owners and wanted more information. I had likely read too many articles in Hemmings Muscle Machines about new owners who went on great adventures to track down previous or original owners and receive a mountain of stories, photos and paperwork. Well, this is sorta like that. I did get the name from my mom, but it would take another 5 years of searching the internet to stumble across an obituary. The eye Dr., the man who sold the car to my dad, had passed away. His obituary had offered up key information, in that his grown children were alive and their names were right in front of me. No mention of a wife though. In short order I was able to find contact info for his two kids (now in their 50s).
I really didn’t know what to do or what I was actually looking for. I wasn’t looking for a friend, but more or less a story or two (ok, maybe some original paperwork would be cool too). SO I called each of the kids and relayed my story. Each was like “ok…nice, thanks for calling.” It was super anti-climatic. After pushing a bit, they each offered a couple great memories that were specific to the car. The son had recalled a story about taking the Torino out for a joy ride and entering what was then PGE park (a baseball field, right at the West Hills). He and a couple friends took the car around the bases, “as if we had hit a home run.” This was an amazing tail of adolescences. His dad, the Dr., never found out. The daughter had more tame recollections of taking the car to their beach house.
Now flash forward to 2015… I had taken the Torino out for a joy ride and found myself not too far from the infamous West Hills area. I sort of knew the general area of where the house was located. At one time i had tracked down the house via google maps, and then forgot about it. Besides, what was I gonna do, go up to the house? Well, on this day…that was the case. Almost 40 years to the day…the Torino was going back. At some point, as i was driving up the semi-private street, I knew their was no going back. As I came upon the 50 yard driveway an went up the slight incline a house appeared. It was so weird. I had mad up the scene in my head, after hearing the story over the years, and now here I am.
Then things got interesting…
A man was outside, and he came over to me, likely thinking I was lost. I said I was hear to see the owner, and was she available? He said, “let me get my wife.” His wife turned out to be the daughter that I has chatted with some time ago. She was very polite but clearly a bit perturbed that I showed up unannounced. My stomach was in my throat. What was initially supposed to be an innocent history mission, now seemed like a bad decision. She eventually came down and asked my up to the house. When I entered I saw a little frail woman sitting in a chair. This was the original owner. Likely in her late 80s and suffering from emphysema (based on her condition and the heavy smoke smell). We exchanged pleasantries and then I began to introduce myself and my quest. I slowly and succinctly explained that I owned her old Torino. I asked if she remembered it and if she had stories. Boy did she. She exclaimed that she hated that car as the seats were always hot and it messed up her hair. She remembered going to the beach in it and their family did enjoy it for a bit. But most of all, she recalled her husband buying the Torino for her as some sort of ‘keep me happy gift.” She then relayed, “that didn’t work.” Feeling a bit of pressure from the daughter to hurry up, I finished my questioning and said my goodbyes. As I got in the car to leave, the little old lady appeared in the second story window and waved. What an amazing experience. case closed. almost.
Later that night I received a very terse email from the son. He expressed his concern that I invaded their privacy, confused his mother and I was basically nuts. My heart sunk. How could this have gone so wrong? Definitely not my intentions. I responded as politely as possible, first apologizing and then confirming that I would not seek them out again. A few months later the mom passed away (I had friended the daughter some years before on FB). Within 6 months, the house in the West Hills had sold.
1970 Torino GT Convertible 