1960 Plymouth Fury Convertible, Somewhere, USA, 1961
The 1960 Plymouth Fury is one of the most spectacular cars of the space age! First of all, the name, FURY! It’s the only car ever named for violent anger or rage. How weird is that? That pointy front fender; the shape of the wheel wells and yes, just in case you didn’t notice, those ravishing rooster tail fins! Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Over the years I’ve owned more than my fair share of vintage cars. I started collecting them in the early ’80s when they were neither as hard to find or as expensive as they are now. One of my lucky finds was a 1960 Plymouth Fury, just like the one in the slide except it was yellow and it wasn’t a convertible. But I have had convertibles (or ragtops as my dad always called them).
I’ll never forget the time in 1992 I went to Colorado to look at a vintage car. I ended up passing on it so I picked up the classifieds to see what other classics might be available. Not 45 minutes later I was the proud owner of a green metallic 1960 Mercury Monterey Convertible. What I did next was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I drove it home with no brakes. It had been sitting for a while and the brake pedal went right to the floor. Oh well, I know cars so thought I’d be OK. Cars do have emergency brakes after all.
For the next two days I drove that magnificent machine through the wilds between Denver and Los Angeles like a bat out of hell. When it came time to exit the Interstate to get some gas and a snack or whatever, I would glide to a perfect stop at the end of the ramp every time – perfect harmony between man and machine. I never even used the emergency brake once. That is until I arrived home in Los Angeles and overshot the stop light at the end of my exit. Come to find out the emergency brake didn’t work either! Oh no! So I did what Fred Flintstone would do. I opened the door and dragged my foot to stop the car. That didn’t work quite for me like it did for Fred. Good thing it was 3 a.m. and there wasn’t another soul in sight.
Here’s to 1960 Plymouths, never driving without brakes again, and YOU
My mom drove a white Fury. The front of that car always looked angry…the name Fury was perfect. My mom was a sweetheart, but she wore wrap-around sunglasses that made her look mean, and the mean looking car…watch out!. That car is long gone, but someday, I’ll get one again. Thanks for the time travel! Tom
I drove my 64 Falcon home from the last owner’s house…WITH NO BRAKES too. I’m glad to say it has brakes now. My mom had a 60 Fury. At the time I thought it was ugly, but I’d love to own it now
TM
MY GOD!!That thing looks like a battleship on wheels!!I remember as a young child growing up in the sixties and remembering the giant grills on some of these cars which I though made them look like some hideous monsters!!Some of them still look menacing to me even now. Can you imagine one of these tailgating you on the freeway in a tiny import???
Luv, this pic!!
Interesting comments about how “angry”, “mean”, & “hideous” the old Fury looked.
The designers at Plymouth would be PROUD TO READ THAT! I’ve read where some cars were never succesfull simply because, “They looked too nice.”
Interesting commentary on American virtues.
Charles, you are not alone with doing “something stupid” when it comes to car brakes.
I bought my 1971 Dodge Super Bee about 14 years ago from a dealer in Santa Barbara (I am in Chino). We drove up in our other vehicle the night before, stayed in a nice hotel, made a little vacation out of it.
The next day we bought the car and I drove it home. Wouldn’t you know it, it was pouring rain. I didn’t notice this on the car before, but 20 miles from the dealership, intermittently the rear brakes would lock when I applied brakes, sending the tail sideways. I drove that thing for hours home like that, constantly questioning whether I should pull off and have it towed home or just “hoping it would get better”, and modulating the brakes the best I could in heavy rainy traffic—anything to keep it from jerking and skidding. My wife and child traveled behind me in our snug new Dodge truck blissfully unaware of my sweating, white knuckle drive back home.
Dumbest thing I have ever done (aside from the high speed runs in my Charger when I was a kid, along then-desolate El Camino Real outside of Encinitas, but that’s another story…)
The driver appears to be wearing a military uniform, and those buildings in the background definitely look like barracks. I’m thinking Ft. Ord, California, although it could be any military base in 1961.
I owned a 60 Fury Conv in red in 1984. I sold it like a dummy in 1985 to buy a 62 Galaxie XL Conv. I regret selling that car to this day.