Meet Little Sally.

2003 Lincoln LS. Three years in the drive. Four wooded acres, every season, waiting. This week she started coming back.

Little Sally. 2003 Lincoln LS. I bought her in the spring of 2023.

Between the increasing demands of Melody’s health, the economy, and — yes — having three degrees that apparently don’t pay the bills automatically, I participate in clinical trials. One in particular required a ten-day hospital stay. That was a fun time. It paid well, and I decided, since I had sold everything else to keep the lights on, that we needed a second car. Something reliable. Something easier for Melody as her health declined.

I looked for several months. I had it narrowed to three Lincolns and decided to follow the ads and see where they led. The first was the MKZ — my mother-in-law had one, I drove it a few times, and I was genuinely surprised. The second was the classic Town Car. The third was the LS.

Three years of Georgia seasons.

Jefferson, Georgia.

I made appointments. Oddly, nearly every single one of them was in Jefferson, Georgia. I mean — Jef-fuuur-son, Geor-giaaa. Every appointment I made — and I live on the Southside of Atlanta — they suddenly disappeared. Phone left in the car. Kid’s ball game. The football game. You know the one — the Church of Puppy Dogs and Worship Thereof. I don’t miss living in Jefferson, and shopping for a car reminded me exactly why.

I did look at a few. But this one was also in Jefferson, and they actually responded. Timely, even.

And the car had a story. Grandma passed. Left this and a Navigator to the family. New baby, needed more space, had to make a sacrifice. No title, but honest — they sent in the forms and promised it was coming. Six months of unreturned messages and three years later, there is still no title.

So that was the second problem. The first was mechanical.

The Work.

The car was not well cared for by the grandbaby, so I had to evaluate, then prioritize. It needed fluids and a tuneup. It had codes — many codes — and of course the dashboard was a Christmas tree.

I have this habit, same as with my house and property: I buy fixer-uppers, and I genuinely enjoy taking something from “just junk it” to restored, running condition. I’m also a sucker for German cars and I bleed blue. I pulled the intake, valves, plugs — all the basic work you’d do. Replaced all four O2 sensors and found the main culprit. Grandbaby must have tried to play mechanic and forgot to tighten one back down.

Worn but honest. Being sorted.

Then 2025 happened.

Melody’s health declined sharply — six hospitalizations last year, and now a cancer diagnosis. The roof on the secondary garage collapsed. The neighbor’s dogs killed all but one of our hive colonies. That’s just the highlight reel.

Sally became a low priority. Life has a way of doing that.

But now she’s a high priority. Our main vehicle needs a tuneup and won’t pass inspection, and after the year I just described — one night leaving the hospital, running home to feed the dogs and birds, grab clean clothes and some semblance of sanity — I had a flat in the parking lot. Put the spare on. Got home and the spare was going flat too. Plugged it. Then the windshield cracked. Then the crossover pipe for the thermostat started leaking. All the same day.

Those have since been fixed, but then the air suspension went. The pump I’ve replaced three times now, and I’m done replacing it until the shock itself is sorted — which means for now the ride is rough. Rough enough that Melody feels every bit of it, which for her is not a small thing. That’s the truck’s lane right now. Sally’s job is to be the smooth one.

Two more sensor codes followed. Most are easy fixes — they just take time. Time I don’t have.

What if I got the Lincoln going?

This Week.

She sat in the drive for three years. Four wooded acres, pine trees overhead, every season taking its turn. By the time I got back to her she was wearing it — thick with tree debris, pollen, pine sap, and whatever else accumulates when a car just sits and waits. Inside was its own story.

Before.

After two washes.

This week: sensors done. I washed her twice — wet scrub first to break the worst of it loose, then a full wash with a borax solution. She’s starting to look like herself again. Brakes are next and in progress.

I’m happy to report there’s a bond on the title. A couple more items and she’ll be basic road-worthy and tagged.

And somewhere along the way I fell in love with her.

The Weird Car Thing.

I seem to have a knack for the weird cars. I’m a loyal Taurus SHO fan — and for the first time in twenty years, I don’t have one in my garage. The SHO was a weird marriage between Ford and Yamaha, about a decade ahead of its time. A proper sport sedan — sports car power wrapped in full sedan comfort and luxury. Parts are harder to find now, and for the complex stuff you need to find somebody like me. Do not take a SHO to Jiffy Lube for a tuneup. Just don’t.

The Lincoln LS is also a collaboration — Ford Motor Company and Jaguar. Produced for six years. Available with a V8 and a manual transmission.

Go ahead and think about that for a second.

That’s on my list.

She’s getting there.

So. Stay tuned. A proper detail by the best in the business — Usher — is coming when she’s ready for it.

The drive already reminds me of my German cars and the SHO, if the SHO had been balanced more correctly. Funny how we keep getting drawn to the same things, even when we end up there by accident.