I swear this Ford has been stirring up trouble in Fort Stockton for longer than anyone can remember, going all the way back to the day it came off the auto hauler in 1965.

Much like Mayberry, Fort Stockton was a firm believer that Law & Order was best preserved from behind the wheel of police cars manufactured by the Ford Motor Company, and endeavored to be sure that’s all that was purchased. Granted, there was that one year when somehow a whole fleet of Hudson city vehicles ended up being delivered, police cars included. It seems Mayor Goodman’s brother-in-law had just purchased the Hudson dealership over in Lockhart. Those were all quickly disposed of once the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch printed an eight part series on small town corruption. After the third installment, the Hudson dealership was seized by the Texas Rangers (law enforcement, not the baseball team). Mayor Goodman’s brother-in-law read the final installment of the expose from a cell, awaiting trial on fraud charges, and later jury tampering.

Anyway, Ford was the brand of choice and it was understood that low-end, full-sized models would be the ones to Serve and Protect.  The good citizens of Fort Stockton were not going to pay extra to have the underbelly of society delivered to the drunk tank in the lap of luxury.  If they were going to blow their cookies on the way to the pokey, better to do it on the vinyl backseat of a lowly Ford Custom that could be easily hosed out behind City Hall, if need be.

So when the fleet of new 1965 squad cars showed up on the auto hauler in front of Frontier Ford (“Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal”), folks were taken aback at the gleaming Galaxie 500 Hardtop Sedan that was the very first car unloaded.  Mayor Goodman was quick to give instructions to Tooter, the guy in charge of the Make Ready Department, to get the Galaxie 500 around back and out of the public eye.  

Seems the mayor had made a deal with Chief Brody Martin to upgrade his ride under the radar. In just one more of those “I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine” situations that Mayor Goodman is famous for, he agreed to the Galaxie 500 upgrade for the Chief in exchange for the Chief expunging the record of the arrest of the Mayor’s sister on charges of solicitation and loose morals. The Mayor’s sister, Holly Goodman, was more commonly called “The Radio” because she was so easy to pick up, particularly at night. The Mayor was doing everything he could to help his sister clean up her act so she could find a respectable man to marry and the Mayor could get her off the city payroll before anyone found out she’d never once shown up for work. Folks liked to say she was born on the wrong side of the blanket. What they meant was, she was as loose as a bucket of soot.

Well, you don’t keep a secret as big as a Galaxie 500 hardtop sedan for long in a town as small as Fort Stockton. Within a week they were talking about it over at the Klip-N-Dye. Two weeks after that, it was all anyone could bring up while checking out at the Piggly Wiggly. There were even rumors that the city council was going to exile the Chief and his Ford to Marfa in a editorial the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch titled, “A Galaxie Far, Far Away”.

To fade the heat, Chief Martin “let slip” the fact that Holly Goodman had been on the city payroll in ‘Animal Services’ but had never once shown up for work, much less actually set a raccoon trap or hauled in a rabid dog. It took the pressure off him, and his new police cruiser, long enough for the dust to settle. Everyone got used to seeing him behind the wheel of a car far outside the bounds of what was needed for proper law enforcement. Talk of his exile to Marfa subsided as the focus shifted to Holly. When interviewed in the Telegram-Dispatch about the dog catcher dust-up, it didn’t help that her only comment was “I love doggy. It’s my favorite position. You can both watch TV.”

While Chief Martin thought the controversy was over, the whole thing flared up again in 1969 when it was time to order a new fleet of squad cars.  “As nice as that Galaxie 500 must be, there’s no need to replace it with something new.  Chief Martin can make do till next time,” Marsha Collinsworth, parliamentarian for the city council, went on record as saying.  The same thing happened in ’73, then ’78.  Fort Stockton didn’t buy new squad cars in ’77 because that’s the year Marsha had her hysterectomy and couldn’t fill out the paperwork.

By 1981 most people felt like it was probably time for the Chief to get a new cruiser. However, Mayor Goodman, still reeling from the fact that Holly had been forced to move in with him and his wife, held a grudge and made sure that it was 1993 before the Chief got a new squad car. “That ol’ ’65 Galaxie’s got nearly 900,000 miles on it,” Tooter, over at Frontier Ford laughed. “They’ve spent more keeping’ that ol’ Ford on the road than six new ones woulda cost!” It was a ‘moral victory’, if not a financial one.

And that would have been the end of the story, had Skeeter Stitch not got involved. Skeeter, flush with cash from the herd of emu he had grazing the grasslands of his uncle’s place out off Highway 10, bought the used up Galaxie 500 at public auction for next to nothing. “Spent ‘nuff time in the back of that sumbitch, owe it to myself to spend some time up front,” Skeeter said as he peeled off two crisp Benjamins for the Ford. That was only the beginning.

Skeeter took to Galaxie over to Earl’s Salvage Yard and Formalwear and had Earl’s nephew, Dogpyle, sandblast the bejeezus out of it, taking it all the way down to bare US Steel. Then Skeeter had Dogpyle clear coat the damn thing, rust holes and all. Shinier than a diamond in a goat’s butt, Dogpyle proclaimed he could see his own reflection in the fenders. Not exactly a selling point, but a keen observation, nonetheless. Skeeter went over to the custom wheel and cumberbund section of the showroom at the salvage yard and picked out a brand new set of black 20” Rocket Racing wheels. Next morning, Skeeter’s stepmother brought in an almost new set of Advanta HPZ-01 tires with very little tread wear on them. Ironically, a new Camaro was found up on blocks behind the Eggs & Ammo that same morning, but coincidence is hard to prove in a court of law.

Wilwood disc brakes, Hotchkis control arms, AutoMeter gauges, a Kenwood Bluetooth media player, and a Fass Diesel Fuel Systems fuel pump and fuel cell, an Air Lift air-ride suspension, a TRZ Motorsports anti-roll bar, Competition Engineering rear shocks, a Turbo Action Cheetah SCS shifter, an intercooler, an aluminum radiator, and a exhaust pipe that exits through the hood were all subtle upgrades that breathed new life into an old Ford, not to mention the 5.9 liter Cummins inline-six turbodiesel Skeeter’d commandeered. Somehow, the Galaxie had time traveled from the streets of Mayberry to the ethers of YouTube. The cabin was treated to a sheathing of fresh diamond-pleated leatherette. The original plan had been full emu upholstery, but someone left the gate open.

In the ultimate irony, Mayor Goodman didn’t even recognize the Galaxie when Skeeter, having finished the tedious transformation of the hellacious hardtop, showed up at his doorstep to pick-up Holly for a date. “Nice ride you got there, Skeeter,” the Mayor said. “Hadn’t seen a ’65 Galaxie since I don’t know when.” Skeeter just snickered as he put a fresh wad of Redman Chewing Tobacco in between his cheek and what had one time been his gums.

Holly showed up wearing a sundress that she knew would wind up in a heap on the floorboard, anyway.  A shade of red lipstick that could trip you and beat you to the floor completed the look.  Skeeter opened the door for her to get in the Galaxie, a show of chivalry usually postponed until she exited of the cabin for most of Holly’s dates, attempting to speed up the process.  Mrs. Goodman joined the Mayor at the front door as the Galaxie rumbled down the road.  “I swear that girl is more wild than an acre of snakes,” she observed.

When Holly got home late that night, she and the Galaxie both looked just as good as they did when they’d left. Skeeter, on the other hand, had one wheel down and his axle was draggin’. The Galaxie 500’s transformation may have inspired him to new levels of manliness, but in Holly, he’d discovered his limitations. They married six weeks later. She moved into Skeeter’s Airstream out on the forty acres the emu had been grazing on before they all ran off.

On clear nights in early spring and late fall, you can still see two gleaming, shiny metallic objects parked next to each other as the sun sets on the horizon. When the glare subsides, close your eyes. If the wind is blowing just right, you can hear howls and shrieks in the distance. It could be the mating sounds of feral hogs in full rut. It could be the last sound an emu makes as it hits the grille of a Peterbilt at 80 miles an hour. Or it could be Skeeter, unbridled in his passion and shed of all inhibitions, as Holly fully tests the load leveling capabilities of an Airstream.

Amazing the capabilities an old Ford can stir.