My Favorite Ride: Twenty years later, a man and his many Ford Falcons
Twenty years ago, I ventured out with my camera and reporter's notebook to see Eric May and his cool collection of seven rusting-away Ford Falcons.
Five of the cars were 1965 models, May's favorite year for the Falcon. He also had a 1963 and a 1964.
We talked about his plan to mine parts from some of the cars to rebuild his favorite one, the 1965 he had hidden away in a barn on his property.
"You kind of scratch your head and wonder why you do it, and there really is no answer," he said of the proposed project.
That 2003 column ended with this: "He says he will bring it back to the way it was nearly 40 years ago. Someday."
Eric, are you out there working on the car? Let me know.
From September 2003: 'These Falcons don't fly'
When I heard about Eric May and his car collection, I was intrigued.
He owns seven Ford Falcons. None of them run, and most are stored in the woods behind his May Road home. One has sassafras and maple trees growing in the engine compartment.
One, a red 1965 Futura convertible, chauffeured Margaret Schricker Robbins, daughter of former Indiana governor Henry Schricker, in Ellettsville's Fall Festival sesquicentennial parade in 1987. But it's no longer parade-worthy; the car sits outside May's barn, crunchy brown leaves littering the interior and a can of WD-40 lying on the torn driver's seat.
Fixing a 1964 car: My Favorite Ride: Sprucing up a 1964 Thunderbird for its 60th birthday
He intends to fix it up. Someday, even though he knows it will cost more than the car is worth to do it right.
"You kind of scratch your head and wonder why you do it, and there really is no answer," he said. Maybe it's his love for the Falcon, especially those manufactured in 1965. "In my opinion, 1965 was the highlight of the Falcon," May said. "It was the prettiest Falcon they made.
"May also has plans to restore a family heirloom; the blue 1965 two-door, six-cylinder station wagon he, his mother and his two sisters drove around town for 15 years. It's parked behind his barn, obscured by weeds, missing its original driver's side door. For years, he drove it to junkyards to strip parts off crashed and abandoned Falcons.
"I'd say this is probably one of the hardest to find," he said of the wagon. "Everything on it is as original as the day it was brand new." It's been out of commission about six years.
A black 1963 Falcon May bought from a man west of Patricksburg so he could have the stabilizer bar, its wheels encrusted with rust and body covered with primer, sits nearby.
A walk into the woods reveals a barn containing the 1965 Falcon that first caught his eye. To get there, you walk past three Falcon shells, mined for parts, that are part of the landscape these days.
There's the one-owner 1964, with 70,000 miles on the odometer that over 15 years has become a planter for trees. Two others — both 1965s — are nearly hidden by vegetation.
Another car hidden in vegetation: My Favorite Ride: Mystery car in Yellowwood State Forest still unidentified
Parked in that barn is the 1965 Falcon that started it all. It once belonged to an older boy that lived next door, May said, and as a youngster he would help work on the car.
"He and a buddy were always fooling around with cars under this big tree that was right by the road," said May, the maintenance supervisor at Bloomington High School South. "I was little enough that I could crawl under the car for them if they needed, and if they dropped a nut or bolt or something, I would get it. I said, 'Someday boys, I will own that car,' and they just laughed.
"Years later, he showed them. "It was probably in the late 1970s when I got it," May recalled. "It was just a shell by then, no engine. But it's my favorite one, I imagine.
"He says he will bring it back to the way it was nearly 40 years ago.
Someday.
Got a story to tell about a car or truck? Call 331-4362, send an e-mail to lane@heraldt.com or a letter to My Favorite Ride, P.O. Box 909, Bloomington, 47402.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Times: My Favorite Ride: Twenty years later, a man and his many Ford Falcons
