A lot of times we just ignore seventies cars.  Those of us that grew up with these cars weren’t really impressed with their performance or their looks.  As a teenager, I was quite a car snob.  I drove a Chrysler Cordoba, but all I cared about was Corvettes, Porsches, and other real cars.  A car like this 1974 Mercury Comet being sold on eBay out of Howell, New Jersey wouldn’t even register in my consciousness.  That was until the day Marvin the parking lot attendant showed my pal and I what a sleeper was in a Ford Maverick similar to this car.  While I am sure Marvin’s Maverick has gone off to the great wrecking yard in the sky, this Comet is about as close as you will get to it.  With a current bid of $2,550, the chance to give some snotty teenagers a display in raw power might come at a bargain price!

Things were kind of laid back in the early eighties.  At my high school, most of the juniors and seniors were allowed to drive to school.  Unlike today, nearly everyone had a car and brought it to school.  I was no different.  Over the three years that I was able to drive to school (I got to drive to school my sophomore year thanks to my mom annoying the dean to death.), I drove three vehicles: a 1980 Chrysler Cordoba, a 1974 Porsche 914, and a 1989 Ford Ranger.  Kids leaving whenever they liked was obviously a big problem, but the school board had a solution: Marvin.

Marvin was a white haired retired fellow that was supposed to stop any students from leaving the massive parking lot by blocking the single entrance with his faded green Maverick coupe.  Of course, your curb hopping skills could gain you access to the outside world if Marvin wasn’t watching.  Many times he wasn’t.  The problem was that Marvin was there the whole time the school was open, and sitting in a Maverick in the Florida sun all day was boring.  It made you thirsty as well.

So, Marvin eventually combined his work time with his beer drinking hobby.  Suddenly, the day went by a lot faster for the guy.  Marvin’s attitude towards stopping you softened as the day wore on and the Pabst Blue Ribbon flowed.  By noon, any excuse would get you out of the parking lot.  Of course, we were fine with that.  As for the administration, I never saw anyone in power ever go out to talk to Marvin.  Come to think about it, I never saw Marvin come into the school to use the restroom.  Given the amount of nepotism and cronyism present in the county school system at the time, my guess is that Marvin was “given” a job by a friend or relative and that was that.

One day, my friend David and I were hanging out in the parking lot after school talking about, what else, cars.  Most everybody had left.  Except for Marvin.  He saw us talking I guess, and decided to join the conversation.  When he fired up the Maverick, I remember that the low, rumbling sound of the engine immediately caught our attention.  We had never heard the thing running before, and its looks made having anything other than an anemic inline six a possibility that never crossed our minds.  He swung around and pulled up next to us on the driver’s side.

When he stopped, we looked inside and saw a big tach on the side of the steering column and a Hurst shifter that looked like it was pulled out of a drag car resting on the transmission hump.  I don’t remember what he said.  I do remember that he was rather drunk and slurring his words a bit.  What he did next was epic.  He told us to watch this, and then shoved the car in gear.  The engine started screaming, Marvin dropped the clutch, and proceeded to do a burnout that would do John Force proud.  He burned rubber for 100 yards, slid sideways out into the street and raced off to battle traffic.  Dave and I just stared at eachother with our mouths hanging wide open for a minute, then started to laugh uncontrollably.  It was awesome, and we never looked at Marvin or a junky car the same way again.

The seller of this 1974 Mercury Comet, a badge engineered version of the Ford Maverick, may be a cousin or son of Marvin’s.  On the outside, the brownish orange paint job and all the chrome trim don’t give you any clue as to what is under the hood.  Neither does the bench seat with a tan vinyl seat cover.  Only the custom wheels and dual exhaust give you any indication that this is not a normal car.  When you look inside, the big tach and floor shifter give you a hint that something is not right.  From there, you either learn about the true purpose of this car by looking under the hood at the 302 cubic inch engine covered with speed parts, or you get a lesson when it whips you in a stoplight showdown.  The seller tells us that it runs and drives well, and that there is a stack of new parts installed on the car.  I don’t doubt it.

I would imagine that this car has surprised many a Mustang or Camaro in New Jersey.  Thinking about Marvin, I wonder how many people he whipped in street races.  Maybe he never drove the car hard on the street.  For some people, the important thing is knowing you have what it takes if the time to use it ever comes.

Anyone ever have a guy like Marvin drift through your life?