- 14 years old
- Date of birth: Jun 22, 1999
- Date of passing: Feb 6, 2014
|Let the memory of The Escort be with us forever|
The time has come. Our dear friend, The Escort aka The Shitbird, is no more. The polar vortex proved too much for her blessed heart and she has gone to the impound lot in the sky. We had some fun times in this beast throughout the 14 years that I owned it. Please share any stories of The Escort you remember in "Stories" tab above or the "Leave a Tribute" section below, so her legacy can live on forever in our hearts (and on this website until they realize "The '98 Escort" is not a person and take it down).
"While we all enjoy many nights with good friends over the course of our youth, there are only some that are truly memorable and are remembered by all involved years, indeed decades, later.
The Escort was there for one of those nights."
"I had the privilege of riding in the Escort recently for it's last big interstate journey to New Jersey. Sure there were audible creaks and cranks any 15 year old motorized powerhouse would have. Sure there were holes in the exterior making us feel like we were sitting outside the whole way. Sure there was an ever-present sense of impending doom the further away we got from home. So what??? That's all besides the point, which is that the Escort got us where we wanted to go and back in one piece, just as Ford intended! A more reliable piece of machinery you couldn't ask for.
I hope someday after it's scraped and melted down for steel it becomes something useful in it's next life. I for one would be thrilled at the chance to own a formerly '98 Escort tool kit."
"This may be an unorthodox way to begin a eulogy, but I don't remember shit about that car. Not because we didn't make memories in it, but because it was too reliable to draw attention to itself. Did we take it on Amoco runs, filling its trunk with Special Brew? Probably yes. Was it driven to TGI Friday's in search of our crooked waiter, and via his criminality, a series of Ultimate Mudslides? Almost definitely. Was it there at Nathan's, when some dude attempted to rob Kyle's quarters while he was awkwardly playing that rather physically demanding skateboarding game? It's likely.
But I can't say for sure, because unlike many vehicles of its generation, the Escort was a trustworthy, silent and humble servant.
The only reason I remember Matt's piece of shit car was because we crashed it and it crumpled like a soda can. I recall the air inside Joey Silverman's car smelling like a bus depot. And I remember Kyle's car just because in my heart I know it must have sucked. But the 'Scort was good, man. It just drove. Like a car's supposed to.
I don't know what happened after Ol' '98 and I parted ways. Looks like it got real fucked up. That's a bummer. But it can rest easy knowing that it just did its thing without being a pussy about it.
Usually the only thing that follows you from high school through well into your thirties is stuff like depression and anxiety and bad habits and sadness. So, pretty cool that a car pulled it off. If there's a Ford heaven, I think it's a done deal."
"The Escort was not just a car, but a gateway to simpler times. To a time that plastic dinosaurs ruled the dashboard and music was stored on tape. It was from an era that saw bolts holding the engine to the frame as optional, and we did just fine without them.
I remember a trip to either Long Island or Westchester that involved cassette tape repair to listen to a high school teacher's band. I remember trying to move some sort of medium sized luggage in the trunk, only to find that it was already overfilled with... stuff that's clearly not garbage.
Goodbye, Escort, your memory will live on. I will light a candle in your memory and keep it a safe distance from your fuel tank."
"I'll never forget putting a damn windshield wiper on and my back going out for 3 days. those were the days."
"I'll never forget the crisp fall morning in 2003 as we rode back to Weschester from New Paltz. After bowing out early the previous night from a failed attempt at recapturing college glory, I spent the remainder of the night vomiting on myself and crashing on Matty D's haunted house/student slum mansion. That morning I awoke with the smell of vomit tinged SoCo and Lime and Lemon drop shots on my clothes. As I walked to 'The Escort I knew a long ride of shame was in order.
After 15 minutes of hung over silence cruising down I87, I finally spoke, "Chris that smell, I'm..."
"Yeah...I'm sorry Brian, I vomitted all over myself in the parking lot of P&Gs..."
98' Escort I'll never forget you or that smell. RIP"
"I still remember meeting Escort for the first time like it was yesterday. Chris pulled up with this infamous Escort that I had been hearing about for years but never seen, it was almost a ghost car by to me at that point. Escort was a gentle soul, blew out some warm air on a chilly rainy night, sheltered my friends to a play and back. I can still remember the worn down velvety seats along with that aged plaster smell radiating from the dashboard. Although sadden I wasn't able to say one last goodbye before she left, she left too soon as all the good ones do, but I'm sure we'll meet again...in heaven."
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