To me, “full-sized car” means full-sized. As a child, the family cars were always reasonably large Buicks--a mid-50s Special followed by an '61 or '62 Electra, a '63 Riviera, a late 60s LeSabre, and an '73 Century. We then down-sized, much to the pleasure of my mother, who swears by her Fiat X1/9 (she's now on her THIRD one). My parents and sister all have developed a liking for small and medium-sized cars.  I myself went through various cars: a much-loved '68 Mustang convertible, '68 Thunderbird, '83 Trans Am, and an '85 Buick Century. But, somewhere in the dim recesses of my unyielding Neanderthal brain was a persistent little voice saying “big, big, big”, so I bought a '94 Chevy Caprice. Wow, what a wonderful, cushy, loaded, fast, roomy long-distance runner.  Sliding behind the Caprice’s wheel for the first time had been like coming home.  I loved being in it and hated to sell it but eventually had to, since I’d found a car I couldn’t resist...a  1966 Toronado.

In 1995, while writing a dissertation on innovation and learning in the auto industry, I saw a picture and description of a ‘66 Toro. It was love at first sight--the unrestrained lines, the endless power, the showcase of cutting-edge technology, the completely American scale of it all.  There are cars, and then there are Cars. I was instantly and completely hooked, and spent the next three years learning more and looking around.  This thing, this Toronado, was humongous. It was fast. It was sleek. I found myself imagining how proud its engineers must have felt and what a completely show-stopping entrance it must have made into the market. I'd never seen anything like it before--or since. And, Lord help me, I WANTED one...

The first one I ever saw up close and drove was in Davenport, Iowa--a Deluxe with the remnants of a gorgeous turquoise interior.  My heart was thumping when I first saw it. Those razor-edged fenders, the  endless hood, the curves--ohmigod, the curves. How can a car designed almost forty years ago look that good?!

I kept looking, calling, never finding the right one. Twice, I unexpectedly saw that distinctive front end out of the corner of my eye and made hasty U-turns--once somewhere in Montana and once in Kansas City.  Drove a fairly decent red one in Connecticut, and saw another turquoise beater in North Carolina.  Then, one day in May 1998, I drove 100 miles north of my home in Champaign, Illinois to check out the latest one.

What I found in this fellow’s garage was a faded dubonnet-colored ‘66 Deluxe with 61,000 miles, no body damage (other than crazed and flaking paint, very minor rust and a slightly pitted taillight panel) and a very dusty but 99% perfect plum interior. The AC didn’t work, one window was slow, the muffler and resonators were shot, no sound came out of the Wonderbar, and the radiator hoses looked 32 years old, but so what? The interior was great, the drivetrain seemed fine, and the body needed minimal repair and a fresh paint job.  So, off we went. Whaddaya know--it tracked straight and tight, the headlights came up, and the brakes worked. The owner said “Doesn’t feel like you’re going 100, does it?"   I agreed, not figuring out until a week later that the speedometer reads 10% high--a common Toronado problem.

The next weekend I got a ride up and put my money on the table. Just in case, I brought along my emergency road kit: a Swiss Army knife, a pair of pliers, a roll of duct tape...and a credit card. Filled the tires, checked the fluids, and then drove gently home, enjoying the view over that chromed dash and sculpted mile-long hood, grinning and cackling like a demented monkey the entire way back on I-57.  Friends and family thought I was nuts. They were absolutely right, and I couldn't have been happier.

I spent the next few weekends dealing with safety and reliability basics (and selling the Chevy), then put it all to the test with a 750 mile drive back east to my new job. I will admit that front seats have come a long way in the three decades since this car was built,but the trip was a blast. Loaded with belongings, and at a steady actual 70-75 (77-83 indicated), it got a livable 13 miles to each gallon of premium. In-town mileage? Well...if you have to ask, you're missing the point of the car.

I’m still having fun. Yes, there have been age-related problems here and there, some of which my fellow Toro fanatics have heard about and helped solve, and there’s always something else to put on the never-finished do-list, but I can honestly say that I smile every time I put the key in the dashboard. I LOVE driving my car and apparently a lot of other people get a kick out of it, too. The most common question I hear: “What is that?”  Telling them it’s front-wheel-drive usually brings a wow, and opening the hood on that nice V-8 always brings one.  It’s also been a pleasant surprise to discover that there are a few other Gen I Toros lurking around my home in northern Virginia.

On the positive side, it’s spacious, reliable, and fun to drive. The size and, um...unique...handling are things one becomes accustomed to very quickly.  Going fast is kinda like sitting at the back of a Saturn V rocket, with this giant roaring mass of machinery in front of you.You don't so much steer as point it,  and when going over the top of a steep rise the only thing you see is a giant front end pointing into the sky. It can go through the twisties much faster than it has any right to--just step on the gas and hold on--and it climbs steep, snow-covered hills without slipping at all.  With 475 pound-feet of torque, a light touch on the gas is all that’s needed to start the drum-style speedometer rolling, and a heavy touch smokes the front tires.  In my fairly biased opinion, it has a very  high fun-per-pound score and, since it weighs almost 2.5 tons, that adds up to ear-to-ear grins.

On the negative side? Well, it has a healthy appetite for high-octane fuel and front tires, the ride is stiff at low speeds, some parts are scarce or expensive, and the safety features are outclassed by today’s designs. However, I often walk/bicycle to work, I drive carefully, and even with the money I have and will put into it, it still adds up to a lot less than a new car. Not that I really needed to rationalize it anyway...

So, for the Toro-heads, what are the specifics?

As mentioned, it’s a dubonnet ‘66 deluxe with plum cloth interior, serial number 17199. Options include power windows, 6-way power seat, standard AC, tilt-telescoping wheel, cruise control, AM-FM Wonderbar with rear speaker, original matching passenger floor mat, remote trunk release, remote driver’s mirror, rear window defrost, and now a passenger-side outside mirror.  I found a gorgeous set of original chrome wheels, but they came off after a year when the car went from four-wheel-drum brakes to four-wheel-disks (more on that later). A Flarestat hazard flasher is now in the car, and I'm on a continuing and so far fruitless quest for headrests.

What else has been done to it other than the usual tune-up, hoses, belts, changing of all fluids, and other maintenance-type stuff?

--Pertronix electronic ignition inside the distributor cap (yay, no more points)
--Tracked down and installed a ‘67 Toro Quadrajet (with a proper needle and seat, instead of the fire-hazard needle and rubber diaphragm in the ‘66 carb’s design)
--New battery, fuel pump, shocks all around, muffler, tailpipes, trunk drain tubes, tires
--New heater control valve (the old one started spewing antifreeze all over the engine)
--A full front end rebuild (balljoints, tierod ends, control arm bushings, sway bar bushings)
--Converted to Bruce Roe’s sophisticated electronic controller for the switch-pitch torque convertor, which gives noticeably smoother and faster acceleration.

The biggest project was a four-wheel disk-brake conversion, using front spindles and pieces from a ’69 Toro and rear backing plates and pieces from a ’77 Cadillac Eldorado.  I spent almost six months planning and gathering all the parts. For more details on THAT demented project, click here.

What else needs to be done?  Well....lots of things, mostly minor (fix the AC and seat), some bigger (paint and now an apparently stuck piston ring--aagh!). That's half the fun, though, right?

Anyway, I hope this little tale has piqued your interest or, at least, entertained you for a few minutes. Can you tell I really, really love my car? If you want more information on the world’s most powerful front-wheel-drive car, go to  www.toronado.org and join the email list.  It's been a pleasure (and relief) to discover this network of knowledgeable, enthusiastic people both in the U.S. and overseas.  The support and advice have been invaluable, and it's a wonderful example of the Internet’s power to bring people together as friends.

They also know where some good cars lurk, and some great ones do come up for sale. (Too bad you missed out on that 400 horsepower '68 W-34 Toronado, one of 111 made, that showed up on Ebay.)

C’mon, you KNOW you want one, and I realllllly want you to have one...