Falcon Club Of America

Bluegrass Chapter
 
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Matt and Malysa Stocke, Georgetown, IN 
1962 4-door Sedan

In 1987, as a junior in high school, my grandpa purchased a 1962 Ford Falcon from a lady that drove it to my grandmother’s beauty shop to have her hair done.

Upon receiving the car from my grandpa, my high school would not issue a parking permit for the school parking lot, as I did not have the car at the beginning of the school year.  So, being a resourceful lad, my buddies and I decided to make our own parking permits (as we all got our first “beaters” around the same time); the counterfeit permit is still in the front windshield.  Upon graduating high school in 1988, I joined the Army and my mother took the car.  She later sold the car in January 1989.  I had always tried to find out what happened to my Falcon, but mom could not remember who she sold the car to.

The counterfeit permit!

As fate would have it, one night in November, 2003, I couldn’t sleep.  Surfing the internet, I ventured onto eBay and wondered if anyone ever sold Falcons (little did I know of the world of Falcons at that time).  I typed in “1962 Ford Falcon” and a car appeared which looked strangely like the car I once drove, although in a state of neglect.  I also noticed that the seller was located near my hometown in Southern Illinois.  I promptly emailed the seller, inquiring of the history of the title and was informed that there was no title history, but that the original owners manual listed the car being sold new in my hometown to Dr. Finch (in 1962), who sold the car to Mr. Dickey, who sold the car to Mr. Marshall in 1987 (my grandpa).

I showed my little bride the eBay auction the next morning and told her that I thought this was my first car.  While contemplating making a bid on the car, my sweet wife informed me that I needed to make a decision on this car, because if I wasn’t going to bid on it, she was.  With her as my only competition, I bought the car and arranged to pick it up the day after Thanksgiving 2003.

Leaving to pick up the car, I told my little bride that I was 90% sure that this was my first car, but would call her once I picked it up to let her know for certain, just in case it wasn’t.  When I arrived at the seller’s home, I noticed that the front and rear upholstery did not match (just like mine), there was a dent in the rear fender (just like mine), a bare spot on the hood from too much rubbing compound (just like mine).  Then I noticed the “parking permit” in the windshield and knew that this distinct “birth mark” could only belong to my car.  Elated, I called my little bride to let her know this was my actual first car.  When I got home, car in tow, I found that my sweet wife had put a sign on the garage, which still brings a tear to my eye, reading “Welcome Home Falcon.”

Since then, I have gotten the car running and have done some minor repairs, but with three small kids, the Falcon will have to wait.  Possibly long enough for two small boys to get big enough to help their dad restore a part of his youth.




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