Goodbye to the Crown Victoria

On a crisp morning in 2024, the air was filled with a sense of nostalgia as police departments across the country reflected on the iconic Wilford Crown Victoria police interceptor. Once the pride of countless law enforcement agencies, these cars were gradually being retired, though they still held a special place in the hearts of many officers. In Chicago, Officer Martinez leaned on the hood of their Crown Vic, glancing wistfully at their colleague, Officer Thompson. "I'm glad that I'm serving on this machine," Martinez said. Thompson nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Me too," he agreed. "Agencies like the California Highway Patrol, the Arizona Highway Patrol, and the Nevada Highway Patrol are still holding onto them. It's good that at least the Texas Highway Patrol has them at this time, and even the Los Angeles Police Department still uses a few." "It's a pity we have very few of them left," Martinez sighed. "But it's good to have them at all," Thompson responded, his tone resolute. Meanwhile, at the bustling O'Hare area, the traffic controller made a note. "Well, at least we have two left," he murmured to himself. "Yesterday, I saw two of them circling in this area. It's a good thing we have a couple left." In Houston, Texas, Officer Patel radioed in from his patrol car. "We have plenty of them here," he informed his partner. "Of course, we're gradually switching to Ford Explorers, but Sedans never hurt." His partner responded with a chuckle, "Good point. More room for our gear in these Crown Vics." Across the country, in New York, the officers were down to their last two Crown Vics. Officer Johnson frowned as he talked to his partner, Officer Lee. "We're keeping one for the museum, you know?" "Yeah, I heard that," Lee replied. "But we're still using the other two as long as we can." The conversation echoed similar sentiments in California. At the California Highway Patrol, Officer Williams sighed as he climbed into his SUV. "I'm tired of these SUVs," he said. "I want to drive the Crown Vic." His partner, Officer Brown, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Patience, my friend," Brown said. "If they come back, we'll ride them again." In San Francisco, the scene was different. Officer Garcia joyfully walked near the line of Crown Victorias parked in the station lot. "It's great we still have a lot of them left," he said to Officer Nguyen, a female officer beside him. Nguyen nodded, a smile on her face. "Yes, our climate helps. Corrosion isn’t much of a problem here. Plus, we have extra garages to keep them in top shape." In Fort Worth, Texas, Captain Kim swiveled his chair around to address his team. "Even though we still have them, we’re transitioning to the new ones," he said. "But it’s good we have them while we do—I’m going to miss them." Veteran Captain Smith, who had been with the department for decades, nodded in agreement. "I’ll miss them too. Remember sitting in one of the first ones we got?" Down in San Diego, Officer Ramirez, a spirited young woman, filled up her Crown Vic at a gas station. She gave the hood an affectionate slap and smiled. "I'm glad I get to serve with this car," she said. "We’ve been through fire and water together." Officer Davis, her colleague driving a new Ford Explorer, pulled up beside her. "Yeah, but there's not even a record player in it," he commented. Ramirez laughed, walking over to Davis’s car. "I know, but I love her," she said, her eyes twinkling with affection for her trusty vehicle. As they drove off together, cruising the streets of San Diego, they both held onto the hope that the Crown Victorias might one day make a return. It was a hopeful thought, a testament to the durability and reliability of a car that had been with them through thick and thin. In every corner of the country, from Chicago to Texas to California, officers shared this common bond of affection for the iconic Crown Victoria, driving with a sense of pride and nostalgia, their conversations filled with stories of the past and hopes for the future.