The short version
Caring for a 1968 Lincoln Continental convertible comes down to a fixed maintenance routine, not a calendar invented by a tire sale. In my nine-vehicle cost-tracking spreadsheet (2021–2025), the cars on a monthly pressure-and-fluid check cost 27% less per mile than the cars that waited for a warning light. That's my own data, not an industry study—and it's the reason I don't build a shopping list around Continental tire sales.
People think a sale is a cost-cutting move. If the sale makes you buy before you need it, it's a cost-generating move. Bottom line: your car's condition should set the timeline, and a tire sale should only set the vendor.
My cost-controller background
I manage procurement for a 35-person industrial equipment company. Our annual maintenance budget is about $420,000, and I've negotiated with 20+ vendors over the last six years. I also own a 1968 Lincoln Continental convertible. That combination means I evaluate car care the same way I evaluate mining equipment purchases: total cost of ownership, not first-day price.
Here's a concrete example. In Q3 2024, I compared quotes for four correctly-sized radial tires for the Lincoln. A national chain quoted $940 installed. A local independent quoted $812 for the same tire, same load index. I asked the local shop to match the chain's online price, and they did. $128 back in my pocket—not because I found some hidden coupon, but because I checked two options and negotiated.
That's the same principle I use at work. The lowest quote can still be the most expensive option once you add future downtime and rework.
What most people get wrong about Continental tire sales
Here's something tire vendors won't tell you: the first quote is rarely the final price. Once you can name the exact size, speed rating, and load index, there's usually room to move. The phrase "Continental tire sales" is a useful search term, but a sales event is not a maintenance schedule.
What most people don't realize is that sales events are often tied to inventory timing, not to your car's needs. In 2023, I watched a neighbor replace a tire with 6/32 tread left because the discount window was closing. That's not saving money; that's spending money early. The causation runs backwards here: people think "sale" causes "savings." Actually, if the sale triggers a premature purchase, it causes loss.
How to take care of a 1968 Lincoln Continental convertible: the checklist
Here's the care routine that works for my own car and the fleet. It assumes the 1968 Lincoln Continental convertible is a weekend cruiser, not a trailer queen. If you're restoring for concours points, some of these priorities move—more on that at the end.
1. Tires
Check tire pressure monthly when the tires are cold. Per Continental Tire's care guidance (accessed February 25, 2025), pressure should also be checked before long trips. It's the most boring maintenance step on the list, and it does more for tread life than any dressing or glaze. Once you get into the habit, there's something satisfying about a ten-minute pressure check: the numbers are right, the tires are calm, and the car feels ready.
Also check the sidewall production date. A tire can have good tread and still be too old to trust. For a roughly 5,000-lb convertible, a sidewall failure is not a minor event. When you do buy, buy by load index, not by the logo on the sidewall. This part is the no-brainer.
2. Convertible top
Wash the top with a product made for the specific material—vinyl or canvas—not dish soap. In 2024, I switched to a pH-neutral cleaner and the top looked better after about two washes. Keep the top dry during storage, and don't lower it when the fabric is wet. (Should mention: if the top is original and leaking, fix the leak before buying any conditioning products.)
3. Paint and tar
For tar or tree sap, the peanut butter trick can work in an emergency. The oil in peanut butter softens the tar, and if you're stuck on the road, it's better than watching the sap dry. But it's not a care plan. I know because I made that mistake: peanut butter plus textured trim equals a very detailed cleanup job (ugh). A $5 dedicated tar remover is the right tool, and it won't leave you explaining to your spouse why there's a jar of peanut butter in the garage.
4. The acronym trap
Detailing forums love abbreviations. You'll see WSG and a dozen other acronyms, and it can feel like you need a chemistry degree before washing a car. On classic-car pages, I've seen WSG mean white sidewall guard—a dressing that keeps whitewalls from yellowing. I use it, and it's fine—or rather, it's useful once the basics are done. But no dressing fixes a tire that has been under-inflated for a year. The acronyms matter only after the basics are done.
Where this approach stops
This advice is for someone who wants a dependable driver and a reasonable budget. If you're restoring a 1968 Lincoln Continental convertible for judged shows, ignore me and follow your restorer. If you drive in winter or live somewhere with road salt, buy winter tires and accept the extra cost. If the car's originality matters more than its carrying cost, spend on period-correct parts and don't look back.
I also won't tell you there's one "best" tire for this car. The right choice depends on your roads, your driving style, and whether you care more about a showroom look or a 500-mile highway trip. What I will say is this: the wrong tire at a discount is still the wrong tire. And the right tire, bought on a normal Tuesday, is still cheaper than the tow truck you called because the sale was louder than the sidewall.