What a way to go ... about town: Hearse owners dig their wheels
She's a 1968 Miller Meteor end loader with a coffin in the back.
That's a hearse. Of course.
"Creep is built into the car," said McMillan, 39, a Jacksonville, Fla., bodyguard and musician. "When is the last time you saw a hearse that you weren't creeped out by? It's because that is the last ride you ever take, and nobody wants to rush that ride. So psychologically the skin begins to crawl."
So a coach of death may not be your choice for a family car, but some people dig 'em.
Hearse club Web sites with names like Graveyard Haulerz, The Roll'n Dead and Cryptic Coaches abound, and an array of hearse paraphernalia and hearse books are just a click way. Hearse lovers can also join the Professional Car Society, aimed at purist collectors with a yen for historically correct funeral and medical vehicles.
New hearses cost $70,000 on up. Used hearses can be found for less than $1,000 up to $20,000.
"Our real amazement is at what people will buy," said Kevin Pursglove, a spokesman for the Internet auction site eBay, where used-hearse sales are steady. "Nothing surprises me anymore."
McMillan, who likens his hearse to a station wagon "without the wood grain down the side," is quick to point out the fine craftsmanship, low mileage and copious storage space. And that's on top of an affordable price tag for a car that's essentially a Cadillac or Lincoln.
"There's no way to get around the 'Oh, God!' factor," McMillan said. " 'Is that a hearse?' " they say. "My response is why not? Nobody died in it."
For Hollywood, Fla., residents Nicole and Kenneth MacArthur, the heart-stopping quality of the funereal vehicles is part of their lure.
"You get weird faces, then you get this kind of aghast look," chuckled Kenneth MacArthur, 37, whose wife bought a black 1953 Chrysler New Yorker hearse on eBay.
"I know some people will be freaked," said Nicole MacArthur, 32. "I would like to look at this just as dark humor."
Enter the world of the weird, say hearse owners, and get ready for some tall tales.
"When a hearse crosses your path, it draws attention," said David Walkinshaw, spokesman for the National Funeral Directors Association. "They have a very specific use, for transporting dead human bodies. It makes you think."
Some people cross themselves. Others look away. But everyone wants to look in the back, owners say.
Nicole MacArthur likes to tell the tale of the pair who were driving their hearse across Alligator Alley headed for the Gulf Coast when a police officer suddenly switched on his lights and pulled them over.
"We've had a complaint about your car," the officer grimly informed them, as he strolled around the rear and peered inside the cavernous compartment, crammed with antiques. A few moments later, he informed the owners they would have to re-arrange their cargo.
A large box, labeled "fresh," was clearly visible through the side window of the hearse.
"Just like people who won't buy a burial lot in advance for fear it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy, I am sure some people would be very apprehensive about a hearse," said Clifton Bryant, a sociology professor who teaches a class on death and dying at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Va. "They don't want to be tempting death."
Alas, when it comes to hearses, the fear factor is huge, concedes Cooper City, Fla., resident Joseph Scarano, who operates funeral homes in Pembroke Pines, Fla., and Hallandale, Fla., and is opening a third in Hollywood.
"I have been asked by many condo associations to please not bring the hearse (if someone dies) because it brings too much attention," Scarano said.
Once, after driving back from Orlando, Fla., Scarano parked his hearse (unoccupied) outside his house. The next day he found a code enforcement violation on the windshield.
"My neighbors didn't like having it there overnight," Scarano said.
No surprise there, Bryant said.
"We have been a death-denying society for close to 100 years," he said. "In the 1800s, death was common. We all lived on farms, and when someone died, they died at home. We laid them out, washed them, built the casket, dug the hole, and sometimes did the funeral."
But when we started taking bodies to funeral homes, attitudes changed, he said.
"Once the body got pushed out of the home, it became 'out of sight, out of mind,' " Bryant said.
For hearse owner Steve Irving, the association with death played no part in his decision to buy a coach. An avid car collector, Irving, of north Miami-Dade, has been buying unusual cars since he was 16. Irving thought the hearse was just a beautiful and finely crafted vehicle.
"I look at hearses every day on eBay," said Irving, 49, who spent $6,000 for his black-on-silver 1976 Mercedes Pollman Funeral Coach equipped with a six-cylinder engine. "I just see if there is something new and different. I find this interesting. But this is not a lifestyle for me."
When he stumbled upon a Mercedes, Irving had to have it.
"The only reason people are wigged out about hearses is because they think it's weird and morbid," said Irving, who parks the sleek hearse outside his home. "This car just flies up the road. It would never be late for its own funeral."
Unlike American hearses, Irving's German hearse has no rear side doors. The casket compartment is sealed and has no velvet or etched glass. The rear windows are shrouded with pleated royal blue curtains.
He spent $400 on a handmade wooden coffin, which he slipped into the back to complete the look. A vanity plate proclaims "Gone But." Irving added funeral flags and a sign that says "funeral parking."
He says he isn't a practical joker but admits the hearse makes it easy.
Take the time Irving was out for a whirl and decided to stop for a snack. He pulled up to a drive-through window at a Dunkin' Donuts and ordered some coffee.
"How do you want it?" the server asked.
"Black," Irving replied, smirking. "One for me and one for him in the back. He can't wake up."
Another time he backed the hearse into a 7-Eleven parking lot and ran inside.
"I need lots of ice," he told a befuddled clerk, pointing to the rear of his hearse. "My air conditioning is broken."
"Some people may not think it's appropriate," Irving said. "But this is not a religious icon. People are just so gullible. They just set themselves up. It's like 'Candid Camera.' "
His advice?
"If you don't want attention, do not drive a hearse," Irving said.
McMillan parks his monstrosity at home and gets few complaints. But motorists give the vehicle a wide berth.
"If you ever have to get through heavy traffic, find someone with a hearse. People will get out of the way," McMillan said.
Nicole MacArthur bought her black 1953 Chrysler New Yorker end loader from a seller in Pennsylvania. She likes the "creep" factor because she loves the look. Creep is part of the charm, she said.
When she talks about her hearse, her voice fills with admiration. She chose it for its hulking curved shape and its dark gothic design.
"It's styled off the old horse-drawn carriages," she said.
Constructed of heavy steel and equipped with a 331 hemi V-8 engine, the coach has landau bars (the distinctive "s" shaped bars that adorn the sides), suicide doors (open outward, with the hinge on the right) and lantern lights. No air bags, of course, but MacArthur says the tanklike construction makes her feel safe.
The antique vehicle, which cost $5,000, is undergoing extensive restoration. When it's done, MacArthur figures she will have spent about $20,000 on the car, still less than she would have spent on a new vehicle. And with it, she will get style and storage space.
"It's just a stylish car with history," said MacArthur, an administrative assistant who plans to use the vehicle to transport her sewing and glass-blowing gear. "I just want it to look pretty."
But pretty is as pretty does, says Michigan resident Gene Bandlow, 33, who co-founded the Graveyard Haulerz hearse club, whose members drive in local parades. Bandlow owns a metallic green 1976 S&S Victoria end loader with a coffin in the back and has been stopped by police more times than he cares to count.
Once, an officer issued him a $50 citation for having a "Grim Reaper" figure dangling from his rear-view mirror.
"They ask you, 'Why are you driving this?' and 'What are you doing?' " said Bandlow, of Grand Rapids, Fla.
Hearse owner David Strong, 25, has funneled his fixation with funeral coaches into "The Hearse Enthusiast," a self-published specialty magazine with about 50 subscribers. The magazine includes articles on unusual hearses, maintenance and weird tales.
"I find their morbid aspect fascinating," said Strong, of Willington, Conn., who bought his first coach when he was 16 years old. "I have had a fascination with 'darker' things since I was a kid."
Strong owns a black-on-gray 1985 Eureka Oldsmobile end loader and a blue 1966 Miller-Meteor Cadillac combination coach. The Oldsmobile is his daily driving car.
Strong loves their shock value and workmanship, but warns they are not for the meek.
"If anyone out there is thinking getting a hearse is the instant path to good times, universal 'coolness' and tons of wonderful attention, they have some serious delusions," said Strong, who has been cursed at and spit upon while driving his hearse. "Unless you really dig the cars for what they are, there are methods for getting attention that are a lot easier and more positive.
"Prepare for a weird but interesting experience," Strong said.
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