ROCHELLE — Anthony Cowley, writing in “Five Reasons You Should Buy a Hearse,” on Carwow.com.uk, lists the practical reasons anyone should consider in the purchase of a previously owned funeral coach for a weekend or everyday driver.

Those reasons are reasonable and makes the potential buyer less weird and far more thoughtful than one might imagine: They’re typically one owner and have been driven and maintained carefully, second, they’re comfortable and have a smooth ride (though unnoticed by the average intended passenger); they’re great for runs to Ikea, have plenty of power under the hood, and their usual paint scheme, black, never goes out of style. Maybe one or more of those reasons is why Rochelle-area resident Nick Hensley decided to buy one, his, a white 1973 Cadillac originally modified by Superior Coach. He got the hearse “bug” when he was six years old.
“I went to Target with my mom and here was this big land yacht of a vehicle sitting nearby. I noticed it was a long car and had curtains in it, and I wondered what it was,” he said. “My family had a minivan at the time. My mom told me it was a hearse, a vehicle that’s used to transport people when they pass. I was fascinated by it, I mean, you’ve got your vans and cars, but here was this huge piece of metal going down the road. Ever since then, they’ve been in the back of my mind. As I got older, I got into the hot-rodding culture, but noticed that few people actually owned a hearse, and I was surprised since you can buy one for almost nothing. And, I can go to Home Depot in it and have lots of room for lumber and whatever else I buy. Right now, there’s an empty casket back there, and it came with the vehicle, and had been used, which is another story.”
“I found it in Palos Heights,” Hensley says, and it was purchased from the founder of the Hardcore Hearse Club, a hearse enthusiasts group in suburban Chicago. “When I started home, the transmission went out and here I am on I-80 driving about 20 m.p.h. Everyone probably thought I was part of a funeral procession. I guess driving that slow might not have been the thing to do on an interstate highway, though. It’s got plenty of power, too, a 472 V8. I put a Cadillac thumper cam on it and I also installed an Edelbrock air intake; after I installed this three-scoop intake, I couldn’t close the hood, so I had to cut a hole for it,” he explains.

Hensley says that hearses and funeral cars seem to strike a place in persons with a darker side to their personalities.
“It fits them,” he says, “but for me, I’m an outgoing, happy-go-lucky, friendly type of person and I make a living wrenching on semi-trucks. I like having the recognition when people see it. I guess they think that it takes someone special or weird to drive something like this. My girlfriend, Amanda, is all for it and she’s helped me out with some of the onboard décor. She loves painting and did the Frankenstein shifter knob and the skull hand painting on the door was her idea. I helped her pick out the paint, got her the brushes and told her to go to town with it as well as with the logo she designed on the back door, “Last Stop Limo.”
Hensley is part of the Hardcore Hearse Club that annually gathers in the suburbs to show off both the classiest and (in some cases) the weirdest of funeral car hardware.

The latest gathering on June 9 in Lombard brought together several ultimately maintained coaches as well as those having been modified with macabre, otherworldly themes and accessories. It also included an appearance by horror movie host, Svengoolie, and the chance to win a casket by a special raffle, and for Hensley, bringing home a trophy, which makes the work to get the coach ready for this year’s show worth it.
“It’s weird fun,” he laughs, “I love it.”