Elvis Presley’s 1962 Private Jet Sold to a New Owner

Elvis Presley’s Luxurious Jet Finds a New Home

Elvis Presley, the legendary King of Rock ‘n’ Roll, is remembered not only for his groundbreaking music and iconic voice but also for his impeccable sense of style and flair for the extraordinary. While many fans know about his love for blue suede shoes and his eclectic palate, fewer are aware of his keen eye for interior design—a talent that extended even to his private jet.

In 1962, Elvis purchased a Lockheed JetStar, customizing it to reflect his lavish tastes. The interior features elegant wooden paneling, plush red velvet seats, and luxurious carpeting, creating an ambiance that perfectly encapsulates his larger-than-life persona.

Elvis treasured the JetStar for over 35 years. After his passing in 1977, however, the aircraft was left idle. Among his collection of planes, the Lockheed JetStar held a special place, though he also famously owned a customized Convair 880—dubbed the “Lisa Marie” with the call sign “Hound Dog 1”—and another JetStar known as “Hound Dog 2.” These aircraft symbolized his extravagant lifestyle and passion for aviation.

For decades, the Lockheed JetStar sat stationary in Roswell, New Mexico, exposed to the elements. Its vibrant red paint has faded, but the aircraft remains in remarkable condition, considering its long dormancy. Recently, the jet found a new owner when a devoted Elvis fan purchased it for $260,000 at the Florida Mecum Kissimmee Collector Car Sale on January 8th. The sale was conducted via phone bids, with the winning offer securing a piece of rock-and-roll history.

The jet’s interior is a testament to Elvis’ distinctive taste. Its spacious cabin includes cozy red velvet seats and wooden accents, exuding the charisma synonymous with the King of Rock. An advanced television—state-of-the-art for its time—is integrated into the design. The cabin also features a compact kitchenette, complete with vintage appliances, where one might imagine Elvis preparing one of his iconic peanut butter, banana, bacon, and mayonnaise sandwiches.

Even the lavatory reflects his penchant for luxury, with its velvet accents and opulent sink. Compared to today’s cramped commercial planes, this jet offers a glimpse into the grandeur of Elvis’ preferred mode of travel.

For over three decades, the jet remained a silent relic of a bygone era. Now, it embarks on a new chapter, preserved by a fan dedicated to honoring Elvis’ legacy. Whether you’re an aviation enthusiast or an Elvis devotee, this plane stands as a fascinating artifact of the King’s enduring influence.

If you know an Elvis fan, don’t hesitate to share this story and celebrate a piece of rock-and-roll history!

My grandmother faked being deaf to see how we would act before splitting the inheritance — in the end, everyone received what they deserved

I nodded eagerly, ignoring the eye rolls from my uncle across the room. He never understood why I bothered with the “old lady”.

“You’re wasting your summer, Em,” my Uncle Bill muttered. “Why don’t you come to the beach with us instead?”

I shot him a glare. “Because I actually care about my Grandma, Uncle Bill. You should try it sometime.”

As Grandma and I pruned the roses together, I couldn’t help but notice how her hands shook slightly. She was getting older, and it scared me.

“Grandma,” I gently said. “You know I love you, right?”

She paused, looking at me with those kind eyes. “Of course, sweetheart. And I love you too. More than you could ever know.”

As we headed inside, I hugged her tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and home-baked cookies clinging to her dress. Little did I know, this moment of peace was the calm before the storm.

“Emily,” Grandma said, her voice suddenly serious. “Promise me something. No matter what happens, always stay true to yourself.”

I pulled back, confused. “Of course, Grandma. But why are you saying this?”

She just smiled, that familiar twinkle in her eye. “You’ll understand someday, my dear. Now, how about we bake some cookies?”

A week before Grandma’s 89th birthday, everything changed. Dad came home, his face ashen.

“Emily,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Grandma’s in the hospital. The doctors… they said she’s lost her hearing.”

My world shattered. How could this happen? Just yesterday, we were laughing over her childhood stories.

“But… but she was fine!” I protested, tears welling up in my eyes. “We were gardening and baking and…”

Dad pulled me into a hug. “I know, sweetheart. It happened suddenly. The doctors said it’s not uncommon at her age.”

Despite the diagnosis, we decided to throw Grandma a birthday party anyway. She deserved it, deaf or not.

“We’ll make it special,” Mom said, her voice brimming with love and determination. “Emily, why don’t you make a photo album? I’m sure Grandma would love that.”

I smiled, wiping away my tears as I helped Mom set the table for dinner. “Yeah, I’ll do that. She always loved looking at old pictures.”

Fast forward to Grandma’s 89th birthday celebration, the party was in full swing, but something felt off. I sat next to Grandma, showing her pictures on my phone, when I overheard my Uncle Bill’s booming voice.

“If the house doesn’t get to us, I’m gonna fight for it in court. Don’t you understand that she’s already old and stupid?” he hissed, looking unkindly at Grandma.

I froze, my blood running cold. How could he say that about Grandma?

Aunt Sarah chimed in, her voice dripping with disdain. “Oh yeah, brother! Her words can’t be trusted. I can’t really wait to get that lovely farmhouse she owns in Boston.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. These were the same people who’d smiled and hugged Grandma just moments ago.

“Hey!” I shouted, my face burning with anger. “How can you talk about Grandma like that?”

Uncle Bill sneered at me. “Zip it up, you silly little girl. This is grown-up talk.”

I looked at Grandma, expecting to see hurt in her eyes. But instead, I saw… a glimmer of something else. Was it… amusement?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. The poor thing couldn’t hear them, and in a way, I was glad. Their cruel words would have broken her heart.

“You okay, Grandma?” I asked, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t hear me.

She patted my hand and smiled.

Later that night, after everyone had gone home, I found Grandma sitting in her favorite armchair, staring out the window.

“Grandma?” I said softly, approaching her.

To my surprise, she turned to look at me. “Emily, dear. Come sit with me.”

I froze. “Grandma? You… you can hear me?”

She chuckled, that familiar twinkle in her eye. “Sweetie, I know everything. Who said I was completely deaf? I can hear faintly.”

My jaw dropped. “But… but at the party… Uncle Bill and Aunt Sarah…”

“I know what they said,” she sighed. “And I know they’re all waiting for me to die.”

I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry, Grandma. They’re horrible!”

She wiped my tears away. “Don’t cry, my dear. We’re going to teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.”

Over the next few days, Grandma and I plotted our plan. I bought some small recorders, and we set about capturing the true nature of our relatives.

“Remember, Emily,” Grandma said as we worked. “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about revealing the truth.”

I nodded, though part of me couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction at the thought of exposing their true colors.

As we captured more and more of my aunts’ and uncles’ cruel words, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Their voices, dripping with greed and mockery, filled the tiny recorders:

“I can’t wait for the old bat to kick the bucket already.”

“Maybe we should help her along, you know? It’s for her own good.”

“God, why won’t she just die already? I’ve got plans for that beach house.”

Each word was like a knife twisting in my gut.

I looked at Grandma, her weathered hands trembling slightly as she listened. Her eyes, once so bright and full of life, now glistened with unshed tears.

“How can they be so heartless?” I whispered. “Grandma, these are your children. How can they say such awful things?”

Grandma reached out and squeezed my hand, her touch as gentle as ever. “Oh, my sweet Emily,” she murmured, her voice quavering. “Sometimes, the people who should love us the most are the ones who hurt us the deepest.”

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. How could they do this to the woman who had loved them, raised them, and given them everything? Now they were circling like vultures, eagerly awaiting her death.

“Doesn’t it hurt you, Grandma?” I asked her.

She smiled sadly. “Of course it does, dear. But it also shows me who truly cares. And that’s worth more than any wealth. Remember… love is the greatest inheritance.”

A week later, Grandma passed away peacefully in her sleep. I was devastated. The funeral was a somber affair, with relatives shedding crocodile tears while eyeing Grandma’s possessions.

“Such a tragedy,” Aunt Sarah sniffled, her eyes darting around the room. “I’ll miss her so much.”

I bit my tongue, knowing what was coming.

Three days after the funeral, we all gathered at the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will.

Mr. Thompson, our family lawyer, cleared his throat. “Before we begin, I have a special request from Mrs. Rosalind.”

He placed seven small boxes and envelopes on the table, each labeled with a name. Everyone except me had one.

“Emily,” Mr. Thompson said, “your grandmother left something different for you.”

My heart raced as I watched my relatives tear into their boxes. Each one contained a small recorder.

Uncle Bill pressed play first. His own voice filled the room: “I can’t wait for the old bat to kick the bucket already.”

Aunt Sarah’s recorder was next: “God, why won’t she just die already? I’ve got plans for that beach house.”

One by one, each recorder played back the nasty things they’d said about Grandma. The color drained from their faces as they realized the truth.

Oh, you petty things! Grandma hadn’t been deaf at all.

“YOU!” Uncle Bill pointed at me, his face red with anger. “You did this!”

I stood my ground. “No, Uncle Bill. You did this to yourself. All of you did.”

As the last recording finished, I couldn’t help but smile. Grandma had outsmarted them all.

“Emily,” Mr. Thompson said, handing me an envelope. “This is for you.”

With shaking hands, I opened it. Inside was a letter in Grandma’s elegant handwriting:

“My dearest Emily,

You were the only one who saw me for who I was, not what I had. Your love was pure and unconditional. That’s why I’m leaving everything to you. Use it wisely, and always remember: love is the greatest inheritance of all.

Love,

Grandma”

Tears streamed down my face as I clutched the letter to my chest. I realized that Grandma had given me something far more valuable than money or property. She’d taught me the true meaning of love and family.

As for my relatives? They each received an envelope containing a single dollar and a note that read: “Hope this would be enough! Good luck!”

The aftermath was chaotic. Uncle Bill threatened to contest the will, but Mr. Thompson shut him down quickly.

“Mrs. Rosalind was of sound mind when she made this will,” he said firmly. “And given the evidence we’ve just heard, I’d say her decisions were well-founded.”

As we left the office, my Dad pulled me aside. “Emily, I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see what was happening sooner.”

I hugged him tight. “It’s okay, Dad. Grandma knew you loved her. That’s what matters.”

It’s been ten years since that day, and I still miss my Grandma terribly. But her final lesson stays with me: love your family unconditionally, because nothing in this world is permanent. Not money, not property. Just love.

And remember, sometimes the quietest voices have the most to say. Listen closely… you never know what you might learn.

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