1978 Chevrolet Impala - Good Luck, Grandma!

Us "car guys" of a certain age tend to appreciate some of the same vehicles or the same type of vehicles. Those "types" of vehicles being rear wheel drive, V-8 powered full or near full sized (despite whatever classification they might have been in) cars of any vintage.  And in particular, these down sized GMers of 1977 vintage. Why? I'm not sure but it could be a combination of nostalgia combined with our appreciation for solid, well designed and engineered American iron.

My generation (I straddle the line between baby boomer and Gen X'er) generally has a negative opinion of domestic makes. And with good reason. Much of the domestic stuff we grew up with was horrible and with fantastic stuff washing ashore from Asia and Europe it left us with a bitter, salty taste in our mouth that what came out of Detroit was junk. No matter how far "we've come" over the last twenty or thirty years perception is reality; our stuff just doesn't cut the mustard like the imports do.

Some rare exceptions to that rule include the these GM full sizers that came out in 1977 as the first wave of the Good General's massive wight loss regimen. These cars were delightfully smaller and much cleaner in design than the dreadnoughts that came before them. Nice job, GM!

I saw Grandma's car here in the parking lot of pretty good pizzeria near where we live. I was out with our older boy the other night picking up dinner there when I happened upon it. I sighed a gentle sigh with a long, low whistle as I drove slowly past it. My son's response, "Oh, God. No. Not again." Ya see, friend, my family does not share my penchant for these things. The "FOR SALE" signs all over only whetted my appetite. I was giddy with excitement and I had my blow torch awesome Samsung Galaxy S3 on me so let's have it!

When I was 14 my parents were on their inexplicable "Cadillac kick". Mother had to have one and Father lovingly obliged. We of course shopped for a used Caddy and where settling on a block long '72 deVille out of the used car lot attached to a Chevy dealership. In the new car showroom sat a loaded, light blue Caprice coupe just like this that caught my eye. I really liked the simple yet handsome styling and most importantly, I fit behind the wheel of it well and felt, with a certain degree of confidence, that I could drive it. That was not the case with Mother's dreadfully huge Cadillac. I knew that any wheel time spent by me in that land locked cruise ship would result in fire hydrants getting knocked over and tree bark getting scarred. Too big. Way, WAY too big. The brand new smaller, gentler, kinder Caprice was sized just right. But at more than five thousand dollars there was just no way that was going to happen. Besides, Momma wanted her Caddy.

The manageable size was part of the appeal of these cars. They were dramatically smaller on the outside while retaining all of the room of the larger cars they replaced. Genius. Plus, being much, much lighter and available with reasonably powerful V-8 engines (we are talking 1978 here), these cars performed appreciably better than the cars they replaced. Win. Win. Win.

Just look at this thing. There's a reason why this pretty solid '78er is sitting (languishing, rotting, dying) in this parking lot not being sold. It has all the trappings of a vehicle that has been sitting out here for a long, long time. For starters it's filthy. Secondly it's filthy. You can almost smell the must through the rolled up windows. Then there's the failed finish (even the bumpers are rusting) and finally there's this. The price. Wow.

Asking this much for this car is like trying to make a deal on a $100,000 Mercedes when you've only got 10 grand to spend. The asking price is so nose bleed high that you know you're wasting your time by negotiating anything close to what you can afford or want to pay. Not that I'm in any position to buy Granny's car here but if I was I can't imagine paying two grand for this let alone more than twice that amount. And if I wanted to drop two large on this I'd offer a grand first and then run for cover.

But oh, what fun I'd having hopping this thing up into a one magificent sleeper. Rowr!

Good luck, Grandma!