Saturday, July 20, 2013

1966 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham - The Final Crusher Awaits Us All


What is a luxury car? Given that any car today can perform at the levels of luxury cars of just 10 years ago or so takes "performance" out of the running for what defines a luxury automobile. Let alone answers the question of why people spend so much extra for them in the first place. Is it their styling? That's subjective. Features? Again, many cars today offer features found on "luxury" cars from the past decade. Whether that be nav systems or heated seats. Now, air cooled seats? That's something you don't find on Chevrolets today. Tomorrow? Bet on it.
 
 
Truth is, all of the creature comforts commonplace on today's cars were "luxury" items first found on luxury cars years ago. Automatic transmissions, power steering and brakes? All items we take for granted today were "luxury" items years ago. Air conditioning? Only the richest of rich could afford that decadent feature. So, what gives? Why do people splurge for a "luxury car" (these days never more deserving of the quotes btw) when they could buy, literally the same car for all intents and purposes, for two to three times less?
 
 
Clench your jaw and in your best Thurston Howell impression utter, "Exclusivity, lovey. Exclusivity". That, today more than ever before, is what defines a luxury car. Personally, I think that's chasing a big heap of nuttin' but that's just little ole me. Many people, though, won't even think of driving anything less than what they perceive to be the best of the best. Doing that would  mean risking being seen as something other than what they want to be seen as.
 
 
 
My two cents, again; that's a waste of money. Then again, I'm that guy who's always looking for the world's best $3,000 used car. Luckily, a lot of people don't live their lives the way I do. If they did then we wouldn't have grand old wrecks like this awesome, 429 cubic inch, 340 horsepower, 1966 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham to fawn all over.
 
 
Ok. Let's fawn, shall we? Look at this interior. That's real wood. The highest quality, butter soft glove leather. I wish I could eat it because it looks delicious. That's real chrome on the dash too not the fake, plastic junk that's plagued American cars since the late sixties. Looks wonderful. Not so wonderful if your face and head hit it in an accident but it looks marvelous just the same.
 
 
This interior, albeit a tad musty, has the aroma of a cigar smoke drenched library with a dash of Royal Copenhagen dabbled in. This cabin is so old school fabulous I want to live in it and hopefully by osmosis, become as sophisticated as the people who originally bought it.
 
 
Ok. Back to reality. Even back in 1966, when this still magnificent Old Lion was a young cub, the question of what made a luxury car a luxury car did not have a straight forward answer. For certain, a '66 Chevrolet Impala or Ford Galaxie had a certain amount of "luxury" features available that were exclusive to Cadillac and Lincoln just years before. Even a Plymouth Fury was relatively well equipped.
 
 
Today even the most affordable Kia or Chevy has leather seating available. That and infotainment systems. Power windows and locks? Almost a given. Same with air conditioning. Air conditioned seats? We may have to wait for that one but from a features content perspective, most cars today would be "luxury" cars years ago.
 
 
 
So, what's with this top of the line Cadillac? It oozes cool. That's what. And that's what I love about it even if it is a four door. I have to imagine that, when purchased new in 1966, the owner didn't drop the equivalent of $75,000 today (adjusted) on a car that he or she thought was "cool". No, sir. They were making a statement. A statement of, "hey, we're freaking loaded! Make way, loser. I'm coming through 'cause I got it. And you don't." I have a question. What's the point of that? Slippery slope if you ask me. This is a depreciating asset. Gas. Oil. Rubber. Just like any other car.
 
 
Towards the end of his life, my father had an extended stay at a nursing home back on Long Island.  He was, if anything, a proud man. A proud man who was easily embarrassed. Navigating through the land mines of those two emotions made our relationship tenuous at best. Many of the things he was forced to have done for him by both the staff of the nursing home and by my brother's and I were emotionally painful for him to endure. He had a roommate who was experiencing a similar illness with the same grim diagnosis. That roommate, coincidentally, was a gentleman who also happened to live in our neighborhood. The man was very wealthy. Or at least, in our humble neck of the woods, gave all the illusion of wealth.
 
 
Both of them accepted their fate. Part of their ability to accept what was going on was that all of the patients around them were going through the same thing. Bed pants, open smocks. The faint stench of urine, the moans and groans of a nursing home. The misery. The unknown. The fear mongering abyss. It was all there and all the patients were going through it. No escape from it whether you were rich or poor. A Cadillac or a Chevrolet. 
 
 
Just like this Grand Old Cadillac. Built to impress, this car will look much the same as any other once it meets the final crusher. 
 
 

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