It was 1987 all over again when the shiny black Buick Riviera caught my eye at a used car lot near my house. I've always been a fan of the "big, little", 1979-1985 vintage GM "E-body", whether it be the Cadillac Eldorado, Oldsmobile Toronado or the Buick Riviera. I had fallen hard and fast for a white on red 1982 Riviera years ago. That car didn't love me back, though. Far from it. In fact, that car did everything it could to make me want to set it on fire. Worst car I ever owned. Complete junk. Before the light turned green, though I saw her lovely slotted rims, my '82 had chrome wheel covers. There was a chance that this black beauty was more than what at first met my eye. I turned into the used car lot's driveway so I could take a closer look.
Sure enough, it turned out to be a Riviera T-Type, a model of the Riviera that I had all but forgotten about. I had never seen in one person let alone have one in front of me for sale. With an asking price of a mere $4995, I could be riding high again in the lap of luxury. Only better, since this was a T-Type Riviera. She purred to me through her black out grill, "Take me home. I won't disappoint you like your '82 did. I know you want me. Negotiate hard with the sales manager. You'll be surprised how low he'll go."
I called my wife and got her voicemail. I needed someone to douse me with cold water and a bucket of ice telling me this was a bad idea. To forget about it and go home. The Riviera cooing, "I've got the Buick turbo engine with fuel injection. I also have heavy-duty sway bars, torsion bars and shock absorbers, a quicker steering gear ratio too. I'm everything your '82 Riviera wasn't". I slipped behind the wheel and grabbed her oh-so-cool, three spoke steering and squished the thirty year old leather between my hands. "You know you want me. You look good behind the wheel too, your prematurely grey hair contrasting brilliantly with my black paint. I might be gone before you can even talk to your wife. Surprise her. She knows you work hard. She loves you so much. You deserve me."
The salesman threw me the keys. The engine started up without me pumping the gas like my '82 had to have me do since that pile of junk had the carbureted, Olds 307. I put her in drive, she lurched forward and off we went. The turbo engine pulled smoothly, sweetly, powerfully as though she had a 455 Stage 1 under her long, wide, beautiful hood. She looked very much like my '82 but she behaved much better. She was stronger, faster, smoother. "You like me, don't you. I know you do." The T-Type read my mind.
I was quite frank with the T-Type. "Y'know, that '82 I had was the worst car I've ever owned. Literally everything on it broke. On my way home from the dealership where I bought it, the power antenna; wouldn't go back down after I shut the car off. That was just the beginning."
The T-Type had an answer for everything. "I'm sorry that that '82 hurt you. But you see, I'm an '84. And...I'm a T-Type. Your '82 wasn't a T-Type, now was it? I'm better. Trust me. You won't be disappointed."
She was right. The dealership was very reasonable in the negotiation process. I got them down to $3,600 almost with me not asking. They said if I paid them cash, they'd go even lower. Perhaps as low as $3,300. How could I say no? I still had my lingering doubts, though. The hole in my wallet from replacing the transmission on my '82 still smoldering. The AC compressor, power steering pump, alternator, rebuilt carburetor, fried power seat motor still burning up my bank account all these years later. Thousands spent trying to keep that rolling crap box '82 running. The T-Type flashed its high beams at me, "I'm not like your '82, I'm a T-Type. I will be good to you.
Against my better judgment, I negotiated further with the dealership saying that if I could be out the door, all in at $3,500, I'd take it. It was a sunny, late fall day in Cleveland and I could tell they wanted this one off, old hoopty gone. 90 minutes later, she was mine.
On the way home, my biggest concern was how was I going to tell my wife that I had not only dropped $3,500 cash but dropped $3,500 on another old car. Where would we put it? What kind of gas mileage would it get? I know she was going to remind me of how my '82 broke down constantly and was a serious money pit. No worries with the T-Type, though. The AC was blowing cold, the turbo V-6 was pulling strongly and the old school stereo sounded great too.
I hit a small pot hole and the steering became very taught, the brake pedal hard as a rock. The speedometer starting heading south. The T-Type had stopped running. I struggled to pull the car to the side of the road, flashers blinking as I turned the ignition forward. Nothing. Not even the tell tale General Motors "tick-tick-tick" that would tell me it was just an electrical gremlin. The T-Type spoke to me through the old school stereo, "What did you expect? I'm a Buick Riviera."
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