1988 Cadillac Coupe deVille - Just Another Old '80's Car

Bill Cosby, of all people, is given credit for coining the phrase, "I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody". I don't think Cadillac got that memo when they drew up their 1985-1988 "full-size", front-wheel-drive models that were supposed to be just what every young urban professional and traditional Cadillac buyer wanted. Coupe deVille's like this with the fake wires and optional and expensive padded landau top are especially heinous. I found this 1988 for sale on Facebook Marketplace recently for sale near my office with an asking price of $4,500 and a mere 111,000-miles on its 35-year-old digital ticker. Reasonable, no? I guess. Although there's a lot more here than just a sensibly priced old car in what appears to be nice shape.  

General Motors, Cadillac in particular, found itself reacting to trends rather than dictating them in the 1980's and the results of their efforts were dubious. Based on sales and critical acclaim for their first downsized models in the 1970's including the GM X-body based (Chevrolet Nova) 1975-1979 Seville, 1977 deVille and Fleetwood, and 1979 Eldorado, one could construe GM had a clear and concise plan on what to they were doing and a future of smaller Cadillac's would be chock full of blue skies and sunshine. Then came the 1980's and the "bustle back" 1980 Seville, the Oldsmobile Diesels, the V8-6-4, HT4100, Buick V-6's in deVilles, the Cimmaron and the shrunken-head 1986 Eldorado. These square, soulless, front-wheel-drive sedans, introduced in 1985, just another 1980's day at the office for an automobile brand that once boasted it was, "The Standard of the World". 

Frankly, and perhaps in retrospect this is only true, it wasn't so much that General Motors went too far in downsizing and moved their flag ship model to front-wheel-drive. What made these cars so off-putting was their styling; or lack thereof. They're like people who were overweight who still wear the clothes they wore before they went on a massive crash diet. In fairness, their interiors were as cavernous as Cadillac's of yore, perhaps even more so, and they could accelerate, handle and brake with an aplomb no Cadillac before them ever did or could. Especially these 1988's with the redesigned for 1988, 4.5-liter V-8 replacing the deadly in more ways than one, "HT4100". I've driven these cars and have always been impressed. Too bad they're so damn ugly. Ultimately, their performance prowess fell on deaf ears and wallets as the customers they sought flocked to the tonier and far more expensive import makes and models these cars were an attempt to emulate. Their traditional buyers were like, "that's not a Cadillac". 

Back in the day, a significant part of what made a "Cadillac a Cadillac" was not only a gaggle of luxury accoutrements and baubles and bits exclusive to the brand but their styling. There was something special about the "look" of Cadillac even if they were no better than a Buick or even a Chevrolet. Buick and Oldsmobile built a semi-handsome coupe on the smaller version of the chassis they built all these Cadillac's on, but these cars are no more, or less, than their four-door versions with two less doors. Buick's two-door Electra and Oldsmobile's two-door 98, built on the same chassis this car is, suffer from the same goofy proportions as these haughty Cadillac coupes do. 

The passage of time is a great equalizer and it also creates vacuums, as such, what is this car all these years later other than just another "old '80's car"? The poster of the ad claims it's a classic - this just in, based on my definition of "classic", which is broad and generous, it's not. Then again, in fairness, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, could the same be said as to what makes a classic car a classic car? 

 

Cub Cadet 2150 - Me and "My Cubbie"

Back in the spring of 2017, both of my boys decided to spend the then upcoming summer down at their respective colleges. So I wouldn't be spending the lion's share of my weekend time and energy mowing my modest third of an acre, I bought this Cub Cadet figuring buying it would be far less than paying a landscaper to cut my grass every week for 8-1/2 to 9-months. Good idea and a prudent use of funds, right? Only in hindsight do I see the warning signs that this thing had disaster written all over it from the get-go. 

First off, when I asked the guy I bought it from how old it was he said it was only ten-years old; it was more like twenty. During the first summer I had it the head gasket went and on occasion the starter solenoid wouldn't engage the pinion to crank the engine. $200 for a guy to replace the head gasket and a gentle tap with a hammer on the starter to get it to work and all was well. With a forty-two inch deck, I was able to knock my entire lawn down start-to-finish in less than fifteen-minutes; with my self-propelled, 21-inch walk-behind it was closer to an hour. That, as we say, was what I was talking about. 

During subsequent summers I had myriad issues with the mowing deck and the powered-takeoff-switch (PTO) that engages the mowing blades via an electric clutch; talk about over-engineering. I also eventually  replaced the failing starter motor. All in, though, I was still way ahead of the game. Financially at least although "time is money". 

During my fourth summer with what I affectionately referred to as "my Cubbie" (when it was working), one by one, the original and dry rotted tires stopped holding air and because replacing the tires (and rims they're on) was cost prohibitive, I put tubes in the tires. If you've ever wrestled with replacing a tube in a bicycle tire or putting one in a wheel barrow tire, you know what fun that can be. Best was, I overinflated the tubes and they eventually blew out. Rinse and repeat. 

My problems with this circa 1995 Cub Cadet weren't limited to its age and things wearing out  - my semi-carelessness at times was to blame as well. Over the years my lawn has sunk considerably leaving the top edge of the cast-iron water meter housing in the middle of my front yard sticking up like a proverbial middle finger. Once or twice I did the blades no favors as I ran the thing over it slicing a good chunk off the housing. Once, twice or three times I crashed directly into it. Doing so not only bent the deck but the the super heavy, thick and expensive to replace blades that struck said bent deck. To say I clobbered the damn thing is an understatement. This is a replacement meter housing replaced at no cost to me by the city. 

The big problem then became the very pricy belt that drove the mowing deck blades off the electric clutch on the engine. Crashing into the water meter housing bent the deck so badly it knocked the pully alignment off kilter and the belt would come off and get shredded. That happened twice at fifty-bucks a shot. It happened for the third time late last fall at the end of the mowing season and it was then I decided it was time to push "my Cubbie" into Lake Erie. Metaphorically, of course. 

Hope springing eternal, this past April I thought I'd give it the old college try again seeing how when the belt would shred, I deduced it was only when I had the deck lower than the highest setting. Fine. My lawn always looks more lush taller anyway. Thing was, the starter I replaced the original with started failing, the tube I put in the left rear tire had blown out over the winter and the right-side hinge on the hood broke off. Enough was enough. "My Cubbie" had to go. First things first, though, I had to find a replacement. 

Back when I found the Cub Cadet, Facebook Marketplace was in its infancy and Craigslist, where I found it, was the go-to for finding cheap stuff you used to find at garage sales. Marketplace has since long usurped CL and it didn't take me five minutes to find this 38-inch, 17.5-horsepower, 2011 Craftsman with an asking price of $750. Perhaps more than I wanted to spend but you do get what you pay for. That and inflation has jacked the price up on everything. Have you seen the price of what these go for new these days? This would run you about $2,200 and that's not including the "bagger system" that'll run you nearly $400. Insanity. BTW, I never even looked at Craigslist.

My wife and I took the 40-minute or so drive south to look it over and were pleasantly surprised. It was relatively clean and didn't have any of the rolled-over, exploded and burned zest of the Cub Cadet. However, on my test drive or mow on the guy's lawn, the engine started surging. Me being gun shy after the Cub Cadet, at first I wanted out of there ASAP. The guy swore it was the first time it ever did that and he seemed particularly dismayed since he had just put a new carburetor on the engine. My wife  believed him and she read my mind that I didn't think the surging was a big deal but I didn't want the thing at $750. She pounced asking him if he was willing to part with it for less and he asked sheepishly, "four-hundred?". Sold. He even dropped it off at my house. Such a deal.  

I listed the Cub Cadet for sale on Marketplace for $150 and the next day a guy picked it up (above) no questions asked. Apparently, "Cub Cadet" really means something to some people. Especially "real" Cub Cadet garden/lawn tractors like mine and not the badge jobs YTD or MTD sold as "Cub Cadets" after Cub Cadet sold the naming rights to them for small tractors. John Deere did the same thing. Side note, new John Deere ride-on mowers now come with plastic hoods and their steel bodies are flimsy.  Sad. 

Best was, a simple adjustment on the carburetor cured this thing of any and all engine surging issues. Net out of pocket, with the sale of the Cub Cadet, was $250.  And I would have had to put at least that much money into the Cub Cadet this year to get it going. It's going to be a pleasant summer of mowing. 

In hindsight, I shouldn't have bought "my Cubbie" in the first place, but if you don't have any regrets in life, have you really lived? 

 

1990 Oldsmobile 88 Royale - It is What it Is

As far as my being an automobile enthusiast goes, and the definition of which is as wide as the gulf between the earth and stars, born in 1964 means I was born either a decade late or early. Born late implying I missed out on the golden age of the muscle and pony car party. Born too soon meant I grew up square into the teeth of the great downsizing epoch. Although, he swallows hard,  I'm technically a "Boomer" (I identify as Gen X), I had a front row seat witnessing the shrink-raying of the Great (Big) American Automobile of which this 1990 Oldsmobile 88 Royale was part in parcel. Write about you know; isn't that what they say? 

Introduced for model-year 1986, the Oldsmobile 88 and it's kissin' cousin Buick LeSabre were far more a radical departure than General Motors' much ballyhooed 1977 downsized wares were. With front-wheel-drive, rack-and-pinion steering and transverse-mounted, port-fuel injected V-6 engines, in the broadest sense possible, they really made the darling class of '77 out to be what they really were - just somewhat shrunken versions of what GM had been pushing out since they went to all-steel bodies in the early '30's. 

Contemporary road tests were generally good; a stark turnabout from the acidic, damning with faint praise (if that) prose auto scribes had been ejaculating for years about domestic cars. They lauded their efficient interior packaging although being almost five-inches less wide than what they replaced, they chastised GM for calling them six-passenger conveyances. Perhaps in a pinch but on a long haul the middle seat rear passenger at least would be as uncomfortable as anyone who ever had to sit on "The Hump" in rear-wheel-drivers. These cars still had a hump for the exhaust to pass under, but it was more like a bump rather than a full-on hump. 

On the plus side of the ledger, these cars could handle, brake and accelerate with an aplomb heretofore never seen before in an American car. They were also bolted, screwed and glued together far better than American cars had been in years. As good as what came ashore from Honda, Toyota and Nissan? Well, let's not get carried away here. 

If anything, and, yes, this is subjective, their styling came up short. Way short. Even the coupe versions of these cars, Buick had one too, while more interesting to look at than these sedans, have a semi-awkwardness to them. Like folks whose doctors told them, "lose weight or die" and crash diet to the point they're unrecognizable. Good thing those folks feel better and their vitals are fantastic. 

My first experience with one of these was in the fall of 1987 when my father rented one of these.  Damning the rental agreement forbidding those under twenty-five from driving it, I grabbed the keys for a good old-fashioned "stab and steer". Despite having all of 165-horsepower and 220-pounds of torque, I thought the 3,300-lb little 88 took off like a literal "Olds Rocket". Helped that I continually nailed the gas through the fire wall but still, compared to the hoary "307" in my '82 Buick Riviera, it was then and there I fell in love with the "3800".  That 88's responsive handling and "stop-right-now" brakes were also quite fetching - it was a fun experience that waxing nostalgic about it now, probably wasn't nearly as great as I remember it as being, but , again, everything is relative. 

It's somewhat ironic, however, that these cars haven't appreciated in value. This blue-on-blue 1990 88 with a scant 60,000-miles on its analog ticker is for sale on Facebook Marketplace at dealership in Cleveland, Ohio for $5,800. That's a good thousand-bucks more than you'd pay privately, but you know a 1985 Olds 88, the last year Oldsmobile offered the old B-body, class of 1977 rear-wheel-driver, in this kind of shape with this few miles on it would have an asking price of twice that. Two-door versions a good ten- to twenty-percent more. 

Why's that? Well, that's a question only a non-automobile enthusiast would or could ask. There are some things in life that simply are and we have to accept. Mind you, that doesn't make it wrong or right; it is what it is. 

 

1971 Mercury Marquis - Saturday Morning Cartoons

I blame my first car, a 1974 Mercury Comet four-door sedan, for my general disdain of four-door cars.  However, if I had to have a four-door, I'd like it to be a "hard top" like this 1971 Mercury Marquis I found for sale on Facebook Marketplace recently. The term "hardtop" denotes any car that lacks a center pillar or post and is derived from the look of convertibles, usually ones with just two-doors, with their top up. 

That's not to say I like this car. In addition to it being a four-door, I've never been much of a Ford girl although a Mustang or Thunderbird or two or three could rock my world. And as I get older, my appreciation for the squishy land yachts of my youth is waning. Still, for some reason I felt it my duty to blog about this '71 for no other reason than, again, as I've gotten older, I feel the ever widening "canyon of time" separating the present from my childhood. Here's to representing us kids who remember Kent State, the Paris Peace Accords, Nixon resigning and washed it all down with our faces glued to a small black and white TV watching Saturday morning cartoons. 

The bulk of my childhood was spent, and in more ways than one, "looking up" at the luxury leviathans like this huge Merc. And it is in fact huge - just over 224-inches long and that's without the clodhopper safety bumpers the government mandated starting out front in 1973 and back in '74. My tenderest of tender years spent in my father's literally rental-grade, 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon. A car so bare bones it had laminate flooring. At least it had seat belts not that we ever used them. Then again, they were federally mandated.   

All Mercury's and especially their top-of-the-line model was always a curiosity to me - why'd they bother? Ford had their plush LTD, upon which it was always based, and they were sold along side the tonier and more expensive Lincoln equivalent to the LTD. For the most part, "Mercury's" were little more than gussied up Fords but their being bundled or partnered with Lincoln at least gave them a veneer of prestige. My first car was a 1974 Mercury Comet (sedan, ugh!) and with its one or two "Lincoln-Mercury" badges, I kidded myself I was driving something more than a Ford Maverick. 

Was this Marquis more than an LTD or less than a Lincoln Continental that shared its frame, albeit with a scooch longer wheelbase? Of course not. Same with Cadillac's of the vintage that were no more than Oldsmobile's or Buick's. Throw in the Pontiac Bonneville\Grand Ville and Chevrolet Caprice while you're at it too. What this is then is but mere status symbol of yore. And like first-class cabins on the Titanic, compared to today's road-going gems, it comes up short. Way short. Then again, think about what the poor folks down in steerage had to put up with. 

The Ford Motor Company created Mercury in 1938 to bridge the price gap between Ford and Lincoln and also compete with General Motors and Chrysler's middle priced makes and models. Much like GM and Chrysler came to struggle with their middle children ultimately snuffing all of them out, save for GM's Buick and that's most likely only for the time being, Ford sent Mercury to the great beyond after model year 2010 taking with it with some seventy plus years of struggles to define what made a Mercury a Mercury. Through my foggy goggles, they never really did. 

About the most interesting thing I can find about this fancified LTD is that its 429-cubic inch V-8 has a two-barrel carburetor; the "2V" was for its two-venturi carburetor. The "429 2V" was the only engine available on 1969-1971 Mercury Marquis' and was part of Ford's famed "385" series of Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln engines that it's successor, the 460, incidentally available only with a 4V, was also part of. "385" was derived from the engine's bore of 3.85-inches. 

But wait, there's more. The best is, the 429 2V has a 10.5:1 compression ratio and requires premium juice. No doubt Ford only offered a two-barrel carburetor in the interest of fuel economy. 

Asking price is $2,500. Is that a good price? I guess. Seems fair, not that I care. It's down in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  You might save some pennies driving it home rather than shipping it, but remember, it'll get may 10 or 11-mpg highway, if you're lucky, and it needs to run on the "good stuff". Bonus, if the AC croaks on the haul home, just lower all four-windows for a full-on blast of unrestricted fresh air to cool off. 

Would my contempt for four-door sedans be less if my first car was a powerhouse, V-8 sedan like this rather than the homely, spindly, wobbly, six-cylinder sedan I did have? I honestly don't know. Perhaps it might be somewhat less but then again, back when I came of driving age anyone who was anything, to me at least, drove a car that had only two-doors. The fact my Comet was so intrinsically awful doing the sappy little thing, and through my eyes all four-door cars, no favors. 

1959 Ford Custom 300 - Can't Make This Stuff Up, Kids

Growing up on Long Island in the 1970's, to me, cars from the '50's were more like set pieces from a movie or TV show; it was as if they came from another, ahem, dimension. That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, this 1959 Ford Custom 300. 

That was because by the time of even my earliest memories, which are scattered between 1968 and 1970 or so, cars from the '50's were gone. Long gone. Blame their terrible build quality and lack of real corrosion protection for that. Planned obsolescence made them disposable commodities as well. 

Our patina-soaked '59 here is part of Ford's class of 1957 that, save for the Thunderbird which itself underwent some cosmetic revisions, were the company's first all new models since 1949. This car's 240-cubic inch, overhead-valve, inline six dating back to Ford's first OHV six that replaced Fords very long in the tooth flathead six for model year 1952. 

The years between the end of World War II and when this was shiny and new were a remarkable period of development, advancement and refinement of the automobile. Suspensions were modernized, power steering and braking were mainstreamed along with overhead valve engines and automatic transmissions. During that time, what one could construe as the automobile we know now came of age since anyone today, in theory at least, could drive anything from that time. Especially something with an automatic transmission. Same can't be said for many pre-war makes and models. 

Ford had 19-different models for 1959 that were all quite similar looking and all evoked at least the essence of the range-topping, four-passenger Thunderbird. At the bottom of the lineup was the Custom 300 series which, again, our humble, Facebook Marketplace find here is. 

Contemporary road tests were damning with faint praise. Critics found their size ponderous, which is amusing considering the leviathans to come in the 1960's. They also found handling wonton, braking abysmal, engines adequately powerful but thirsty. Plymouth and Chevrolet models fairing no better although the Ford and the Chevrolet at least didn't start rusting in dealer lots before being sold. 

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Arguably, the most famous of all '57 (vintage) Fords was the 1957 Custom 300 "Fordor" that Marion Crane, portrayed by Janet Leigh, drove in "Psycho" and subsequently sunk by Anthony Perkins' Norman Bates. More fun facts, the '57 Ford in "Psycho", was first used by the Clever family in "Leave it to Beaver". 

Can't make this stuff up, kids. 

1977 Pontiac Firebird Esprit - The Truth Lies Somewhere In the Middle

Either the world has indeed finally gone completely mad or the owner and\or poster of the ad for this car has been taking swigs of grandpa's cough syrup. This 1977 Pontiac Firebird Esprit is for sale somewhere up here in northeast, Ohio with an asking price of $34,000. Say it slowly and it sounds even more absurd; thirty-four, thousand-dollars. Grab your bell bottoms, Charlie's Angels t-shirt and your Bee Gees 8-track, kids. This is going to be an interesting ride. 

While I believe this car has an asking price that's too high, it's actually not out of the realm of reason. NADA peg this car in Concours condition, essentially showroom or museum quality, at $37,000. Excellent shape at $24,000, good at around $14,000. "Fair" (whatever that means) at some $7,500. 

Seeing the shape this is in, which is actually very, very good, I surmise it should have an asking price somewhere around $25,000. Not that I'd pay that for a Firebird that didn't have a "screaming chicken" on the hood but that's just me. 

Gosh, you'd think then that if these cars are worth so much, my 1977 Corvette could go for somewhere near that, right? Granted, my Corvette is not in the shape this original and unrestored oldie is, but my '77 ain't worth half of what the asking price of this is. Shoot, I'd be hard pressed to get $12,000 for it. Why? Because of the market. And the market, while kinder to most third-generation Corvette's or "C3's" like mine than most C4's, is driving the white or blue-hot values on these cars. Camaro's of this generation as well. 

What's really a kick in the tailpipe is these cars retailed for almost half of what a Corvette went for in 1977. And the Corvette, everything being relative, with it's independent rear suspension, was a better all-around riding, handling and performing car. Better looking too if you ask me. Take a drive in one of these and I'd hard pressed to believe you wouldn't think it rides like a truck with square, wooden wheels. My '77 Corvette, which I've painfully restored to original 1977 suspension spec, dare I say rides like a Cadillac in comparison. With it's mildly hot-rodded 350-cubic inch Chevy small block would suck the doors off this thing too. 

But, again, it's the market that's driving the proverbial bus here. These cars are nostalgia trips for Generation X and older Millenials as they were everywhere when they were young; I was born in '64 and therefore technically a "Boomer" but I identify as Gen X. Corvette's of this vintage were actually rare sites back then. Very rare. Not unlike seeing a late model Corvette today. And then, as now, there was a quiet, somewhat unspoken disdain for anyone driving a Corvette. Trust me, whenever I take my creaky '77 out, I see and feel the sneers and hear them saying under their breath, "what a douche bag". If they only knew. 

For 1977, long gone Pontiac built four different types of Firebirds. There was the bone stripper base model with a Buick V-6 and a 3-speed, floor mounted manual. Our luxury-tinged or themed Esprit here  was next on the model totem pole followed by the "Formula" and the apple of everyone's eye, now as then, the Trans Am. Especially black T/A's with the gold trim that Burt Reynold's Bo "Bandit" Darville drove to fame in the greatest bad movie of all time, the original "Smokey and the Bandit". Fun fact, all four of the T/A's in the original "Bandit" where 1976 models with 1977 front-ends. 

The big news at Pontiac for 1977 was a revised engine lineup that included our Esprit's 301-cubic inch V-8 that was not only Pontiac's first new V-8 since the introduction of the 455 in 1970, it was the first Pontiac engine sold to the public that was not based on the venerable 287 "Strato Streak" Pontiac engine dating back to 1955. 

Based in part on the 303-cubic inch V-8 Pontiac developed for Trans Am racing in 1970, an engine never sold publicly, our Esprit's 301makes all of 135-horsepower in base guise, an optional four-barrel carburetor goosed horsepower to 150. With 235 pounds of torque just off idle, it provided reasonable scoot for the time period. "Reasonable" being relative, of course. 

Despite the shape it's in and the honeycomb rims, its $34K asking price is making be ill. Perhaps it's the sickly blue exterior color (I don't mind the interior) or that I'm not the biggest fan of most Firebirds made after 1974 that have the larger, more wrap-around rear windshield. Or, if I'm being perfectly honest, and what do I have to lose by not being so, I'm just jealous that I couldn't get half the asking price for my Corvette. 

As with most things in life, the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle. 

 

1981 Ford Fairmont - Oh So '70's Vibe (And Not in a Good Way)

Although my birth year coincided with the debut of the Pontiac GTO and I was born within a month of the launch of the Ford Mustang and the Plymouth Barracuda, by the time I approached driving age, thanks to two gas crisis and EPA emissions and safety regulations, the cool car party was long over. Due to increasingly stringent safety, emissions and gas mileage regulations, staid looking economy cars were king and anything with a V-8 engine, not to mention any modicum of performance, real or imagined, was verboten. 

However, what came about at the Ford Motor Company as result of circumstances and government scrutiny, was actually quite good. Although, I had little use for the game changing 1978 Ford Fairmont and its corporate kissin' cousin, the Mercury Zephyr. Even in two-door guise like this '81 Fairmont.  

To be honest, though, as good as these cars are based on what became known as the "Fox-body", or platform were, they have not aged well. At least in comparison to their far more famous sibling, the Ford Mustang. And to a lesser degree the 1979-1986 Mercury Capri. The Ford Motor Company used the Fox-body on a wide variety of automobiles across all three of their divisions including Lincoln. The origin of the name, by the way, the subject of much conjecture but the common notion is Ford named it after the Audi Fox which was supposedly the benchmark they aspired to when they first started drawing it up in 1973. 

The "Fox-body" was a radical departure from most anything the Ford Motor Company or any domestic manufacturer had come with before it. The relatively lightweight, unit-bodied Foxes featured a then "space-age" Macpherson strut front suspension and rack-and-pinion steering that afforded drivers a near European level of ride and handling. Well, for at the time anyway. 

Ah, but where it counted to pre-pubescent me, its simple styling was a decided turnoff; not that there were any Ford's of the era that I cared for save for any Fox-body Mustang or Capri with a "5.0" glued to its front fenders. Simple by design and straightforward in ways what they replaced (the Ford Maverick and Mercury Comet) certainly weren't, the Fairmont and Zephyr were the Ford Motor Company's literal and figurative interpretation of a Volvo 240. Ha, as if? Well, auto pundits raved about these cars in ways they didn't gush about General Motors downsized full and mid-sized models that were really, if we're being honest, nothing more than shrunken versions of what they had been pushing out for the past thirty years or so. Your opinion may vary, see dealer for details. 

Funny how some of us have to learn life's lessons the hard way. While my first car, coincidentally or not, was a 1974 Mercury Comet, what I refer to as my "second first car", was exactly what I wanted in the first place - a big, spatially inefficient, V-8 powered "personal luxury car" that was a wallowing monster to handle. But I thought it cool as all hell even though I was smitten by the handling prowess of a friends tiny, early '80's Toyota Corolla. That little car along with a number of other smaller, sharp handling cars subliming stoking the coals of my inner race car driver; I didn't realize at the time that not only was I a budding automobile enthusiast, I actually really enjoyed driving. 

Back to our '81 Fairmont here in the '23. I found this on Facebook Marketplace not long ago for sale near my home here on the west side of Cleveland, Ohio. Asking price was a fair $4,500 for a rust-free, forty-year-old, 50,000-mile anything although I chafe at the thought of dropping that on this. Attempting to look at it through the goggles of my 26-year-old, semi-car conscious older son, I still can't see past it's, as he would put it, "not in a good way, oh-so-'70's-vibe". He adores my 1977 Corvette so he does know a thing or two. I might me somewhat alone in my contempt for this car as I went back to Marketplace to find it and it seems to be gone.