1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille - Joe Namath's Cadillac

Well, here we go again. This guy over in Cranberry, PA has his 1979 Cadillac Coupe deVille he claims was once owned by Joe Namath up for sale just like he did last spring. "Joe Willie" grew up in Beaver Falls, a good twenty-five-minute drive south. Asking price is $15,000.

The seller says the car comes with the original Florda registration that may or may not prove it was owned by Mr. Namath. The seller doesn't say this trunk load of memorabilia goes to the buyer either. As a long-suffering New York Jets fan of a certain vintage, I'm intrigued. Although, frankly, I'm intrigued more so by the car than who once owned it. And to know me is to know I love Joe Namath. 

If Joe bought this new, he would have purchased it in the year or so after he retired after the 1977 season. After an injury riddled and abysmal 1976 season where Joe threw only four touchdown passes and sixteen interceptions, the Jets attempted to trade the Super Bowl III MVP to the L.A. Rams, but the deal fell through. The Jets placed on him waivers which he cleared making him a free agent. He then signed a one-year-deal as a backup QB behind Pat Haden with the Rams. 

If this was in fact Namath's car at some point, I find it interesting he'd purchase such a relatively modest vehicle. Light yellow on brown? Joe, seriously? At least it's a loaded, "Phaeton" model. 

He wasn't necessarily known as a "car guy" although his taste in some things tended to be rather ostentatious. For instance, he drove this 1974 Cadillac Eldorado, during training camp at least, at Hofstra University on Long Island prior to the 1975 season. 

Because of his bad knees, it's said he preferred large and spacious cars; to that end, the 1979 Cadillac Coupe deVille, despite being smaller or "less large" than previous models, more than sufficed. The front seating area is so cavernous, a carpeted trash bin for your Twix wrappers and smokey treat boxes could fit under the glove compartment in the right side of the passenger footwell; I don't see it here, though. 

Being a top-of-the-line "Phaeton", this car is equipped the way I'd like mine with a power-adjustable passenger seat. My father's '79 Sedan deVille had a manually adjustable front seat and sat way too low. Like my father's car, "Joe's car" has a "60/40" split front seat; 60-percent of the front seat is the passenger side. You could, in theory at least, sit three across there. The arm rest being the "back" of the middle passenger's "seat". Cadillac did not offer 50/50 seats, buckets or a center console. 

These 1977 to 1979 Coupe deVille's are getting harder and harder to find in this kind of condition. to that end, it's priced reasonably. They never really grabbed the attention of Cadillac cognoscenti like even the big bumper, "colonnade" 1974 to 1976 models did. They were the first deVille's to be all but mere appliances that well-heeled buyers, like Joe Namath supposedly, and those wanting to appear well-heeled bought, drove and simply disposed of. 

Why that is the stuff of "car guy" lore. You either get it or you don't. Shame that was, though, because over time, the nefarious reasons for the Cadillac-nation not taking to these like they did to the elephantine barges these replaced has long since passed. These cars, while still gigantic, were far more maneuverable than those big boats were. 

Sadly, the passage of time has not been kind to one of my early childhood heroes. Once heralded as being one the greatest NFL quarterbacks of all time, Joseph William Namath is now known for being merely famous as opposed to being a great quarterback. 

1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille which was originally owned by Joe Namath. The car has been indoor storage for 30 years. With the purchase you will receive the original copy of Joe Namath’s Florida driver’s license and the original copy of the Florida Vehicle Registration.

Joe Namath owned a 1979 Cadillac Coupe deVille (often cited as a Phaeton edition) after his football career, which he favored for its roomy, comfortable ride. The car was in the Namath family for over a decade, and it has been described as a well-maintained "time capsule" with over 90,000 miles

 

1976 Chevrolet Monza 2+2 V-8 - Gee-Whizzing

The car I judge all others I drive by? Ferrari 458? Lamborghini Gallardo? Seventh-gen Corvette? Mercedes-Benz SL550 AMG or BMW M6? You would think. Nope. It was a yellow, 1976 Chevrolet Monza 2+2 similar to this one I stumbled across on Barnfinds.com recently. 

Well, honestly, it's not so much I compare that oddly styled little car to everything I drive; it's how close anything I drive for the first time comes to giving me my first exhilarating dose of "holy-sh!t-this-car-is-amazing" endorphin rush a Monza gave me decades ago. A rush of natural "feel-goods" I've been chasing ever since when I get behind the wheel of something I haven't driven before. 

I mean, seriously, the hell did I know at the time anyway? Up until then, the bulk of my wheel time had been with my father's woe-be-gone, 1972 Cadillac, then his 1980 Buick Century that replaced it. I've blogged ad nauseum over how bad my first car, a 1974 Mercury Comet was. Although substantially better than my Comet, I wasn't overly impressed with any of my friend's rides either. Although, again, I had no idea at the time what a car to be impressed with would or should be like. My automotive perspective changed forever one summer afternoon in 1983 when I took a quick spin in a "305" V-8 powered, 1976 Chevrolet Monza 2+2. 

T'was the summer of 1983, and I was so sick of my dumpy, ratty, squeaky Comet that I sold it without anything lined up to replace it. That meant I was back to using the Ross 10-speed I got when I was in the 8th grade to get around. Headed back to Nassau Community College on Long Island that fall for my "sophomore" year, while, in theory at least, I could take the MTA Long Island Bus, that would turn what was by car a twenty- to thirty-minute, ten-mile slog, into being caned for ninety-minutes. I needed a car. Like now. 

Problem was, it was getting late in the summer, and I was having zero-luck finding anything suitable in the $1,000 price range I was pigeon holed in. 

I was skimming through the Chevrolet section of the classified section of "Newsday", the big Long Island newspaper, for a Monte Carlo or a Malibu I couldn't afford when an ad for a Chevrolet Monza popped out at me in the broken, word-economy speak of a cost-per-word classified ad: 

"1976 Chevy Monza 2+2. Needs exhaust. Not perfect, runs good. V-8. $1,800 OBO."  

Despite it being a good eight hundred to a thousand more than I wanted to pay for anything, and I thought the Monza 2+2 homely, the formal roofed "Town Coupe" somewhat less so, I reached for the phone on the kitchen wall to call the number listed. I don't know. Must have been, "V-8" that intrigued me. I called, they answered and it was available. Bonus, it was close enough to my parent's house I could hoof it over there on my bike. 

When they said it wasn't perfect, they weren't kidding. Although just seven-years old at the time, it seemed much older. There were rust spots, dents and scratches littered the dirty, shine free yellow paint and the twin black "racing stripes", that our "Barnfind Monza" doesn't have, were peeling. The interior was filthy and reeked of cigarettes. Although living in a house full of smokers and myself imbibing from time to time, I've always hated the stench they leave. Welp, that car was definitely not for me but car guy I am, I took it for a spin anyway. I mean, the owner of what was ostensibly a factory V-8 powered Vega giving me the keys to it? This could be interesting. 

I turned the ignition key and the Chevrolet 305-cu in. V-8 fired up and settled down into a deep and satisfying glug-glug-glug; each blip of the gas pedal made it sound richer and even more satisfying. The manly sounding engine had me thinking a little differently about the homely and dorky little car. I tried to act cool. All of 19 at the time but having the face of an altar boy, the seller trusted me to fly solo. Bless his heart. I felt like a bull with his balls strapped up in his stall at a rodeo before his stall opened. Let's go! 

Granted, small cars with any modicum of oomph feel more powerful and faster than they actually are, but the combination of the loud exhaust, actual punch of the engine and the car's "darty", go-cart like handling made for one hell of an experience. Especially for someone who had never driven anything remotely like it before. 

Windows down and a traffic free entrance ramp onto the Meadowbrook Parkway between Merrick Road and Sunrise Highway, I pegged the gas, a rear tire chirped, the car squatted back, the engine screamed and off I went. This, I thought to myself, was what "driving" was all about.  

I must have seemed like nothing more than a joyrider when I dropped the car off gushing with praise over it. Of course, I didn't buy it. I gave the keys back to the seller who seemed willing to negotiate on the price. I held my breath as I low-balled him as a way to get out of the conversation. He didn't bite, thankfully. I jumped back on my bike and headed home to plow through the classified section of the paper again "gee-whizzing" about that Monza all the way home. 

To this day I still am. 

1987 Pontiac Trans Am GTA - Be Still My Beating Heart

For over a week now, this very worn third-generation Pontiac Firebird has been sitting at the transmission shop next door to my office in Youngstown, Ohio. Imagine my delight when I finally sauntered over to it and found it to be not just a Firebird, but be still my beating heart, the ultimate 1980's Firebird, a Trans Am GTA. 

When cars like this were new, their high sticker price, insurance rates and terrible performance in bad weather put them out of reach for me. Not knowing any better, like fawning over the unreachable and untouchable homecoming queen or cheerleader captain, I thought they could do no wrong. 

Over the past twenty-plus years, I've been lucky or unlucky enough to have had my fair share of what are referred to as "pony cars". Long story short - these things are not for everyone. Trust me, the idea of having one is far better than actually having one. At least as a daily driver. As a weekender? Oh, by all means. Every day, though? I don't know about that. To me these are "party cars" that don't know how to do anything but party; sometimes, you just want to crash on the couch and watch Netflix. Still, I'm drawn to cars like this like a moth is to a flame. And I'm willing to get burned again. 

Pontiac's answer to Chevrolet's Camaro IROC-Z, the Firebird "Grand Touring American" were built from 1987 through 1992; this is a 1987. Like the IROC, these cars were supposed to offer buyers even greater performance than the models they were based on could muster. To a car crazy kid driving a crusty 1975 Chrysler Cordoba, what they could do, or would I imagined they could do, the stuff dreams were made of. 

Checking the "GTA" box on the order form got the original buyer a Trans Am with the WS6 handling package which included higher rate springs (fancy car talk for stiffer), thicker anti-roll bars (car geek nomenclature for back breaking), rock hard bushings, an even quicker steering ratio and 245/50 tires on "cross lace", 16-inch alloy rims. 

Under the hood, sorry, I couldn't get this thing up higher than this, we see it has the tell-tale "Tuned Port Injection" intake runners that defined powerful engines at General Motors at the time. This car has an automatic so that means this is the 350-cu. in., or 5.7-liter, "L98" engine you'd also find in Corvettes of the era. This one would have been slightly detuned, of course, since the Corvette had to be the most powerful car in GM's lineup. Even if the difference was maybe five- or ten-horsepower. 

You wanted a 5-speed, you'd have to make do with the 305-cu. in, or 5.0-liter, "LB9" engine that had the L98's sexy pipes, but it made less horsepower and torque. Legend has it the torque of the L98 would detonate the Borg Warner T-5 manual. So, you wanted the big motor, automatic only, pal. 

Contemporary road test reviews of these cars are decidedly mixed. Scribes heap praise on their straight-line performance and adhesion in the corners on smooth surfaces. Lest they didn't offend manufacturers who spend big bucks advertising with their publications, you have to read between the lines their utter contempt for their flinty rides, wonky ergonomics, terrible seats and sloppy, cheap construction. 

I wonder how many of these were bought by buyers who quickly thought twice about their purchase. Again, if they were bought as daily drivers. If you know, you know. 

Damned with faint praise at best, the critics harsh words came across to me like a coach yelling at my favorite sports team players. You bastards can't say that about my favorite genre of cars and get away with it! Well, guess what? Turns out those guys were right. And then some. 

Though they sorted much of what ailed these cars through the years, they (General Motors) never got them one hundred percent right. The Trans Am GTA's, though, were as good as third-gen Firebird's got. What you bought one for going a long way as to whether or not you ultimately liked it or not. 

You bought it for its aesthetics or what it could do for your image, you probably regretted your purchase quickly. As a performance appliance, though, you got a lot of bang for your buck. 

The jarring ride, droning exhaust, their impracticality and difficulty of ingress and egress; these are cars are not for the faint of heart. Every pony car I've had had me questioning my decision. Naturally, I bought them as dailies. 

Sigh. Funny how contempt can replace lust. 

I'd love to know the story behind this car. Goes without saying it's got transmission problems. Doesn't appear to have any rust issues which is unusual for a forty-year-old car that appears to have spent considerable time outside in the shoot-me-now cold then brutally muggy and hot summers we get here in northern Ohio. 

So, it's got loads of potential. I'd just get it running and rat-rod it. 

There's a humility to it I like that when new, this car and cars just like it, did not have. Not unlike an older athlete, professional or not, with a mile or two on them who still "has it", just without the off-putting arrogance that may or may not have gotten them into trouble back in in the day. 

1968 Cadillac DeVille convertible - That Land Yacht Has Sailed

This nice but not perfect, 75,000-ish mile, 1968 Cadillac DeVille convertible popped up recently on Marketplace with a towering $25,000 asking price. I know inflation is warping the values on most everything these days but twenty-five grand...for...this? 

Back in the day, I swooned for these cars and others like it that had buckets more panache than anything current at the time; performed better overall too. Then again, these General Motors class-of-1965 full-size cars where the last crop of cars that didn't have to bend to government regulations regarding safety, emissions and fuel economy. 

With no literal and figurative "governors" to be concerned with, that didn't stop General Motors and Cadillac from applying their own brakes, as it were. By 1968, a "Cadillac" was a far cry from what it was just five-years prior; although it wasn't as bad as it would get come 1969 and beyond. 

Blame the "bean counters" for trying to squeeze every last dollar they could to maintain profit margins. Rather than jack up sticker prices, Cadillac just cheapened the cars themselves; they also stopped innovating. Innovation as much as part of what made a Cadillac a "Cadillac" as styling did. 

Seeing how people bought Cadillac's in increasingly large numbers, despite their being less and less "Cadillac" and more "Chevrolet" like with each passing model year or two, that didn't seem to matter at the time. Well, didn't matter until it did matter which by then it was too late. 

1968 was the last year for the stacked vertically stacked headlights on Cadillacs, an ethos that went back to 1965. The last year genuine wood veneers, thin as they were, were available as well on the interior. Although the design of the front seats left a lot to be desired, 1968 was the last year Cadillac used a leather that was of a near glove-soft quality. Cadillac improved the seat design for 1969, but the leather they used was hard and slippery. 

Cadillac introduced this dash design in 1967 replacing the 1965 conjuring that was bejeweled in comparison. Think this looks cheap? It ain't got nothing on the 1969 and 1970's mold injected plastic horror. 

It wasn't all downhill, though. 1968 was the first year for the last "great" Cadillac exclusive engine, the venerable "four-seventy-two", 472-cubic inch V-8 that would stick around, in one form or another or displacement, somewhat amazingly, through 1984. Love the gold air cleaner cover. 

If buyers felt they had to defend the fact that the interior of their car wasn't quite as plush as it used to be, they could brag they had the world's largest passenger car V-8 engine at the time. Although, they'd then look sheepish when a yokel with a 427-cubic inch V-8 in his or her Chevrolet Caprice smoked them at a stoplight. 

Behind the wheel, I've found these cars to be a chore to drive. Their structure spindly, the body shudders, the seats not supportive. Yes, they look lovely, but, sorry, I've come to expect more from a car that's not a daily driver than just looking pretty. 

I'll drive yours and gush enthusiastically about how nice it is and drop my geeky tidbits about what I know about it. Would you rather I tell you what I really think of your car and that I think you wasted your money? 

Seems my penchant for literal land yachts like this has sailed.