There's something unapologetically old-school about these 1976–1978 Chrysler New Yorker Broughams, and I've loved them ever since I was first smitten by one back in the summer of 1977.
This one is a 1977 that found me on Facebook Marketplace this morning, listed for sale up in New Baltimore, Michigan, a good three-hour drive north of the Triple Wide. There's no information about its history, but based on its apparent condition, the seller's claim of just 68,000 miles on its nearly 50-year-old odometer seems plausible. The asking price is a fairly reasonable $12,000.
Still, that's a nice bit of change in these post-COVID, OMG-inflationary times, but I don't think it's unreasonable for an oldie that appears to be in near-pristine condition. A Cadillac Coupe de Ville of this era, in similar condition with comparably low mileage, could easily carry an asking price of $20,000 or more. Not saying they'd actually go for that, though.
I wish the wife were into these kinds of cars. She hates them.
"Old-man-fart cars," she calls them.
Well, dear, if the brake shoe fits.
Let's flash back to the summer of 1977. I'm with my parents, used-car shopping at the long-gone Conway Chrysler-Plymouth Motors dealership in Baldwin, New York, on Long Island.
I'd grown tired of my parents obnoxiously trying to work over a used-car salesman on a 1970 Buick Electra, so I moseyed over to the new-car showroom to get a closer look at a brand-new NYB two-door that had caught my eye. I carefully popped open its massive door, making sure it didn't rub against the Plymouth Volare parked next to it, jumped in, and slid across acres of impossibly soft and oh-so-slippery leather seats.
In the silence of that tomb-like interior and in an era when thin-was-in in the car industry, that still-large-and-in-charge New Yorker had me hooked. I still am to this day although I wonder if I like these cars or we tend to romanticize everything about our childhoods to some degree.
Perhaps I could convince the wife that the trip would be mostly about leaf-peeping and taking in the splendor of New Baltimore, nestled on the shores of Lake St. Clair.
The geography, for those keeping score, is a little more complicated than it might appear. The Detroit River connects Lake St. Clair to Lake Erie and forms part of the larger waterway system linking Lake Huron with Lake Erie. New Baltimore, meanwhile, sits along the northern shore of Lake St. Clair, in the northern reaches of the Detroit metropolitan area.
I'm considerate of other people's time, though, far more so than my own. And an ad on Marketplace isn't an invitation to a free-for-all for folks like me to test-drive cars they find cool or interesting. I've sold a lot of cars on Marketplace, and I don't appreciate someone who just wants a joyride. Not that this car is a joy to drive.
Built on Chrysler's full-size C-body platform, these cars put the yacht in land yacht. Despite Chrysler's innovative torsion-bar front suspension, steering was only in the relative sense. The suspension was tuned for isolation rather than handling, and the brakes had their work cut out for them trying to stop nearly 5,000 pounds of Detroit iron.
Even with the 440-cubic-inch V-8 available in these cars, sorry, no picture of it in the ad, you're not going to keep up with modern traffic well. More power is something you could address at any speed shop; suspension upgrades for Chrysler C-bodies are tougher to come by.
Although these seats look as inviting as a birthday cake buried in buttercream frosting, they're backbreakers, especially for the driver. These cars were meant to be ridden in, not driven. Still, I want to smear my face in them. I know. That sounds gross, but hopefully you get what I'm saying.
Never meet your idols, they say. The same is true of old cars. No good could come of this for me, although a trip up north this time of year, with autumn in full swing, would make for a nice Sunday afternoon.
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