Buick Reatta - What Were They Thinking?

Seeing this little Buick reminds me of a program director I worked for years ago who, when something would go wrong, would slam us (metaphorically) with his signature admonishment, "what were you thinking?".

 

I have to wonder, with regards to the Buick Reatta, "what were they thinking?" Buick, that is. Not whomever bought one for while I'm not a fan of the Reatta, I can appreciate that someone could be. My issue is with who approved this obviously niche-niche-niche targeted vehicle for production in the first place. Did General Motors really think that a two passenger, pseudo sporty, weird looking Buick would sell? What were they thinking?

As long as I've been on this green earth, Buick has had identity problems and they have been forever trying to change perception as to what a "Buick" is. Just recently I saw a commercial for the Buick Verano where a stereotypical looking grandmother barks out, "that's not a Buick!" What is a Buick anyway? A sporty, junior Cadillac? Then what was Oldsmobile? Alfred Sloan's ladder of marques for GM could be as confining as it was supposed to define what each brand was supposed to be. Years ago being the rung in the ladder either below Cadillac or above Oldsmobile meant that Buick's could get quite stodgy, frumpy. The Buick Grand National and GNX, which were discontinued just as this thing went on sale, played against that type but muddied the idea of what a Buick was just the same as the Reatta. Is Buick for old people or young people? Can you be both? Reatta was supposed to be a vehicle that would show the world grand dad could still cut the rug. To a point. Modest underpinnings and weird styling (did the team that designed the front ever meet the team that designed the back?) can only do so much but for the all important image, Buick wanted the world to know that this was not your father's Buick.

Reatta's biggest problem, aside from the lack of a cohesive design and whether or it was a good idea in the first place, was cost. A two passenger Reatta cost upwards of $5000 more than the car it was based on, the four passenger Riviera. All the hoopla about handcraftsmanship and superior build quality in the world couldn't coax "near luxury car" buying Buick customers to cough up the extra money for Reatta and its two seats as opposed to the Riviera's four. Or depending on the size and number of the grand children you had, five.

Sales of the pricey, two passenger, odd little Buick were, not surprisingly, disastrous. Buick selling just 4700 Reatta's in 1988 against a business case projection of 20,000.  Peak sales were in 1990 when 8500 Reatta's found buyers. A figure reached in part by the introduction of a convertible whose styling did away with the coupe's odd bread basket handle profile. The Reatta was a dead end for Buick and GM quietly dropped it for 1992. 

 

 

Buick then as it is now is a division of General Motors and one would think GM launched an automobile with at least some degree of market research revealing that there was an untapped market for a two passenger, bath tub shaped pseudo sports car. Did they do any research? If they did and it came back that a two seat Buick was viable something got lost in translation. Chances are, as is the case so many times when "corporate" makes mandates, like with that beaten down radio station with that tactless jerk program director I worked at years ago, there was no research.   

 

What were they thinking?

 

Reatta was Buick's second two passenger automobile. Their first was the Model 46 business coupe  they introduced in 1940. It lasted four model years, same as the Reatta.

To the best of my knowledge that guy never worked in radio again after that station went dark.

There Is Nothing Grand About A Pontiac Grand Am

 

 

 

Would I find this car as horrible has I do if it was called anything other than "Grand Am"? I can say with all confidence that I would most certainly would not.

 

 

"There's nothing grand about a Pontiac Grand Am" is not entirely true. An apple of my philandering automotive eye, the original Pontiac Grand Am was introduced in the fall of 1972 as part of GM's new for 1973 "A body" mid sized models. Known as "colonnades" for the new "B pillar" or column (hence colonnade), these cars were derided for their sheer bulk, styling excess and spacial inefficiency (big on the outside, small on the inside). The Grand Am, though was the beautiful swan in a Great Lake of ugly ducklings. However, despite being sexier and cooler than the Grand Prix, Buick Regal/Century and Oldsmobile Cutlass and more masculine than the overdone LeMans and Chevrolet Monte Carlo, Grand Am sold poorly. Pontiac dropped it unceremoniously after 1975. 

 

 

Somebody in Pontiac's model naming department (who names cars anyway?) must have had a serious jones for "Grand Am" because Pontiac brought the nameplate back for another three year run starting in 1978. Now on GM's newly downsized "A body" platform (later called G body), the 1978 Grand Am was but a mere shell of the '73 model but it was a breath of manly, Royal Cophenhagen tinged air compared to the homely lump they put "GRAND AM" on next.  

 

 

My drive of a friend's fresh from the showroom, "N-body" '85, just like this little shitter, had me quoting the car salesman from National Lampoon's "Vacation" who was trying to sell Clark Griswold on the virtues of the "Wagon Queen Family Truckster". "If You Hate It Now, Wait 'til You Drive It". 

 

Wouldn't you know it, though? "The Little Car That Could Not" sold in droves. And then some. So much so that during it's inexplicably long twenty one year production run, many times it was one of the best selling cars in America. Right up there with the Taurus and Camry. So what's in a name?

 

Nothing really. You can't accredit the "N-body" Grand Am's sales boom to it's name any more you can blame it for the first two versions lack of success. The N-body or "little" Grand Am sold well because, primarily, it was cheap; significantly undercutting far superior wares from Japan and Europe. Throw in some practicality (the first Grand Am was available as a four door, by the way) and the not so grand Grand Am took off. Even my in laws bought one. A white on grey, 1994 3100 V-6 powered "SE" sedan. Its styling acceptably benign, its overall character one of resigned complacency. They rolled their eyes whenever I waxed nostalgic for the Grand Am of yore.

 

 

Such is the fate of fanatics of whether it be music, film, sports teams, food, cars. The list goes on. What us "experts" find intriguing being miles away from what John Q. Buying Public finds most important. John Q looking for automobiles that are little more than inexpensive, stoic appliances.

A Tale of Two Chevys - The Doppelganger

My Sunday morning routine is pretty simple. Coffee, walk the dog, drive to the gym in the red Camaro we bought for our boys to use, workout, hit Giant Eagle for bagels and muffins and head home. Last Sunday morning, however I deviated from that scintillating agenda to drop $20 gas in what I lovingly refer to as "The Old '96er". Despite my constant lecturing to the contrary my 17 year old son, the primary driver of The Older 96er, has a habit of letting the tank get down very low. Modern, fuel injected automobiles not taking kindly, I remind him constantly, to running out of gas so my generosity was as much "prophylactic" as it was charitable. With Costco being on the far side of town it meant taking the long way home. That long way home had me stumbling across The Old 96er's doppelganger. 
 

You don't see many "fourth generation" Camaros anymore especially up here in Rustville Cleveland. The body on these Camaros might be of a rust proof fiberglass/plastic blend but the undercarriage is  rust friendly iron. To find another fourth generation Camaro is rare; to find another red one just like The Old 96er is just flat our freaky. Finding it so arbitrarily only adding to the delightful randomness of the whole experience.

 

Chevrolet and Pontiac's 1993 update of the 1982 Camaro and Firebird went a lot deeper than just a swoopy, plastic body but this body is all anyone really remembers. A delightfully handsome design that came at a time just as the market for these types of cars was starting to wane. Another example of GM's incredible bad timing and product planning that led ultimately to bankruptcy. GM pulled the plug on these cars after 2002.

 

There's little to distinguish a 1993 Camaro from a 1996 Camaro. However, while The Old 96er has aged gracefully, this '93 looks like it's been put a way wet. Very wet and very often. My "put away wet" vernacular suggesting this car was neglected and abused more than actually driven hard.

Staying youthful looking takes a combination of hard work and luck. Hard work in terms of exercise, diet and clean living. Luck in terms of being born with great, rust proof genes (we all know those people who are born with those great jeans. We secretly despise them.) You don't see many 18 year old Camaros like mine here in Cleveland not to mention a 21 year old Camaro like our well worn doppelganger. Our lovely "Old '96er", on the right, has spent much of it's life pampered by loving owners up to an including me. Who knows what the doppelganger's story is. I'm sure it has some tattoos in some unsavory places.

"Camaro", in case you've wondered, is a made up word. Legend has it that Ed Cole, then president of GM, came up with the name one morning while taking a shower. Us fans of car wish the origin of "Camaro" came from some place with a tad more mystery and intrigue. Perhaps Camaro is a code word for soap on a rope?
 

 

Doppelganger sounds like a made up word too but according to wiki -- 

 

dop·pel·gäng·er

ˈdäpəlˌgaNGər/

noun

noun: doppelgänger; plural noun: doppelgängers

1. an apparition or double of a living person.

   "he has a doppelgänger named Donald, his invented twin brother"

 

 

 

1975 Chrysler Cordoba - Anything Is Possible

 

My wife thinks it crazy of me to want this car especially when we already have an "old car" that many would die for.

While the "old car" is cool as hell and drop dead gorgeous, it's that white Cordoba my car loving nostalgic heart yearns for most. Yes. A Chrysler Cordoba.
 

 

A white, 1975 Cordoba represented a change in my life where nothing was possible to anything at least seeming possible. While I've had more than my fair share of ups and downs in the 31 years since I first got that car, I can trace the change in my life for the better back to the summer of '83 when I got, "The Cordoba".

 

 

Our lovely Corvette, as magnificent as it is, can't hold a candle to it. 

This car appears to be the base model Cordoba, just like mine (no Corinthian leather).Only difference, mine had a black interior. This light, bright interior is the same color interior that the Dodge Magnum that I bought years ago and restored to look like my Cordoba had.

 

The Magnum (above) was a cool car and thanks to a fairly hopped up engine was pretty fast. Much faster than my Cordoba was. Had it not started burning oil by the bucket I don't know what I would've done with it. The cost of shipping it when we moved back North, even driving it, from Dallas to Cleveland was prohibitive. The failing engine made the decision to dump it somewhat easy. Still, as nice as the Magnum turned out, it was not a Cordoba.

 

 

This beauty is for sale up in Ontario and they're asking a mere $3400 Canadian. That's just over $3100 American. Anything is possible.

The Cordoba was one of the few bright spots for Chrysler during the 1970's. In fact, during its 1975-1977 peak, Cordoba accounted for 60% of Chrysler sales. An abortive styling in update in 1978 killed much of the original's charm and uniqueness. In an attempt to make Cordoba into something more, designers instead made it less than it was. 

1989 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z - Those Were The Days

Still amazes me what these go for these days. This very cherry, 47,000-mile 1989 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z popped up on Facebook Marketplace recently with an asking price of $25,900. A 1989 Corvette in comparable condition and with similar mileage might have an asking price of half that. Aesthetics aside, it doesn't matter that the Corvette is a better car in just about every measurable metric.

I'm not saying the seller will get $25,900 for this, but it's not out of the question that they'll get something reasonably close to the asking price. Price a 1989 Corvette like this at $25,900 and, plain and simple, it probably won't get any nibbles, let alone sell.

The prevailing theory as to why these go for so much these days, while Corvettes sell for relatively little, is that back in the day, those of us of a particular vintage pined for one of these and, at least on paper, it was technically attainable. A loaded IROC like this stickered for roughly half what a Corvette went for. A 1989 IROC-Z coupe had a base MSRP of about $14,500, while a Corvette coupe started at more than $31,500.

Subsequently, there were a myriad of different variations of Camaros available, so the darn things were everywhere, making us car-crazy nut jobs froth at the mouth for them. You rarely saw Corvettes, and the only people who drove them were "old men." The stereotype of the jean-short-wearing geezer with fresh New Balance sneakers and a Corvette golf shirt and ball cap is almost as old as the brand itself.

"IROC" stood for International Race of Champions, a North American racing series that was promoted as something of an auto-racing All-Star Game or Masters Tournament. The series was launched in 1973, with its first championship completed in 1974, and ran through 2006, with a hiatus from 1981 through 1983.

Chevrolet sold the IROC-Z as an homage of sorts to the racing series from 1985 through 1990. The IROC-Z was essentially a Z28 with a handling-focused package that included a specially tuned suspension, lowered ride height, specially valved Delco-Bilstein shocks, larger sway bars, a steering-box/frame brace commonly known as the "Wonder Bar," a special decal package and, most notably, the availability of Tuned Port Injection borrowed from the Corvette. The IROC-Z also got 16-inch aluminum wheels and 245/50ZR16 Goodyear Gatorback tires.

This particular car has the LB9, 305-cubic-inch (5.0-liter) V-8. Since it has an automatic transmission, that would be GM's TH700-R4 four-speed, and the engine was rated at 195 horsepower and 295 lb-ft of torque. The five-speed version was rated at 220 horsepower, or 230 horsepower with the available dual-catalytic-converter exhaust. A slightly detuned version of the Corvette's L98 350-cubic-inch (5.7-liter) V-8 was also available, rated at 230 horsepower and 330 lb-ft of torque, or 240 horsepower and 345 lb-ft with the performance axle.

It also shared the Corvette's Goodyear Gatorback unidirectional tires, albeit in a 245/50ZR16 size versus the Corvette's 255/50ZR16 size, and received unique 16-by-8-inch aluminum wheels. The wheels had different front and rear offsets, which resulted in the words "Front" or "Rear" being cast into the wheel to distinguish which went where.

In retrospect, the Camaro IROC-Z was the Corvette's punk-ass little brother who, almost annoyingly so, could almost match what the Corvette could do on a road course. Thing is, people don't drive these cars, for the most part anyway, on racetracks. Most people I know who had one had them briefly—two years at the most. They grew tired of the ride, the noise, the terrible, unsupportive seats and the general cheapness of the interior.

But you find a low-mileage oldie like this in original, unrestored condition and you're 22 years old again, cruising Utopia Turnpike in Queens looking for like-minded morons in a Mustang "5-point-oh," a Buick "Grand Nat" or some hopped-up relic from the '60s or '70s who are looking for "trouble."

Ah, those were the days.

  

1999 Buick Century - The Power of Value

People, in general, have about as much passion for the radio station they listen to as the brand of hand soap or paper towels that they buy. Same is true for automobiles. While there are people who are passionate about the radio stations they listen to, as there are people who are passionate about what they drive, those people are in the minority. The vast, silent majority are a conservative, no less fickle bunch and due to their size and buying power are whom businesses cater to most. That's why music radio stations sound so homogenized, regardless of format or genre and why there are or were cars like this plain jane, despite the red paint, maddenly bland 1999 Buick Century.
 

 

That's not to say there's nothing not to like about this car for there certainly is. The shape is pleasant, the seats are comfortable, the car tracks nicely, the brakes are excellent, the ride is pleasant, acceleration is ample, fuel economy is good, it is fairly feature rich with just about everything you'd need, and most quite admirably, it should've given back about 100,000 fairly carefree miles before things started to go. 

 

 

This car was also relatively cheap in its day especially compared to similar size offerings from Toyota, Nissan, Honda and VW. That, combined with its fair degree of reliability, especially compared to the crap Buick and General Motors was pushing out a generation before this car, being the primary reasons this car sold in the numbers that it did. Never underestimate the power of value.

Those of us who want something more from their daily driver than the bland, vanilla yogurt of a car like this weren't the target buyers for it anyway so who are we to judge.

 

My in laws had a '99 Century, it was gold not whatever shade of red this one is, and they enjoyed nearly a decade of pain free South Florida motoring bliss. Until it got north of a 100 on the odometer and things started flying off it but up until that, Mrs. Lincoln, the play was great. Mom traded the old girl in for a Honda Civic.

There is something noble about a vehicle so stoic in its mission to be nothing more than pleasantly utilitarian. I myself like a little spam in my meatloaf mix.

 

By the way, if you don't like my radio station there's nothing stopping you from putting in a CD of something you'd rather hear instead. Sorry, no aux hookup on this old gem. 

 

Lincoln MKZ - I Can't So I Won't

 

Lincoln's naming scheme has to be the oddest vehicle nomenclature in the market today. What does "Mk" mean? "Mmmmmm, k?" As in texting short code that my teenagers use? Mmmmmm, no; Mk is short for "Mark" which harkens back to the days of the Mark II through VIII. As if anyone really cares. It is an attempt, though, to embrace the alpha (sans numeric) naming that other "rich" brands have been doing for years. Today at your neighborhood Lincoln store you have the MkS (fancy Taurus), MkT (fancy Explorer), MkC (fancy Escape), MkX (fancy Edge) and our fetching subject, the MkZ (fancy Fusion). Those "modest" Fusion bones aside, the Fusion is a great car, the Lincoln MkZ is one of but a handful of contemporary cars that I think I would purchase...if I had 50 grand to spend on a car. I don't have that kind of money so I won't be buying one. But if I did...Oh, come on. Who's kidding who. If I had 50 grand to blow on a car I'd buy a BMW or Mercedes. I should say, if I had 50 grand to drop on a car and it had to be a domestic...

The MkZ' svelte lines and interesting exterior details make it quite attractive and hide its, again, "humble", Fusion borrowed DNA. I didn't snap the interior here but suffice to say it's leather lined library gorgeous compared to the "looks a vinyl lined Tupperware bowl" of the "lowly" Fusion. Think Lexus ES 350 vs. Toyota Camry. This dyed in the naugahyde coupe lover is smitten, though and the availability of Ford's lusty, 3.7 liter, 263 horsepower V-6 in lieu of the wonky "Ecoboost" 2.0 liter four makes the MkZ all the more appealing. This particular car had the 2.0 liter turbo engine. You can not get a V-6 on the Fusion. You also can not get the Ecoboost V-6 in the MkZ. Just as well.

Testament to the MKZ' beautiful design is that people are amazed to hear that the car is little more than a dressy Ford Fusion. Now, the problem is the Fusion itself is a car that can be confused with luxury brands costing thousands more so with an average price pushing hard against $50,000, the MkZ better offer a whole more than a loaded, $37,000 Fusion. Sadly, as is often the case with "badge or brand engineering" like this, you don't get your premium dollars money's worth.

My two cents: Buy this car because you love the car and not for some notion that Lincoln has any real luxury cache. Or, wait a couple of years and look for a low mileage used MkZ that someone took the depreciation beating on.

Aston Martin DB7 Vantage - What Are YOU Doing Here?

 

The Aston Martin DB7 Vantage's beauty is so out of this world unreachable, so untouchable, so intimidating that I've found myself walking away from it because I feel I'm not worthy to be in the same air space as it is. Which is ironic because the air space that I routinely find it in is in the parking lot of the gym I frequent. That gym happening to be the dumpiest, oldest, cheapest gym in town.  

 

It's a long, boring, sordid, twisted tale of ownership change and lost contracts as to why I still work out at this scurvy and cholera invested dump. I have to wonder, though, why someone who drives an Aston Martin DB7 Vantage would come here. For the same reasons as I? Perhaps but there are few people as cheap as I am. Maybe, though they pinch pennies in one part of their life so they can spend it elsewhere? Like on keeping up on the frighteningly expensive maintenance of this legendary British grand touring car?
 

 

See what happens when you drive an expensive, exotic car? People automatically think you're filthy rich and that can cut you both ways. It's expensive to not only be rich but come across as rich. It's really expensive to maintain the trappings of the rich and if you want to give off the impression of being rich and you don't have the money to do so, well, good luck explaining to friends why you've gone from driving as Aston Martin to an old Chevy Cobalt. 

 

 

I just hope the person who drives this car appreciates it for what it is; a kick butt. beautiful automobile that's as much rolling sculpture as it is a transportation device. Those that see it as nothing more than a trapping of the rich end up being trapped by those trappings. It's a slippery sloped. Still, seeing this old Aston Martin in the parking lot of my gym is not unlike rubbing elbows with a celebrity you'd run into in a cheap restaurant. It happens, occasionally but it leaves you with one question you want to ask them, "What are YOU doing here?"


 

 



 

 



 

 

 

On Facebook, We're All Actors

About a year and half ago or so I was, like many people, a daily Facebook poster. It was part of my daily routine to post not only, what I thought at least, where clever, funny and insightful status updates but status updates that kept my Facebook "friends" up to date on what was going on in my life both personally or professionally. The occasional photo or two (or three or twenty five) also let "my flock" know just how peachy keen, god damn awesome everything in my life was. Furthermore, my sharing of posts and links, all from my wildly divergent interests, ensured me that my Facebook constituency would know that I was brilliant, hilarious, insightful, warm, tender and god fearing. Or, lest not kid ourselves, at least that was what I thought, unconsciously, I was trying to be.

 

Facebook used to drive my wife nuts. She'd scream at her computer screen over a couple or family we'd know, that we were supposedly friends with in "real life", posting picture after picture of fantastic trips they took or their brand new cars or the latest accomplishments of their oh-so-adorable 1.8 children. The bragging, subtle or not so subtle, was obvious but my wife in the heat of the moment couldn't see it; no one's life is as perfect as what it would appear to be on Facebook. For the same reasons you can't believe that your next door neighbor would purchase a $60,000 car just to make you jealous, you can't believe anyone would post something on Facebook just to show off.  Then again, when you think about it, isn't that, innocently at times, what Facebook is all about? Showing off? Sorry. Same goes for those who ejaculate about how miserable their life is or something tragic that's happened to them.  The incessant need for attention comes from the same place emotionally and mentally. I find it hard to believe that if something truly soul rupturingly terrible happened to someone that they would post it on Facebook.

 

I found Facebook a satisfying creative outlet, I had a ball posting pictures and updating my status on what was going on in my life. Especially when I got a high level of engagement. I rest assured, though, that there were plenty of times someone looked at what I posted and slammed their laptop lid or whispered in disgust in a fit of blind jealously.  As much as an actor loves the stage he also loves the audience and their reaction. On Facebook, we're all actors.

 

I don't fancy myself so much an actor as I do an artist; the difference lies in that an artist doesn't need the approval of others. Attention is nice, of course (to a point) but its not what drives "us" emotionally. It's the work, the art, the process that satisfies; not approval.

 

To that end on Facebook it doesn't matter because it's how people interpret what you post. It's not what you meant, it's what people think. With you displaying your entire life out there, you have to be conscious of how people are going to react since everything you put out there becomes part of the mosaic of who you are not so much as a person, but what people see you as. That's a slippery slope I'd just as soon stay off.

 

I heard an interesting interview recently of a pop act, wish I could remember who, where one of the terribly articulate young gentlemen in the group said that they work hard to make sure that their fame doesn't change who they are; that they don't turn into something that the public thinks they are. While that's smart and dangerous for business all at the same time, I'm sure their label and management went into preventive spin mode when they heard that, the truth is many times we push stuff out there on Facebook without really thinking how people will or are interpreting it. Are we really that person or are we putting on an act that we can't live up to in our real lives? Can we live up to what people think we are? If they think negatively of us, can we ever live that down?  

 

A big issue that I have with Facebook, and I'm guilty of this and I am accountable, is that when you have a vast "friends list" as I have from as many different corners of my life as I do, you really don't want everyone seeing everything you post. So, I had gotten selective as to who would see what. Usually, that group would be my immediate family and the closest of "real life" friends. That grew tiresome because it's a pain to filter each post and unfilter posts for posts that you want "everyone" to see. In the end if I was doing something worth sharing I'd end up texting the people who I wanted to have see it. If they pushed it out to Facebook and tagged me that was on them. We all know people who post every last damn thing that goes on in their lives and we silently begrudge them for it. I decided to not even be a possible pebble on that mountain of bullshit. While I still have a Facebook account I use it more as a newsfeed based on what I like. I rarely if ever post anymore. And I couldn't be happier.
 

Kids today don't use Facebook and they're luke warm to Twitter. They prefer texting.  It's immediate and highly customizable via group texting. Social media is here to stay; once something is embraced by the masses there's no turning back but kids today, those bellwethers of future cool, are ahead of the curve. They realized quickly they we don't need to be as dialed into each other as we thought we once needed to be. The people whose opinion I cherish most get to see what I have going on.

 

Now, if we all just stuck to posting youtube cat videos on Facebook I might think of going back.

 

1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass - Unconditional Love

 

 

 

 

  

It's hard to understand the appeal of two door cars today. That's a dyed in the vinyl interior, unconditional lover of coupes, "coupe guy" saying that too. If they were just fashion statements and sold in small numbers it would be somewhat fathomable to comprehend their appeal but coupes, actually, two door sedans, sold in tremendous numbers forty, fifty years ago. So much so that in many instances they out sold their much more practical but much less stylish (opinion) four door versions.

 

 

What's the appeal of coupes? I grew up with them so it's all I know and love, again, unconditionally. I just think they're cool. People are fickle, though and automobiles are expensive to develop; when a particular type of  automobile sells well, manufacturers have a tendency to keep selling that type of vehicle long after that fashion trend boat has sailed. GM built this same car, literally and figuratively through 1997. A time when foreign competition had kicked the beans out of GM and the sedan and SUV had surpassed coupes as acceptable fashion statements.

 

 

I love these cars in all the iterations even if some of their updates, like the 1973 model here, weren't as attractive, as some say, as others. That's my unconditional love shining through again right there. The shrink wrap was being peeled off this now much maligned, bigger in every way you can think of 1973 Cutlass (made through 1977) as our featured '72 was driven off the assembly line.

In 1972, the Oldsmobile Cutlass was one of the best selling nameplates in America; it's easy to see why when we put on our Archie Bunker era, rose colored glasses. Striking good looks and value blended together with a fair amount of prestige. Not too much prestige, mind you. Just enough to impresses the Joneses without them thinking you've lost your financial good sense that got you in the position to afford an Oldsmobile in the first place. This is an Oldsmobile after all, not a Cadillac.

 

  

The takeaway on this particular car is its general sad condition. It looks like it needs everything. From the looks of it I wouldn't hold my breath that it runs any better than it looks too. If it runs like a top there's a certain cache to it; you have to love a rat rod. However, what's with this front end on this thing? 

 

 

After much work to decipher why the hood appears to go in one direction while the grill goes in another, I've determined that this car has been in an accident and someone found disparate parts of Cutlass' and attempted to bolt it altogether and hope for the best. If it fits, it works, right!? At least someone went through the effort to repair what ever it was that was wrong with this car. Even if the grill is from a '69 and the hood from a '71. I think it looks just fine but then again I love this car unconditionally.