DEFINITELY your father’s Oldsmobile. (IFCAR/Wikimedia Commons)

Pulling into the future

In the proceeding blog post there was much waxing poetic over boats from the 1970s and 80s – a real gush-fest, if you will, over the big land yachts of yesteryear.

But was this bygone era really all that long ago?

The lineage of these vehicle pushed further into the modern day than most people give them credit for. Take the brawny Caprice/Fleetwood/Roadmaster cousins of the mid 1990s.

The full-size, V8-powered, rear-wheel-drive era pushed into the 21st Century with the Panther platform  triplets – the Ford Crown Victoria, Mercury Grand Marquis and Lincoln Town Car. Popular with cops, livery companies and the geriatric set, this platform underpinned Ford Motor Company’s full-sizers from 1978 to September 15, 2011.

Many people are still mourning the loss.

While all this was going on, however, there were other respectable large-car platforms toiling away on the highways and back roads of America – and selling in much larger numbers to boot. These sedans had most of the trappings of traditional full-size cars (soft suspension, front bench seats…SIZE) but with a key difference – they came equipped with dreaded, unsexy front-wheel-drive.

Their names are familiar, as they were taken from their renowned rear-wheel-drive predecessors – Oldsmobile 88 and 98, Pontiac Bonneville, Buick LeSabre and Park Avenue, Cadillac DeVille. From the mid-80s until the turn of the century, these vehicles occupied the upper tier of their respective marques.

Typically found with GM’s ubiquitous 3.8-litre V-6 under the hood, these lengthy front-drivers put the power to the road though a column-shifted 4-speed Hydra-Matic. I have fond memories of many youthful adventures involving  a friend’s ’86 and ’94 Olds 88.

Powerful, smooth and seemingly indestructible, cruising in either Olds was like taking to the road in your living room – comfortable, spacious, and familiar.

1994 Oldsmobile 88, aka, The Invisible Steed. (IFCAR/Wikimedia Commons)

Some of those models were given the hot treatment, though I sadly never got the chance to drive one. The understated Olds LSS and Buick Park Avenue Ultra were real sleepers in their time, powered by supercharged 3.8’s that could easily challenge unsuspecting Camaro drivers.

When a new century dawned, those tired, dusty nameplates of the past were soon replaced with new models of similar dimensions, containing similar drivetrains. Well, the same drivetrain.

The Olds 88 and 98 didn’t get to see the 21st Century (Oldsmobile would soon be unceremoniously killed off, anyway), but the other stablemates did, soldiering on until 2005. Pontiac later met the same unfortunate fate as Olds when bankruptcy loomed for the General and all unnecessary overhead (and nameplates) had to be jettisoned like human waste in outer space.

The late, great Buick Lucerne (some would just say ‘late’). (IFCAR/Wikimedia Commons)

With Chevrolet flogging hyper-bland (yet spacious and uber-traditional) Impalas starting in 2000, Buick was left to tempt traditional large-car buyers with its Park Avenue/LeSabre replacement, the Lucerne. During its five year run (2006-2011), the archaic Lucerne set few hearts on fire, but it did do an admirable job of carrying the torch in a race with few remaining competitors.

With a standard pushrod V-6 whose architecture dated from the Cretaceous Era, the Lucerne was built on the high-strength GM G-Body that underpinned the late Buick Riviera coupe. It was long, with big overhangs (like the Riviera), looked heavy (it was), and featured tell-tale Buick Ventiports on the front fenders.

A ‘Super’ edition powered by a Cadillac-sourced 4.6-litre V-8 added horsepower and a dash of style over the base Lucerne. The chrome waterfall grille of the Lucerne Super (which became the standard look in later years), coupled with the wide and rakish C-pillars was enough to catch my eye.

Sure, it was a lumbering dinosaur that didn’t reflect the new, post-bankruptcy GM, but I liked it all the same. I knew, at the time, that the Lucerne was among the last of a nearly extinct breed – one that had once been so plentiful.

(Note: the Chevy Impala soldiered on from its 2006 redesign until 2013, so it REALLY represents the end of the old-school full-size front-driver era. This was also the last time a car could be bought with a optional front bench seat.)

The Lucerne is now gone, replaced by the far more modern Lacrosse, while the Impala has finally entered the 21st Century with a handsome redesign and upgraded technology top to bottom. No more pushrods, 4-speed automatics, or bench seats, which could be seen as a good thing by those lacking nostalgia.

Swing low (and long and wide), sweet chariot…

I’m not ashamed – I’ll proudly admit to having a fetish for large American cars.

Even as a kid, when the other boys drooled solely over Mustangs and Z-28s, I gave equal eye time to the old 1970s and 80s barges that plied the highways and byways of my corner of small-town Ontario. Oldsmobile 88s and Ford LTDs were everywhere; so too was the Grand Marquis and deVille.

Yes, these baroque land yachts sure temped me, flaunting their landau roofs, opera windows, sagging springs, pillowed velour bench seats and faux wood grain trim. Like rolling bordellos, they were – the kind that the bad guy would try and get away in before Jim Rockford headed them off in his Firebird Esprit.

When driving age rolled around I was tempted by cheap Crown Vics that seemed to populate the back of every used car lot, but their appeal always lost out to my more pressing need for economy and gas mileage. School, you know.

Since then, prices have only risen higher into the stratosphere, so the dream of land yacht ownership remains just that – a dream. A big, hulking, wallowing dream.

Growing up, not many people close to me shared my passion – something that changed when I entered adulthood. I then encountered other people with an equal interest in square-rigged, city-block-long Detroit steel. Sometimes we talk over drinks, musing about how much smog-strangled horsepower a Lincoln 460 puts out, or what TV show/movie had the best shots of these Earth-bound Queen Marys in action (hint: Kojak).

Finances and market forces are against it, but that dream won’t ever die, nor does my appreciation of the new crop of large American cars. The Charger/300 siblings were just the thing society needed to get over the XXL-sized SUV craze of the late-90s and early 2000s (gas prices helped in that regard, too), and I find the new 2014 Impala to be a shapely, desirable beast.

Hell, I liked the anachronistic Impala that came before it. There were retro sensibilities to be had there, and without a hint of irony.

I’m fully convinced that if a new car as large and excessive as a 70s-era Chrysler was produced and was somehow able to achieve 50 mpg, there’d be a respectable lineup of buyers wanting to berth the thing in their driveways.

For a long time, those big cars commanded respect through presence and panache, and I can be forgiven for wanting to return to that era.

“What do you suggest? It’s an 328i coupe.”

You see a shape pass by. A shadow, really. It’s emitting a growl, a throb – a throaty exhaust note that signifies raw power and precision. Not something to be messed with.

The presence of this beast stirs something in you – your head swivels. What is this blacktop warrior?

You see it. Under the sun, your eyes narrow into a squint. It’s high-end, all right – oh yes, it takes drugs or a law degree to get into that.

The blacked out rims, the quad tailpipes, the sun glinting off of….nothing.

The car’s coated in coal soot – it’s a friggin briquette. I could light a kitchen match off any surface.

The Bimmer I see (it’s usually a Bimmer… when it isn’t a Civic) has a matte paint job. No swimming-pool-deep laquer on this baby, no siree!

I really don’t get the rust primer/Tremclad look. Is it a Mad Max thing? Is this because of Mel Gibson in some way? Why paint over good factory paint on a $60-70,000 car?

A quick Google search will return countless hits about the best (or cheapest) way to get into a matte paint job or wrap. I doubt the people searching for this are looking to cover up the rust on a 1986 Bronco II.

Sure, if you have the cash and the will, go right ahead – I just don’t understand why anyone would want to do this. That said, the spoiler/wing/painted side mirror craze of the turn of the century taught me that there are scores of tasteless people everywhere.

Maybe that’s being harsh. Maybe my hatred for chalkboards is clouding my objectivity.

Regardless, if I ever found myself in the Brown Beauty Bimmer that rolled past me this morning, I would hope that –

(1) I hadn’t just lost my mind and,

(2) I wasn’t at gunpoint.

“Let me unfurl that stepladder for you…”

This driver either possesses the world’s smallest manhood or has a deep-seated phobia of being near the ground.

Whatever the psychology behind the motorist, this vehicular abomination deserves to be heaped with scorn wherever it goes. Clearly the most obnoxious, unnecessary vehicle since the Hummer H2, this jackass’ jacked Ford could roll over Corollas at stoplights without trading paint.

Sure, lift kits are fun, but at what point does it just become impractical? I have to imagine that driving this F-250 would like wearing platform shoes with 12 storeys of goldfish in the heel.

Parking garages? Off limits.

Overhanging tree branches? A serious concern.

Spitting rocks into the windshields of nearby motorists? A near certainty.

Risk of injury while boarding/exiting the vehicle? High.

Rumours of overcompensation? Unavoidable.

Ability to blend in/hide from cops? Impossible.

Maybe I’m being uncharitable, though. This visitor (student?) to the University of Western Ontario might have no choice but to traverse water four feet deep in order to pursue a quality post-secondary education.

Roll onwards, you glorious, depraved monster.