Regular readers know that I have developed some strong opinions over the years about the cars that were common in my youth. There are those for which I have an irrational love, such as the Studebakers of the s or the slightly more rational love of the C-body Mopar. There have been others that have been a challenge for me he said with more than a touch of understatement. Like this one. And they seem to be plopping themselves squarely in my path so that they are impossible to ignore.
As I have either gotten older or mellowed, take your pick I have cooled a bit in my distaste for the big General Motors B and C body cars that filled showrooms from through At the time these were new I simply hated them. Hate is a word that is thrown around quite casually, but I really did hate them with the zeal that only an opinionated teenager can muster. I had grown up around GM cars of the s which had all been quite good.
Every single one I can recall had been well built, well trimmed for its segment and elegantly styled. Just like a person can be good at what he does while still being a jerk, that is how I perceived these Cadillacs.
Who bought these because of the way they handled or because of how they drove? Pretty much nobody. The final Imperial was more beautiful and the big Lincoln did a much better job of the kind of understated luxury that I considered more fitting for those who could afford them.
But passing judgment is what teenagers are good at, so that was what I did. You all know that most of my distaste for these had to do with their flimsy, juddery structure and their cheaply done interiors. It also bothered me that people still bought them in droves, oblivious to their glaring flaws.
