There were benefits to being GM. Rush out on stage in a bold new outfit, and get laughed right off it? No problem, just run back to the costume department, where they’ll find you a tried and proven one, and the master seamstresses will nip and tuck it to fit your size A-body in a flash.
The 1978 Aeroback A-Bodies (CCCCC Part 9) were a royal flop, but adapting the 1975 Seville’s tried-and-proven Saville-row tailored suit was a quickie fix. And a fabulously successful one. For eight years (1980-1987) we were given the chance to amend our sins for not having bought one of the originals. And very many did.
“The Little Limousine” is what I remember it being called; was it in an ad or a review? But that sticks in my head, although it’s less honest than just calling it a Little Seville. But what’s honesty got to do with this business?
Of course “little” may not have been the right word, exactly. The A-Bodies did have six inches less wheelbase than the Seville’s 114″ stretched Nova X platform, but from the looks of it, that was all in getting the front wheels out front. The passenger compartments were more similar sized; with the nod undoubtedly going to the A-Bodies for better interior space utilization.
This interior is from a genuine Brougham edition of the Cutlass Supreme, and it is a cushy cabin indeed. No wonder folks kept buying them for so long. Not really a spacious car, but adequate. And although the Cutlass RWD platform was getting a bit long in tooth towards the end of its career, it was a more modern and space-efficient design than its competitor, the Chrysler Fifith Avenue.
Yes, these Cutlass Supreme Seville mini-me sedans were everywhere, if you actually looked. They were as much of the backdrop of the street-scape for so long, it seems odd to realize that not every sixth car is one anymore. Familiarity does breed contempt. But fear not: there’s still a healthy sprinkling of them around. Like most cars that get built a long time, the later ones seem pretty solidly screwed together indeed. All of these three have a Volvo-esque perpetual youthfulness to them. Or maybe their owners are Cutlass-proud.
Engines: let’s forget about them today. Did anyone who bought one of these really care about what was under the hood, as long as it was unobtrusive? Nah. Any slightest pretense of performance and sportiness had long been purged from the Cutlass Classic playbook. Soft and silky; cushy and whooshy; that’s all that counted.
What else is there to say? Hmmm; your turn.