Dude! This winter thing blows, man. It’s, like, 25 degrees outside – that’s like -4 Celsius for you metric dudes and babes. That’s totally frigid. And then this vision in white pounces on my corneas. Seeing a surfin’ wagon in this cold – is that like the most total insult, or what?
Mother Nature is cruel, man.
Man, seeing this Buick surfin’ wagon is righteous. Damn straight! It’s thinkin’ summertime and riding waves and chasin’ babes. Far out! Man, we’re like miles from the ocean; anybody thinkin’ they could, like, ride a wave behind a tugboat on the Missouri River has got some serious cranial fungus goin’ on.
About the only surfin’ a dude could do around here is like tying onto a Seadoo down at the Lake of the Ozarks. That’s wrong, man. Too many drunks swimming and draining their main vein and raising the water level. That’s like totally repugnant.
Check this out! This is like a real old-school wagon, dude. This is totally gnarly and far out. Check out that painting on the side; dude, that’s so old, it was painted on, like, when John and Ringo first met that Ed Sullivan dude and before Jackie K. became Jackie O. There’s some serious history stuff going on here, man.
Check out that phone number too; really, dude, people really did use, like, letters and stuff in their phone numbers. That’s just radical. Hey, I even know that address. Somebody is trying to like really dupe us, dude, that’s some house out in a residential area, man; it’s nowhere near the Pacific. Somebody is really bogus.
The General Meister was like kicking some major ass in 1960 – the year that, like, New Zealand got their first boob-tube station and Mr. Peugoet’s son Eric was kidnapped in Eiffel Tower Town. Man, this LeSabre is like totally bitchin’ being a wagon. Yeah, man, the Meister made like 145,000 regular LeSlobber’s in ’60 and like 7,500 wagons. These wagons are sweet, huh?
For some freaky reason, the General Meister’s 1960 Buick didn’t sell wagons like Hank’s winged messenger did. Yeah, I guess you could say David Dunbar (that’s Buick, man) was going all Don Quixote on the Merc-Man, who was like wicked competition for them every year in wagon sales. It’s freaky man, when Mercury – I’m saying Mercury, dude – would sell better than 22,000 wagons in 1960 against the 12,600 of Buick. Hell, man, Mercury even outsold Oldsmobile in wagons in 1960. That had to totally humiliate the Meister just like wiping out in front of the most wickedly awesome babe on the beach and then watching your trunks wash up on shore as you are in knee-deep water. That’s a real downer.
But not really, man. Some babe must have really liked what she saw as the General Meister still sold more wagons overall than Hank’s boys did in ’60. But Mercury still handed Buick their wagon ass on a platter, man.
But, whoa, there’s a lot of pretty sweet vibes about this Buick. Look at those eyebrows, man. They almost seem to scowl at a dude and say, “oh yeah? I’m gonna kick your ass!” and then they wrap around shaping the sides that slope down to the cars tail. That’s far-out. Whoever penned this car sure had their groove on man; this car is so totally righteous, kind of like that dudette that, well, never mind.
If you go scoping out a ’59 Buick like this one, the ’60 model looks a little lame in comparison. How’s that? Dude, the ’59 had the headlights at an angle to the ground, not all parallel to it. It had that same pissed off look as a ’59 Dodge, and - whoa – was the Meister aping the Lincoln’s cat-eye face? There is still some pretty righteous stuff cooking here, but I wouldn’t throw this ’60 out of the house for eating crackers in bed. You know what I mean?
If a dude has to nit-pick, you gotta say the greenhouse is looking like one of Louie Chevy’s finest for that year. But, hey man, this is a Buick! This isn’t some generic vanilla wafer Chevy, man. This is a Buick and it’s totally bitchin’. Upscale all the way. The wheelbase is longer. The trim is nicer. And there’s some serious V8 cooking under that hood, no wheezing six banger snooze-fest here. Damn straight! A Buick got you a really groovy 364 cid V8 with like 250 horsepower. Pretty sweet.
And for a few more greenbacks, a dude could move up to the Invicta wagon and its 401 V8. That could haul a dude’s ass to the beach like totally pronto.
It’s pretty wicked this LeSab wasn’t all pulverulent and stuff like so many ended up. Some dude or dudette must have treated this like their board and slathered all kinds of top shelf wax on it. Yeah, a car is like your board; treat it like royalty and it’ll love you like your momma does, man.
But, damn, man, 1960 wasn’t all blue skies and righteous waves for the tri-shield company. They really drank some water that year, what with sliding to ninth place and all. Yeah, their sales were so bad it was like the worst finish they’d had since 1905 – the year that Alfred Deakin guy became prime minister of Australia and, like, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were banned from the Brooklyn Public Library.
Sure the economy was like really crappy in 1960, but this really had to suck for Buick.
Truth to tell, dudes and babes: This most awesome Buick is wanting to roam free, man; it’s feeling as cooped up as Charlie Manson, dude. It’s waiting for adventure. But, hey, it was parked next to the curb and it’s got some buddies around it. Hell, man, it’s beside a Crown Victoria Sport (yeah, some of you curmudgeony skeptics probably think that is all oxymoronic and stuff) and in front of a Jock Ewing Lincoln Mark V. Dude, there was even a Yugo behind that flatbed!
Well, good peoples, I gotta go wax my board for this spring. Hang Ten!