And the snow stopped, and the sun came out, and some of the snow melted, and there for me to behold was this creature formed from molten steel over half a century ago, and it was magnificent. All rise, please, and let us pay some respect.
Let no mortal say that I am filled with spite, for I am not. Yes, I may have uttered some unkind words toward Cadillac, but that was mostly directed toward present-day Cadillac. This, most assuredly, is not that present-day Cadillac.
Is it the color? It could be the color. In fact, I’m quite certain that the color has a lot to do with it. It’s called Adriatic Turquoise Iridescent if I am not mistaken. And it is all that and a bag of chips. Actually, it’s all that, the aforementioned bag of chips, and 52 years of avoiding carefully maintaining the finish that gives if the perfect look now. But the color, the color is just one thing about it.
Steelies painted silver, exposed lug nuts with, ahem, patina, and then shod with Cooper Discoverer outline white letter tires more often seen on a pickup truck. But giving this big lug a stance and style far more reminiscent of I don’t know, something more traditionally muscley, more iron, more…just more, lot’s more. This may be the leather jacket over the white T that is not ever, EVER, EVER! to be seen in a Cadillac boardroom. But it is hot. And the fender skirts are still there too.
I mean, those tires, and those wheels, and the overall look of this thing are all just meant to be started up in the morning, revved high for about five seconds to break the dino juices free and not quite flowing and the temps up to nowhere near where they should be, and then with a crank of the wheel and a drop of the shift lever and a flex of the ankle the proper way to exit the parking space is just to spin the tires and hang the tail out there, Magnum P.I. opening credits style, let it slide into the street, and rocket down the block all in far less time than it took to write this fabulously run-on sentence of mine that’s even longer than the Cadillac being discussed. Deep breath.
After all, this is… The Standard Of the World.
Nothing gets in the way of the majesty of the magnificence here. Not bills, not the job, not the rent, not the old lady, and certainly not The Man. If you have to ask, then you can’t understand the answer. You don’t even speak the language. I don’t even know you. You may not even know yourself.
7.7 liters, 472 cubic inches, 375 horsepower, 525 foot pounds of torque. Just about right.
Light ’em up, light ’em up, light ’em up, light em! It’s gonna be a good day. And then run through the night, from the Big D down to the Big Easy it’s only 1,067 miles. Some rocket fuel for the car, more rocket fuel for the driver, 11 motivated hours and you’re there to look for Madame Begue’s but find it or not you’re having some eggs Sardou with a bucket of café au lait and a few hot beignets for that second wind, you don’t care if you spill powdered sugar all over your shirt. It’s white.
It takes a dedicated driver to wear through the original seat fabric and then also to wear through the saddle blanket cover and then to keep going with it all. The big hardtop delivers though, comfortable, easy to handle with one finger or two, body splayed just so with one knee up, and when the time of year is right the cold fingers of the air conditioner running through your damp hair, either from the shower or the sweat from the hot day.
Or maybe the windows are open with nothing to get in the way from pillar to pillar. Maybe windows down and A/C for you don’t care. You don’t need to. You don’t answer to anyone. Unmarked though is the passenger side, but the charms of this big little devil, excuse me, deVille, should be enough to fill that with whatever your pleasure may be without much effort.
Your mamma may not have wanted her babies to grow up to be cowboys, but she never said anything about not growing up to be a Cadillac Man. Otherwise you’d have to settle for a Cowboy Cadillac and why bother with that when the real thing exists.
In any case though, like I said, I’m not a Cadillac Man, but if I was a Cadillac Man, this would be my Cadillac, man.