Mac's Auto Salvage

And the Caddies Keep on Coming: 1978 Coupe DeVille!

2007-09-17T21:35:00.000-07:00

Everybody's got that one car that just does it for them. And often, these cars have subtle variants that make ownership of more than one necessary. Some people collect tri-year Chevrolet Bel Airs, while others collect tri-year Ford Thunderbirds. Not me, though. I can't resist nor explain the tacky charm of a "tri-year" baby Cadillac.

It's all Big Red's fault. My beloved and long gone Firethorn Red 1979 Coupe DeVille is the reason I can't get past my love of the first generation of the "baby" (1977-1979) Cadillac Coupe DeVilles. And with the purchase of this very rough around the edges Ruidoso Saddle Polycoat 1978 model, I have now owned one of all three years. Purchased on a whim (and a desperate need for parts that are not in any way reproduced) last Saturday night in Warwick, Rhode Island for $400, I can't say enough about the things I like about the car. The interior is in decent shape and most everything works, right down to the eight-track player; this was proven as the car came with a complimentary copy of Jimi Hendrix's Smash Hits under the seat! The car has a lot of good things to donate to the cause of the mild restification of my Naples Yellow 1977 Coupe DeVille. The car runs and drives decent, and most of its 94,000 miles were highway, as it was used by the previous owner for frequent runs between Warwick, Rhode Island and Buffalo, New York. I plan to swap all of its good parts onto the '77 before the bad weather sets in, and swap all of the '77's lesser parts back onto this car before sending it on its way to the highest bidder, so it's as complete as possible after taking all the parts off of it that I want or need.

Rescued: 1971 Cadillac Sedan DeVille

2007-07-15T18:46:00.000-07:00

"Rescued" is probably the best term to describe what happened to this car late this afternoon. Under very tragic circumstances, I was called upon to take this 1971 Cadillac Sedan DeVille from its former home, under threat that it may see the junkyard by the end of the week if something was not done. I don't want to go into too many details or name names out of respect for the others involved, but the story behind how I came to own this vehicle does deserve to be told here in some capacity. If any of my readers wish to find out more of the specifics then they are more than welcome to send me an e-mail and I can point them in the direction of dozens of news articles that will tell the entire story. So, here goes.....

At the end of last weekend, two friends returning from a hiking trip decided to make a stop in a small New Hampshire mountain town to grab a bite to eat and check a few things out before heading home. One of the places they decided to stop at was the local Army/Navy surplus and outdoor gear store. Unfortunately, through no fault of their own whatsoever, this decision proved to be the worst decision they could have ever made. Seconds later, a deranged man who had run a crime spree up and down the East Coast burst into the store with a gun and demanded money from the owner. A small scuffle ensued and the store owner was shot and killed. With the gunman still inside the store, the two young men rushed to aid the store owner and they, too, were tragically shot and killed. One of these young men was the owner of this Cadillac. He was only 25 years old.

A week later, after the young man had been laid to rest in his home town here in Massachusetts, a phone call was made and I was told to come get the car because it pained his parents to see it sitting in the lot in front of the family business. I made the forty mile drive with my girlfriend without hesitation, dropped in a fresh battery, and drove her home. It started up on the first turn of the key, and, although she's a very tired and very beat old car, rode straight and smooth as a Cadillac should. I have no idea what I'm going to do with the car, as it seems to be just on the edge of being unrestorable (structural rot in the frame), but if my inconvenience provides a grieving family with another small step in a healing process that will take a lifetime, then it is more than worth it to me. If any members of his family or any of his friends or acquaintances are reading this or ever stumble upon it, I would like them to know that the car is in good hands, it will never be junked whole, and it will never be raced in a demolition derby. Even if the car is to be parted out, then it will be done so only after I determine the car to be too far gone to be fixed as a whole. Any way you slice it, the car will not go to waste in my hands. It is the very least I owe to the memory of its young owner whose life was cut so tragically short.

I love these old tanks to death, but this is the last way on Earth I ever wanted to end up with one. Stay safe, everybody.

1974 Lincoln Continental Limousine: Sold!

2007-07-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's right. Another fine old car destined for the heap has been saved and placed in the hands of a new owner. The 1974 Lincoln Continental Executive Limousine by Moloney Coachbuilders, Inc. that provided me countless hours of entertainment as a little boy has been sold to a Lincoln collector from New York. Unfortunately I was not able to keep her myself; with my current space situation it is all but impossible to accomodate a vehicle approaching 22 feet long. I knew the gentleman was the right person to take her when he drove out to meet me in his daily driver Turquoise Moon-Mist 1979 Town Coupe and a deal was struck that afternoon. My feelings were confirmed when he made arrangements the following Monday for a local repair facility to rebuild the transmission, redo the entire brake system, and put a brand new set of tires on it so he could drive the car home. I couldn't imagine a better person for the car to go to and hope he gets many years of enjoyment out of it as I once did. And if he ever goes to sell it in the future, I have his word that I will get the first option to buy, which, mark my words, will be done in about half a second whenever that phone call comes. Even Mister Cadillac has a soft spot for a Lincoln or two!

All Aboard the Banana Boat: 1977 Cadillac Coupe DeVille

2007-05-21T18:55:00.000-07:00

Here she is, my new old daily driver. The "Banana Boat," as it is called by my family and friends, is a Naples Yellow 1977 Cadillac Coupe DeVille. Bought from a gentleman in Milford, New Hampshire (the same town where my 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was bought for those keeping score at home), the car originally came from Oklahoma and it is absolutely unbelievable how spotless it is top to bottom and inside and out. Seeing the overall condition of this car and my old 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme, which was an Idaho car, makes me never want to buy a vehicle from New England again. The average used car around here that is described as "extremely solid" has roughly as much rust as the Titanic. That's why I have to search high and low to find cars like this Coupe that haven't been completely consumed by the tin worm. It's remarkable, really; even things like the fuel tank straps that rot away on EVERYTHING here in New England are not rusted and there are still factory chalk marks clearly visible on the rear differential cover! It's got 84,000 miles on it and merely needs stupidly simple cosmetic things like a new headliner and a set of rear fillers like every other car that was ever made with ABS plastic fillers does. I'm a sucker for the first generation of the "baby" Cadillacs (1977-1979), and this one was way too good to pass up. Since selling "Big Red," my 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, I've never been able to get the desire for another of this generation out of my head, and this one being in the same color as my mother's '85 Eldorado that I spent a good chunk of my childhood riding around in was certainly an added bonus. A virtually spotless, relatively low mileage, ice cream-colored two-door Cadillac with a white leather interior couldn't be more me. And for $700, I wouldn't even think of chancing the fact that it might not get to sit in front of my house. I'm not even going to suggest that I would never sell the car because I'm tired of putting my foot in my mouth, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. And for the time being, the big yellow Cadillac will do just fine for my transportation needs. Gas prices be damned!

Sold: 1996 Buick Riviera

2007-05-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, you read it right; my 1996 Buick Riviera has been sold. The one vehicle that I thought I wouldn't be selling any time soon is in the hands of a new owner in southern New Hampshire. Not to worry, though, because I sold it to a gentleman who is very much like myself. My Riviera will be a daily driver for his daughter and will be living amongst a dozen interesting vehicles, including a 1969 Pontiac GTO convertible and a half-dozen first series Chevrolet trucks. What was the reason for the sale, you ask? Well, lots of things. She may have had the heart of a teenager, but the rest of it was showing and acting its age. Despite all the preventative maintenance I have always done as well as addressing problems when they arose, it kept acting up. It wouldn't always shift into gear in the morning on the first try, every now and then it would backfire through the plenum and blow all of its vacuum hoses off, and on rainy days it liked to start on half its cylinders. That coupled with the fact that I was about 99% sure the fuel pump was on the way out because of the way it would intermittently cut out at random moments finalized my decision. I ended up getting about $500 over book value for the car with the ABS light on, the traction control light on, full of dings and dents from two and a half years of everyday service including spending major time in the every man for himself parking lots at the University of Massachusetts, Lowell, and its set of winter wheels on it. That's right, I got to keep the chrome turbines with the whitewalls! They are safely locked away in storage with my '67 Eldorado and all my other spare parts and other such automotive treasures.

As for a new ride, don't worry, I found one. I got to put a lot of money in the bank and am back in a car that is far more what I'm into than this car was. A mid 90's transverse-mounted V6-powered front wheel drive vehicle just doesn't cut it anymore, no matter how cool-looking and unique it may be, especially when as many problems arise in such a short time as in the case with this one. Now it's in the hands of another true enthusiast that will give it whatever it needs to give another 150,000 miles of faithful service. It may be gone, but the memories of all the good times had with the car will last forever. Who knows? I may even cross paths with it again as it only moved about twenty miles north. And until that day comes, I wish it and its new owner all the best. Godspeed, little egg.

"Big Red" on My Cadillac Story

2007-05-16T06:57:00.000-07:00

Remember my Firethorn Red 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille? Well thanks to my friend Silvester I have just one more reminder of why I never should have sold it. Unbeknownst to me, he sent a photo of "Big Red" along with some photos of his 1986 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham to My Cadillac Story. For those of you that don't know, My Cadillac Story is a website published by General Motors where proud Cadillac owners can post photos and share their stories of why they still believe the marque to be the Standard of the World. I had toyed with the idea of sitting down and writing a nice long story on how I came to be interested and submit photos of my '79 Coupe, '71 Coupe, '67 Eldorado, my mom's '85 Eldorado she had when I was a little kid, and all the others I had some sort of personal connection to over the years. Apparently, however, my friend Silvester has beaten me to the punch on at least one of them. So get on over to My Cadillac Story, scroll down till you see a Firethorn Red 1979 Coupe DeVille with the name Silvester Humaj, and get reading. Then read the others and submit your own if you're fortunate enough to own one of these fine machines!

Razorback at Rest

2007-04-24T21:35:00.000-07:00

Reader Martin e-mailed me with this amazing and heartbreaking photo of a 1967 Cadillac Eldorado languishing out in a field where it appears to have sat for quite some time as it is sitting up to the axles in dirt. Funny thing that he should send it to me today as hours earlier I had gone to visit my 1967 Eldorado and was thinking to myself of how much of a project it would be in spite of the fantastic original shape it's in. Needless to say, after seeing this photograph, I don't feel so bad.

Yeesh. What a sad end for a fantastic automobile. I sent Martin a lengthy e-mail back about the feasibility for the average hobbyist to restore a vehicle in such a state of neglect and this one seems well out of most anybody's reach. The roof could probably be peeled back like the lid of a sardine can without too much effort and the thought of what the undercarriage must look like is not for the faint of heart. Still, if I were ever to get the winning Powerball ticket for some obscene amount, rest assured that I would be picking this car up first chance I got to be restored to factory perfect. For the car's sake I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Overwhelmed

2007-04-22T17:31:00.000-07:00

Many of you have been wondering just what the hell has happened to me as we're approaching damn near the three month mark of absolutely no updates. I've received e-mails from many readers and even phone calls from friends in the past few weeks that use my online presence as a way of tracking me as their lives, too, have been uncontrollably busy. Not to worry, though, because I'm not dead and I certainly haven't given up on my ever-revolving fleet of world-class beaters. I haven't had time for any of them lately, but I certainly haven't given up on them or this little asscrack of the information superhighway I call home. Though updating will continue to be sporadic for a little while, I am largely back; a big part of why I wasn't updating was that both computers and my digital camera simultaneously shit the bed. Two out of the three have now been fixed and I should be good to go on a digital camera before not too much longer.

The Difficult Decision to Pass

2007-01-24T15:15:00.000-08:00

I love cars. I hear about interesting older cars on a regular basis and never pass up an opportunity to go look at one, be it for myself or a like-minded friend. Unfortunately, due to space, time, and money, I am not able to have even a fraction of what I would like to have, and certainly not all at once. And that is just a shame considering I feel a call to action whenever I catch wind of an old road warrior about to be discarded or potentially fall into the hands of a careless or unappreciative new owner. The following is a small sampling of some of the recent potential fleet additions that just haven't quite panned out:

1957 Chevrolet 210 Station Wagon- This one was bought off of eBay about four years ago by the gentleman that sold me my 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille in the summer of 2005. It received an amateur restoration sometime in the 1980's complete with a cheesy aftermarket AM/FM/tape deck in the dash in place of the original Wonderbar; other than that it was still in alright shape, all things considered. This coupled with the fact that the car had no motor just made his $4500 asking price seem way to steep, especially for a cheap bastard like myself.

1967 Cadillac Miller-Meteor Duplex- Yes, that's right; I almost pulled the trigger on a hearse. Almost. The asking price? Talked its owner down to eight hundred dollars from fifteen hundred. Probably could have had it for six hundred seeing as that's how much he had in completely rebuilding the rear suspension and that's all he seemed to wanted to get back. It had 29,000 original miles and ran like a top, but had deep body rot in the rear quarters from languishing out in a farmer's field in Maine in its later years after being taken out of service. But the rest of the car was surprisingly solid and the interior was in amazing shape, save for being disassembled. The casket rollers and cot bars were also missing and would have required a considerable amount of time and money to locate. Not to say that I'm not up for a challenge, but I still have two other vehicles requiring a lot of attention before I'd ever get to the thing. Giving up my 1974 Lincoln Continental limousine to make a parking space for it was another reason that the grand old funeral coach wasn't able to come home with me. The good news in all of this, though, is that I passed the owner's information onto my friend Cadillac Bill, and now the hearse lives at his house where I can visit it whenever I want. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to buy it somewhere down the line.

1961 Pontiac Tempest- This little honey of a car supposedly only had 67,000 original miles and lived inside from 1991-2004 after its original little old lady owner gave up on driving. Unfortunately, it lived outside for the three years after it was purchased from her estate and was rarely started. It probably would have cleaned up pretty well but a good amount of surface rust had started in those three years before I came to know of it. This aside, with half a Dixie cup full of gasoline poured down the throat of the little one barrel carburetor, the mighty Indy Four rumbled to life and ran excellent with the normal amount of engine shake expected from a 194.5 cubic inch inline four with no balance shaft. For those not in the know, the Indy Four is quite literally a Pontiac 389 cut in half and my vision for the car was to have a presentable original driver with an engine that would have all the trick stuff offered for its V8 brother inside of it. An Edelbrock dual-carb intake manifold is long out of production for this motor, but I had already tracked one down. Couldn't say I'd get to it any time soon, but at an overall length of 189 inches, the adorable little Pontiac could have been put on wheel dollies and pushed into the end of my storage unit sideways until I was ready for it. And at a starting price of $900, I could care less if I ever got to it because it'd be neat just to say I owned the rope-drive, rear-mounted transmission four cylinder 1961 Motor Trend Car of the Year. The reason for passing? The mental midget that owned it stopped corresponding with me. Hopefully because the car went to a better owner than me or because the owner himself decided to go the distance and restore it himself as was his intention when he bought it three years ago. I still want one of these cars and am now on the lookout for another. An Oldsmobile F-85 of the same vintage with the all aluminum Buick 215 V8 would be an acceptable substitute as well because I highly doubt I'll find one of the roughly 3,000 Buick V8-powered Tempests that rolled off the line that year.

1980 Cadillac Sedan DeVille- I've known about this car for about a year and a half and just now is it finally formally for sale. I'd want the car for a daily driver if I were to buy it. It's got 77,000 original miles on the only good engine Cadillac offered that year, the cast iron 368 (run in the other direction if the 1980 Cadillac you're considering comes with either the Oldsmobile 350 diesel or the aluminum block HT4100 unless your first order of business is to throw it in the dumpster and replace it with something that isn't completely awful. If this is the case, then the presence of one of these two possible boat anchors can end up being a fantastic negotiating point in your favor.). The car lived in Florida for a good portion of its life and even though its use was a backup car/winter beater for the remainder of its life to this point in New England, the car is only beginning to show any sort of age. on its exterior. The undercarriage is in remarkable shape and the pillowy-soft blue cloth interior may as well have never been sat in. The aftermarket CD player in the dash probably would have stayed unless its absence contributed to knocking another bill off the owner's bottom line of eight hundred dollars because it was installed correctly with no cutting of any kind; a stock radio could go back into the dash in a matter of minutes if I chose to do so. Its age was also attractive to me because it's exempt for emissions testing here in Massachusetts, making getting an inspection sticker a breeze. I had to pass because I had no room at the time, but know the owner fairly well and told him to come back to me if he had trouble selling it elsewhere and didn't want to see the car get hacked up, demolition derbied, or disgraced with cheesy rims and tinted windows.

So there you have it. Just a few of the many recently considered vehicles that just weren't meant to be. Some still have a little bit of a chance, but I'm not holding my breath. But tax return season is upon us; I will be finding myself with a few extra bills in my pocket and I've got the itch for a new toy. Know of anything interesting I don't in the New England area? Let me know! If I end up taking a reader's find home, there's a couple bucks in it for you. I promise!

"Big Red" Revisited

2006-12-25T13:06:00.000-08:00

It's been a year since this photo was taken, and I still miss this damn car. I may have had better things since my '79 Coupe DeVille, but nothing yet with as much character. Something about driving a red and white Cadillac with a big wreath on the grille during the holiday season with my Santa hat on really makes me smile; wish I was able to do it again this year, even if the car didn't have heat. Ah well; easy come, easy go.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

The Last Ride

2006-11-10T10:36:00.000-08:00

Lined up and ready to roll. My friend Chris's '81 Chevrolet Malibu gives chase as the '71 Coupe DeVille and '77 Cutlass Supreme get ready to make their final trip to Cadillac Bill's house to be traded for my new 1967 Cadillac Eldorado.

Greatest Freebie of All Time! 1974 Lincoln Continental Limousine!

2006-11-06T19:31:00.000-08:00

Yes, you read correctly: this vehicle was absolutely one hundred and ten percent FREE! Many of my long-time readers may recall the post from mid-June where I thought I was cool and macho for finding a perfectly good 1970's children's bicycle in the trash one afternoon while illegally putt-putting around the neighborhood during my license suspension. Little did I know that I was yet to see the top of the mountain. How does one come to acquire a limousine for free, you ask? Gather around and I shall tell you a tale.....

The Lincoln belonged to a friend of one of the owners of the body shop my father works at and has sat down there for at least ten years, maybe longer. He used to own a limousine service when the car was new and never got rid of it. Why Rolls-Royces and Cadillac Fleetwoods were sold and the Lincoln was held onto I will never know, but it came to rest at the shop one day a long time ago because the man needed room at his already cluttered garage, out of which he runs a small hot rod & restoration shop. As a kid I would play inside the big limousine on many an occasion when my father brought me down to work with him on his old cars, or to grab tools and other things. I thought it was the biggest car I'd ever seen; perhaps the biggest car in the world, and wanted to have it since the first time I laid eyes on it. I am, have been, and will be a diehard General Motors fan until the day I die and shit on the blue oval every chance I get, but when you're nine years old, a limousine is a limousine and that's all that matters! Technically I haven't sold out yet because, although I now own a Ford, I have still never paid for one. And a '74 Continental limousine isn't exactly your everyday piece of crap Ford, either; exceptions can be made. All I know is, when the chance to own it came up, I could not refuse for a second, especially considering that if I didn't take it then a local wrecking yard would in short order. Who could knowingly let one of their favorite childhood playthings go to the heap and feel good about themselves? Lord knows I couldn't!

So for the past ten years the thing's been down at the shop, sort of out of the way but still enough in the way so that the guys could never completely forget about it. It moved from here to there, from this building to that, and back again as need be. Its last resting place was in the end of the main building, which needs to have a concrete floor poured in it so that vehicles can be stored inside during the winter months. They'd been asking the guy for a long time to either move it or junk it, to no avail. Supposedly it had been listed for sale for a long time, but if that was actually the case, nobody ever bit. A few months ago they asked him if he'd rather just junk it, and he apparently came very close, but decided to hang onto it for just a little bit longer. Thankfully, he did.

Last week I was down at the shop and John, the owner, mentioned that he'd be paying the Lincoln's owner a visit on Saturday and that he'd ask him once again if he wanted to junk it. Wait just a second, here! Junk my Lincoln?! They couldn't! I wouldn't let them! I told John I thought it would be a shame to just throw the thing away like that and asked him if he was just going to junk it would it be alright if I were to take it instead. He told me that sounded fine with him, at which point I prayed that it would be "junked," now knowing the car's real fate!

Today I went down to the shop and went out back to the unit where the '67 Eldorado and the major portion of my other super-secret car junk stash is housed to start the Eldorado and drive it around the yard to keep things moving. I go to back the car out the door and slam on the brakes, seeing the nose of a big red pickup truck at the last second. It was John! I got out of the car as he was getting out of the truck.

"Hey, how are ya," he says.

"Not bad, not bad. Just figured I'd come down and fire up the Cadillac."

"Good, good..... Oh, by the way; I got that Lincoln for ya."

"What?! Are you serious?!"

"Yeah, you can take it; it's all yours. Keys should be under the driver's seat."

And just like that, I suddenly own a 1974 Lincoln Continental limousine with an eighteen-inch stretch. Silver with a black top and black interior with rear-facing folding jumpseats and a power divider window between the driver and passenger compartments and dual stereos and dual climate control; this thing is the real deal. With only 62,000 original miles on it, the old girl runs as smooth and quiet as it did when it was new. A little work and a new paint job over the winter and spring and she'll be ready for action in the summer! And every time I get behind the wheel, I'll remember the little boy who could barely see over the dashboard; who would put on the chauffer's hat tucked neatly inside the glovebox, ask his imaginary passengers where they'd like to go, and make engine noises as he took off for their destination. The big silver Lincoln is all his, now.

Two Become One: 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado Coupe

2006-10-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

One of, if not the best and most important part of the car hobby is developing a comprehensive network of friends. Having such a network comes in handy for numerous reasons, whether it's fixing something, finding something, or something as simple yet necessary as fudging an inspection sticker for an old beater that's not quite up to snuff with your state's safety and emissions standards. One such friend of mine is a gentleman by the name of Cadillac Bill, who earned his nickname by buying, selling, collecting, and trading Cadillacs for the last thirty years. Thousands of them. He's got thirty-six of them at his house and an equal number in other places as I type this, including everything from an all-original 1932 V-16 once owned by the wealthy Storrow family of Boston (of Storrow Drive fame) to a 1978 Eldorado Biarritz with factory T-tops, and damn near anything in between. Forties, fifties, sixties, seventies; convertibles and hardtops; sedans and coupes; hearses and limousines; you name it. Every now and then when he gets his hands on something he thinks I might be interested in, Cadillac Bill hunts me down at work or otherwise and tells me. So when he walked into work a week ago, I had no idea what to expect.

It had been a good amount of time since I'd seen him last, so we did a bit of catching up; he hadn't yet known that I'd bought a 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, but when I described it to him, he instantly knew which one it was. Apparently I'd unknowingly bought the car out from under a friend of his who also buys and sells and plays around with old Cadillacs. He said that his friend wanted the car something awful and would get a kick out of knowing where it ended up, as well as asking what I'd want for it in the event that he could get it off of me for his friend as a surprise. I told him I didn't have an idea because I liked the car and wanted to hang onto it for a bit, but I asked him if he had anything interesting to trade me. He began to tell me the story of one of his car buying trips the week before that yielded four Eldorados: an old man had in his barn two 1967's and two 1968's alongside two 1941 Cadillac sedans, a 1937 LaSalle coupe, and a 1929 Studebaker President sedan. Both 1968's and one of the 1967's were in marginal shape and were rotted in all the wrong places; destined to become either parts cars or very ambitious restoration projects. The other 1967, however, was in incredible original shape: the car was rock-solid, save for one spot under the vinyl top where it met the rear quarter panel that had just started to rot through. It sounded like quite a car, and I asked him what he'd want for it.

"Outright? I'm gonna have it listed in the Wheeler Dealer for $3500, but I'd go $3000, probably," he says.

"With my Coupe DeVille, what would you want for it?"

"With your car, $1500."

"Jeez, fifteen hundred? I don't have that kinda money..... would you be interested in another old car I have?"

"Depends, what is it?"

"It's a 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme sedan with 81,000 original miles; came from Idaho, not a speck of rust on it."

"Sounds cool, but I only want Cadillacs now; I'm getting out of other GM's unless they're something really special."

"Alright, well, let me think about it and maybe I'll be up to see you in a few days."

And we left it at that. I mulled it over for a few days and figured I'd at least go see the thing, if nothing else but to be in the presence of a relatively rare car, as well as see what new junk he had up at his house since I'd last gone up there. So I take a ride up the other night and he takes me into the main garage where he keeps all his good stuff, and there she was. A beautiful, all-original 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado hardtop coupe in Bronze Firemist with a white vinyl roof, amazingly presentable interior and exterior brightwork, and a clean white leather interior with black carpets and dash in amazing orignal shape; no tears or cracks anywhere. It had a few rare options including headrests and the Guidematic automatic headlight dimmer, and all the little things worked; the factory AM/FM radio tuned and played beautifully, the vacuum-operated hideaway headlights worked, and even the power antenna went up and down! The 429 cubic inch V8 fired right up and ran smooth, the transmission shifted perfectly (the early front-drive Eldorados had inherent transmission problems), and the car stopped on a dime. The paint was pretty faded from living in direct sunlight for its last months after the winter was over, but the body was solid as a rock, and that's all I cared about. Purchased new in 1967 from the famous Peter Fuller Cadillac on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston (now occupied by the Fine Arts department of Boston University) by an elderly gentleman in Rhode Island, the car became the man's daily driver until his death in late 1971. His wife never learned how to drive and as a result the car was put in the garage where it sat undriven, save for the occasional lap around the block by one of the man's sons to keep things moving, until 1988 (I have documentation to prove this, as well as the car's 1971 Rhode Island inspection sticker tucked inside the original owner's manual) when his wife finally passed away. Why one of his children would not want to keep such an amazing vehicle if nothing else but for sentimental value is beyond me, but it was sold to a gentleman in Wilmington, Massachusetts who used the car as a toy in the good weather. At 80,000 miles, the car received a new transmission, timing chain, water pump, gas tank, and a host of other major parts (once again, with documentation to prove it) and then was driven another 36,000 miles before finally being parked at the end of the summer in 2003. It was an incredible deal and I wanted the car something fierce, and Cadillac Bill wanted me to have it; he wanted the car to go to somebody that knew what it was and would appreciate it for just that. So we went back and forth on it a little bit.

"I'd be willing to go $1200 with your Coupe DeVille," he says.

"Jeez, twelve hundred; I dunno where I'm gonna be able to come up with that in short order. You sure you wouldn't be interested in my Oldsmobile?"

"Nah, I really have no place for something like that."

"Alright, well it's a fantastic car and I'll definitely let you know, either way."

"Yeah, let me know by tomorrow if you could; I'd like to have it in the Wheeler Dealer for Thursday if you don't take it."

And we left it at that. I wanted that Eldorado more than anything and spent the ride home thinking about which of the many local banks would be the easiest to rob, because that was about the only way I'd be able to get my hands on the money necessary given the timeframe I had to make my decision in. That is, without the help of friends. As I stated before, one of, if not the best and most important part of the car hobby is developing a comprehensive network of friends. I have friends, but they're all retarded broke college kids like I am. While they can be roped into coming on a road trip to look at or come get something with me, cash is in extremely short supply, usually. Cadillac Bill, however, has a twenty-five year jump on me as far as making friends in this hobby is concerned. He wanted me to have this car, and he was going to make damn sure that I got it somehow. He called me the next morning.

"So I talked to a buddy of mine, and he thinks that your Oldsmobile would be perfect for his girlfriend to learn how to drive on," he says.

"Oh really?! Sounds good to me! So what are we talking, here?"

"I can do your Coupe DeVille, the Oldsmobile, and $600."

"Jeez, six hundred, I dunno if I can have that sorta money together today."

"Well I mean shit, can you come up with anything?! Three hundred bucks, maybe?!"

"Hmm, three hundred. Let me call you back in a little while, okay?"

"Alright, sounds good."

And we left it at that. He'd stayed up till an ungodly hour for me to come see the car in the first place, came down on the price for me as much as he was willing to, and after that proceeded to call up probably every damn weird buddy he had until he found one that was apparently in the market for an ugly, faded late 70's four-door General Motors A-body that on numerous occasions he made abundantly clear he didn't want from me. So did I accept the deal? Two cars and three bills for the nicest, most complete, most mechanically sound, most solid original "razorback" Eldorado that I would ever see in my budget range (which is pretty close to nothing, usually)?

Of course I did! My 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, my 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme sedan, $300, and a bunch of parts I got for free off of a 1970 Coupe DeVille that a friend's neighbor was parting out was given to Cadillac Bill in exchange for the beauty that you see here; once again, with the help of a few friends. Leading the convoy in the '71 Coupe DeVille, I and my friend Silvester in the '77 Cutlass made the two-hour drive to Cadillac Bill's house, along with my friend Chris whose '81 Chevrolet Malibu two-door served as the chase car. The Eldorado made the 110-mile ride home flawlessly, and it's exciting to see it sitting in my storage area awaiting restoration, which I don't care if it comes tomorrow or twenty years from now. They made 17,930 of them forty years ago, and now I have one all to myself. I know I say I'll never get rid of any old car I get my hands on, but this one's definitely a keeper. And something I never would have been able to have were it not for the types of people one becomes friends with in the car hobby.

Vintage Era Days

2006-09-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

Today, the Bay State Antique Automobile Club hosted their annual Vintage Era Days car show at the Endicott Estate in Dedham, Massachusetts. Different from their annual general car show, Vintage Era Days focuses on the golden age of the automobile, from the beginning until World War II; vehicles newer than 1942 are not even permitted onto the show field, and the show is not judged in any way so as not to take away from the enjoyment of the automobiles and the day. The show represents a time in which more thought and attention to style and detail was given to something as small as a radiator cap mascot, such as the one pictured above on an all-original 1928 Pierce-Arrow, than is given to an entire vehicle today; a time in which cars and trucks were every bit as much works of art as they were the machines they were intended to be. Simply put, Vintage Era Days is motoring at its best. Here's a small sample of what was there:

This stunning all-original 1932 Studebaker President coupe-roadster is owned by my friend Robert, and has traveled only 38,000 miles and change since new; the last few thousand of which have been under his command. It recently performed flawlessly on a 400-mile round trip to Stowe, Vermont for a similar show, and also to Newport, Rhode Island and back, where it took second place in Preservation Class at the Concours d'Elegance in May of this year.

Some 45 years ago, with only 21,000 miles on it, the engine seized in this 1937 Graham Cavalier and its owner pushed it into the barn behind his house. Last fall, a gentleman was finally able to purchase it, awoke it from its slumber, and brought it to my father's shop for sandblasting and paint. The exterior brightwork and interior, however, were simply cleaned and reinstalled. Here she is, all put back together and out on the road where it belongs.

This handsome 1929 Packard roadster looks great in two-tone green.

A very stately looking all-original 1937 Packard Twelve model 1508 formal limousine and an all-original 1921 Buick open touring sedan hold down the back corner of the field.

Somebody told me there was a Ford Model A pickup truck in this picture, but I can't seem to find it. The supercharged 1937 Cord 812 I was able to locate, however, looks like it's going a hundred miles an hour standing still.

This all-original 1911 Knox open touring sedan was easily my favorite of all the vehicles at the show. Owned by a gentleman that lives only two towns away from me, it was not the first time I'd seen this grand old touring car at a show, but certainly the first time I was ever able to get this close to it; the car finally free from the seemingly endless crowd of booger-picking morons asking stupid questions commonly found at the local ice cream stand, a locale where an automobile of this caliber is extremely underappreciated. Don't get me wrong, here; I'm not badmouthing Joe Blow and his buttered together cloned SS split bumper '70 Camaro he's owned since high school, because I'm still very much like him. I'm no sophisticate, but rather still just an idiot kid that can't keep away from old beaters, throwing good money after bad, powerless against the appeal of a once-proud junker from a bygone era, but I definitely aspire to progress at some point; if i'm lucky, all the way to an automobile of this grandeur and patina. I have nothing but the utmost respect for cars like this and the people that own and drive them, and this is why I find it very refreshing to be able to occasionally get up close to them in a setting where some fat hick in a dirty baseball cap and an ill-fitting NASCAR t-shirt and sweatpants isn't going to peer through the louvers stamped in its delicate butterfly hood and shout, "That thing got a Hemi?!"

External valvetrain! Talk about user-friendly! A broken pushrod can be replaced in a matter of minutes with even the most modest set of tools! Refill the grease cups atop the rocker arms and you're in the wind! At a blazing top speed of 30 miles per hour! But with such an amazing machine as this, speed doesn't matter; it's meant to be seen. And that's exactly what she does; still turning heads after nearly a century.

What's Been Happening Lately

2006-08-18T08:23:00.000-07:00

In addition to me and the '77 Cutlass being on location in York Beach, Maine the past few days, I've also neglected to update due to having to get the car settled at my friend Silvester's new house after helping him move. I've also moved the '71 Cadillac into a storage unit behind my father's shop, along with a good portion of my super secret junk stash that once cluttered a good portion of the attic in his garage and the basement, and in some cases even our backyard. Photos of choice junk will be posted at a later time, but for right now, it's time to buy books for the upcoming fall semester.

Before & After

2006-08-01T07:29:00.000-07:00

Two eight hour days of wrenching on the old girl, fixing numerous small problems both previously known and suddenly discovered, results in the transformation you see here. The '71 Cadillac runs much, much better now; a 40-mile test drive on a very hot day through as many types of different driving situations as I could find yielded no problems at all. We're making progress!

Ripped Apart

2006-07-28T21:10:00.000-07:00

Recently I somehow managed to get two days off of work in a row. Because of this, I finally had the time to do the rest of what I needed to do to the engine of the 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille I bought a month or so ago. Before today, all I'd done was take the carburetor off and sent it out to be rebuilt, taken the valve covers and other such things off and painted them, and collected parts in preparation for just such a break in my work schedule. Both the front and rear seats, the trunk, and the floor have become filled with just about every part I think I need to get her running right, and now I finally have the time to put her all back together.

Here's the engine, broken down about as far as it needs to be. Just about everything that needs to be off is off and ready for replacing. The distributor cap and wires are only left intact to ensure their correct and easy replacement when the time to do so comes. In fact, the only other thing left to do at the time of this photograph is to temporarily remove the distributor to gain the access necessary to remove the bottom half of the currently broken ported vacuum switch and replace it with a new one. Let's hope that 35 years of sitting in the block hasn't affected its ability to come back out.

Got it! Now to put the new one back in and start putting the rest of the old girl back together. The next time you see this mighty Cadillac 472, it'll be all buttoned up and beautiful.

Reinstated!

2006-07-18T18:19:00.000-07:00

This morning, me and President Franklin walked into the Lowell branch of the Massachusetts RMV, and I walked out with a valid driver's license. Sixty days have come and gone and I am once again a productive member of society!

Humble Beginnings: My 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme

2006-07-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

So I'm digging through my harddrive a little earlier today, when what should I stumble upon but a few photographs of the first car I ever owned, a 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme sedan.

I came to own the little silver Cutlass in sort of an interesting manner. The summer when I was sixteen years old was spent working around the house with my father; together we remodeled eight rooms, nearly tripled the size of the garage, and relandscaped the entire yard. It was hard work, and, thanks to my mother who recognized this, the subject of my being paid for said work was brought up repeatedly. Around the same time, a gentleman who was having work done on his car at my father's shop wasn't quite able to pay his bill. The man offered the Cutlass as payment, and my father, with his driving-age son in mind, accepted the offer. The car was mine. The 3.1-liter V6 never gave me an ounce of trouble. About six months after I started driving it, a lady slammed on her brakes in front of me for God knows what and I rear-ended her. I put a junkyard nose on the Cutlass, did a little bodywork, and painted it a custom shade of silver (custom meaning I cleaned out the shelf of grays and silvers in my father's leftover paint cabinet, mixed it up in one big giant can, and shot it!). The car came out awesome and I was happy as a clam. That was, until three weeks later when some shithead kid on a blunt ride in mommy's brand new Mercury Sable cut me off, sending me through a strip of woods and into the parking lot of an office building across the road from where I had hit him.

Hitting a ten-inch granite curbstone at roughly 40 miles per hour meant the engine cradle was pretty well buckled. Insurance paid out on it, and the Cutlass was sent to a local wrecking yard not soon after. Rest in peace, little buddy.

1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille

2006-06-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

Here she is! The latest addition to my ever-changing fleet; a 1971 Cadillac Coupe DeVille. Found nearly on accident three weeks ago in the front row of a service station in New Hampshire in the middle of a very eclectic bunch of vehicles (Flanked by a 1977 Ford Thunderbird and a 1950 Allis Chalmers farm tractor on the left and a homemade Harley-Davidson tricycle complete with coach lights from an old horse-drawn hearse and a 1946 Chevrolet 1-ton cab & chassis on the right), I was soon rendered powerless against the appeal of having another old land barge to fill the gaping hole in my fleet left from the sale of my 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille. Sure, I also own a 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme sedan, but it doesn't have quite the same presence that a luxury car of the same era does. The gentleman that owned it previous was in the midst of a bitter divorce, and consequently he was asking a price that I could not have refused and felt good about later. Now it sits out in front of my house awaiting a little brake and engine work to make it roadworthy again. She'll most likely be driven for the rest of the summer as-is, and work will begin this fall or winter, unless something else comes along to either replace or sideline it. I swear that every car I buy will be the last, but that all goes out the window every couple of months when I come across something else that tickles my fancy, and then something has to either be let go from the fleet or stored in a different location. Unfortunately, although my love for old cars is boundless, my space for them certainly isn't. We'll see what happens, but for now the big white Cadillac is all mine!

Free Bike!

2006-06-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

So today I'm driving..... erm, walking home from running a few errands and decided to go down a side street near my house to see if anything interesting had shown up in an old neighbor's driveway since the last time I'd driven by; past vehicles included an all original 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, among other things. The Cadillac has long since been replaced by a 1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV, and nothing else new was there. But, on the opposite side of the street was a sign reading "FREE," hastily written in black marker on the back of a pizza box. God only knows what had been taken before, but this early 70's Tyler 16-inch single-speed bicycle with a coaster brake and the business half of an older Sears lawnmower were all that was left by the time I showed up. Without batting an eye, I plucked the little blue bike from the sidewalk and heaved it into the trunk of the Riviera..... erm, I mean, I walked it home with me. It shows just the smallest amounts of surface rust in a few spots, meaning it was pretty well-taken care of and most likely lived in a basement or garage until the decision to throw it out was made; there's absolutely nothing wrong with it, other than it needs a good cleaning and oiling. A new set of pneumatic tires wouldn't hurt, either; I think I chipped my tailbone riding on the original solid rubber set as I took it for a few trial runs up and down the street. The handlebars and white sparkle banana seat will be raised to the maximum height to better accomodate me, and it will be left in the trunks of my old cars for the rest of eternity to be ridden at shows, swap meets and the beach. I dare you to come up with a better use for a Polish-made Stingray knockoff!

Still Alive

2006-06-10T11:43:00.000-07:00

Many e-mails have been received lately containing inquiries regarding my whereabouts. I still can't believe anybody even noticed I was gone because I still can't believe anybody reads this happy horseshit. So for all of you that asked, I am still very much here, very much alive, and have not yet been put in jail for illegally driving on a suspended license, although I have done it a few times. Eight rebellious miles were put on the Riviera yesterday morning as I took care of a few errands around the city. I'm a wild man, I know. The best excuse I have for not posting is simply because I've been very very busy. The work situation is fucked and as a result, my days off get eaten up and I clocked fifty-six hours this week in the blink of an eye. Any free moments I've had lately have been primarily devoted to helping my friend Silvester prepare his '68 Camaro to be sold (and apparently picked up, if you look at the auction link), and for the homecoming of his new jalopy: a 1964 Oldsmobile Super 88 Holiday, as well as for an upcoming addition to my fleet as well. That's right, I bought a third car just before the halfway point of my sixty-day license suspension. This is what passes for logic around here at Mac's.

The Post-War Oldsmobile VIN Decoder

2006-05-30T08:16:00.000-07:00

While trying to find out a little bit more about my '77 Cutlass Supreme, I stumbled onto this nifty little site that will tell you what the characters in the VIN number of your 1946-1997 Oldsmobile mean. Got a Rocket you think is rare? Ever wonder where your Starfire was built? Want to know if that flawless "authentic" 442 you're looking at actually started its life out as a base model Cutlass S with a bench seat, column shifter, and vinyl roof before you write the big check? Well type in the VIN and find out!

Also, if anybody out there can point me in the direction of where I can find production figures for Oldsmobile in 1977, broken down at least by body style (but the more specific, the better), that would be super cool.

Tying Up Loose Ends

2006-05-21T18:48:00.000-07:00

With finals being over and all this newfound free time on my hands, I finally got around to finishing up the post about my road trip to Goldenrod Garage last Friday. Have a look.

Day One: The Beginning

2006-05-19T17:37:00.000-07:00

One down, fifty-nine to go. This summer's gonna be a blast.

The Final Countdown

2006-05-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

As I sit here on the eve of my 60-day license suspension, I'm trying to think if there's any other important thing I need to do before I won't have the benefit of mobility to help me accomplish it. I handed in my last final today at 3:30, checked my work schedule, and took my mother out to dinner. The Riviera's parked safely inside a storage locker at my father's friend's place in Tewksbury (Thanks, John!) and the Cutlass is here at home as a little project for the duration of my suspension. I think I'm set! Only thing left to do is gas up the Whizzer and count down the days till I'm able to drive again. See you on the road in sixty!

Water, Water Everywhere!

2006-05-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

For those of you that haven't already seen or heard it on the news, the New England area has received an unprecedented amount of rain this past week; a foot thusfar and still coming down hard. As a result, every body of water in the area has swelled to ten times its size; roads are closed left and right as streams that once flowed under them now flow on top of them and basements and garages are flooded everywhere. The area behind Silvester's house we tear around in on his buddy Kevin's ATV is currently a shallow lake. The photo above was taken at a park just above the Pawtucket Falls on the Merrimack River here in Lowell which, for at least another day anyways, will include portions of the roads that flank it on either side.

These falls are usually not flowing at all; large boards hold back the water from going over as water is diverted through downtown Lowell via the canal system that acted as a power source for the city's many cotton mills that made it famous during the height of the Industrial Revolution. Now, once again, albeit temporarily, the river gets to flow as it once did a century ago as the water recedes and things begin to return to normal.

Road Trip: Goldenrod Garage

2006-05-12T23:01:00.000-07:00

My friend Silvester loves cars almost as much as I do; a survey of his yard will yield quite an eclectic bunch, including everything from a 1970 Cadillac Coupe DeVille to a 1982 AMC Eagle SX/4. Even though he recently turned in his man card with the addition of two Japanese vehicles to his fleet, he did it in a way that is all his own: his girlfriend's got a 1997 Infiniti Q45 and his own personal daily driver is a 1984 Datsun Maxima. Not a Nissan Maxima, a Datsun Maxima; say different and he'll pull a nutty on you much like he did on the poor girl at the RMV when she tried to title it the former. It's the last year the marque appeared in the States, and the last year they were rear wheel drive with an independent rear and had the single overhead cam 240Z motor shoehorned into them. A neat pairing, I admit, but still a huge step down from the 1986 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham and 1997 Cadillac Seville STS that previously occupied the two spots in the driveway. He owns a 1968 Camaro with a ZZ350 crate motor in it too, but it's in a very sorry state; this car would be turned away from a Mad Max movie for being "too rough." It's taken him five years to realize the Camaro's too far gone for what his current circumstances and budget would allow him to do, and he's finally decided to move on. Silvester's always been a fan of the heavy iron of the fifties; in particular the entire Buick lineup of 1959, and who could blame him?

Everybody always remembers the '59 Cadillac models for their outrageous fins, but they're too gaudy and over the top, in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, here; I'd still give my left nut to own one and nagged an old man that used to live around the corner with a beat up red and white '59 Coupe DeVille on an almost weekly basis to sell it to me, but I think, pound for pound, the 1959 Buick Electra 225 is just the right amount of fifties flash without going overboard; not to mention the majority of bigger Buicks in '59 were powered by the fantastic 401 Nailhead. Problem is, there doesn't seem to be many in the Massachusetts/southern New Hampshire area for the kid to look at. So when he told me about a four-door Electra 225 Riviera (please, all you would-be car experts can save the e-mails telling me there was no such thing as a Riviera until '63; I know. Buick called all of their hardtops "Riviera," much like Oldsmobile would follow suit by calling all of their hardtop models "Holiday;" the Riviera name existed as a body style designation from 1949 until 1963 when Buick gave the name to its personal luxury coupe.) with a vista roof for sale at the one and only Goldenrod Garage in Freeport, Maine, of course I said I'd go along to take a look at the thing, especially since it had been about eight years since I'd been up there when my father was still in search of a Packard to restore.

The rain was coming down hard all morning with no end in sight, and we had a 262-mile round trip ahead of us. This factor alone would dictate to any normal human being that a vehicle equipped with modern amenities such as anti-lock brakes and traction control could be the only rational choice for such an excursion, and was taken into serious consideration when choosing the car that would take us to our destination and safely home again. Ten minutes later we were gassing up the '77 Cutlass and went hydroplaning on up to Maine.

We made it in once piece, lackluster seventies defrosters and all. Not that if the windows were clear I could have seen much anyways; the high setting on old windshield wipers is today's low. Couple that with sideways rain all the way up the Maine Turnpike and driving becomes a blurry, soggy adventure! But the old girl performed flawlessly, got us there in comfort and style, and the rest she got in the space of honor right in front of the office door was well-earned.

If you've never been to a place like Goldenrod Garage, you're really missing out. There's all sorts of wonderful vehicles around for everybody's taste and budget. Concours-quality restorations such as the stunning 1958 Cadillac Coupe DeVille that can be found in the barn on the other side of this row all the way to beyond gone parts cars like the 1974 Chevrolet Chevelle Laguna out back in the field that could quite literally break in half if you were to look at it the wrong way can be found here, and everything in between. The row above represents a few rough project cars. That red straight six-powered '64 Pontiac LeMans convertible in the middle really caught my eye; I could see her shiny and new again with a built 389 or 400 or 455 between the rails in a year or two. The two Studebakers closest to the end and the '56 Chevy towards the other end didn't look too bad either.

Wow. This building is the length of a football field probably and has two floors of the best cars in inventory here. There were two 1967 Pontiac Grand Prix convertibles, a one year-only body style, almost as soon as you walked in the door. Those two '58 Cadillacs on the top level that you can see in the picture (the green Fleetwood Sixty Special in the front left and the red DeVille convertible behind the 1949 Ford Custom Deluxe Sedan you can see in the front right) were so impressive in person. The '58 Impala behind the green Caddy was stunning as well, as was most everything else in this barn. Everything from an all-original running 1924 Ford Model TT depot hack to three early 90's 9C1 police package Chevrolet Caprices could be found in this building, with a 30's, 40's, or 50's bicycle hung here and there from a crossbeam to mix it up a little. Now imagine two more buildings of a similar size filled with driveable, presentable originals down to very rough project cars that were still too good to be kept outside. The last of these buildings is where the '59 Buick awaited us.

What a machine! I've always loved the one year-only angry headlights and delta wing styling of the 1959 Buick. This was definitely a diamond in the rough. Solid as a rock, save for a few small holes in the floor on the drivers side, she was all there. The interior was in amazingly good shape; new carpets, headliner, two front armrest caps, and a little pad on half the dashboard and you're off and running. Literally. This baby runs and yard drives! Something was up about the vacuum booster for the brakes, though; I think the gentleman that owns the place said it can lock up at times. But that's a small price to pay and a minor thing to fix to be behind the wheel of such a big bold automobile such as this; I wish I could have taken it home myself. Seventies cars are all well and good for where I'm at, but there really is nothing like a car built before the days of widespread emissions and safety legislation that brought about the demise of the vehicles that were truly great. This Buick is one of those vehicles. After spending a good three hours at the place, and talking about prices and such, Silvester and I were on our way; he with a figure in mind that he'd like to pay for the car if it is in fact the one he'd like to buy. But before coming home, even though we knew they'd be closed, we proceeded to take a slight detour to Classic Convertibles, also in Freeport, to see what sort of neat stuff they had sitting around. Mostly 60's muscle, mostly Chevelles and 442's, some cloned and some real, but all in tip-top shape. Oh, and this old piece of junk we parked next to.

Don't worry, it's a clone. Nobody would leave a real 1969 Yenko Camaro unattended overnight in an open lot out in the rain.

Still doesn't make it any less funny to see, though!

Whizzer Parts!

2006-05-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

Finally! The parts that I ordered for my 1939 Whizzer Motorbike replica are here. All in all they set me back just about $100, shipping included, from Joseph Neri Chevrolet-Pontiac in Williamson, New York; the closest Whizzer Motorbike dealer to me here in Massachusetts. Now all I need is for finals to be over so I get some time to fix it before the big day.

All Oldsmobile Spring Dust-Off

2006-05-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

Today the Eastern Massachusetts GMO Chapter of the Oldsmobile Club of America held its annual Spring Dust-Off show at the old Haskins Oldsmobile dealership in Wellesley. Being the proud owner of a '77 Cutlass Supreme sedan, I piled a few friends into it and roped my buddy Paul into bringing his '73 Ninety-Eight two-door hardtop down for the day to help celebrate the gone but certainly not forgotten marque. The weather was great, the cars were incredible, and the people were some of the nicest you'd ever meet. My 1977 Cutlass Supreme is faded to death, ugly as sin, and mean looking. It's the car mothers pull their kids back from the edge of the sidewalk for as they wait for the school bus together; the kind of car that a guy that works at a steel mill and hits his wife would drive. A car that goes hand in hand with acid-washed denim jackets and lukewarm Old Milwaukee, flannel shirts and restraining orders, and would look right at home in DEA file photographs of a recently raided backwoods meth lab in West Virginia. But you know what? Every person at the show treated me like it was an authentic numbers matching 100-point concours restoration '72 Hurst Cutlass convertible Indianapolis 500 Pace Car. It wasn't looked down upon for a second; it was an example of a marque we all shared a common interest in preserving and that's all. Every single one of them was genuinely interested in where and how I was able to find such an unusual car in such original condition and commended me for doing so; true enthusiasts in every sense of the word. What the show lacked in size was certainly made up for in the overall quality of the vehicles that entered; my only complaint was the lack of Toronados that showed, with one immaculate low-miles 1984 model being the only offering. Now it's time for a few photos of what came out.

Hoods and trunks are open for judging. Using my '77 Cutlass Supreme in the lower right-hand corner as a reference and going left, that's a 1965 Dynamic 88 hardtop next to me, followed by a 1984 Toronado and a 1971 Ninety-Eight hardtop. Mostly mid 60's to 1972 Cutlasses and 442's and 80's Cutlass Supremes are in the middle with a few early 70's Delta 88 Royale convertibles mixed in, and the row on the right had cars ranging from the most impeccably restored 1947 Model 66 convertible I have ever seen, through the Super 88's and Dynamic 88's of the fifties, all the way up to a 1970 Ninety-Eight convertible.

Starfires! Never in my life have I seen so many beautiful Starfires at one event, which held down the better part of the row closest to the road, and also out in front of the dealership as well. Oldsmobile's first personal luxury car, which borrowed its name from a Lockheed fighter plane, was produced from 1961 until it was replaced by the Toronado in 1966. Beautiful and distinctive, sleek, powerful, and lavishly appointed, the Oldsmobile Starfire is, in my opinion, one of the best nameplates of the 1960's. The paint on the burgundy '64 on the right was a mile deep; absolutely stunning.

This handsome 1942 model showed up late and had to sit in between a row of the dealership's inventory, with a 1983 Hurst Cutlass Supreme against the fence behind it. It would later be joined by an all original 1970 Cutlass Rallye 350 and an all original 1975 Hurst Cutlass Indianapolis 500 Pace Car.

This is the nose of a 45,000-mile original 1936 sedan that came with all original documentation including the original bill of sale. It sat front and center in a place of honor, and rightfully so; it drove off the lot of the very same dealership 70 years ago!

What do you get when you cross a 2001 Alero coupe with an L98 Tuned Port 350 from an 80's Camaro and an S10 pickup truck frame? The ultimate sleeper, and the car General Motors should have built. Talk about not being your father's Oldsmobile!

Last, but certainly not least, sitting next to my '77 Cutlass Supreme is my friend Paul's 1973 Ninety-Eight two-door hardtop, sporting its original and very rare landau roof. Bought out of a neighbor's backyard in a sorry state and limped home in first gear when he was just fifteen, this became his project car until he was old enough to drive, and then a daily driver for two years. Another proud old road warrior spared from the heap.

Intermediate Pipe

2006-05-04T23:04:00.000-07:00

Although I have much more grand ideas for the exhaust system on the '77 Cutlass Supreme, I felt it was important to spend the $18 for a new intermediate pipe to hold me over until they come to light. Apparently whoever last had exhaust work done to the car only had the muffler and tailpipe replaced, leaving the intermediate pipe to rot away. The back pressure was fantastic and stop and go city driving became a lightheaded adventure at times when there wasn't a breeze.

See those red circles on the old rusty intermediate pipe? Each one of those is highlighting a hole. The most impressive one by far would be the one second from the right. This spot had rotted through, had a patch made out of a piece of another exhaust pipe welded over it, rotted through again, filled with muffler mud, had a piece of aluminum bent around it, and had a piece of strapping around it to hold it all together. To think that someone would spend that much time and effort on such an easily replaceable piece of the car boggles the mind, but at the same time makes me happy because old cars wouldn't be around period if people just gave up and didn't save what was thought to be unsaveable.

1400 Motors Plate!

2006-05-03T20:53:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my friend Silvester, the '77 Cutlass Supreme now proudly wears a period-correct dealer plate up front from the now-defunct 1400 Motors Cadillac-Oldsmobile from my home town of Lowell, Massachusetts that has just the right amount of wear and tear for the car. I think it's perfect for it and really contributes to the total time warp that the rest of the car is. If you didn't already know it came from Idaho, you'd probably believe it rolled out of my grandmother's garage yesterday. Fantastic!

Whizzer Disassembled

2006-04-27T11:33:00.000-07:00

In anticipation of my 60-day license suspension, as mentioned in the previous post, I've finally begun to fix my 1939 Whizzer Motorbike replica, as it will be the only legal motorized form of transportation available to me come the 19th of May. It's hard to believe that in a state as fucked up as Massachusetts; a state that taxes the shit out of anything and everything, the Whizzer does not have to be registered, titled, or insured, and no excise tax is collected on it.

So anyways, when this thing last ran, it seemed to have stuck a valve. Taking the little access panel off of the top of the lower end to expose the bottom of the valves confirmed this; it was the intake valve that was sticking. Upon finding this out, it was wheeled down to the basement with every intention of having it running in short order. But, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, six years had gone by since the little guy had last run. On a warm day last fall, after soaking the crap out of the valves and cylinder with Marvel's Mystery Oil, which is the greatest stuff ever conceived by man, I got it to putt-putt up the street with the choke wide open and smoking something awful, but the valve still kept hanging up and eventually stuck again once all the Marvel's burnt off. More of it was added and she was once again wheeled down into the basement.

Here it is, wheeled into the workshop portion of the basement with the engine out of it. The exhaust, carburetor, and electronics are all still attached for ease of assembly when it's ready to go back in.

And here's the little 123 cc aluminum air-cooled one cylinder flathead that powers it, on the workbench with the top cover off. An old Hawaiian shirt makes for a festive drop cloth. Now it's time to see what's wrong with it.

Diagnosis: burnt intake valve. Better than what I intially assumed to be a bent one, but not by a whole hell of a lot. See the area in the middle that looks a little rough? That's a burn mark, and the reason the valve was hanging up inside the guide. Time to order a new one, along with a spring, a guide, and new gaskets all around. The mighty Whizzer will run again (hopefully)!

Yanked

2006-04-26T19:58:00.000-07:00

When I was younger and first started driving, I got myself in a fair bit of trouble with a combination of a few accidents and a few speeding tickets. Now, after nearly two and a half years of trouble-free driving, a bullshit speeding ticket way late at night means I've stacked up enough surchargeable offenses in a set time period for the state of Massachusetts to take my driver's license for 60 days. Shame, too, since offenses would have started dropping off of my record in December of this year. But, not to worry. Come May 19th, the day I officially get my license yanked, this site will become the official chronicle of a guy forced to live (temporarily, thankfully) without the thing he loves most: cars. Fun things are on the horizon, however; there's a good chance the 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme will be coming home before the big day to sit out in the street with my '96 Riviera to ensure that I have enough automobile-related projects to keep me from going nuts. Things are about to get interesting.

Registered!

2006-04-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

Yes indeedy, the 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme is now officially on the road with antique plates. Phase one complete!

Buick Riviera Wheel Stander

2006-04-17T18:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, so maybe all I really did was change the oil in the thing, but that's really not worth writing about now, is it?

For more on a real wheel stander, check out this article on Bob Riggle's 1968 Plymouth Barracuda Hurst Hemi Under Glass.

Cutlass Cop Car!

2006-04-08T09:27:00.000-07:00

In response to yesterday's post of the photograph I took of the '77 Cutlass Supreme for the insurance company, kind reader Jim e-mailed me this great picture of a restored '76 Cutlass Supreme police car.

Faded red with a white steel roof! Imagine a light bar with two revolving red gumdrops and a big giant siren behind the front bumper. Well-worn gold leaf lettering on the doors from the municipality of your choice and a CB radio and you're off and racing to the scene of the blaze! It could totally be the fire chief's counterpart to the police car.

Anybody want to make a photochop?

For Insurance Purposes

2006-04-07T08:15:00.000-07:00

In order to obtain antique plates here in Massachusetts, your insurance company requires a current color photograph of the vehicle you wish to register. A few quick snapshots around the corner from a friend's house means the '77 Cutlass should be on the road in no time.

1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille: Sold!

2006-03-19T21:14:00.000-08:00

That's right, the big red sled has officially been sold. Ownership was transferred on Friday morning to a young man who, like myself, saw limitless potential in this fine machine; he just had the space to accomodate it as well. One car on top of my daily driver I can do, but two was really pushing it, considering I don't store extra vehicles at my own house. Besides, I also take the most joy in the hunt and the subsequent time spent tinkering on and temporarily driving whatever heap I drag home to ensure that they can once again take their rightful place on the open road. That's what it's really all about for me, anyways. I'd rather see one older car on the road than a thousand brand new ones. When I bought this car, it was a half step away from being sent to the junkyard, to go sit amongst all of the other older cars that were given up on far too easily and are equally as undeserving of being there as this car is. There's a gorgeous royal blue on white on white 1976 Pontiac Grand Prix LJ with factory T-tops and swiveling bucket seats with a center console in a local junkyard I frequent, and there was no way this Coupe DeVille would be spending any time with it if I had anything to say about it. Why haven't I bought the Grand Prix, you ask? Because there's an '83 Parisienne Brougham sitting on top of it, A-pillars buckled. Another classic Colonnade car gone forever.

What a handsome looking car this is. Could you honestly see this thing in the General Motors section of your local junkyard, perhaps with the hood up and the engine and transmission and steering column missing and half of the dashboard in the back seat? How about a rotted out long body Fleetwood Brougham or Ninety-Eight Regency stacked on its shiny red roof? What a sorry sight that would be! Because I wasn't afraid to take on a little bit of a challenge, this fine old Cadillac got to see another day, and is now in the process of being restored by its new owner, and that makes it all worth it to me. I gave it a new lease on life. New cars may have more creature comforts than an old clunker does, but are extremely lacking in their charm, and this is what draws me to looking in backyards and garages for the next beater in need of a little freshening up. Older cars have character that just isn't matched by any cars being produced today. It's because of this that I try and do what I can to save whatever I can, in hopes that maybe some day someone else will be able to see what I see in these wonderful old road warriors and feel a call to action themselves.

Beauty Rings!

2006-03-13T06:24:00.000-08:00

In compliance with the concept of making the '77 Cutlass an ultra low budget summer beater, I recycled this great pair of beauty rings I found in a pile of leaves behind my friend Silvester's house. Supposedly originally off of some sort of mid 70's Pontiac that was found at a local junkyard a few years back, Silvester's friend Shawn popped them onto his '85 Crown Victoria for a while before selling it last summer. Their faded red double stripes match the faded red paint on the Cutlass perfectly. All these wheels need now is a nice set of raised white letter tires and she'll be rolling in style.

Reconditioning a Battery Tray

2006-03-08T22:15:00.000-08:00

Before putting a new battery into the Cutlass, I figured I'd do something with the nasty-looking battery tray that came out of it while the old battery was out. Clearly, 29 years of being exposed to moisture, temperature extremes, and apparently a little acid in the top corner had taken its toll.

So in addition replacing all the mounting hardware and battery hold-down bolts, I wire brushed the thing, and then I sprayed it with a few coats of rubberized undercoating.

Should be good to go for at least 29 more years now.

Valve Cover Gaskets on a Rocket 350

2006-03-05T16:29:00.000-08:00

Many of the people who read this blog on a regular basis know that I have recently come back into ownership of the 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme that I let my friend Dan drive for a short period of time last winter when he needed a reliable vehicle. But up until now, nothing has ever been said of the huge oil leak the car had. Not because of any serious internal problems, however, but because of the fact that a common problem with later Oldsmobile 350's is that the valve covers are only held down with five bolts. That's right; two on the top and three on the bottom. As a result of this, they tend to loosen (I was able to remove the bolts on the back corners of both covers with just my fingers) and leak over time, allowing oil to run down onto the exhaust manifolds and creating a wonderful layer of sludge on just about every surface in the area. When Dan had the car, he bought the valve cover gaskets for it, but never got around to fixing the problem, instead choosing to simply put a quart of oil in it every time he drove it and dealing with the smell. Now that I have the car back, it's time to fix it for good.

So here we are, ready to pull the cover on the driver's side. The air cleaner and snorkel have been removed, and the spark plug wires have all been pulled off of the plugs and moved out of the way to allow for an area as unobstructed as possible. The stovepipe from the exhaust manifold to the snorkel is off and all five valve cover bolts are out. The spot of General Motors blue on the top of the cover I exposed with my finger shows you what potential lies underneath the thick layer of dirt and oil on them. I apologize for not having pictures of what it looked like with the cover on this side off, or for the reinstallation, but I was scrambling to get it finished before what little daylight I had left was gone; I still had the other side to do, and anybody who has experience with older GM cars knows what a joy their ridiculously elaborate air conditioning compressor bracket system can be.

Ah yes, that wonderful General Motors air conditioning compressor. If the back portion of the bracket that holds it in place was a half inch forward or back from where it actually was, I wouldn't have to take it all apart and move it out of the way. But since it runs across the indentation in the top of the valve cover where you have to put your socket wrench to get out the last remaining bolt in the cover, apart it comes. All 496 pieces of it. Undo the two tensioner bolts on the front and back, the bolt on the intake manifold, the two bolts that hold the front of the bracket to the cylinder head, the one that holds the back portion of the bracket to the top of the block, and the two bolts on the top of the thing that hold all those different pieces straight and together, and you're in. You can now successfully move the AC compressor out of the way, remove the last bolt, and pull the cover.

Doesn't look half bad in there for probably 20 years of oil burnoff. All the rocker arms on both sides were nice and tight and everything was pretty clean. Note the AC compressor in the foreground of the picture is now resting down in front of the inner wheel apron.

As stated before, both valve covers were pretty well covered with sludge before. Both of them cleaned up very well, though; the one for the driver's side still had the timing stamp it left the factory with on it under all the grease and dirt.

Showing the nice original coat of General Motors blue that was under all the sludge, the valve cover is now ready to be put back on the top of the cylinder head with a new gasket and a good bead of RTV gasket sealant on both sides.

Now that both covers are back on the engine with new gaskets and torqued down properly, it's time to put the air conditioning compressor back into place. Since it weighs about a million pounds and the bracket has to be put back together sort of loosely and then tightened up once the compressor's in place, it's a good idea to have an extra set of hands around. Because I'm an idiot, however, I did it myself. I'm almost positive it would go a lot faster and smoother if someone was holding the damn thing for you, though. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Once it's all back into place and the belt is tensioned properly, you're pretty much done. Put your air cleaner and snorkel back on and fire it up. I let the car get up to operating temperature and there were no leaks anywhere. There was about a minute of residual oil burnoff but that was it. I took it for a nice long ride and upon returning home, opened the hood to see absolutely no smoke and the oil level at exactly where it had been before I left. Pretty soon she'll be ready for a trip to the exhaust shop.

Snowbound

2006-02-28T19:30:00.000-08:00

Spring just can't get here fast enough.

In Scale: The 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille

2006-02-20T21:59:00.000-08:00

I'm a big fan of stupid projects. So when I saw this cheesy model of a 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille lowrider in the clearance bin at a local department store, I knew I'd regret it later on if I didn't buy it and paint it up to look like mine.

First I peeled off the ridiculous-looking diamond stickers on the hood and trunk, as well as the ones down the doors that said "ICE MACHINE." Then I used masking tape to tape off the quarter roof and hood ornament.

Then I sprayed it and left it to dry. When that was done, I peeled the masking tape off of the quarter roof, used some silver modeling paint to paint the car where the real one would be chrome, and put it back together.

Pretty neat, huh?

Home Again: 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme!

2006-02-19T17:52:00.000-08:00

Here it is; the addition to the fleet that I told you about! Thanks to my good friend Dan honoring a gentleman's agreement we had about his letting me know first if he were to ever part with the car, the 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme I sold him a short while ago is now back in my possession, this time for a little bit longer, I hope. Space was limited before, which was one of the reasons I cited for its initial sale, but thanks to my friend Silvester, the person who informed me of this car's existence in the first place, it now has a permanent parking space in his front yard. My new low budget summer cruiser is here to stay! "But what about the '79 Coupe DeVille," you ask. That car can be purchased for the paltry sum of $1195 or best reasonable offer. People wishing to return it to its original splendor and save it from a life of hydraulics or 24-inch spinners take precedence over ghetto rats. Sorry, but it'd be nice to see at least a few stay the way they came.

Busy Busy Busy

2006-02-15T20:21:00.000-08:00

"Where have you been?" my faithful readers ask (Yeah, I find it hard to believe that I have 'em too.). Between work and class and secret projects, I've been away from the site for a bit, but not to worry. Great things are on the horizon, I assure you; an interesting addition to the fleet is only days away!

1989 Oldsmobile Toronado: Future Classic Sold?!

2006-02-04T23:31:00.000-08:00

Being a long-term subscriber of Hemmings Motor News (stealing my father's), I've been reading their magazine section since there has been a magazine section. I think the auction coverage section is great, love the buyer profiles, and think the occasional top ten lists are always interesting. This month, in the March 2006 issue, the magazine featured an article called Sleepers 2006: The Top Ten Collector Cars of the Future. In my opinion, most of the cars in this article are absolute garbage that I would not pay a single cent to own, but one of them stuck out to me. Amongst the likes of the Honda CRX, the Chevrolet Chevette Diesel, and the AMC Matador was the 1988-1992 Oldsmobile Toronado. This was interesting to me as I owned a 1989 model with the FE3 Sport Suspension package for a brief time in the summer of 2004. And while I knew of the car's rarity at the time (less than 10,000 units across both trim levels and all option combinations), I never once considered it to be collectible. Unique? Definitely. Weird? Absolutely! But collectible? I don't know about that one. Here's what Hemmings had to say about it:

"The Trofeo (Italian for "trophy") was Oldsmobile's answer to European luxury cars. Debuted as a separate model in 1988, it was GM's attempt to add some sizzle to the slow-selling Toronado. The Trofeo offered sporty bucket seats, monochromatic paint, and a sport-tuned suspension; 1989 saw the arrival of the high-tech, touch screen Visual Information Center. Power was provided by a 3.8-liter V6 coupled to a four-speed automatic transmission, backed by capable suspension that could have handled much more oomph. The classy Trofeo is certainly one of the most handsome GM designs of its era; with good examples available for $2000, there will never be a better time to put one in your garage."

When I bought my '89 Toronado in the summer of 2004, the idea of a future investment was the furthest thing from my mind. Three weeks after I had finished fixing it from the first accident, my 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was totalled, thanks to a kid who was high and pulled out of a side street without looking. The insurance company ended up giving me $1800 for it; $1200 of which I spent on this strange machine. The interior was like nothing I've ever seen before. It had eight-way power seats for both driver and passenger, an aircraft-style shifter not seen in GM cars since the early 1970's, a slave tape deck that loaded vertically, and an all-digital dashboard with enough buttons to make your head spin; it could express your fuel economy six different ways!

My goodness, will you look at all those buttons! The 1989 Oldsmobile Toronado had buttons for functions that haven't even been invented yet! The interior was definitely the coolest feature of the car, as the rest of it was quite a nightmare. Did it have low miles? Sure it did; only 89,000 and change when I bought it, but it had obviously sat for a long time. This car was so buttered back together it wasn't even funny. Sure, it looked good on the outside, and all my friends thought it was mint; good thing they weren't around the day the rear bumper support turned to dust in my hands. Or the day the starter burnt itself out because it never disengaged one day when I started it. Or when the oil cooler leaked transmission fluid into the engine coolant. Or the day the cooling fans stopped working because a broken ballast resistor allowed the wire leading to them to burn all the way across. Did I mention it was also quite visibly in an accident and that the nose of the car was a hodgepodge of parts from three different cars?

To the untrained eye the nose of this car may look normal, but to someone like myself, who is an expert on both junk and General Motors E-cars (Oldsmobile Toronado/Buick Riviera/Cadillac Eldorado), it's a total shit show. Forget the fact that the grille inserts that go under the headlight covers are missing on both sides; in this shot we can see the bumper and grille of a 1989 Toronado Trofeo with the headlight covers and passenger's side parking light from a 1988 model, and a 1986-1987 driver's side parking light, all sagging magnificently from the cracked headlight mounting panel which is attached to a badly creased and bent up radiator support. Couple it with the cheapest Maaco paint job known to man in an early 90's Mazda burgundy that's only about three shades off from the original and you're rolling in style. I'm not one to nickname cars, but if I were, I think "overspray" would be fitting of my '89 Toronado. I ended up selling it to a roofer from the next town over for $500 after I blew the transmission, and last saw it for sale again this past summer in the yard of a man that lives not a quarter of a mile from me after it made another 2,000 miles before it became completely undriveable, this time customized with Oldsmobile emblems made from the finest small metallic mailbox letters money can buy. Future classic? Maybe some, but certainly not this one!

At least it sounded neat with a Flowmaster on it.

1996 Buick Riviera

2006-01-27T08:18:00.000-08:00

From the time that I was very young, cars and trucks have been a part of my life. My first foray into the world of tinkering with vehicles began at the tender age of five when my father gave me five dollars to pull out the rotted, moss-covered oak boards that made up the bed floor of his 1952 Chevrolet pickup truck as we began its restoration. From this moment on, I was hooked. Any opportunity I could find to get my hands dirty with any vehicle my family owned, old or new, was a source of great joy to me. Luckily for me, my father was a cool dude who had all sorts of interesting machines, both big and small. While other kids my age were earning an allowance by raking leaves or doing dishes, I was doing it by greasing cables or oiling the chains on the tracks of an ex-Army Corps of Engineers 1955 Byers 20-ton crawler crane my father purchased to take down a small building (how else was I supposed to afford my first mountain bike?). While other kids sat inside after school and watched cartoons every day, I was busy wire-brushing hanging rust off of the 1935 Ford dump truck my father and I restored when I was in middle school. And, while other kids went to camp that summer when I was twelve, I helped my father pull a 1937 Packard Super Eight touring sedan from a barn in Lynnfield, Massachusetts that is now seven years in the making for us.

Of course, our antiques weren't the only neat vehicles we had; the daily vehicles that my parents owned during my childhood were also far more interesting than those of the average family. On weekends my father would take me fishing in his copper over cream over copper 1987 GMC Sierra Classic pickup. While other kids were showing up for elementary school in mid-80's Ford LTD Country Squire station wagons, I was privileged enough to be dropped off in my mother's baby blue on baby blue 1979 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, and later her triple yellow(!) 1985 Cadillac Eldorado, complete with wide whitewalls and real wire wheels! It's this being brought up around such a wide array of interesting vehicles that makes me simply unable to drive a "car of the masses," if you will. I realize I may be coming off as a bit of a snob here, but it's not my intention at all so hear me out. I know this may sound ridiculous to some of you, but I have spent many a summer evening idling down the crowded strip at Hampton Beach or crawling up the Southeast Expressway in Boston during rush hour with a Taurus or Corolla-owning friend of mine and seen the same car that I was riding in on at least three if not all four sides of me. Now I can't speak for any of you readers out there, but I, personally, would go absolutely fucking bonkers if I were just a two to four-character paint code away from being exactly like everybody else. Enter my 1996 Buick Riviera.

With cars like this, why would anybody want to drive something so bland as a Civic or a Camry? When the final evolution of the Buick Riviera hit the market in September of 1994, it was billed as the first production car to go straight from concept to production, and it's easy to see why. The lines of the car are like nothing else on the road, and the car is to this day still years ahead of its time. In keeping with the proud and storied history of the nameplate, the last-generation Riviera is a radical, love it or hate it design that I and many others find to be bold and beautiful yet sophisticated, much like the outrageous "boat tail" Rivieras of 1971-1973. Certainly a high note to go out on for the car that General Motors chief stylist Bill Mitchell conceived in 1963 when he wished to cross the performance of a Ferrari GT with the style and comfort of a Rolls-Royce.

I was taken back by these cars right after they hit the streets in 1995. My father has worked at an auto body shop for over a decade now, and this is where I first laid eyes on one of these gorgeous machines. An old lady had gotten into a fender bender with her then brand new '95 and had brought it to my father's shop to be fixed. One day after he picked me up from school, we drove over to the shop to grab a few tools he'd left behind earlier in the day. When I walked inside the shop behind him I immediately froze when I saw it. Just a day out of paint and freshly washed and detailed was this absolutely stunning champagne-colored Buick Riviera with a tan leather interior sitting in the center of the shop, shiny and perfect in every way. To this day I am still impressed by the styling of these cars, but the impact it had on a ten year-old me in a time when cars as a whole were very bland and unexciting was infinitely larger. I nearly wore a rut in the floor with all the times I walked around it, examining its outrageous lines from every angle possible. Immediately I asked my father what it was and he told me, and it was then that I decided that one day I would have one of these big beautiful luxury-sport coupes; little did I realize that it would come a lot sooner than I thought.

The summer of 2004 was quite an eventful one for me in terms of my car situation. After wrecking my 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme for the second time in as many months, I found myself looking for a new car. A local service center had a 1989 Oldsmobile Toronado for sale in their front parking lot which I bought with the insurance money from the Cutlass in order to get myself back on my feet, as I was not going to spend my summer bumming rides to the beach or wherever else I wished to go. Luckily for me, the summer was EXACTLY how long it ended up lasting me! Coming home on the highway from the bank where I keep my savings account one afternoon, I decided to see what she could do and roasted the transmission in it something awful on the highway, but not before reaching a top speed of 112 miles per hour! I ended up making it home in first gear, and spent the next two weeks almost constantly adding my own special cocktail of Lucas Transmission Fix and Hurst Hot Shift before telling my father what had happened. Under his advisement, and also due to the fact that the Toronado was already used and abused to begin with, I sat down to look for a new car. It just so happened that this all occurred on Thursday; the day when our local newspaper publishes all of the new classified ads they receive. It was there in the Cars for Sale section that I saw the ad:

1996 BUICK RIVIERA

Pearl white. $2500/bo

978-674-XXXX

It was too good to be true! A last-generation Buick Riviera was for sale in the next town over from me, in my price range, and wearing a very rare coat of Bright White Diamond Metallic in the first year the color was offered. When I called to inquire about the car, a young woman answered and we set up a time for me to come over and have a look. When I arrived at the house the following morning with my father and saw it sitting in the driveway, I was admittedly a bit skeptical towards it. The car was FILTHY, inside and out. It was covered in dirt, and the inside was filled with trash from McDonald's and smelled like cigarettes something awful. In the back of my mind I knew I'd be able to shine it up like a new penny, though. The woman that owned it informed me that the car hadn't moved from its spot since May (It was early September) due to an unexpected change of plans.

This Riviera was her car; it was her baby and she kept meticulous care of it until that fateful day in May when her husband suddenly passed away; he was only 42. From this point on, she decided for obvious reasons to start driving her late husband's late-model Mercedes SUV and the Riviera was put on ice. Having two young children, to be making payments on two vehicles and having them both registered and insured was no longer realistic for her, and this is when the decision was made that her baby would have to be let go. When I heard this, I knew that I had to own this car, not only because it would fulfill a dream of mine that I've had since I was ten years old, but also because I knew she might have at least a little piece of mind knowing that selling it to me would mean that the car would be saved from a fate of ridiculous stereo systems, pulsating neon tubes, performance exhausts, and 20-inch rims. So Maria, if you're out there, I'd like to let you know that your baby is still in good safe hands and I would never even dream of letting it go; I owe it to the both of us.

To Recap

2006-01-22T22:32:00.000-08:00

Given the extremely short time that this blog has been up, I was amazed to see that other people besides myself actually take the time to read it. Feedback has been more or less positive, but there have also been two recurring questions: what exactly determines which heading your junk falls under, and what exactly do these categories mean? So, to clarify:

Mac's Permanent Fleet is for cars and other vehicles that I would never ever consider parting with.
Current Rides are cars and other vehicles that I'm currently playing with that could end up as part of my permanent fleet, but will most likely find their way to the open market.
Past Rides are cars and other vehicles that have already passed through my hands.

And yeah, I know the page for my '96 Riviera isn't up yet; it's kinda been on the back burner after its blowing a head gasket meant I had to scramble to get the Cadillac that hadn't been on the road in a year and a half legitimately registered and insured, tuned up and inspected. Just now am I even looking for engines for the damn thing. I want my baby back, and I promise a page will be up for it soon. Tomorrow, even.

Coupe DeVille Custom Exhaust (Hanger)!

2006-01-22T14:49:00.000-08:00

Last night, after driving in and out of the townhouse complex where my friend Scott lives and hearing it scrape across the top of every speed bump, I decided to finally make it a point to re-hang the exhaust on the big red sled.

Muuuuuuuch better.

In Praise of Land Barges, Part Two

2006-01-19T20:47:00.000-08:00

Stealing the show in the parking lot of one of the area's many Cambodian insurance agencies, the Coupe DeVille and a 1971 Pontiac Catalina are a pair of standouts in a sea of modern-day generic crap. I know people that know the the old lady that owns it, and have already mentally prepared at least a temporary spot in my future fleet for this fine machine whenever she wishes to part with it.

A Late Night Rinse

2006-01-17T22:59:00.000-08:00

Here in New England, the powers that be decided long ago that spreading tons of salt on our roads would be the best way to keep them clear of snow and ice. This is indeed an effective method, but is also completely unforgiving to automobiles. As a result, it becomes a necessity to rinse the salt from a car frequently in order to prevent it from turning into a pile of orangey-brown dust in five years, which is why I feel awful to have to drive a car that survived the first twenty-seven years of its life virtually rust-free. Freshly sprayed, the Coupe DeVille looks almost brand new sitting in the bay at St. Hilaire's 24-Hour Car Wash. She really does clean up nice.

In Praise of Land Barges

2006-01-13T11:19:00.000-08:00

Show me a vehicle from today that has as much of a presence as a big seventies tank does. Of all the bad things I can say about the 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille in its current state, 'inability to be handsome and photogenic' is nowhere on the list.

1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme

2006-01-12T16:43:00.000-08:00

Old cars fascinate me. They constantly present me with new challenges and charm me in ways I never thought they possibly could. They come from a time when regardless of how opulent or utilitarian they may be, an extraordinary amount of attention was paid to quality and detail, and this faded red 1977 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme is no exception.

The only thing I like more than an old car is an old car with a story, and this car's is a bit more interesting than most. For starters, it is the 4,714th Cutlass off of the assembly line for this model year. According to the build sticker on the driver's door, it was made in September of 1976; so early in the run that its VIN number is not completely consistent with either solid 1976 or solid 1977 models. Research on a few reputable Oldsmobile sites yielded that it is a 1977 VIN number with the 1976 body designation for a Cutlass Supreme sedan (29 as opposed to 69). Another oddity would be the fact that although it is an ultra low-options car, somebody felt it fit to order the Rocket 350 V8, complete with the optional four-barrel carburetor. Although I'm not able to trace the car to its original owner, everything about it screams fire chief to me, right down to the colors. This car is red with a white steel roof and red cloth interior. It has manual door locks, manual windows, a vinyl headliner, AM radio only, and is air conditioning-delete. Steel wheels and the small Oldsmobile Rocket dog dish hubcaps are also suggestive of an earlier life of civil servitude, as does the fact that the car has traveled only 77,000 miles in all this time. In fact I'd almost be willing to place money on the fact that the first decade of this car's life was spent puttering around some rural town from boiler inspection to boiler inspection while not racing to the scene of a blaze. Oh the stories she could tell if only she were able to talk.

You're probably wondering how I came to own this strange car, and its story is again a bit more interesting than that of your average old clunker. Like me, after its initial life of being used as the local fire chief's car or whoever its first owner was, you should not find it too much of a stretch to picture an unshaven blue-collar guy from a blue-collar Pennsylvania steel belt town wearing his denim jacket and pumping his fist along to whatever Bruce Springsteen song happened to be on the radio at the moment. I'm talking as blue collar as blue collar gets. If The Deer Hunter were set in the late 80's as opposed to the late 60's, this would have been the car playing chicken with the old Brockway 360 as opposed to a 1959 Cadillac Series 62. Sounds completely plausible, right? Wrong. This car came from Idaho.

Twenty-nine years ago, this car was sold at an Oldsmobile dealership that probably had an inventory of only a half-dozen cars. It hardly ever left town and was meticulously maintained. Some time in the early 90's, an old lady who may or may not have been its original owner passed away and willed the car to her two sons who kept it in a barn for the next ten years. One day in late 2003, the car was pulled out of hibernation and put in the front yard of one of the sons with a For Sale sign on it for a nominal sum. They claimed with a new battery and fresh gas she would turn right over. After a few weeks went by, a price was negotiated, hands were shaken, and the old Cutlass ended up on a used car lot in a town called Lewiston. It ended up in the hands of a scary goth kid who used it as a daily driver for the next year and ten months. During that time he drove the car from Idaho all the way out here to a town in Massachusetts not far from my own where he lived with his aunt and uncle while attending college.

I came to know about the car when my friend Silvester, who lives about a half mile down the same road the car was on told me one night about an older faded red Oldsmobile sedan for sale in the neighborhood. He egged me on into checking it out that November night and now I'm glad he did. We called about the car on a Tuesday and was informed by the scary goth kid that he was moving out to Washington state that Friday and would not be able to take the car with him under any circumstances. Even worse was the fact that if the car was not sold by the time he left, he seemed quite sure that it his uncle would send it to the crusher in short order. It was then finalized in my mind that I would have to purchase this car no matter what, to save it from a cruel and untimely fate. An Oldsmobile Rocket 350 with 77,000 miles on it is barely broken in.

How could I, as a car nut and General Motors fan, see a vehicle in this shape with such wonderful patina and these simple, elegant lines, from its perfect pair of waterfall grilles to the sculpted rear bumper and extensions, and beveled taillights complete with Oldsmobile Rockets, on a crisp fall afternoon in New England and not feel moved to action? To have had the opportunity to save this car and not taken it, only to find myself reunited with it months later at a local junkyard when I noticed a familiar-looking faded red sedan crushed under the weight of a rotted out early 80's Ninety-Eight Regency some kid stuffed into a telephone pole, was a scenario I was not prepared to wrap my head around. The Idaho title was signed over to me for the sum of $230 and she was all mine. As I pulled out of the long driveway with the car, its former owner gave me a nod and cracked a smile knowing that his car would live to see another day.

This very afternoon, due to space issues, a needy friend, and the desire to play with and save more cars from their untimely death, I transferred ownership of the Cutlass to my friend Dan. Another old car enthusiast, Dan will restore the car to his liking as he uses it as his daily driver, ensuring that it will be around for many more years to come.

Here's to Bribery

2006-01-12T03:27:00.000-08:00

Saying I got this legitimately would be like saying the car would pass an emissions test if it were still required to. Got a burnt out plate light? Non-functioning emergency brake? Hanging exhaust complete with a few speed holes? Not to worry; it's nothing that a little coaxing from President Andrew Jackson can't fix.

Being completely unable to deal with the fact that the old girl was now a hundred percent compliant with official regulations, I felt compelled to attach this nifty period-correct Massachusetts red plate for her to wear up front. State law requires all cars to bear a front license plate if two are issued. Sure I could just leave my other Boston Bruins plate that belongs on the front of the car, but what's the fun in that when instead I could have a perfectly good red plate that expired in December of 1978?

Fuck.

2006-01-09T18:03:00.000-08:00

Fuck, indeed. A lot has transpired since my feeble post shortly after the ball dropped in Time's Square on New Year's Day. Since then, my beautiful pearl white 1996 Buick Riviera, a car for which I had not even written a proper page for for its inclusion into my fleet section, blew a head gasket on the way to a Boston Bruins game I had tickets for on the Second. With just over 131,000 ticks on the clock, most would think me crazy to swap an engine into it, and to you I say fuck off. It is by far the best car I've ever owned and, after fourteen months and 16,000 miles of faithful, relatively trouble-free service, she owes me nothing.

Thankfully, since I am an automotive preservationist of the highest degree, or what some might call a junk man, I always have at least one automobile on reserve to be pulled out for just such an emergency. Also, because I am an unforgiving snob with an image to uphold, and need all the creature comforts one may find in the most modern of cars, I make sure that at least one of said reserve automobiles is a neglected luxury marque. Enter the 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille. Weighing in just shy of three tons, the big red tank handles marvelously in the snow; no chains or sandbags required. Since she became my legally registered vehicle on January 4th, thanks to my buddy Rich who helped me wash the paperwork through the much more lenient state of New Hampshire, I've done quite a bit of work to the old girl in a short amount of time to make her a bit more roadworthy. Here's a breakdown, sadly without photographs as I have been rushing to squeeze all of this in between work and other things currently going on, of what's been done so far:

-Removed what were quite possibly the spark plugs the car left the factory with so many years ago, replaced with nice new AC Delco Rapidfires
-Changed distributor cap, rotor, ignition coil, and spark plug wires
-Checked timing, advanced twelve degrees!
-Replaced leaking fuel pump
-Un-deleted fuel filter some hack sliced out so many years ago
-New PCV valve and elbow
-Replaced enough vacuum and emissions hose to circle the world nine times
-New blower motor and blower motor relay (heat is a plus in January here in Massachusetts)
-Oil and filter changed

And still left to do:

-Change rear end fluid and rear cover gasket
-Re-hang exhaust
-Slip somebody a twenty to fudge an inspection sticker for me
-Do donuts in the local church parking lot next time it snows

Hopefully my beloved Riviera will be back on the road before not too long and I can then concentrate on putting the Coupe in the hands of its next loving owner, who will finalize its rightful place on the open road, continuing the new lease on life I have given it.

Happy New Year, all!

2006-01-01T21:11:00.000-08:00

Here's to hoping 2006 is a whole hell of a lot more productive than last year was.

1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille: Smiles Come Standard

2005-12-31T19:13:00.000-08:00

In 1979, an older gentleman walked into a West Palm Beach, Florida Cadillac dealership, signed on the dotted line, and drove off the lot with what he thought was the nicest, classiest vehicle on the face of the Earth. Twenty-six years later, on the Friday before Labor Day of this year, a purchase & sale agreement was hastily written out on a sheet of notebook paper, money was exchanged, signatures were given, and ownership of this bright red acres-large luxobarge of a bygone era was transferred to a stupid young kid from Massachusetts who didn't quite know what he'd just gotten himself into.

I love big cars; the bigger the better. My friends, although they do not understand my reasoning behind preferring big heavy American tanks over smaller, sportier cars, never hesitate to inform me if they see something in their travels that they think might interest me. And while I always check out every car that crosses my radar screen, 99 times out of a hundred they are nothing special. So when my friend Nick told me about a big red Cadillac for sale only a mile away from my house, I immediately in my mind pictured a burgundy mid 80's long-body Fleetwood Brougham with the Oldsmobile 307 boat anchor in it. However, upon finding the car, I was delighted to see that when my friend said it was a big red Cadillac, he really meant it was a big red Cadillac!

While 98% of all Cadillacs this side of 1959 one will see are some subdued shade of blue, black, or silver, this particular Coupe DeVille left the factory wearing a magnificent coat of bright Firethorn Red with a white padded quarter roof and white leather interior, complete with a wonderful stainless steel sidespear that ends in a Packard-like hook on the header panel. Classic Detroit luxury for the most discerning pimp, hustler, or aging swinger with an orange spray-on shopping mall George Hamilton suntan; you will not find a Cadillac of this demeanor at your local country club. Obsolete the day it rolled out of the factory, it is the last gasping breath of seventies excess on a grand scale as 1980 would bring an end to Cadillac-exclusive big blocks, wild color schemes, and that great looking slanted rear greenhouse. The last of the big-body Cadillac coupes would roll off the assembly line in 1984. However, this fine machine (in full holiday dress!) being a 1979 model means it is equipped with the last big block Cadillac ever made, the 425. While it may not be as powerful and can't breathe quite as well as its 472 and 500 cubic inch big brothers, the Cadillac 425 is nonetheless a stout, smooth-running torque monster. With 2:28 gears in the rear end it does 0-60 by Tuesday, but you'd be able to pull your house with it if need be.

You're probably wondering what motivated me to buy such an odd car, and the answer is not concrete. I'm almost positive that nobody after 1981 made a conscious decision or concerted effort to go looking for a 1979 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, especially one so flamboyant, and I am no exception. The reason I purchased this car, aside from the fact that the old man that owned it threatened to send it to the crusher if I didn't take it, was because it spoke to me. I bought this car because, like myself at the time, it needed a little love. I felt sorry for the old girl sitting there by the side of the road; someone's former pride and joy that was now all but discarded, trying to put on its best face in the hopes that someone would swing by one day and save it from its imminent doom. The moment I saw it I knew I had to have it, cracked rear fender fillers and all. It will be nothing but a money pit and a headache for a long time to come; I will put far more into it than the car is worth, but for something that puts such an immense smile on my face every time I get behind the wheel, it will be worth it in the end. We were made for each other.

1939 Whizzer Motorbike!

2005-12-31T18:33:00.000-08:00

I'm an only child. As a result of this, when I was still young and cute anyways, I was admittedly a tad spoiled by my parents. In accordance with this, my father, who is far more fascinated with machines than I am, felt it fit to bestow upon me this delightful little replica of a 1939 Whizzer Motorbike when I was just thirteen. On a street full of pedal bicycles and perhaps the occasional sticker-clad Honda Super Cub or rusty beat-up Puch somebody found under a pile of camping equipment in their uncle's garage, my Whizzer may as well have been a Cadillac. While other kids were dealing with greasy, noisy, ripcord-started blue-smoking two cycle engines or pumping their legs like a sucker on their Walmart blue light special Huffys, I was riding in velvety-smooth four-cycle style. 123 aluminum air-cooled flathead CC's of it to be exact, and I loved every minute of it. I took care of it better than I've taken care of anything in my life, and spent about as much time cleaning it as I did riding it. That's why it broke my heart the day this little black beauty bent a valve with only 91 miles on its little odometer. It hadn't even burnt a full tank of gas yet (at 120 miles per gallon it is both economical and stylish for all you hybrid-driving queers out there). Since that fateful day a few years back, this little sweetheart has sat in my basement under a cover, waiting to once again spend countless carefree afternoons with its loving owner who may have grown up, but will always be a kid at heart.

Well, here goes nothin'

2005-12-30T21:04:00.000-08:00

Greetings, everybody. My name's Mac, and this is my little asscrack of the internet. Here you will read about all of my day to day nonsense as well as my hobbies, particularly cars, of which I feel obligated to save each and every one humanly possible. Pictures of neat shit are on their way.

Dress Rehearsal

2005-12-30T20:53:00.000-08:00

Just testing to make sure this newfangled interweb thing works or not; better stuff is forthcoming, I assure you.