Right now, as you’re reading this, you are running out of time to buy this good ’61Cadillac I found on Hemmings. It’s an auction, and the seconds are ticking away. (Actually, it’s at $20k as of this writing and hasn’t reached its reserve, so you may yet get another chance. But still! Take a look with me!)
Look at that interior. It’s pink! Who ordered this thing, and why is it in such insanely nice condition? Why does it have a (claimed) 5,930 miles on the odometer? Who cares?
This is one of those cars that doesn’t induce a panicky “MUST PURCHASE” impulse for me. What it does do is send my mind wandering, imagining a nice long road trip with three close friends, talking, occupying the same unimaginably cozy pink space. Just bounding along the freeway at 85 miles per hour in absolute comfort.
Imagine with me that this is your car. It’s in your garage. You can walk out, get in, turn the big 390 over and listen to its barely audible thrum. Careful in reverse, out on to the street and into the world in a car that is objectively...more than anything being built by anyone today. Imagine.
BUT, again, you’re (probably) running out of time.
Yes, it’ll probably go for a decent chunk of change. But I’d be a little bummed to see it go to some old guy who’ll pull it out of the garage for a couple of shows a year. This thing needs to live! It needs to earn some miles, maybe a scratch or two. To drink a little gas while there’s gas to be drunk.
Don’t let the Joe Bidens of the world enjoy all the long cars. Go forth. Bid. Please bid so I don’t have to.