to Tucson in last night’s episode of Breaking Bad. Or at least they should have been. Tucson is the place to go to disappear.
What the hell was wrong with us in the late 70s?
- Disco. (Ugly fake music.)
- Leisure suits. (Ugly plastic clothes)
- Facelifts and boob jobs. (Fake looks and plastic body parts for ugly souls.)
And this – the Cadillac Seville v. 2.0 (introduced for Model Year 1980)
- fake rims
- Fake engines – up to 145 hp from your choice of innocuous corporate engines, or the famed fake diesel (converted from a gas 350) or V8/6/4
- fake leather inside (eventually leading to the term “leather seating surfaces,” instead of “leather seats”)
- Fake convertible roof (thank the 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V for making this seem OK)
- and finally – Fake-ass fake Daimler fake trunk.
If you want to sell a lot of real estate, you need a car that says “a lot of real estate” inside and out. A car that says everything about me smells of Hai Karate, gold chains, coke and buxom hookers (and that’s just for breakfast). Or in Bob’s case, an exotic Russian trophy wife and a riverfront Detroit penthouse.
Coupe de Ville, from the French word for bloated tank of lard. This is the pinnacle of American luxury in the day. Why?
- 472 cubic inch V-8 – bigger than your puny Impala’s 350
- 22 ft long – again, bigger than your puny impala.
- Power windows, locks, a/c, long before they were common on kias
- Leather, from actual creatures
- An arm rest in the back seat. That is the real kicker. It’s how my grandparents knew they were in a real luxury car. Not the other shit – the rear arm rest.