Almost, But Not Quite

Frequent Contributor Mike L. sends me this snippet:

GM on Friday unveiled the Cadillac Celestiq, previewing an upcoming car that will cost $300,000 or more when it goes into production by late 2023. The car marks a pivot for Cadillac into hand-built vehicles, which are typically reserved for high-end sports cars and uber-luxury models.

And I have to admit that for the modern style of car, it’s not too horrible:

Still as ugly as shit, but no worse than the new Rollers.

Of course, then we come to the real dog-turd in the ice cream:

Cadillac is calling the vehicle its new “all-electric flagship sedan.”

And there I was thinking that a decent 7.2-liter V12 engine would make this a worthy entrant into the hand-built car sector…

Hard pass, Cadillac.  Wouldn’t accept one for free, let along have to cough up 300 big ones for a battery-powered car.  Celestiq it up your Detroit assholes.

No Wonder They Lost The War(s)

My plan this afternoon was to go and set up a new bank account to handle the dollars that my Kind Readers are going to support me with, and buy a few groceries from the Kroger across from there.

“Hello, Tiggy,” says I to the VW.  “Ready to go on a little trip?”
“Sorta.”  Some miles go by.  “Nope, sorry, let me show you my check engine light, and if that’s not enough, I’ll throw in a little juddering and unresponsive throttle.”

125,000 lousy miles, lovingly looked after, and it does this to me.  (see title)

I just made it to Mike The Mechanic (actually Chris, but that lacks the alliterative impact) who, when I described the symptoms, gave a merry laugh and called his wife to book that trip to the Bahamas.

Even better, I’ll only get it back next week, as they’re as busy as Hunter Biden in a whorehouse with a wallet full of taxpayer money.

Which means that for the foreseeable I get to chug around in Sputum:

Not that I mind, though, although it does mean that I will have to ferry New Wife to and from The Job.  Or just stay at home, drink gin and growl at my screen.

Wait:  what was the first option again?

Pocket Rocket

…in which the delectable Nicole Johnson achieves more than one Moment Of Ecstasy when driving (actually, being driven in) a muscular Austin Healey Sprite.

The engineering is brilliant, and the car is as cute as she is.  Watch it and enjoy (20 minutes).

440 horsepower, baby.  Sheeeeesh….

And this is Nicole after her Big Moment:

Lookalikes

I’ve always been struck by the similarities between two sports cars of the same mid-70s era, the Alfa Romeo Montreal:

…and the SAAB Sonnett III:

Of the two, I actually think the Sonnett is the prettier — amazingly, for a carmaker more known for its eccentricity — but then again, the body design was by an Italian (Sergio Coggiola) rather than some Swedish guy named Sven who was obsessed with practicality over beauty.

Of course, when it came to performance, there was no comparison;  the Sonnett was powered by a puny Ford 1500cc V4 (the “Taunus”) which generated a whopping 65hp, whereas the Montreal had the mighty 2.6-liter V8 derived from its legendary Alfa 33 Stradale race car, which pushed out 197hp.

That said, the Sonnett had a respectable top speed of just over 100mph because of its light weight and aerodynamic styling.

And finally, the Sonnett was a true SAAB, in that it was safe to drive and could run all day without breaking down.  The Montreal?  Ehhh… not so much, although there’s still that thrill of taking it up to top speed (~125mph — ask me how I know this).

Still, if you were to drop a decent modern Ford 1600cc Duratec engine into the Sonnett (it would fit easily), I’d take one in a heartbeat.  Even the interior hasn’t aged too badly:

For that matter, though, nor has the Montreal’s:

Yummy.  Both of them.

Bad Owner, Fine Car

From Reader Sean F, his old car of choice, the Mercedes 770 / 770K of the late 1930s:

 

It’s a brute of a car (7.7-liter engine!), and heavy (especially when fitted with the armour plating and thick glass required by its most famous owner), but I’d take a slimmed-down non-Hitler version in a heartbeat.

And I’m just a sucker for those swoopy front wheel mudguards, in just about any car of that era.