It’s a slow, gloomy Tuesday commute, when out of nowhere, this cream-colored nightmare comes storming into view.
Not only is it exhibit A in how to take America’s most successful car of the day, the ‘77 Cutlass, make it smaller (good), even less powerful (bad), and less aggressive, by halving the number of lights (emasculatingly bad). Then, for ’79, change the grille to make it even uglier. (Two fat sections per side instead of three more slender ones.)
This was the exactly car I took my high school driving test in. Thanks again to my now dead instructor for that D+. That right there is the sole reason I am not your president this very minute.
(I at least did better than Laura Haas with the nice “aas”)