When Frank Sinatra sung I did it my way, he expressed that his regrets were few to mention.
I don’t normally believe in regrets, what’s the use? However, there is one, and it’s about parting company with a 1965 Oldsmobile 88 4-door hardtop.
First things first: Where were you when you first laid eyes on your favorite car of a lifetime? For your author, it was on January 22, 1965, in northern Virginia, in our driveway at home. A Friday after school, remembered as if it were yesterday, we had a new car. Most of my younger childhood family car memories are from trips in our 1958 Plymouth Sport Suburban, the favorites being on family vacations, campouts, touring interesting places and visiting relatives and friends around the country. At ten years of age, thinking that I knew American cars pretty well, the ’65 Olds just wasn’t on my radar.
The only Oldsmobiles I really knew of belonged to Mom’s two sisters and a brother-in-law. The elder sister and her husband purchased a new 88 every three years. We visited them many summers. Their ’60 and ’63 were recalled, the ’60’s ribbon speedometer making a lasting impression.
Her younger sister purchased her first new car in 1963, a nifty Olds F-85 Cutlass. She living on the west coast and we on the east, she spoke highly about it after flying to visit us in Virginia. I first saw her car in person in 1965 after we moved west. In the following years, I did get to know the Cutlass pretty well. It was a miniaturized Olds, replete with all the performance, engineering, luxury and quality on which Olds had built their renown reputation. A lifetime Oldsmobile owner, with five Cutlasses under her belt, the ’63 was always Aunt Ellie’s favorite.
The reason Dad considered Oldsmobile is unknown. I remembered that, along with the 88, he was looking at the Galaxie and Impala. My best friend next door, also into cars, had Fords in his family’s driveway. Somewhat competitive, I was none too keen on ending up with a car of that brand. Crazy kids. 1965, a watershed year of American automobile design and sales success, many neighbors and friends would be purchasing handsome new cars.
Our best east-coast friends, a Chevrolet family, ended up with a gorgeous Impala 4-door hardtop. For the money, the ’65 full-sized Chevies remain atop the Mt. Everest of beautiful styling. During the concurrent shopping process, the local Chevy dealer was asked about any discount for best friends purchasing a Chevrolet at the same time. Nice try.
Another set of best friends ended up with a 1965 Olds 88 sedan; could they have been the influence? There were so many incredibly good-looking cars introduced in 1965. The family of a close friend a few blocks over had a brand new Pontiac Safari, in which I remember sitting, admiring the instrument panel’s canted, chromed gauges.
Mom always seemed to covet the Buick brand, but their full-sized models were ruled out immediately when Dad saw the dashboards. The main instrumentation was set down low. A WWII naval aviator, fighter ace and military hero who survived being shot down, he wanted nothing to do with a machine that wasn’t maximized for it’s mission. I remember sitting in the glamorous, glassy Sport Wagon in the showroom, but believe that after seven years of wagon ownership, there just wouldn’t be another one for this family.
I also remember during the shopping process, while my parents were preoccupied with a salesperson, sitting inside a new Olds 98 in the middle of the dealer’s showroom, depressing the trunk release in the glove box, to be totally shocked and somewhat embarrassed when the trunk lid sprang open. Thrifty mid-westerners who had lived through the depression, neither Mom nor Dad would have ever considered owning the tony olds. Nor, would they entertain the thought of looking at any Cadillac.
During the search, my eldest brother, a car guy, expressed interest in a manual-transmission equipped model. Wonder how rare an Olds 88 hardtop sedan with 4-speed would have been?
When the new car arrived, it was beyond my wildest imagination that the Lucerne Mist 88 would one day be all mine.
In the 60s among military and comparable civilian families, it seemed like new cars were purchased about every seven years. In 1972, we’d acquire a new Buick, the year in which I graduated from high school. It would be Mom’s car, and Dad was still enjoying his final days in active military service commuting into and out of Washington DC in his Austin Healy, originally purchased by my brother when we lived in California. When we were ordered back to Virginia in 1969, we drove across country in the 88. Upon arrival, when he needed his own car for work, a naval protege whose post included a large transit aircraft that was partially empty and scheduled to fly from southern California to the east coast arranged for the roadster to be loaded aboard the plane.
I do not remember if I was allowed to drive the Olds to high school for the last few months before graduation. Neither my brothers nor sister would have had their own car to drive to school, and if a more favorable protocol was extended to me, the youngest, there would have been serious repercussions. The Olds had been relegated to the side of the driveway, no longer housed in the carport. Summer, winter, spring and fall, the car always started and ran. I regularly drove the car to and from college, and took it with me when I moved into my first home in Washington DC.
The 88 was right-on reliable. It could be covered with 15″ of snow, but with a few healthy pumps of the gas pedal, it fired right up. You sort of had to modulate the gas, not just leaving it in one position or another, but you could drive off instantly, the car never stalling, and I knew exactly where we’d be on the main road out when the engine’s cold light would extinguish.
When the car was brand new, there was trauma. I do not recall the specific reason, but believe it had something to do with an un-drilled access point for either lubrication or cooling. The only time I had heard about Dad crying was when I was in college, after he had taken my dog out on an early morning run, he on the bike and the dog off leash chasing a squirrel, when she was hit and killed by a milk delivery truck. Mom saw him alone out on the wood pile. I can only imagine how upset he might have been when he learned that the power plant in his new pride and joy would have to be extricated for the major repair. The car performed virtually flawlessly for its entire lifespan over the course of fourteen years and almost 90,000 miles, heady numbers for it’s era. I wonder if having the engine removed and reinstalled when not on a running assembly line credited the cars long life?
As a youngster, I eagerly awaited the fall issues of the many periodicals to which we subscribed in order to view the new car introductions. In 1964 it was unbelievable to first set eyes on the images of General Motors’ 1965 full sized mainstream coupes. I had to go from page to page to see if every GM brand had adopted this radical new slope-back roofline for their two-door B-body hardtops.
I admired our 88’s styling, especially the slab sides, rear quarter fender hop-up, and hardtop roof. One design flaw that was quite apparent was how the front fender brow shadowed a piece of chrome above the headlamp, making it appear that a piece of trim was missing. The front of the 1966 full sized Oldsmobiles was more refined and attractive, in my opinion.
Nowadays, it is not generally feasible to design/option a new car that is personalized/individualized. Before multiple-option packages became commonplace, and the Japanese perfected the system of manufacturing sub-models that were identically equipped, it was possible to order accessories separately, and request special builds. If I had been more astute, an adult and had cash resources, I would have enjoyed the opportunity of dressing out the 88 hardtop sedan with snazzy Starfire features, such as front and rear end assemblies, bucket seat interior, floor console with shift selector and the highest-performance 425 cubic inch engine.
I wasn’t really aware of the Starfire model. It was conceived as Oldsmobile’s most luxurious, powerful and exclusive coupe or convertible, built on the B body frame. With all the glamor and glitz, including intermittent application of brushed chrome on the dash, interior door panels, exterior swaths of side trim and inlaid chrome flooring grids, it sold relatively well yet never achieved the cachet of Pontiac’s Grand Prix, conceived under similar pretexts.
1965 Oldsmobiles sold very well, and on the trip across country in the spring that year, seeing new Oldsmobiles like the one in which we were traveling was a very common site. There would be four 1965 ’88s in my life. Ours, the one belonging to the friends mentioned above, my Uncle’s business car, an 88 that had an early version of cruise control, and our brand new neighbors when we arrived at our new home in 1965. We shared a common driveway, our garages directly opposite each other. Their car was a white full size 88 coupe. It had a concave rear window feature, shared with it’s cousin, the Pontiac Grand Prix, but did not have the Starfire tail lamps. That would have made it a Jetstar I, the less expensive iteration of the Starfire.
1965 Pontiac Grand Prix
1965 Oldsmobile Starfire
An excellent example of switching out identifying end clips is what the Canadians got on their full sized Pontiacs during the mid-60s. Their Bonneville equivalent sedans and Safaris, the Grand Pariesiennes, had Grand Prix styling, even the front of the Safari station wagon. Some countries have all the luck.
In 1965, arriving on the west coast, the car settled into its life as our family transporter. After a couple of years, it suffered a horrific trauma. My eldest brother, driving the car uptown, experienced a collision in the Olds when it was hit by another car traveling at a very high rate of speed. He was unharmed. It impacted the big Olds with such force that it spun 270 degrees around, broadsiding a parked Corvair with such energy that the Corvair was knocked completely up onto the curb. The Olds suffered severe damage on three of the four fenders.
While the car was in the shop, our west coast best friends lent us their car for a weekend trip out of town. Originally Chevrolet owners, they had made the switch in 1967 to a brand new turquoise Delta coupe. Astonishingly, the new car was traded soon afterwards. I can’t even begin to imagine what a financial loss that was, but they ended up with a brand new ‘67 gold Delta hardtop sedan.
It was a pretty car, with a somewhat unusual combination of gold exterior with gray interior, but was fun riding in to see our friends in another new Oldsmobile. It was equipped with power windows, an option that Mom and Dad would never have considered. The friends being visited were the owners of the white ’65 Olds 88, who didn’t really care for the car. When we arrived, not knowing that the ’67 was just a loaner, they exclaimed, oh no, they bought another one. Back home, our own 88 was repaired and restored to as good as new.
We visited the out-of-town friends often. Their eldest son, heartily into cars, always took me to see the newly-introduced models. In 1966, that meant revolutionary front wheel drive Oldsmobile Toronado. What can one say? One of the most stunning mid-century modern American personal luxury cars, along with the 1967 Cadillac Eldorado, it was fascinating to see how Olds built what seemed like a completely different car with the same basic engine and other Olds parts, save for the inventive front wheel drive powertrain. Yes, the car had a silly name. Yes, it was entirely too big and too heavy, and yes, completely impractical for most of us, yet, it was a remarkable automobile. The achievement of building the Toronado was but one in a long list of automotive engineering and technological milestones on which the company had built it’s storied reputation.
Before our trip to move across country in 1969, Mom, on car trips, always having taken care of four children, with the dog at her feet in non-air-conditioned cars, made the request to have an aftermarket Frigette air conditioner installed in the ’65 88. It functioned extremely well, you could see your breath if you blew into the unit’s cooled airflow. We did have a temporary thermostat issue on the cross-country trip that involved regular monitoring and overheating mitigation, but the problem was resolved and the system worked perfectly for the rest of the car’s life in the heat and humidity of the Washington DC area. After serving as our family car for about seven years, I was thrilled to have the car all to my own in 1972.
In 1973 on a trip to the Olds dealer to see the new models, there it was: a brand new model, with European sporting intentions, wearing the rocket badge and Cutlass Salon emblem. I visited the car on the back lot many times, dreaming of how to earn the funds required to make it mine. I can still imagine the aroma of its gold corduroy interior.
A dream that did come true while finishing up college was a one-year appointment to GAO (the General Accountability Office, originally General Accounting Office) in downtown Washington. I was hired to work in their graphic arts department. My main responsibility would be producing the covers for their Congressional Reports. The purpose of the agency was to research and publish information on subject matter requested by congressional members. The cover had a short summary of the book’s content. It was a fascinating job, that included other design tasks. The 88 was driven into town daily on a brand new stretch of highway that tunneled underneath the reflecting pool in front of the Capitol building. I paid to park it in a lot near GAO. My work hours were from 10 am – 6 pm. Everyday, I’d come out to find the Olds being the last car in the lot and the attendant long gone. It was left unlocked, with the ignition key above the sun visor. Try to imagine.
After completing the appointment, I was offered a position in the newly organized Department of Energy, in the office of Energy Technology. The agency, a twelfth cabinet level department, was comprised of ERDA (Energy and Research and Development Administration), and AEC (Atomic Energy Commission). I would be producing visual information layouts showing how money and people were being allocated and organized. By this time, I had moved away from home and had a nice English basement apartment in downtown DC in the Dupont Circle area, the Olds being parked on the street. I utilized the new Metro subway to and from work. The job was amazing, in a new building with huge, bold, colorful graphics on every floor, each having it’s own selection of hues. As an artist, the building provided an enlightening backdrop for performing my duties. I had been hired by a temporary agency, who was working for Argonne National Laboratories, under contract to DOE (Department of Energy). At 24, I had my own office in a major governmental agency, thoroughly enjoying this prestigious career position, which included visits to the mail office at the White House.
Governmental employees were in temporary positions as the new agency matured. One by one, people in my immediate office left to accept permanent positions elsewhere. I assumed their responsibilities as program facilitators. My scope of work changed from producing visuals to writing various justification documents for the director, James Schlesinger. Transitioning from working in my field of the arts, to writing, and being all alone in the suite of offices, the situation just wasn’t fun anymore. Depression hit hard. I left.
Cocooning at home and leaving the Olds on the street with a flat tire, it was deeply disturbing one day when it vanished, having been towed to the city impound lot. A good friend with her car gathered me up, along with a spare tire, to retrieve my beloved Oldsmobile. The Olds had not been driven for months, yet, now with over 80,000 miles on the original 425mand what must have been a strong battery, it started right up. The spare was mounted, and the car brought back to my street. Unfortunately, after the rescue, being left long term in the same parking place beyond the legal limit, it was again towed. My cherished companion was gone forever.
The engine had developed a thirst for oil, but was otherwise in good condition. The interior looked almost new. Some minor tears in the driver’s and front passenger’s seats were covered with attractive, individual cushions. The rest of the upholstery looked sharp. I never used floor mats over the dark blue carpet. Wearing well after a lifetime of regular vacuuming, there were no rips, stains or worn spots. The headliner was pristine, brushed metal dashboard still gleamed, air conditioning still blew ice cubes, heater and radio worked, on and on. The engine still pulled hard. It had been an amazing power plant, coming on like gang busters when pressed into passing gear, almost picking the wheels up off the pavement and thrusting the vehicle forward. I think the record was 112 mph, but now, I wouldn’t be going anywhere in the Olds. Ever again.
I still have the keys. I’m confident it would have taken me across country when I left the east coast in 1979, but looking in the rear view mirror, I would not have had the resources to to rebuild the engine or maintain a car that may have otherwise been reaching its intended life expectancy, so maybe it was for the better.
After four decades I still feel regret, and am deeply sorry, my faithful friend; you deserved so much better than to be abandonded after having served so comfortably and dependably in the best of style. Wherever you are, thank you. I will forever in my mind relive our springtime cruises on the Mt. Vernon Parkway. Alongside the Potomac River, with your windows wide open, listening to the intoxicating burble of your powerful soul, feeling your wheels smooth the pavement expansion seams, looking across your broad-shouldered hood, you’d take me anywhere and everywhere I ever could ever dream.
Photo of 1963 F-85 Cutlass from the collection of the author. Oldsmobile milestone composition from proposal to General Motors regarding re-introduction of the Oldsmobile marque. All other images from the internet. Actual model of car owned was a Dynamic 88.
Chronologically, what would have been my first COAL, is now the last. Thank you to all contributors here on Curbside Classic for your comments, interest and friendship. And, to our fearless moderator for empowering the documentation of these journeys.
Nicely written story JJ.
I too tend to anthropomorphize cars, making sure no one actually sees me patting the fender as I walk away from the parking spot, or whispering an apology when I trade one in at a dealership for a younger trophy (b)ride.
The vehicles of the 1950s and 1960s were mostly solid representations of the day’s technologies, built with a perceived honest effort on the part of the manufacturers to offer consumers desirable vehicles. It was a balanced business model; they made good profits and we got good products.
That went south in a long, still on-going, and well documented story. No wonder your future would involve an Element and a S2000.
Thank you for these engaging COALs.
Has to be a record for rear overhang, that’s style! The sheetmetal just goes on forever behind the rear wheel.
There’s just something about an Olds from this era, sad they didn’t survive. I like to play “what would Oldmobiles look like today” if they HAD survived. How would they fit in the marketplace? The EZ answer is of course tall crossovers, because that’s what’s selling. But even that sector of the market is overcrowded with late entries.
A more interesting path would be for Olds to capitalize on their advanced engineering rep, and gone fully electric. A Tesla competitor. And make it LOW, in the vein of the upscale 4 door coupe trend. Imagine a line of Olds competitors for the Mercedes CLS, BMW Gran Coupe, Tesla Model S, Audi A7. Even better would be a “shooting brake” ultra luxury touring model, like the Porsche Panamera 4 Sport Turismo.
Make it AWD, all electric, but what features would distinguish an electric Olds in the year 2019?
Greg. I like your question about “What if Olds had survived?” You’re probably aware of the 1999 Olds Recon concept, an all-wheel drive SUV, with four center-opening doors, no B post and panoramic sunroofs. And, Oldsmobile’s amazing record-setting race cars from 1987-1992.
Oldsmobile’s Indycar single seat chassis car driven by Indy 500 winner A.J. Foyt achieved a world closed-course speed record of 257.123 mph with a top speed, over a mile, of 267.88 mph.
The Aerotech experimental high-speed vehicles were first powered by a highly turbo-charged version of the 2-liter Olds Quad 4; the 2nd generation was powered by a 4 liter Olds Aurora engine, and broke 47 speed endurance records. And, surpassed 10,000 and 25,000 kilometer world speed records.
If in business today, I dream of Oldsmobiles exactly like you describe, somewhat upscale, all-electric, technologically advanced, all-wheel-drivers that may have appeared somewhat conservative but could blow the (gull wing) doors off almost every other car off the line.
Shame on GM.
Thanks RL. You are most welcome; all of your comments were appreciated. Sharing how you anthropomorphize cars makes me smile. I quietly do the same things you mentioned and am not about to change or feel like I should be led away by the little people in the white suits.
With so many things on which we spend money, if manufacturers and service agencies prioritized quality and value, while carefully watching their own nickels and dimes, looking ahead with R&D, technology updates and staying relevant, they should be profitable. Currently, for many companies, it seems like the immediate bottom line and short-term profits may be the only areas of focus.
Definitely, 1965 was THE year for the full-sized car.
For me, it’s a toss-up between the Impala and Galaxie, with the Impala besting the Galaxie by a very tiny bit. But then I remember, the automatic transmission of the Ford is a 3 speed to the Chevy’s 2 speed….
My brother bought a 65′ Galaxie 500 when he graduated HS in 73′. He put cragars on all 4 corners with G60x15s on the rear. It was a smooth comfy riding car.
I too loved Oldsmobile.My very first car was my Dads 1966 Cutlass Coupe Kaki,full vinyl pebble grain black top black vinyl interior,330 cube 4 barrel He sold it to me for 1200 dollars,a car that was worth perhaps 2000 He sold it to ne for what I had in my savings account.My Dad was too nice to me.Dad had 4 Olds in his life,I had 3..Those were the days.
Whew, Charles; the ’66 Cutlass coupe in khaki with black vinyl roof & interior powered by a 330 4-barrel sounded like one very desirable Olds! Do you remember if it was a sedan or hardtop? Wonder if you have any photos of your Dad’s Oldsmobiles or your own?. Sounds like both of you had great taste in cars. Am sure your dad derived pleasure from passing his car on to you; he knew you would appreciate it.
I can vividly recall hating the 65 Olds when I first saw it. We had bought a new 64 Cutlass and the design language from 64 to 65 could hardly have been more different.
I am still lukewarm on the exterior and agree that the 66 was an improvement. However, the interiors in these were fabulous in both looks and quality.
Hello JP. Yes, understood; the full-sized ’65 Oldsmobiles had a totally different design vocabulary than the 1964 intermediates. Your ’64 was clean, with straight lines, and very simple yet elegant front grille and taillamp treatments. Classic. Did the rear of your car have the frosted chrome blocks between the lights in which there were letters spelling out Oldsmobile? Seeing the barbell grille of the ’65s full sizers with somewhat unusual rear treatment and double tail lamps must have been somewhat of a surprise. I always thought the 1965 full-sized Oldsmobiles were the least attractive of the five comparable GMs. Ahhh, but the Olds had a genuine Oldsmobile 425 under the hood. Ok. Form follows function.
My Grandfather had a 68 Oldsmobile Delta Custom. It had been a dealership demo with every option on it including cruise control. THAT was a fine automobile. My Grandfather was not afraid to stick his foot in the ass of that 455 at any time. I’ll never forget us passing a slow car that was holding us up in the left hand emergency lane on the Interstate. My Grandmother was not too happy about that! My Parents later had a 78 Oldsmobile 98 Regency. That was a nice car as well. I later had a 79 Cutlass Supreme Brougham. Yes I like Oldsmobile’s and yes I like brougham’s!
codylikesit. That loaded ’68 Delta was genuinely nice car. Your Grandfather knew how to enjoy it, including kicking-down the massive 455. Buckle-up, Grandmother, here we go… Both sets of our family’s best friends ended their relationships with Oldsmobiles driving top-of-the-line models (98 LS and 98 Elite).
It’s hard to believe that Oldsmobile wasn’t sued by Ford for trademark infringement. The taillights on the 1965 Olds Starfire look like they’re wearing Lincoln emblems.
Being a big Olds fan, never noticed the emblems.
I’m sure Deuce was the type to rattle a LaSabre (couldn’t pass it up) at GM headquarters from the top of the Glass House for the above type intrusions.
It’s a tough call on the similarity of the emblems. Olds seem to be much more vertical, whereas Lincoln has a more symmetrical appearance.
Hardboiled: Astute observation. Lincoln has used various versions of their star emblem for a long time. Sometimes squarish, sometimes squished one way or another. Had never noticed similarity with Starfire shown in post. Thanks for pointing out.
Look at it close up, its a swept wing aircraft, going back to the Rocket 88 emblem that been modernized. The rocket 88 emblem goes back to the early 50s.
Swearin’ ta Gawd, I just don’t recall any of the 1965 models pictured above looking THAT huge when I was a kid in grade school.
mark reimer. Could the perspective in the side photos somewhat elongate the appearance of the body length? Yes, they were l-o-n-g.
I remember, taking my driver’s license “behind-the-wheel” exam in the ’88. When it came time to perform the parallel park test, the car somehow managed to help me maneuver it into the space on the first try. Good car.
Thanks for a great COAL series, and a view here of the ’65’s, some of the most interesting and gorgeous cars to come out of the 60’s. I find the 88’s dash challenging to look at with the high central speedo.
pikesta. You are welcome, Thank you for your response. As much as I liked the instrumentation, it didn’t seem to mesh with the design language of the car’s exterior. Although the dashboard did somewhat have a rocket panel theme, which reflected Oldsmobile’s image, the dashboard design of the ’65 and ’66 may have not been the most cohesive. As mentioned in the post, the instrument panel of my friend’s ’65 Pontiac was sharp.
In my Olds, I did like the way the main speedo was inset within a fully chromed and fluted tunnel, matching the fluted rings on the two adjacent secondary gauges.
The width of the glove box door was amazing. It was a little wider than the actual interior, but when the door was open, you could line up quite a selection of beverages while underway.
Oh, do I know a Oldsmobile fan. I think he is probably the biggest Olds fan in the country. A retired Navy Commander who dealt with carrier engineering spaces before retiring sometime in the early 90s. Had a long time house in what was once unincorporated Lemon Grove just outside San Diego. His backyard housed just over 50 Oldsmobile cars.
That was till a complaint, yard surround by tall fence, making the city attorney go after him. Had to get rid of the cars in the end so he just moved them all over to friend’s homes. By 2007, give or take, he got a house somewhere in the Salinas Valley and moved his cars there.
Last saw him in 2014 until two months ago on board the USS Hornet. There he was showing a friend around the carrier and I sure as hell recognized him from behind and a long way off. Asked him how many Olds he now had. Are you ready for this?
He now has just over 100 Oldsmobiles which cover the 50s, 60s, 70s, and maybe some 80s. Says they are the best engineered cars. Has a very understanding wife. Doesn’t sell any unless he feels you are worthy. Hasn’t run into anyone worthy yet. His wife has a burden in the future that she may not fully realize.
tbm3fan: just hope that some of those Oldsmobiles may some day be again brought back to life or may donate parts that enable other classic Oldsmobiles to remain on the road. Would be interesting to see how they are being stored? Hopefully, with the respect that they deserve, but that might be a long shot. Wonder if there is photo documentation of this person’s collection? Thanks for writing.
>>[ A P P L A U S E ]<<
Terrific stories, JJP, well woven. I don't share your high regard for the '65 Chevrolet's styling, but many people did and do. More importantly here, I know little about '60s Oldses, and this real-life "I was there" account of yours really helps improve that for me on a level and to a degree that can't be matched by spec sheets and such. My grandfather (mother's dad) drove Oldsmobiles for many years—I have at least one picture—but he changed lanes and bought a 1972 Dodge Dart as what wound up being his last car.
One thing:
Oh, it’s perfectly feasible; it’s technically easier than ever, with today’s computerised processes. It’s just not allowed, is all. There’s no reason—not cost, not complexity, no reason at all other than pure, putrid greed—that the equipment of each and every vehicle coming down the line couldn’t and shouldn’t be specified in line-item detail by the buyer.
But instead, we have the American-market auto industry’s beloved options-bundling scam. Buying a Chrysler Pacifica? Want headlamps better than 1987 halogen technology? You can have 1994 HID technology, but you can’t just specify them and pay the $500 or so they’d cost as a standalone option with plenty of profit margin built in. No, to get them you’ll have to spend many thousands of dollars to buy a high-spec model which also comes with a whole bunch of extra stuff (and extra-large digits after the dollar sign) you probably don’t want. And that doesn’t get you the HID headlamps, it just makes your car eligible to be equipped with them, which can happen only if you buy the Preferred Technology Group, available only with Quartz Grey or Graphite Black paint ($9,400; includes smart ashtray, LED footwell lighting with 256 selectable colors, color-keyed rain-sensing rear license plate frame, HID headlamps, power-operated driver and front passenger sunvisors, and crayon drop alert in the rearmost row of seats) or the Winter Prep Package II, available only with Frosty Beige or Sahara Sand paint ($9203; includes heated interior door handles, heated sideview mirror adjustment controls, smart spare-socks holder, heated seats for driver and rearmost middle passenger, HID headlamps, heated tailpipe, and coffee cup assistant).
I’ve picked on Chrysler here, but they all do it. A few years ago Subaru wouldn’t let my mother have HID headlamps on her new Outback unless she bought the uppermost premium model with the 6-cylinder engine, but if she’d been in Canada, she could’ve specified them on her 4-cylinder car. These are cars built in the same plant to identical regulations, so we’re talking about an arbitrary decision some greedy dillweed made. And it was the other way round with VW around the same time: no HID headlamps on Golfs or Jettas in Canada, but you can have ’em all day long in the States (as part of a bloated option package); the bulk-wrap official explanation was that VW didn’t want “too many model variants”.
Grr, snarl, etc.
Oh, I don’t know… Cars these days have to be made to exacting standards; crumple zones, under-hood electronics, pollution controls, even disc brakes (except the Corvette), were all unknown in the 1965 domestic models. The trade-off is that you can’t custom-order your car from GM, Ford, or Chrysler anymore.
My erstwhile 1966 Bonneville convertible – one of some 16,000 made that model year – was Martinique Bronze with matching interior (bench seat), black top, and the following options: power seat, windows, steering, brakes; vacuum door locks, air conditioning, and a few others. Options it didn’t have were eight-lug wheels, reverb speaker switch, speed sentinel, cruise control (the early kind that was superseded for ’67), FM radio, power vent windows, 421 motor, tri-power, bucket seats, console, etc., etc. There were thousands of different combinations coming off the assembly lines, in many different exterior and interior colors, with and without each of these options. And the manufacturing quality was shoddy; panels didn’t quite line up, water eventually got into the firewall wiring, etc.
I think the practice of limiting options to packages, in retrospect, was simply required to meet modern standards of safety and durability.
What causal link do you see between vehicle safety and emissions standards and option bundling? I don’t see one; I think you’re mistaking correlation for causation. Every vehicle must and shall be built to comply with the requirements in whatever market it’s headed for, no matter whether it’s painted beige or green or blue, no matter whether or not it has heated seats or this kind or that kind of headlamps or these wheels or those wheels or this stereo system or that one. Nobody sane is demanding the ability to spec and order a car that doesn’t comply with any or all of the regs.
When I had an all-day, detailed tour of the plant where Chrysler minivans are built, they talked a lot about vehicle-to-vehicle equipment variations being an easy non-issue. Restrictive option-bundling really does seem to be a matter of “because we can” greed, not exigencies or constraints of the manufacturing process or regulations.
Okay, I’m willing to be convinced. So the company that gave you the tour of the minivan plant (and told you that thousands of variations would be a non-issue) is the same company that insists on bundling options? Did you have the opportunity to ask questions?
(And regarding Subaru, it still annoys me that after the Indiana factory stopped building manual-transmission Outbacks and Legacys for U.S. sale, they kept making them for Canada for three additional years, through the 2017 model year.)
The occasion was the 25th anniversary of the Chrysler Minivan, and I wrote it up here (…egads, that was a decade ago?!!). They were perfectly happy to answer questions. There were plenty of them along the broad line of this what we’re discussing (Why don’t you make _____, why can’t customers line-item specify, why isn’t the ______ sold in _____, why was the _____ discontinued for _____ but still available in _____, etc), and they were all answered with some variant of “those decisions are made by Marketing; we make what they tell us to make.” But they went into detail about how their processes make equipment variation easier than ever. I recall the tour guide saying something very close to “On any given shift we can build every vehicle with different equipment just as easily as we can build every vehicle with identical equipment, with no loss of speed or accuracy. That’s one of the reasons why export-market vans are now built here, interspersed on the same lines and shifts as the domestic units, instead of being built at Graz, Austria. Every country has its own standards and requirements, every market has its own preferences, and none of it creates a problem for us; every individual vehicle gets built uniquely.” This was while we were getting a detailed show-and-tell of how the various subassemblies get specced, built, and tracked on a vehicle-by-vehicle basis so the right one arrives at the same time as its intended vehicle at the right station of the assembly line.
Which to me pretty loudly said “We easily could, but we don’t” as regards letting buyers spec their vans in detail.
Wasn’t aware Subaru kept selling handshift bigger-than-Impreza cars til ’17 in Canada. Wonder how many they sold. But yeah, that’s another example: identical regs, so it’s not a cost-of-certification issue.
Daniel Stern: many thanks for your applause and well-thought out message.
That’s ok not to share opinions about the styling of different cars. If we all saw things the same way, it sure would be dull. Any favorite ’65 you care to mention?
And, appreciate you sharing your expertise in detailing the ways current automobile buyers can spec out their cars. I think you and I could have had a lot of fun together years back at the salesperson’s desk building a version no one else had thought of. “Manager to aisle four, these guys want all the cool stuff built onto one single Olds.”
Again, my dream would have been to make a Starfire 4-door hardtop with buckets and console. Sporty sedans were around, such as the Mercury Marauder, right? I have always liked four-door hardtops, and building one with performance attributes is intriguing.
Hope you can find, and maybe share, the photo of your Mom’s Dad in one of his Oldsmobiles! Good luck.
Favourite ’65 cars: Well, the ’65 Imperial comes to mind, though I’d grumble about it having a shift lever instead of proper buttons. The whole ’65 Chrysler range appeals to me, actually, as well as certain other Chrysler Corp vehicles. I find the styling of the ’65 Ford pleasant enough, and if we’re looking at GM I would probably favour the Oldsmobile over other corporate products that year. The ’65 Checker wasn’t bad, heh. I like the ’65 Studebakers.
More I think on it, the images of grandpa and the last Olds before he bought the Dart aren’t still pics; they’re a brief flash in a Super-8 home movie, one of a box I got digitised.
Great article – and a real memory jogger. In 1965 I was a car-crazy 9 year old – who’s parents didn’t drive. What cars I did get to ride in were all used ones – until our Aunt, who worked at the administration Dept for the Ohio State Fair in August, was given a courtesy brand new Olds 88 convertible for the fair’s duration.
Wow, I can still remember riding in that Olds – with my primary memory being how smooth it was. The big 425 just poured out the torque and it surged forward with smooth authority.
Fast forward 8 years and i was looking for a car, and found a 68 Olds 88 with about 100K miles, but in good shape, at a neighborhood lot. For $700, it was mine and with its big 455, it was just as smooth as the 65.
I’ll always be an Olds fan.
Lincolnman – A 1965 88 convertible with the 425; hot damn! I envy you, now enjoying your ’68 88 with it’s 455. Nice going! Thanks for sharing.
Great series JJ!
Love the Olds. I would take an Olds over a corresponding Chevy in just about any year and bodystyle. And I always thought the Oldsmobile V8s were superior engines and sounded so much better than any Chevy.
LT Dan; again, many thanks for all of your comments along the way. After getting to know you through your terrific stories and amazing line up of cars, your responses have been greatly appreciated. Agree with you; the sound of that 425’s engine was pure magic.
On the Streets of Winston-Salem, N.C>
Wow, JJ Powers, Just WOW!!!! Even though the ’65s were before my existence by a few years, I was old enough to remember them. Indeed one of my earliest memories was of Kindergarten, and on the way there one rainy morning, collecting my Dad at the airport who had been at a conference, and entering the school driveway behind a 1965 Impala with the unforgettable six round taillights. It think it was Sierra Tan. My Grandfather had a ’65 Calais or DeVille that he gave to my Aunt when she returned to school for a Masters degree, and had replaced it with a ’69 Fleetwood Brougham. The size of the seats were the most impressive thing among many impressive aspects of that car, and could have been removed for the living room they were gigantic. Still, the ’65 looked more glamourous with the stacked headlights and the taillight design….the ’69 headlight and grille design lacked the magnitude of that older car. But indeed, even for a kid of the ’70s, I still preferred the dignified presence of all the General’s ’65s. We were an Olds family, which drew me to this article that became more and more interesting not only about the experiences of the car itself, but the concurrent life you experienced. My Mother’s first car was a ’62 Starfire Convertible, which also had the rather unusual front end protruding from inside the hood, fenders, and bumper in a similar manner to the “eyebrows” of your ’65. What impressed me most about your story was how reliable and durable the Olds was. I know 90,000 miles was reaching the typical 100,000 mile life expectancy of cars of that era, but I wonder what it would have taken to keep a car like that going beyond that? We had an ’83 LeSabre that survived a T-bone plus two rear endings at stoplights (pre-cell phone even!), and only parted company around 126,000 miles because it was stolen and trashed after a joyride. The editor of this site has documented the deadly sins of GM well, biased or not, and I certainly see the points at which the cars dropped a notch each time, but for me, the real end of GM as I knew it was the wholesale switch to FWD lookalikes that seemed disposable. By contrast, the Sixties cars and on to the downsized RWD models just seemed infinitely more durable with tested mechanicals. I agree you can’t have regrets, but having been through something similar to your situation where a car I loved no longer was practical, the “what if” sometimes does cross my mind.