She sat staring at the lightly traveled highway, looking rather lonely on a warm, overcast summer day. It was an experience she had not endured previously, although she knew the intent; this process just didn’t get any easier, especially with age.
For a girl with a few years about her, she knew time and relationships had been kinder to her than most. There was a little bit of rust beneath the chrome of her wheel arches as well as some chipped paint, both the automotive equivalent of laugh lines. Given her life, she wore them with pride.
The old Pontiac sat there for all to see, unashamed and proud. Much like the virgin bride presenting herself to her husband on their wedding night, she had nothing to hide and lots of love to give.
As she fretted about the next unknown chapter of her life, she recounted the various escapades and adventures she had provided. The trips to the Gulf Coast, New England in the fall, up Pike’s Peak, and along the Natchez Trace Parkway. She knew some kept other, sportier Pontiac’s as toys and to race; having been born a Grand Ville convertible, she was the queen bee of the Pontiac family in 1973. Her owners had always been sophisticated and mature, treating her as a precious jewel and never as ordinary transportation.
While she had been bought and sold several times, each successive owner still treated her with the dignity she thrived upon. Such treatment was always rewarded with eagerness from her 7.4 liter V8. Her affinity for drink was never a serious repellent for her owners. Everything has its vice.
Sitting in the grass, facing the highway, she was experiencing a definite worry she had not really experienced before. Perhaps it was age induced, as some girls tend to have diminished physical charms after a point; she was hoping her new suitor would realize the true charm and beauty that only comes with age.
Beauty comes from within, as exterior beauty fades like the morning dew. Inner beauty is the marathon runner to the sprint that is exterior beauty.
The Pontiac had not seen another one like her since having been born four decades ago. She had seen some over the years that looked like her, but nothing with a soft top. A rare bird, this Pontiac, one of just under 4,500 ever to grace the highways of North America. The old girl had been born during the last days of the convertible, but what a last hoorah it had been. Her Chevrolet, Buick, and Oldsmobile cousins all seemed to hog the limelight; she was somewhat like the middle-child, the one so vital and often overlooked.
She started to gaze out at the anonymous cars on the highway. All such blandness in blobbish packages, with few possessing any scintilla of personality. Her gaze then turned to a smug grin, knowing how very few of the cars she was observing would make it to twenty years of age unscathed, let alone forty. How few would see the tenures of eight United States presidents. How so few would be exposed to the cultural changes that only four decades can bring about. How so very few would be viewed as something unique and special, not just a transportation appliance.
It was with restrained amusement she greeted the camera wielding gentleman. As he was digitally devouring every square inch of her body, she realized something good could come of this. Stand straight, shoulders back she said to herself, remembering what a previous owner had said to some long ago passengers.
As the picture taking continued, she was feeling more proud than she had in years. As he drove away, one could sense a radiance reinvigorated from where it had been only a half-hour before.
Great writing, thank you for posting this tribute.
Sweet
Nice tribute Sir .
-Nate
A GRAND story that brought a tear 😢 to my eye. I have always loved my cars and felt a familial connection. The enthusiasm of a new car, dimmed by the separation from the former. I’ve always hoped that the next to adopt my car would treat it with the love and care I had given. Coincidentally one of those was a 1974 Grand Ville four door hardtop in metallic copper with black vinyl roof and black cloth interior. Some referred to it as My Halloween car, But she was a beauty, like the film star Bonita Granville (ANYONE remember her 🤔). To quote Carol Channing (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes) 🎵 Time moves on 🎶 and we all lose our charms 🎵 in the end 🎶 but even with bent knees 🎵 you stand straight at Tiffany’s 🎵. Brava 👏 to this GRAND Old Grand Ville and the author of the script.💐
Did anyone else see the strong similarity in the side styling to same vintage Cadillac Eldorado?
I did. Never noticed that before. While looking at photos of 73s I discovered the featured cars sister also in white.
https://www.mcecars.com/vehicles/520/1973-pontiac-grand-ville-convertible
When I was in my early teens, my best friend’s mom had a beautiful ’74 Grand Ville coupe in burgundy with a burgundy vinyl interior similar to the featured car. I have wonderful memories of trips she took us on.
Later, the summer I graduated from high school, my dad bought me a $400 ‘71 Grand Ville 4 door hardtop. The dark copper paint was getting tired, and the A/C was broken, but the car was still in good condition. I drove it for a few years and the only repairs I remember are a brake job soon after I got it and an alternator.
I think the Grand Ville was the best looking of that generation of B body convertibles, and not by a little. There is an elegance to its lines that is missing from its siblings. Your treating this one like an aging lady who hasn’t let herself go is perfect.
A bit of the inspiration for this was Mrs. Jason’s grandmother. She had a ’75 Grand Ville four-door hardtop when Mrs. Jason and I first began dating. Mrs. Jason’s grandmother was not fond of the concept of aging and refused to give in. She was 75 when Mrs. Jason and I got married and she wore a skirt with a slit up the side, something for somebody much younger. I rather miss her, as she died less than a year later.
Beautifully written article and a pleasure to read.
After 1972, big bumpers turned me off. But a white convertible with red interior will always be a turn on.
Hope this car finds a good home.
I hope it did also. Sitting alongside the road for sale, it has made me hopeful for a good outcome. I never again saw this Pontiac after these pictures were taken.
Pontiac Rallye II rims and whitewalls, make any old beast look its best.
This would have been a popular car, requested for parade participation. Ferrying the Grand Marshall, Dairy Princess, or a politician. White was not a common car colour in the 1970’s. It may have associated this Pontiac, with celebrity.
I love the very subtle colour contrast between the white bodywork, and the slight off-white parchment shade of the top. Adds elegance. I like the white sport mirrors, brings some youthfulness.
Great find and tale.
Great and poignant narration! I’ve seen a few of these in ragtop form over the years and always felt they wore their styling better than their GM corporate siblings. There’s a gorgeous black one I recently saw at a local dealer. The sheer size of these cars seems to be accentuated once in top is down.
https://www.classicautomall.com/vehicles/6682/1973-pontiac-grand-ville-convertible
With writing like that, and story telling like that, you had better be an author of some sorts. I paid more attention to the story than the car.
Thank you.
This article is vintage, written back when my creative juices were flowing a bit faster than they are these days.
So where was this?
This was spotted in 2013 or so…I found it alongside US 63 about ten miles north of Rolla, Missouri.
This was back when Pontiac still had a lot of mojo. They built cars that were distinctive, and anyone driving a car like this would be darned proud. Even though Pontiac was just the second rung up the ladder, they built certain models that could compete against GM’s best. This convertible is a real beauty, I sure hope that someone has been giving it a good home.
I came to like the Grandville, specifically the 1973 model, after seeing the movie “The Seven Ups” in 1974. The late Bill Hickman beats to death a 1973 Pontiac Grandville four-door hardtop while being chased by Roy Scheider’s character in a similar vintage Pontiac Ventura. The chase ends with the Ventura peeling its roof back under the back of a stopped 18 wheeler as its driver narrowly escapes a gruesome death.
Almost every surviving example I see is a convertible.
Great post. Thanks, Jason.
Love the car… but oh, that awful protruding front bumper. I came across this wagon online with the bumper nicely tucked in — makes all the difference in the world, truly a beautiful front end design once the proper orthodontic work is done.