What a Journey for a 50-year survivor of rust, accidents, broken parts, and even politics.
I am still on the road today, and I think I look pretty decent for my age. Any respectful girl would try her best.
I began my traveling life on December 15, 1966, when my last Cadillac Factory check was finished, in Dearborn, Michigan. Via railway, I was then shipped to San Fransisco, California.
I spent virtually all my life in California, and as such, I have some of the earliest pollution controls designed for cars, for 1967. I had a SMOG pump, advanced distributor timing, lean carb corrections, and more.
But, I did have unique items for the period before computers like Automatic Climate Control, Auto Headlamps, etc.
You might be shocked by 1966/67 US prices when compared to today:
Cost of a new home: $23,300.00
I cost $5400.00 for a Cadillac Coupe Deville
One first-class stamp: $0.05
A gallon of regular gas for me was: $0.32. Ok, I needed Hi-test at 39 cents.
(I could not get far on one gallon)
One dozen eggs: $0.60
A gallon of Milk: $0.99
My California owners, Velma and Everett, kept me for some 40years, where I enjoyed family drives near the Pacific Ocean. Everett loved Velma and bought me for her, in her name, and all he did was keep me in decent repair.
Velma drove me, Velma loved me, Velma took me to the ocean, sometimes with her son Michael.
My California owner was meticulous about maintenance. I made several trips to Oklahoma in the 1970s.
Everett was born in Oklahoma. The dustbowl in the 1930s is how Everett’s family came to California. He worked steel building teams, which included the Bay Bridge. He loved the 49ers football team, and I wear stickers to prove it.
Sometimes, I towed a trailer, though I barely felt it.
Imagine the most advanced luxury car pulling a trailer from California. That would be me. I was always the Lady.
Velma drove me off and on for the rest of her life.
My California owner sold me to his youngest brother, Bill, in Oklahoma, circa 2007.
Bill loved his older brother and met me, the Caddy, when he was 19. Bill fell in love with me.
Bill also worked for steel building teams. His team worked on the St. Louis Arch, and foreman Bill can be heard on a documentary of the time, laying in the final steel and bolts at the very top of the St. Louis Arch, which for some reason, seems to affect the weather in the area. This is called the “Arch Affect.”
I made my last journey from California to Oklahoma, ~2010, though I was carried on the back of a truck and not driven to Bill.
My Bill tried to make me feel better, though age had taken a toll.
I had parts that were replaced like headlights, tires, carburetors, belts.
Bill wanted the radio to work badly, but multiple things were broken there, as these were never reliable. According to Everetts surviving son, Mike, neither my radio nor AC had ever been reliable since day one, 1967. The air conditioner was considered the most advanced for its time.
I am sorry, I did the best I could.
This owner, Bill, passed in 2016, wherein my present owner bought me from the family.
He, too, had me carried, not driven, to his home near Dallas, Texas.
After swapping many more broken parts for new, I now have smooth ride and stops, more pep in my drive, all-electric work, and more.
(The new cars pass me with zip and speed, but I have class and presence; they do not)
My latest aged parts replaced include my original 5 pounds 12″ by 6″ AM/FM factory non-stereo radio.
We both wish Bill could hear the radio working! Though the new radio is not what I was borne with, it is glorious in sound.
I do like the highway, not so many curvy roads, and I cruise just beyond the reach of other cars.
All the while, people smile, wave, give me a thumbs-up, and sometimes stop me for a better look or photographs. I have had people chase me, ask me questions, and just seem to love I am.
Young people will stop and stare in attempts to figure out what I am, as they likely have never seen anything like me. Their first thoughts might be of a UFO, but I am closer to a Land Yacht at 19 feet long.
The young ones have these funny little things they hold in their hands, pointing at me and talking into it.
Oooh, pardon me. My radio is playing, “It’s Good to be Out of the Rain.”
I do hope common sense can return to humans.
Otherwise, they will cause me to shut down and never run; I will sit here like a stone and never start or drive down the road.
I am meant for the highway.