When I was a kid in the early-mid '70s in our neighborhood, my dad and Charlie Simpson had these huge Buick Electras. How huge? On one Christmas Day we departed for Steamboat Springs, Colo., from Warsaw, Ind., with seven people along with luggage and ski gear (in fairness the skis were on a rack outside).
My dad did a masterful job getting all that junk in the trunk, and it's true that one of the seven people was only about six. But that Buick was big enough to transport us all the way to Steamboat and back in relative comfort.
How good was that car? I don't know. But it looked good, rode well for a living room and never broke down. Gas mileage? I don't know, and don't even know if it mattered (the only time my dad ever mentioned gas mileage was the trip west with Bob and Roma Maish in his '70s Caddy Eldorado that got seven miles a gallon on the long road trip).
I am pro-USA. And cars are better today than they were then. A lot better. But I am 6' 5" tall and need the room to get a few full-grown customers to lunch. I would prefer to do so in something with some style and something that gives me at least a little bit of a tingle once in awhile. I am a little fearful that what our government has in mind for our auto-future may not fit my bill. At that point they can sadly count me out.
