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Junkyard Gem: 1957 Buick Special Riviera Sedan

While I find plenty of 1950s Detroit cars in quick-inventory-turnover self-service wrecking yards during my travels, they tend to be the ordinary post sedans that were built by the millions during the heyday of the three-on-the-tree manual transmission and nuclear-attack symbols on car radios. The more sought-after convertibles, coupes, and four-door hardtops are tougher to find in such yards, which makes today's 1957 Buick Special Riviera in a yard in northeastern Colorado an A-List Junkyard Gem. During the late 1950s, the Special ranked at the bottom of the Buick prestige hierarchy just below the more upscale Super and Century. Of course, this was the era of Alfred Sloan's "Ladder of Success" and the lowliest Special outranked even the nicest Olds Ninety-Eight on the Swank-O-Meter. If you were the Buick-driving Joneses and your neighbors had proletarian Chevrolets, aspirational Pontiacs, or petit-bourgeois Oldsmobiles, they were failing to keep up with you… but then you'd see a new Cadillac and feel intense envy for your victorious rival. The Ladder of Success collapsed later on, when the top-trim-level Chevy Caprices began to compete against their Cadillac Calais big brother, but it was still standing tall in 1957. The Riviera name ended up being used for its own distinct model starting in 1963 and continuing nearly into our current century, but in 1957 it was a trim level designation, used to indicate a Century or Special sedan with the then-radical pillarless hardtop design. This car listed at $2,780, which comes to a cool $27,630 in 2021 dollars. That price included the 364-cubic-inch (6.0-liter) Buick Nailhead V8 engine, rated at 250 horsepower and enough torque to peel 1957's rock-hard bias-ply tires right off their rims. The Special had a three-on-the-tree column-shift manual as standard equipment, but the original buyer of this car sprang for the extra $220 ($2,185 today) to get the Dynaflow transmission. While the shift indicator looks just like the ones on GM cars equipped with the two-speed Powerglide, the Dynaflow was an odd beast used only in Buicks; while it had gears for two forward speeds, the driver had to select low gear manually. Otherwise, a complex torque converter rig provided an experience something like today's CVTs (though with better smoothness and much more wasted power), in which the car stayed in high gear all the time and used the torque converter to multiply as needed.

Kia Telluride vs Buick Enclave Luggage Test | What actually fits behind that third row?

So, you want to buy a three-row crossover. Before plunking down $40,000 on a new sport utility vehicle, might we dissuade you with the prospect of minivan ownership? The Pacifica Hybrid, perhaps ... no? Fine. Good thing crossovers (especially the Telluride and comparable Palisade) are so nice to drive these days. We’ll assume you want the big three-row crossover, as you intend to seat folks in all three rows. Unfortunately, raising that third row reduces the luggage area from cavernous to crawl space. ItÂ’s rather devastating from a pure numbers perspective to the two models we have today. The 2019 Buick Enclave goes from a monstrous 58 cubic-feet with the second-row in place down to 23.6 cubic-feet (which along with the nearly identical 2020 Chevrolet Traverse is still best-in-class). Meanwhile, the 2020 Kia Telluride takes a similar hit, going from 46 cubic-feet down to 21 cubic-feet. Just looking at the numbers, it would seem that the EnclaveÂ’s big advantage all but disappears with the third row up, boasting just 2.6 cubic-feet of storage more than the Telluride. But as West Coast Editor James Riswick has discovered in the numerous luggage tests he's conducted, the numbers don't always tell the whole story. Let's see how the Enclave and Telluride compare when you actually put things inside.  Boom. The Enclave swallows all of the test luggage we have for it without any fuss. The distance between the back of the seats to the hatch opening is enough to fit our full-size suitcase horizontally, making it easy to stack every other bag around it. It even fits below the seatbacks, so the driver will have an uninhibited view out the rear of the vehicle.  At our Michigan HQ, our test luggage consists of the following pieces: 28-inch upright suitcase, 24-inch upright suitcase, 19-inch upright suitcase, two small tote bags and one backpack. ItÂ’s likely enough luggage for a quick weekend getaway with the family, given there are no strollers involved. As we attempted to pack it all into the Telluride, weÂ’re glad we didnÂ’t have anything else. The loss of 2.6 cubic-feet of space was indeed felt much harder than what it looks like on paper. We knew we were in trouble when the 28-inch suitcase didnÂ’t fit along the floor as it did so neatly in the Enclave. We were forced to stack it up next to the rear seats, which left it sitting rather tall back there. As a result, the other suitcases didnÂ’t have a neat or convenient place to go.

As GM readies Alexa convenience for vehicles, we ponder its dark side

SEATTLE — On the 30th floor of AmazonÂ’s glass tower, in a room with a breathtaking view of downtown Seattle, thereÂ’s a beautiful bed that nobody sleeps in. ItÂ’s near a kitchen nobody cooks in, a living room couch that no one crashes on, a kitchen table that doesnÂ’t host any family meetings. ItÂ’s AmazonÂ’s Smart Home Lab, a place where every Alexa-enabled gizmo the company or its partners can produce is crammed into the same space, ostensibly for Amazon to test. The company invited us there to show us the companyÂ’s vision for consumer products to leverage AlexaÂ’s voice interaction software before taking us down to a demo of its latest implementation in a Buick Encore GX. In this eerie simulacrum of a fantastic luxury apartment, however, nothing went right the first time. ItÂ’s a challenging environment for Alexa to work correctly, our hosts noted, pointing to the fact that there were six wifi networks available for the devices to connect to. In a normal home, one wifi network controls all the devices, who can theoretically sort out for themselves which one youÂ’re actually trying to activate. In the Smart Home Lab, any unmuted Alexa device thinks itÂ’s in charge. Even so, the connected toaster wouldnÂ’t connect. The Fire TV Cube wouldnÂ’t play a song. Our handlers futzed with everything, muting and unmuting devices, repeating commands, making us feel better about our own struggles with similar technologies. If it doesnÂ’t work right at Amazon HQ, maybe itÂ’s not just us! ItÂ’s telling that down on the faux lawn, in between the gleaming Amazon spheres that host a billionaireÂ’s tropical garden and the Day 1 building that the Smart Home Lab resides in, the BuickÂ’s Alexa implementation doesnÂ’t use a “wake-word” at all. The familiar Push to Talk button on the steering wheel, which normally activates General MotorÂ’s own proprietary voice command system, can be set to default to Alexa when that rolls out to GM vehicles in the first half of 2020 via an over-the-air (OTA) update. Given the reluctance of Alexa to respond to its wake-word in the comfort of AmazonÂ’s own lab, we hoped that this was by design. Drivers are already familiar with Push to Talk, and a physical button is more reliable than the vagaries of contemporary voice recognition – not to mention the privacy and accuracy issues involved with always-on mics. Our experience with the not-ready-for-primetime Mercedes-Benz MBUX system is illustrative.