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2016 Buick Cascada First Drive

Florida became a state in 1845. It is the third most populous state in the United States, home to the most-visited theme park in the world. It is where you'll find every convertible ever sold in the United States, be it a pasty white Infiniti M30 or a Lamborghini. And soon, many examples of the 2016 Buick Cascada will call it home. Florida is full of Buicks. Wonder if anyone bought a Rendezvous Ultra? It's in Florida. The Buick Reatta, the company's last convertible before this? Also there. Buick, however, is eager to get those who better remember Bush vs. Gore than Nixon vs. Kennedy to ask, "That's a Buick?" Which is how we arrive at the Cascada. The Cascada isn't so much a new Buick as a car that's new to Buick. It's been on sale for about three years as the Opel Cascada in Europe, along with badge-engineered siblings sold by Vauxhall and Holden in other parts of the world. Buick took that time to make several hundred changes to the Cascada for US consumption and then found it without many rivals. The Chrysler 200 convertible, Volkswagen Eos, and Volvo C70 would all be prime targets for the Cascada here, were they not all dead now. Buick's gamble is that these Chrysler, VW, and Volvo (also Saab, for that matter) customers are looking for somewhere to go next. The Cascada isn't so much a new Buick as a car that's new to Buick. One thing is certain: the Cascada is eye-catching to Floridians. I had no fewer than six people in Miami and Key West walk up to me and ask what kind of car it was, or even say, "That's that new Buick convertible, right?" Despite being three years old, the Cascada's looks have aged pretty well. And it's been spared many of the tacked-on details, like fake portholes and chrome wheels, that were adhered to the Regal when it made its trip over from Opel-land. Top up or down, the Cascada is attractive. Unlike the Audi A3 or BMW 2 Series convertibles (the former being the Buick's prime target), there's no abruptness to the design, no sharply ending lines. The Buick looks relaxed in a Palm Beach or Palm Springs way, even on the inside with the convincingly stitched dash top and standard heated leather seats (one of the pieces redesigned for the Buick). That being said, the pattern on the seat material is a misstep, looking like it was inspired by Aunt Flora's 1972 patio furniture. Then it's surprising that you don't exactly sink into the Cascada. While the seats are mounted low, they're not pillow soft.

Junkyard Gem: 1973 Buick LeSabre Custom Hardtop Sedan

The steps on Alfred Sloan's "Ladder of Success," in which you'd start your career by buying a Chevrolet and then move up through the GM marques as your wealth increased, stayed rigidly fixed from the 1930s into the late 1960s. By the early 1970s, though, "prestige creep" among The General's divisions had set in, with lower-zoot marques leapfrogging their betters with ballooning price tags and snob appeal; a fully-loaded Chevy Caprice could cost more than an Olds 98, a Pontiac Bonneville could out-snoot a Buick LeSabre, and the LeSabre itself came to threaten mighty Cadillac at the top of the GM pyramid. Here's a fully depreciated '73 LeSabre Custom Hardtop Sedan, once the picture of Malaise Era opulence but now brought down to earth in a San Jose self-service car graveyard. The high-rollingest of all LeSabres in 1973 was the Custom (though shoppers for full-sized 1973 Buicks really wishing to rub the noses of their lessers in their success could opt for the even pricier Centurion or Electra 225), and that's what I found among the Achievas and Cateras of this yard's GM section. Wasps now nest in the rust holes caused by rainwater seeping beneath the padded vinyl roof, but this car once told the world, "I've made it!" It went without saying that your big, comfy Detroit luxury sedan had a big, comfy front bench seat; let those frivolous rakehells in their Rivieras have their bucket seats. Believe it or not, a three-on-the-tree column-shift manual transmission was still standard equipment on the lower-level Buick Century in 1973, but all LeSabre buyers enjoyed two-pedal luxury that year. Some junkyard shopper grabbed the massive 455-cubic-inch (7.5-liter) V8 — rated at 225 horsepower, due to Nixon's stricter emissions standards and the switch from gross to net horsepower ratings — before I got here. I'm guessing this car got driven into the ground by the early 2000s (there's a 2001 calendar inside) and then spent the next couple of decades bleaching in the harsh South Bay sun before arriving here. So good, shoppers bought them sight unseen!

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.