Chicago sits just a few hours from Fort Wayne, and the Cadillac ate up the miles like Rosanne Barr at a Chinese buffet. Bucolic farms and barns soon turned to smokestacks and heavy industry. A paper mill puffed great belches of pure stank (“the smell of money!” as any resident near a mill will tell
Most collectors appreciate history, which is why they have a passion for vintage cars. With that passion usually comes an interest in the car’s provenance, the manufacturing process, and the legacy of the brand. As a Cadillac nut, I had to stop in and visit some of the Motor City’s icons. First on the list:
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I’m getting a crash course (well, hopefully not an actual crash) in running a small business. Starting Motorpool this year has been the most exciting time of my life–a very rewarding endeavor. Yet it’s also a giant pile of work. I’m the accountant, the strategist, the head of sales, the marketing VP, and the janitor.
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My wife’s brother and sister-in-law have a huge and gorgeous cabin in Hancock, Massachusetts. Jiminy Peak Resort is less than a mile away, and in winter, it’s one of the best ski resorts in New England. Summertime is a stunning time to visit, too. While I was here, the Weather Channel issued a frost advisory,
Want to learn how to fix your car? Take it on a 15,000-mile road trip. I promise–you will know your automobile, every blessed rattle, squeak, and rumble. Better still, visit someone who owns your car–who knows each nut and bolt. David King (owner of Brougham #615) and I have swapped many photographs and emails right
By now, caught in the fading twilight of a slightly chilly evening, my stomach was in full revolt, rumbling like the Brougham’s exhaust. Though I’d planned on lingering in Bennington, I decided the best course of action would be to prove that I’d been to Vermont, then head on to my final stop for the
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This is a helluva way to break in a new engine rebuild, but I’m thankful not to have had car trouble since Boston. I have stopped holding my breath while listening to the faint hum of the motor or laying hands on the hood like it’s the altar of Cadillac. I’m not exactly “just driving,”
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No, I wasn’t lost, thankfully. But somewhere around the quaint city of Hopkinton, my stomach took a turn for the worse. Having been a food critic for years, I know food poisoning. It’s an occupational hazard, that thankfully, I’ve only experienced three times. This wasn’t food poisoning. Yet maybe those sweet potato fries were a
A few friends have asked, “What is it like driving a 1958 Cadillac? Are you uncomfortable?” Good Lord, no. Driving a 1958 Cadillac Eldorado is like getting injected with Novocaine, wrapped in a ball of Fluff, and rolled down a Serta highway. I’m not feeling anything. Just big, fluffy Cadillac. Sure, she wanders a little
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The Brougham seemed to be behaving after a week of struggles. Suddenly, in Maine, she began to run cooler and even the generator seems to be charging again. Did she heal herself? Who knows. Today I decided to make tracks for Vermont, barnstorming New Hampshire with a short stop at the State Capital. It is
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