I recently came to a rather unpleasant revelation: not counting a work-related trip or a move, I haven’t been on a proper long-distance roadtrip since 2010. Oh, sure, I’ve made some small drives, like Prescott to Tucson and Prescott to San Diego, but if it can be done in a day it’s not a long trip in my eyes. It’s been over a decade since I made a lap from Tacoma to San Francisco and back, taking the Pacific Coast Highway on the return trip. Add another two years from my infamous one-month-long sabbatical that put almost seven thousand miles on the LS4-powered Monte Carlo I owned at the time. I do not approve of this one bit. The road beckons me, and I’m putting in work to make that a reality next year.
I say that, because as you all know, the best laid plans are one “oh, shit” away from turning to dust before your very eyes. And that means that even though I have the Charger in the garage and I have plans for that big beast (which have just started), I still find myself hunting classified ads…mostly out of habit anymore. And for the most part, unless it’s a bucket-list car, I can pass on them all. But something about this Olds Jetstar 88 speaks to me. I dig that it’s on air and looks killer slammed on it’s nuts when parked. I dig that it’s painted a kind of root beer brown that glows in the sunlight. I really dig that it isn’t a Chevrolet more than anything, if I’m honest…nothing against a nice Impala or Caprice, but the freak-factor of an Oldsmobile that’s been tricked out just does something for me. And it’s a four-door hardtop. Pinch me, please, I must be dreaming. I can just hear the thrumming of that 330 Jetfire Rocket V8 as the miles roll by. 1965 saw the three-speed automatic, so there should be enough legs for small Interstate stints, but this is a highway car, not an Interstate car. This is meant for cruising from town to town with the sun setting on a warm summer evening kind of ride.
Okay, I’m going to get back into the garage before I do something really dumb. Somebody buy this beauty, please.