As I look at the photos of what used to be some sort of 1968 Cadillac, I find myself wondering what angle I should take this particular post. It would be easy to go full-on troll and talk all sorts of smack about this car, but look over the photos and tell me that, idea aside, that the execution isn’t decent. The red paint looks well chosen, the wires and whitewalls look class, the interior is mercifully stock, and overall, everything looks well kept, polished up and ready to go. But you cannot ignore what you are seeing, either: a six-wheeled Cadillac with sixteen exhaust tubes coming out from the elongated front fenders, a two-seater with a rumble seat built into the trunk, and proportions that will make you think of Cruella deVille’s car or…well, use your imagination.
To own a Cadillac of this vintage is to accept being brash. From the start, owning a Cadillac told the world something…you had money, you had success and you had no trouble treating yourself when the moment was right. So, what does this particular car tell the world? That you want to make damn sure that everybody who sees you wants to know every last detail on the “why?” of the car? That you have class and taste, but that you also might have a touch of schizophrenia? Whatever the case may be, you better prepare the answers for the questions now, because without the shadow of a doubt, there will be questions. Lots of them.