I may have grown up with a dog, but my transition to a “Fur Daddy” was not an easy one. In my youth, I DID NOT like cats! Not even a little. To me, they were unsuspecting little furballs, looking cute and serene until the claws and fangs came out. Unfortunately, that seemed to happen every single time I got near one. The biggest offender was a cat my aunt owned. A huge, white monster she suspiciously called “Snoopy.” Even the beloved Peanuts pet who entertained us with so many varying characters would’ve run for the hills around this cranky-pants feline.
All the unpleasant history aside, I eventually found that Snoopy was a foul example of a domesticated cat. For those who have forsaken their feral life, a house cat can be a very low-maintenance, affectionate, and endearing creature. I have often compared our house cats to electric cars with poor battery health. They lie about, soaking up solar energy, resting and building endurance, only to expel all that stored power in a mad, fifteen-minute session of the zoomies.
Another thing the house cat is a master of is deception. They will occupy your home, shed hair, and gain weight until you are absolutely certain they’re barely capable of moving their own girth. Then one day, you walk in the room to find them on top of a bookshelf you can’t reach with a step ladder. The house cat’s ability to move with speed, quickness, and lightning agility can be unreal.
Now, how does all this apply to racing overalls? It’s all about deception, if you will. The cat looks calm, and then when he opens the taps, all bets are off. Most famous racing drivers are fairly anonymous in public, but wrap them in their fireproof billboards, and suddenly we see something else.
Cars can be much the same. There is no mistaking a pure race car. Its unwavering purpose is on full display. It doesn’t pretend to care about luggage or passenger space, and fuel efficiency only matters as much as winning a race.
By the same token, the modern Sport Ute is the other end of the spectrum. The SUV has become the Swiss Army Knife of vehicles, with some straying off into niche areas of expertise. Practicality is the order of the day, but sports car driving excitement ain’t one of them.
Now, before someone turns the flamethrowers on full blast, I will admit there are a few “sporty” SUVs that are serious over-achievers. I won’t get into specific models, but in each case some serious trade-offs were made to hit those stellar numbers. This is no different with cars, but a Corvette doesn’t pretend to be able to tow a camper off-road with a family of four. Most of the “Sport SUVs” pay a heavy cost in fuel mileage, ride quality, and outright expense. I might also add that without modern electronic wizardry, most of these machines would wind up in the ditches on twisty back roads. The ones I’ve driven personally, deliver a strange sensation on mightily battling the laws of physics as they go. Almost as if they’re telling you, “Hang on, pappy! I’m pretty sure I got this!” Not exactly confidence inspiring.
If I’m driving a car on the track that was never really intended to be there from the start, I can completely forgive a lot of shortcomings, but when you paid a truckload extra for the goodies, you kinda expect it to live up to the sticker.
On the other end of the spectrum, let me be clear about one thing. I LOVE sports cars! They look great, they sound great, and they come in all manner of flavors, front-engine, mid-engine, rear-engine, manual or auto, two-seat, 2+2, drop-top and coupe. Most are pricey, some are expensive, and some are pure ludicrous money. They are the cars of dreams and wall posters, of video games and magazines, and the cars we fawn over at auto shows. They are velvet-roped works of art. Then there are the muscle cars, snarling, growling beasts that are brawny examples of overkill…and the more, the better.
My father would describe all of these performance machines in one concise sentence, “Yeah, it goes like hell, and it ain’t good for a damn thing else but to drive.” As always, there are exceptions, but by and large, he was correct. Then again, for many owners, that’s the only purpose they ever need serve.
Back when the American automakers were building land yachts, the Europeans were building something else. Cars that would carry the spouse and 1.2 kids, a couple of bags in the boot, then shoot down the Autobahn at a cool hundred mph all day long. The owners called them fast saloons, but when they found their way to our shores, many journalists called them performance sedans. Cars as fast as many of Detroit’s muscle models, certainly more fuel efficient, and could handle the back roads with aplomb.
Today, the most well-known of these are BMW, Audi, and Mercedes. They aren’t the only ones by far, but they were the spearhead of what was to come.
Most sports cars don’t fit my budget, and even fewer fit my six-foot-two husky frame in their cozy confines. This is where the performance sedan comes to my rescue. Most with ample room for me and my favorite passenger in the world. They also have a back seat that will hold, dare I say, an average-sized human?! An equal number come equipped with a Goodfellas-style trunk, or a two-body hole as Dad used to say.
The big difference here is the cat-like deception. You strap in, fire it up, kick it in the pants, and the results can make you forget about the half of the car behind your seat. Some of these things go like lightning, rip up corners, and keep asking for more. OR you can turn on the cruise, the air, the music, and roll up the miles without paying a hella price from your wallet or kidneys.
The biggest turn-around example of this in my lifetime is Cadillac. In my childhood, Cadillacs were finned road-boats. They were chrome-clad yachts with half-acre interiors, usually decked out with leather or velour…and more chrome. They were unapologetic behemoths, the choice of celebrities, and the status symbol of many. If anyone had told me then, that one day, Cadillac would build world-beating performance sedans, I would have laughed until I had a stroke.
But here we are, decades later, and with many woeful mistakes of cars in their bumpy history, someone at GM was finally smart enough to put engineers in charge of Cadillac. Not just any engineers, the kind that go racing. After miserable failed attempts in the past, in 2023, a Cadillac Hypercar, (Yes, the TOP classification at Le Mans) not only entered but finished on the podium! A third-place finish against the likes of Ferrari and Porsche! Don’t think for a minute that they’re done with a 3rd place finish. Ford kept at it until they won all the marbles, and I suspect Cadillac will do the same.
That engineering has found its way down to their street cars, and then some. Granted, a top-flight V-Series car is about $100k, which ain’t cheap, but still a bargain against its European rivals. The best part is the lower trim models are still some damn impressive cars. I recently drove a used CTS AWD and it had to be one of most solid-feeling, eager, and capable sedans I’ve ever driven.
Is the modern Cadillac like my house cat? Sort of.
Does it look unsuspecting? Yes.
Do you initially have furry-soft expectations? For the most part.
Does it surprise when you give it the full beans? Absolutely!
So, it’s a domestic cat…in racing overalls…with MUCH better range.
Good kitty
T. August Green
Thoughts from the Highway of Life 