Subaru began selling four-wheel-drive-equipped Leone station wagons in the United States as 1975 models, and each passing year after that saw more American car shoppers deciding that they wanted cars—not trucks, cars—with power going to all four wheels. Toyota got into that game with the Tercel 4WD wagon, sold here for the 1983 through 1988 model years, and I’ve found one of those cars in its final parking space in Denver.

The very affordable Tercel first went on sale in the United States as a 1980 model, badged as the Corolla Tercel at first (in order to take advantage of the name recognition for the unrelated Corolla, which had been a strong seller since its American debut in 1966).

The original Tercel had an interesting powertrain layout, with a longitudinally-mounted engine driving the front wheels via a V-drive-style transmission that sent power to a differential assembly mounted below the engine. This resulted in an awkward-looking high hood but also meant that sending power to a rear drive axle was just a matter of adding a rear-facing output shaft to the transmission.

Making a four-wheel-drive Tercel wasn’t difficult with that rig plus a few off-the-shelf parts, and Toyota decided to add a wagon version of the Tercel at the same time. This was the Sprinter Carib, which debuted in Japan as a 1982 model. The Tercel 4WD Wagon (as it was known in North America) hit American Toyota showrooms as a 1983 model.

A front-wheel-drive version of the Tercel Wagon was also available in the United States, though not in Japan; most of the Tercel Wagons I find during my junkyard travels are four-wheel-drive versions.

This car has four-wheel-drive, not all-wheel-drive (as we understand the terms today), which means that the driver had to manually select front-wheel-drive for use on dry pavement. Failure to do so would result in damage to the tires or worse. American Motors began selling the all-wheel-drive Eagle as a 1980 model, with Audi following a year later with its Quattro AWD system, while Toyota didn’t begin selling true AWD cars in the United States until its All-Trac system debuted in the 1988 model year.

The Tercel 4WD Wagon sold very well in snowy regions of North America, despite strong competition from Subaru as well as from the 4WD-equipped wagons offered by Honda, Nissan, and Mitsubishi.

This one is a top-of-the-Tercel-range SR5 model with just about every possible option. While the base 1986 Tercel FWD hatchback started at a miserly $5448 ($15,586 in today’s dollars), the MSRP for a 1986 Tercel SR5 4WD wagon was $8898 ($25,456 after inflation).

One of the coolest features of the SR5 version of the ’86 Tercel 4WD Wagon was the six-speed manual transmission, with its “Extra Low” gear. If you’re a Tercel 4WD Wagon enthusiast (many are), this is the transmission you want for your car!

The SR5’s plaid seat upholstery looked great, as an added bonus.

These cars were reasonably capable off-road, though the lack of power made them quite slow on any surface. This is a 1.5-liter 3A-C SOHC straight-four, rated at 62 horsepower and 76 pound-feet (probably more like 55 horsepower at Denver’s elevation).

The curb weight of this car was a wispy 2290 pounds and so it wasn’t nearly as pokey as, say, a Rabbit Diesel, but I’ve owned several 1983-1988 Tercel Wagons and I can say from personal experience that they require a great deal of patience on freeway on-ramps.

I can also say from experience that the Tercel Wagon obliterates every one of its anywhere-near-similarly-priced competitors in the reliability and build-quality departments. This one made it to a pretty good 232,503 miles during its career, and I’ve found a junkyard ’88 with well over 400,000 miles on its odometer.

The air conditioning added $655 to the price tag, or $1874 in today’s dollars. This one has an aftermarket radio, but SR5 4WD Wagon buyers for 1986 got a pretty decent AM/FM radio with four speakers as standard equipment. If you wanted to play cassettes, that was $186 more ($532 now).

The Tercel went to a third generation during the 1988 model year (both the second- and third-generation Tercels were sold in the United States as 1988 models), becoming a cousin of the Japanese-market Starlet and getting an ordinary engine orientation in the process. The 4WD Wagon went away, to be replaced by the Corolla All-Trac Wagon. The 1996 Tercel ended up being the last new car available in the United States with a four-speed manual transmission, by the way.

These cars make fun projects today, though finding rust-free examples can be a challenge.

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For years, Chrysler Corporation’s best and biggest station wagon was the Town & Country. Usually in the New Yorker trim level, they spent the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s sitting loftily looking down from their pricey perch at the less luxurious fare. But a big change came in 1978. For the massive Town & Country was gone, replaced with this trim new version.

It was based on the new LeBaron, which was Chrysler’s response to the sheer-styled 1976 Cadillac Seville, though it was not quite so highly priced. Initially it was thought it would be the new Imperial, but in the 11th hour it became a Chrysler instead. It was still nice, but, you know, not uber expensive.

It was offered midway through 1977 as a sedan and coupe only. A total of 54,851 LeBarons were sold that year. But the full-size 1977 Town & Country was still available. The wagon came a year later. It was the first major change since the late ’40s/early ’50s in what a Chrysler Town & Country was—as those familiar with the harmonica-grilled, wood-sided convertibles and sedans of the early postwar years will attest. And by 1990, the T&C would become a minivan! But I’m getting way ahead of myself.

As for today’s featured wagon, I spent some time trying to track down the pictures. I knew I saw it at the Blackhawk College show, held annually the last weekend in September, but I couldn’t remember the year; I’ve been attending this show since the late ’90s. Turns out it was the 2017 event (September 24). I do recall I got there late, and a lot of cars were leaving—including our featured subject. Fortunately, I got a fair amount of shots of it before it disappeared.

It was really nice. And as the headline above states, it was painted in Sable Tan Sunfire Metallic, according to my 1978 LeBaron brochure. It was a very dark color, but pretty. When I finally located my photo file for it, I initially thought it was black. Those were the days for color options, both inside and outside. The deep metallic brown goes beautifully with the saddle tan leather. Other exterior colors included Cadet Blue Metallic, Mint Green Metallic, Formal Black (I’d choose bright red leather with that choice), Classic Cream, and Tapestry Red Sunfire Metallic.

These may have been smaller than the Town & Countrys of yore, but they were no less luxurious, provided you selected enough options. A lot of things were now extra, unusually so for a Chrysler—including power windows. The optional leather interior was something that hadn’t been available before ’78, as far as I’m aware. The lush interiors and rampant woodgrain trim communicated luxury to any passerby in 1978. It wasn’t like today where it’s hard to tell a Cadillac XT4 from a Honda CR-V.

The ’78 LeBaron Town & Country started at $5724 ($27,420 today) with the six-cylinder engine (yes, a V-8 was optional, possibly for the first time ever?) and $5910 ($28,311) with the V-8. A total of 22,256 wagons were built for the model year—I was unable to find a breakout on how many were sixes and how many were V-8s. Wheelbase was 112.7 inches; overall length was 202.8 inches. In addition to the 225-cubic-inch Slant Six, you could get 318 and 360 V-8s. If a Town & Country with a six-cylinder engine wasn’t shocking enough, it also appears from my brochure that a four-speed floor-shifted manual with overdrive was also standard. Though I can’t believe many, if any, Town & Countrys were so equipped. You’d have to be a real skinflint to put up with that, and the frugal types would likely just get a plain-Jane Volaré wagon instead.

As for the LeBaron T&C, few changes were made for 1979, the most noticeable difference being a new grille. Inflation bumped prices to $6331 ($27,237) for the six and $6642 $28,575) for the V-8 model; 19,932 were built. Come 1980, all LeBarons got a moderate restyling, with “upside down” parking/signal lights situated over the headlights, a more formal grille, and other styling fillips. Production kept dropping, however. While 11,100 were sold in 1980, a mere 3987 were built for ’81, and that was the end of the line. Lee Iacocca was betting the house on K cars, and come 1982 the T&C would shrink yet again—as a front-wheel-drive luxury K car wagon.

***

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After teasing the upcoming new M5 Touring, and lots of rumors that it would be headed our way, BMW has finally admitted that the long-roof performance car will be sold in the United States. This marks the first time that BMW’s mid-size performance wagon will be available in the U.S., as neither the E34 nor the E61 versions were offered on our shores.

The E61 packed a rowdy V-10 powerplant and set a high bar for performance wagons, but the 2025 model should uphold the reputation. We expect the powerplant to be a twin-turbo 4.4-liter V-8 paired with an electric motor that brings total output into the 700 hp range. Dirk Häcker, Head of Development at BMW M, has confirmed the electrification, “We are now also installing a hybrid drive system with typical M performance in other high-performance cars.”

Camouflaged test vehicles are currently scattered across Germany and the United States, and it will soon be hitting the Nürburgring’s Nordschleife to further hone the suspension’s track prowess. We’re hoping the M5 Touring’s combination will hit the sweet spot of engaging yet liveable to make it a dream daily driver.

We’re not sure what finally prodded BMW to offer the M5 in the U.S., although BMW said that “enthusiasts across the country have made their voices heard.” Perhaps the positive response to Audi’s RS6 Avant spurred things along. Pssst. . . Cadillac. . . Are you seeing this?

BMW noted that production of the 2025 M5 Touring will begin at the end of the 2024, so you’ve got time to make room in your garage and also rationalize your purchase. Just remember, it’s got room for the family and groceries—that means it’s practical.

***

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In Colorado, where I live, four-wheel-drive Subarus have been beloved ever since the first 4WD Leone-based models appeared in showrooms in the mid-’70s. Because of their popularity in the Centennial State for nearly 50 years, the car graveyards along the I-25 corridor amount to museums of the history of the Pleiades-badged brand in America. Today we’ll take a look at an absolutely loaded Subaru wagon, found in a boneyard just outside of Denver.

When we talk about U.S.-market Subarus of the 1970s and 1980s, we need to first discuss the way that Fuji Heavy Industries named their cars on this side of the Pacific. The Leone, as it was known in Pacific markets, debuted in the United States as a 1972 model, but that name was never used here. At first, they were designated by their engine displacements, but soon each model was pitched as, simply, “the Subaru” with the trim levels (DL and GL were the best-known) used as de facto model names. The exception to this system was the Brat pickup, which first showed up as a 1978 model. Things in the American Subaru naming world became even more confusing when the non-Leone-derived XT appeared as a 1985 model followed by the Justy two years later, and the Leone finally became the Loyale here for its final years (1990-1994).

The Leone began its American career as a seriously cheap economy car, mocked in popular culture for its small size (but still getting a shout-out from Debbie Harry). Sponsorship of the U.S. Olympic Ski Team and gradual addition of size and features allowed Subaru to sell the higher-end Leone models for decent money as the 1980s went on.

In 1987, the absolute cheapest member of the Leone family in the United States was the base front-wheel-drive three-door-hatchback, coming in at an MSRP of $5857 (about $16,345 in 2024 dollars). Known to Subaru dealers as the STD, it was disappointingly never badged as such.

At the very top of the 1987 U.S.-market Leone ziggurat stood today’s Final Parking Space subject: the GL-10 Turbo 4WD Wagon. Its price started at an impressive $14,688, which comes to a cool $40,990 after inflation. A naturally-aspirated 1987 GL 4WD Wagon could be had for $10,767 ($30,047 in today’s money). In fact, the only way to spend more on a new 1987 Subaru (before options) was to forget about the Leone and buy an XT GL-10 Turbo 4WD at $15,648 ($43,669 now).

There weren’t many options you’d need on the feature-stuffed GL-10, but this car’s original buyer decided it was worth paying an additional $955 ($2665 in today’s bucks) for the automatic transmission. That pushed its out-the-door cost to within spitting distance of the price of admission for a new Volkswagen Quantum Syncro Wagon and its $17,320 ($48,335 in 2024) price.

Subaru was an early adopter of turbocharging for U.S.-market cars, with the first turbocharged Leone coupes and wagons appearing here in 1983. This car has a 1.8-liter SOHC boxer-four rated at 115 horsepower and 134 pound-feet, pretty good power in its time for a vehicle that scaled in at just 2,530 pounds (that’s about 700 fewer pounds than a new Impreza hatchback, to give you a sense of how much bulkier the current crop of new “small” cars is).

Subaru was just in the process of introducing a true all-wheel-drive system as we understand the term today in its U.S.-market vehicles when this car was built, and both 4WD and AWD systems were installed in Subarus sold here from the 1987 through 1994 model years. (Beginning with the 1996 model year, all new Subarus sold in the United States were equipped with AWD.) Subaru fudged the definition on its badging for a while by using a character that could be read as either a 4 or an A, as seen in the photo above.

I’ve documented a discarded 1987 GL-10 Turbo 4WD Coupe that had genuine AWD (called “full-time four-wheel-drive” by Subaru and some other manufacturers at the time), and it had prominent “FULL-TIME 4WD” badging and a differential-lock switch. This car just has the 4WD switch on the gearshift lever, like earlier 4WD Subarus with automatics, so I am reasonably sure that it has a 4WD system that requires the driver to switch to front-wheel-drive on dry pavement in order to avoid damage to tires or worse. But even as the current owner of two Subarus and a longtime chronicler of junked Fuji Heavy Equipment hardware, I cannot say for certain about the weird 1987 model year. Please help us out in the comments if you know for sure!

This car has the sort of science-fiction-grade digital dash that was so popular among manufacturers (particularly Japanese ones) during the middle 1980s.

It also has what a 1987 car shopper would have considered a serious factory audio system, with cassette track detection and a trip computer thrown in for good measure. This stuff was standard on the GL-10 that year, and you needed that righteous radio to fully appreciate the popular music of the time.

The odometer shows just over 120,000 miles, and the interior wasn’t too thrashed, so why was one of the coolest Subaru wagons of the 1980s residing in this place? First of all, there’s a glut of project Leones available in Colorado’s Front Range at any given moment. Second, all of the most devoted enthusiasts of these cars in this region already have hoards stables of a dozen with no space for more; I let my many friends who love these cars know about this one and they plucked at least a few parts from it before it got crushed (sorry, I shot these photos last summer and this car has already had its date with the crusher).

So, if you’re a vintage Subaru aficionado living where the Rust Monster stands 100 feet tall, head to the region between Cheyenne and Colorado Springs and find yourself a project Leone to bring home. We’ve got plenty here!

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Jim Pickard can thank his dad for providing the tools and motivation that helped him to turn a rusting hulk of a ’57 Buick Estate Wagon into the beautiful, show-winning machine seen here.

Turn the clock back almost half a century, when Jim’s dad was working outside the family’s Michigan home. Jim’s pride and joy, a hot-rod ’57 Chevy, was parked in the driveway. At one point in the project, the car got in Dad’s way, so he backed the vehicle into the street—just as a neighbor’s minivan arrived on the scene. The two vehicles met violently, crushing the quarter panel of the shoebox Chevy.

Dad said the damage was nothing to worry about; he had a pal in the body shop business. Turns out Dad’s pal wanted $1200 to repair the damage. Jim, who made $2.10 an hour bagging groceries, ran the numbers in his head: It would take years for him to pay for the repair.

Jim was left with two choices: rob a bank or learn bodywork. He chose the latter. After studying automotive repair books at the library and acquiring a rough idea of how to repair a damaged quarter panel, he torched off the offending sheetmetal and cut a corresponding hunk of good steel from a $100 donor car. After welding in the new piece and finishing it as best he could, he judged the result satisfactory.

The project would lead to a lifelong hobby as a backyard restoration expert. Yielding to a fondness for Buicks, Jim bought a ’57 Model 48 Sedan with only 15,000 miles on the clock. Seems it had belonged to an older gentleman who had purchased it new in Chicago, used it until he was 65 years old, and then parked it in his driveway. There the car sat for many years. It was fired up now and then and driven up and down the driveway, but it never saw the street again. Years later it was sold to the kid next door, who disassembled it before losing interest.

Jim hauled home the stripped Buick and the boxes of parts. He put the car back together, did some basic repairs, and used it for family cruising. Eventually, he decided it was worthy of restoration and, with his ever-improving skills, turned it into a show winner.

That brings us to the Estate Wagon. Like many of us who grew up at a time when large station wagons roamed the earth, Jim had long coveted a wagon. Of course, it had to be a Buick. Like many of us who lust for a special automobile, he searched eBay for the right one. One day, he saw a ’57 Buick Estate Wagon for sale in California. What could be better than a California car? He asked a friend to have a look. “It has some rust,” the friend said, “but it looks like a good car to restore.”  Jim bought it sight unseen and shipped it to Michigan.

The extent of automotive rust can’t be determined at a glance. Turns out this “California car” had spent most of its life in Toledo, Ohio, and in Ontario, Canada—both areas where road salt is used extensively to combat ice in winter months. Very little of the car’s sheetmetal was salvageable.

Fortunately, by this time, Jim had acquired a network of Buick hobbyist friends, many of whom had garages full of spare parts. Perhaps more importantly, he had discovered that donor cars are often the best solution when it comes to major sheetmetal repair. The Buick world is not like the Tri-Five Chevy universe where every part is available as a repop. There aren’t many new body parts for old Buicks out there. So, armed with his connections and donor panels, Jim set to work in his two-car garage.

With no room for a rotisserie, restoration was a matter of disassembly and repair, one part at a time. The rusted front floor pans were crumbling and had to be replaced. In the second row, the floor pans had rusted completely and fallen out. The trunk below the rear cargo floor was rotted out but too large to be taken out of the vehicle in one piece; Jim had to replace it in sections, cutting each one out of a donor wagon. Both rocker panels and their supports had to be replaced. Ultimately, every part in the car, save the hood and tailgate, was replaced or repaired.

Fortunately, Jim’s skills had progressed to the point where he could readily form metal using body-shop tools and was an expert with the MIG welder. The cycle continued for eight long years. Cut out the bad metal, find the good, weld it in place, and finish. Eventually, the body and floor pans were as perfect as the day they left the factory.

The Buick had left that factory in gray and white paint. That combination didn’t float Jim’s boat. Looking for inspiration, he found an ad in an old Life magazine for a ’57 Buick Century clad in Dawn Gray, which leans toward beige, and Seminole Red. Bingo, beautiful. Jim sprayed those colors on his now near-perfect metal. (Of course, he did it himself. Did you really have to ask?)

The Buick’s interior was reupholstered in gray and red as well. Happily, that was also the color of the original upholstery, as the two different exterior paint schemes had shared the same interior colors in the ’57 catalog.

The 250-horsepower 364-cubic-inch Nailhead V-8 was rebuilt to like-new standards, as was the Dynaflow transmission. The vast majority of mechanicals remain original, including the somewhat infamous Buick torque tube. The other systems were likewise restored to factory specs—with one important exception. Four-wheel disc brakes replaced the original binders. Why? To better tow the Pickard family’s reproduction ’61 Shasta Airflight “ham can” travel trailer. A long trip down Route 66 is in the Pickard family’s future.

Within minutes after attaching the rear bumper—the final step of the restoration—Jim fired up the wagon and took it to the Motor Muster show at Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan. Two weeks later, he drove it all the way to Lisle, Illinois, for the Buick Nationals but didn’t enter it in judging.

Jim drives. He drove his restored Buick sedan from his Michigan home to the Buick Nationals in Charlotte, North Carolina, where he won senior gold, scoring 395 points out of a possible 400. The following year, he drove it to the nationals in Allentown, Pennsylvania. In 2018, he motored out west to Oklahoma City where he won another senior gold. That’s a lot of driving and a great record of success, especially when the competition includes trailer queens.

Speaking of prestigious automotive shows, I spotted Jim’s beautiful Buick wagon at Hagerty’s Detroit Concours d’Elegance, a limited-entry show that eagerly accepted Jim’s wagon. “Just having been chosen for the concours was quite an honor,” said Jim. “When the team of judges, which included Barn Find Hunter Tom Cotter, gave it a design and style award, it was like winning the lottery.”

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Cars from the “greed is good” era are once again raking in the dough, and one only has to look at AMG’s executive bruisers from the late ’80s and early ’90s for proof. Big numbers over the course of the last year, like $775K for a 1987 AMG Hammer Sedan and an eye-watering $885,000 for a 1991 AMG 6.0 Widebody Coupe have shown the market’s renewed enthusiasm for the tuner company’s work from before it was subsumed by Mercedes-Benz.

Fortunately, though, not all these muscular AMGs have become unobtainable, as suggested by this 1991 Mercedes-Benz 300TE 3.4 AMG Wagon, which transacted this week for $65,230 on Bring a Trailer, including fees. We wouldn’t call that affordable, but as a practical, stout, entry-level AMG, it does buy entry to a pretty exclusive club at less than a tenth of the price of those others we mentioned.

Imported from Germany this year and visually not far off from the only AMG 6.0 Hammer Wagon known to exist, this 300TE comes decked out with AMG bodywork, 17-inch monoblock wheels, and a host of factory and AMG options. It certainly looks the part.

While we’re used to seeing AMG coupes and sedans cross the block, it’s not all that often an early AMG wagon makes an appearance. To get a better handle on the car and its sale, we reached out to Jonathan Hodgman, owner of Blue Ridge MB, a shop northeast of Atlanta, Georgia that specializes in AMGs from this era.

Hodgman (who happens to own that Hammer Wagon we mentioned) explained that even though the one that sold on BaT doesn’t have the V-8 power that ’80s and ’90s AMGs are famous for, the company still managed to liven up the car’s personality by sticking to the fundamentals. “It’s just applying basic hot rod principles: added displacement, fatter cams, bigger valves, a little port work. And that’s the root of it,” says Hodgman.

The factory three-liter M104 six-cylinder was rated around 225 hp stock, while AMG’s 3.4-liter put out 276 hp and 245 lb-ft of torque. Not all that big of a difference, but Hodgman notes that the numbers don’t tell the whole story. “Invariably it’s not just the peak power but also the torque under the curve that’s tangible. With that fatter cam, the transition is greater from off-power to on. As a result, the presentation of the power to your brain and your butt, if you will, is more engaging, making it a more fun car to drive.”

Overall, even with around 106,000 miles, this 300TE presents very well, with a near-spotless interior and undercarriage. A stack of service records (they’re in German) and photos of compression tests on all cylinders helped add confidence to the transaction.

Speaking of service, there are a few issues to report about AMG’s six-cylinder cars from this era. Some cars did get an aftermarket Torsen differential that was prone to failure, and head gasket issues were a known problem on the factory and AMG engines. By now, though, most of those issues have been remedied, and the six-cylinder AMG cars are every bit as bulletproof as their more staid standard W124 counterparts. That’s good, since sourcing parts can be a challenge with pre-merger AMGs.

How many of these uprated wagons hit the streets? It’s unclear. “The problem is that there is no official number,” says Hodgman. “The difficulty is that there were so many subcontractors for AMG. You had AMG Japan and the various outlets there. Same thing here in America—you had Westmont, but there were other licensed AMG installers. It was the same in Germany, where this car came from, and Austria and Australia and the U.K. No real records were kept.” Even so, given how infrequently these cars come up for sale, their rarity isn’t in question, and this car’s well-documented history aided in its provenance.

As with just about every corner of the market, cars like this wagon that might be thought of as substitution candidates have jumped in value. Hodgman noted that ten years ago, this 300TE would have been fortunate to fetch 15 grand. He added that he’s observed values of quality standard Mercedes examples of this vintage soften in the last six months, while AMGs have continued to rise. This car’s strong showing appears to confirm Hodgman’s assertion that demand remains strong, at least for the right cars.

Hagerty data backs that up. We’ve begun to keep an eye on ’80s and ’90s AMG models, and while prices are in fact up—sometimes stratospherically so—there’s still significant variance based on provenance and options. Given that outright performance is no longer a real consideration for buyers of these AMGs, this six-cylinder wagon is an appealing and distinctive way to get a piece of Mercedes-Benz tuner history without spending a fortune.

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As a child of the 1980s, I was in a position to see firsthand the era of the station wagon giving ground, then giving way, to minivans. And later on, SUVs. But I always loved station wagons. I came home from the hospital in one, was driven to school in one, went on family vacations in one—well, several, actually. But the debut of the “Magic Wagon,” as Chrysler Corporation dubbed its new Dodge Caravan and Plymouth Voyager minivans, was the beginning of the end.

Even my own family went through it. My parents had two Volvo 240 and two Volvo 740GL wagons, but as us kids kept getting bigger, peace in the back seat amongst the three of us became pretty much impossible. So, in late 1991, my folks ordered a brand new ’92 Grand Caravan ES in white with dark gray leather, all-wheel drive, and the middle-row bucket seats. Peace was restored. But I digress …

In 1980, you had myriad choices in station wagons: Volvo 240s (my aforementioned trip home from the hospital was in a ’77 245DL), Peugeot 505s, Toyota Cressidas, Volkswagen Dashers. And over on the domestic side, a wide variety of Pinto Squires, Concord Limiteds, LeBaron Town and Countrys, and other fare awaited your pocketbook. But the top-tier domestic woodgrained rolling stock wagons were, not coincidentally, the largest models.

The top-of-the-line U.S. wagons were the Ford LTD Country Squire, Mercury Colony Park, Chevrolet Caprice Estate, Pontiac Bonneville Safari, Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser, and the Buick Electra Estate Wagon, our featured subject today. A case can also be made for the previously-mentioned LeBaron Town and Country; though plenty luxurious, it was on the midsize chassis, the truly large and unapologetically full-size T&C being discontinued after the 1977 model year.

But the Electra Estate wagon was as close as one could get to a Cadillac station wagon, excepting those with sufficient funds to have coachbuilders make a wagon out of a Fleetwood Brougham or Sedan de Ville.

All of the full-sized 1980 GM cars were given facelifts for a smoother appearance, partly to improve fuel economy but also for the looks. All the big GM wagons were naturally a part of it, though for them it really was only the front clip that was changed. The big Buick wagons came both as a LeSabre and as an Electra.

And that continued all the way through the 1989 model year, with the flossier Electra and slightly plainer LeSabre wagons pinning the top tier of Buick station wagons. I will always remember these wagons fondly, as a navy blue one had a major part in the classic 1987 film Adventures in Babysitting!

That movie could well be the primary reason I love these cars so much. And also why I was such a fan of the final seasons of CSI when Elisabeth Shue was part of the cast. Oops, wait. What were we talking about again?

Right, Buicks! The big GM wagons were all rather similar visually, from Caprice Estate to top-of-the-line Electra Estate Wagon. The biggest differences were the front clip, interior, and, depending on the year and make, the engine. But the Electras were always the plushest.

However, in 1990, Buick pulled a fast one. Technically, the Electra Estate Wagon and LeSabre Estate wagon were gone. But only in name. Instead of having the two very similar models, they were merged into a single “Estate Wagon,” with nary an Electra or LeSabre emblem to be found anywhere.

I initially thought only the badging was different compared to the 1989s, but the interior was now a hybrid: Electra Estate Wagon seats with LeSabre door panels.

The 1989 and earlier Electra Estate Wagons had these Regal (pun intended) half-woodgrain door panels. But at least you still got the primo seats in the 1990 model.

My friend Jeremy Shiffer related, “These 1990 B-body wagons (and base 307 equipped 1990 Cadillac Broughams) hold the distinction of being the last GM cars sold with a carburetor.” And then another friend Mike Massey confirmed that the ’90s only had “LeSabre door panels with Electra seats. I remember that well on those final ones.” At the time these were new, nobody we knew owned one, though there was one I’d see regularly, while riding my bike, about five blocks from home.

As the 1990 deluxe Buick brochure confided, the Estate Wagon had “Room for everything. Including luxury … the comfort, convenience, and luxury features are impressive, including rich woven velour upholstery, full carpeting throughout, automatic transmission with overdrive, tilt steering column, power steering, power brakes with discs in front, and, of course, the greatest luxury of all: room.”

All Estate Wagons came standard with the 140-horsepower 307-cubic-inch V-8. Base price was $17,940 (about $42,247 today), curb weight was 4281 pounds, and 7838 of them were built for the model year. As had been the case since 1980, these had a 115.9-inch wheelbase, 220.5-inch overall length, and 79.3-inch width.

Available options included leather upholstery, as seen in our featured car, power windows, power door locks, a roof rack, Twilight Sentinel, cruise control, and a six-way power driver’s seat. The unmistakable exterior vinyl woodgrain appliques remained an optional extra as well.

Our featured ’90 Estate Wagon was spied on eBay quite some time ago. It could have been 10 years ago or even longer. At the time I was stunned with how showroom-fresh it appeared, and I loved the light blue (Mist Blue Metallic, according to my 1990 Buick color chart) with saddle tan leather harmonizing with the Di-Noc woodgrain sides. It was simply superb.

Though plenty of these had the wire wheel covers shown here, the only thing that could have made this car better would be the optional turbine alloy wheels—just like the one featured on Adventures in Babysitting.

Fun fact: Those wheels were only available on the Buick wagons, except for swan-song 1990. In 1990, you could also order them on the Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser, though they had different center caps with the Olds Rocket emblem instead. Ask my friend Matt Smith how hard it is to find those Olds-specific center caps these days!

In 1990, only three of the four original full-size GM wagons remained: Chevy Caprice, Olds Custom Cruiser, and the Buick Estate Wagon. The Pontiac Safari was discontinued after 1989 for some reason. Never again would so much chrome and woodgrain gingerbread be seen on full-size American station wagons.

It was the end of the road for the 1980-style body, but not the end of the grand, luxurious full-size Buick station wagon. Starting in 1991, the totally restyled and renamed Roadmaster Estate Wagon would continue to carry the torch (albeit on pretty much the same chassis as this car) through the 1996 model year. And while it was pretty flossy, it didn’t have quite as much wood-toned trim as the 1980–90 Estate Wagons—though you could still get the woodgrain exterior siding. And after ’96, my friends, if you wanted a new luxury Buick station wagon, you were sadly out of luck.

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Come to St. Moritz and drive the Gullwing,” offered the guys who look after the classic fleet at Mercedes-Benz. “And as you’ll already be in Italy for the E 450 All-Terrain wagon launch, why don’t you drive from there to Switzerland through the Alps in our W124 300 TD 4Matic wagon?”

It was an invitation too good to refuse, and not just because the 300SL Gullwing is one of my all-time hero cars.  I’ve always regarded the W124-series Mercedes-Benz—built in sedan, wagon, coupe, and cabrio body styles between November 1984 and July 1997—as a touchstone model for the three-pointed star, a car whose brilliant Bauhausian rationality earned it a reputation as the engineers’ E-Class. The W124 was a Mercedes-Benz in which the engineering excellence was baked in but not shown off.

With 30 years gone since I lasted tested one, and I wanted to find out how well that notion had stood the test of time.

Sliding behind the wheel of the 1989 300 TD 4Matic wagon is like catching up with an old friend, instantly familiar and comforting. Behind the yacht-sized steering wheel is the analog dash that even today represents a model of clarity and readability. On the steering column is the single stalk that you can tug, push, flick, or twist actuating low and high beam, the turn signals, and the quirky single windshield that has a cam mechanism to maximize its cleaning area. In the center console sits the shifter for the four-speed automatic, with the wobbly gate that allows you to manually flick between fourth, third, and second gears.

It’s an unusual spec, this car, built in an era when customers were more able to mix and match all manner of options rather than tick the box on a pre-determined package of goodies. The front seats, resplendent in black MB-Tex (the hard-wearing vinyl that was standard issue even on an S-Class back then), must be adjusted manually, yet are fitted with the rare air cushion option, a precursor of today’s pneumatically adjustable seats. Windows wind up or down with manual cranks.

Like many German customers of the time, the 300 TD’s first owner opted to delete the model designation from the tailgate. The five horizontal slats in the right-hand front fender, just ahead of the front wheel, are the only clue to the diesel engine under the hood. The badge on the right-hand side of the tailgate, however, proudly proclaims this is an E-Class wagon fitted with 4Matic all-wheel drive, Mercedes-Benz’s first generation of the now-ubiquitous technology.

All-wheel drive was relatively rare on road cars in the 1980s. Audi’s all-wheel drive Coupe quattro, which introduced the concept to the mainstream 18 years after it had been pioneered by niche British automaker Jensen’s innovative FF, had been launched just five years before the first owner of this W124 wagon picked up his car. The first-generation 4Matic system featured a locking center differential with two clutches that under normal conditions sent 100 percent of torque to the rear wheels. If, based on inputs from the three-channel anti-lock brake system and the steering wheel angle sensor, the system detected a loss of traction, 35 percent or 50 percent of the torque could be sent to the front wheels.

This 1989 W124 wagon was acquired by the Mercedes-Benz Heritage fleet in 2009 and has covered the equivalent of 156,811 miles. That’s barely broken in for an old Mercedes diesel. Still, after the gentle rumble of the modern 2.0-liter four-cylinder diesel in the European-specification E 220 d All-Terrain wagon I’d driven the day before, the clatter of the 300 TD 4Matic’s 3.0-liter straight-six at idle comes as something of a shock. Diesels have become a lot smoother and quieter over the past 40 years.

More power-dense, too. The 300 TD’s turbocharged diesel has 50 percent more capacity than the E 220 d All-Terrain’s engine but makes just 75 percent the power and 62 percent the torque – 145 hp at 4600 rpm and 201 lb-ft at 2400 rpm, compared with 195 hp at 3600 rpm and 324 lb-ft from 1800 rpm.

That, plus the helping hand from the 23-hp, 151-lb-ft electric motor of the mild hybrid system in the All-Terrain, means the 300 TD 4Matic feels decidedly languid in comparison when you press the accelerator pedal. Contemporary road tests suggest the 300 TD 4 Matic would amble from 0 to 60 mph in about 12.7 seconds en route to a top speed of 117 mph. Despite weighing at least 400 pounds more than its ancestor, the E 220 d All-Terrain will hustle to 60 mph in just 7.9 seconds and hit a top speed of 136 mph.

No, the 300 TD 4Matic won’t set your pulse racing as you accelerate away from the lights. But after a few miles behind the wheel, I was reminded why that doesn’t particularly matter. Such is the fundamental excellence of the chassis and the suspension: I could maintain surprising momentum on the Alpine roads, guiding the car through the corners with my fingertips, feeling it work through the compliance in the bushings and the bulbous 195/65 R15 Dunlop tires as the lateral forces increased. Once the wagon took a set, it felt as if almost nothing would kick it off line.

The relative paucity of power and torque was apparent only on the steepest and most serpentine climbs. After a while I figured the optimum moment to flick the shifter back into a lower gear on corner entry, allowing enough time for the four-speed automatic’s hydraulics to process the command and the turbocharger to build boost in response to the growly diesel’s increased crank speed before I needed to go to power. Once more I remembered why driving a classic car is such an involving experience.

The steering weight is heavier than in a modern Benz and has that on-center dead spot that was once so characteristic of post-war cars from Mercedes. As always, though, once you are through the dead spot the steering is quite accurate, and the tight turning circle proves useful in sharp corners. The relative narrowness of the W124—at 68.5in from side to side, it’s slimmer than today’s C-Class—gave me more road to play with when confronted with the occasional oncoming truck and bus, not to mention the seemingly never-ending stream of motorcycles and supercars on the more popular passes.

I made good use of engine braking on the faster downhill stretches, flicking the shifter into third and second gear and leaning on the old diesel’s 22:1 compression ratio as I brushed the brakes through the faster corners. It might be a diesel station wagon, but the 300 TD 4Matic was enjoyable to drive on the faster, more flowing roads, settling into a lovely, comfortable cadence. The sublime multi-link rear axle—its layout originally developed for the 190E compact, the precursor to the C-Class, and still covered by a Mercedes-Benz patent when this car was built—still feels world-class, utterly unfazed by gnarly mid-corner lumps and bumps.

Later, on the autobahn back to Stuttgart after my drive in the Gullwing, the 300 TD 4Matic cruised happily at 100 mph, the old diesel’s clatter a subdued growl at 3600 rpm. Even at that pace, wind and road noise levels were remarkably low. The biggest annoyance was slower traffic pulling out into the lane ahead, especially on uphill sections; lost momentum takes time to recover in this machine.

By the time I had pulled into my hotel in Stuttgart, I’d covered almost 480 miles through some of Europe’s most stunning scenery and on some of its fastest roads. All in a car built when hair metal was a thing, the Apple Macintosh was the coolest home computer on the market, and a teenaged Elon Musk was working at a lumber mill in Saskatchewan. Is the W124 still the engineers’ E-Class? Absolutely. My run in the 300 TD 4Matic proved you can still see and feel the intellectual rigor behind its design and execution.

***

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Like any group of car fans, the writers here at Hagerty have wide ranging and (mostly) good tastes. We have our American muscle guys, our JDM freaks, a couple of Bimmer boys, and of course a few Porschephiles. I, for one, love my underpowered British heaps and euro oddballs. One thing we can all agree on, though, is that the latest Sale of the Week is a damn cool car, even if none of us would ever want to actually own it.

Fascinating eight-cylinder powertrain? Check. Six-speed manual gearbox? Check. Wagon body? Again, check. It even has a lovely color. It’s a 2003 Volkswagen Passat W8 wagon, and it sold this week for $11,652. Seems cheap for something that ticks all of those cool car boxes, but there are reasons why it didn’t go for more.

The “B5” generation of Passat came out in 1997, and it received a significant update called the “B5.5” for 2001. These were strange, interesting times at VW. The Germans were buying up premium badges like Bentley and Lamborghini. They even brought Bugatti back from the grave. Meanwhile, company boss Ferdinand Piëch was pulling Volkwagen, the brand of Golfs and Beetles, upmarket with more sophisticated models. Sometimes, a little too sophisticated. The ill-fated Phaeton executive sedan is probably the most famous example of this early 2000s over-engineering, but before that was this truly wild version of the B5.5 Passat.

The star of the show was the W8 engine, and the fact that this thing made it into a family car like the Passat is crazy enough. Sort of like Toyota slicing two cylinders off the Lexus LFA’s V10 and dropping it into a Camry. The W8 was something of a test run for VW’s later W12s used in Bentleys and Audis and the W16s used in Bugattis. Essentially two narrow-angle 15-degree VR4s arranged in a 72-degree V-shape on a common crank, it offered V8 power in a more compact package. Calling it half a Veyron engine isn’t a huge stretch of the truth, but in the Passat the 3999-cc W8 was rated at just 270 horsepower and 273 lb-ft of torque. It did at least garner praise for smoothness and delivering solid oomph on the highway. It’s the only engine with a W8 configuration to ever make it to production, and given the way the car industry is moving, it probably always will be.

The W8 Passat was available in either four-door sedan or five-door wagon body styles, and buyers could choose between a 5-speed auto or a 6-speed manual. All W8s came standard with VW’s 4Motion all-wheel drive. Base price was around the $40K mark.

An intriguing car, then. Even 20 years ago an eight-cylinder family car with an available stick was a rare and exciting treat. Writing for Car and Driver back in 2004, our own Aaron Robinson praised the suspension for “keeping the 3918-pound Passat from bobbing like a bath toy over fast-changing cambers, and the cleaver-sharp steering is from the Audi kitchen.” He also noted that “if you can live without rings, spinners or silver stars on the hood, perhaps the W-8 six-speed is worth your attention.”

But just because a car is intriguing doesn’t mean it’s easy to sell. There were contemporary Audis and BMWs that would do everything the W8 Passat could but did it for less money, and they did have premium badge on the hood.

In the end, only 11,000 W8 Passats sold worldwide, and just a tiny fraction of those buyers ordered theirs with a long roof and third pedal. Some sources say fewer than 100 manual W8 wagons came to the U.S., and it’s probably a safe bet to say significantly fewer are still on the road.

This one, though, is. The Blue Spirit Pearl over Flannel Gray leather wagon has 17-inch BBS “Madras” wheels, sport suspension, sunroof, heated power front seats and roof rails, while mild mods include EuroCustoms Tuning engine management software and a cat-back exhaust with four tips to clue you in that this isn’t an English professor’s Passat. Its New Jersey license plate reads “6SPDW8”. Nice.

Now for the not-so-good stuff. It has nearly 150,000 miles, and all the usual chips, dings, wear and tear of a 150k-mile car. According to the seller, the engine was replaced in 2009 after a mechanic dropped a bolt down into the engine block before somebody else started the car. That’s one expensive oopsie.

The car, on the other hand, is not so expensive, and another example of how easy it is to lose money in this hobby. The seller has enjoyed the car for 10,000 miles, but he bought it a year ago for $13,400, and that doesn’t include the maintenance he’s done.

That doesn’t mean there won’t still be plenty more maintenance for the new owner to enjoy. They didn’t sell many W8 Passats, but the Internet is still full of horror stories by former owners and mechanics, and just the timing chains look like the stuff of nightmares. Finding engine parts would be a headache, and of course the rest of the car is a 20-year-old VW, so there’s plenty of stuff to go wrong outside the engine bay, too.

Just like when it was new, this is a badass car. But it takes a special kind of person to actually want to put it in their garage. It’s hard to find that kind of person, in the Hagerty office or anywhere. That’s why it sold for cheap.

***

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It sounds like the preface to an archaeological tale. Long before the dawn of the modern SUV, those who needed to lug kids or a lot of stuff roamed North America in station wagons. Within what is now a lumbering, nearly-forgotten segment existed a rare but compelling subspecies: the performance wagon.

Few marques offered a sporting trim on their longroofs, but savvy buyers knew what to do. If you wanted a 440-cubic inch big block and heavy-duty suspension underneath your Dodge Polara or a 428 with a four-speed manual in your Ford Country Squire, you just had to tick the right boxes and you could spec some fun into your family hauler. Though subtly powerful, full-size, body-on-frame wagons such as the Buick Roadmaster went extinct in the ’90s, Dodge and Cadillac saw enough opportunity in the market to inject some life into the V-8 longroof lineage in the 2000s, if briefly. The Dodge Magnum and Cadillac CTS-V wagon are two very different animals that achieve similar goals, and both are now collectible in their own right.

Debuting in 2005, the same year as the Chrysler 300 and a year before the return of Dodge’s venerable Charger, the Magnum rode on Chrysler’s LX platform. These were the beginning of some heady years for Chrysler’s full-size cars—gone was the oh-so-’90s cab-forward design, replaced with more familiar American sedan architecture that dipped its toe in fashionable-for-the-Aughts retro design. (That said, the Magnum is perhaps the least retro of all its siblings.) And, perhaps most importantly, the Hemi V-8 that had returned in 2003 found its way underhood at the Magnum’s debut.

The 340-horse 5.7-liter Hemi V-8 that came with the R/T trim hustled the big wagon to sixty in under six seconds, within sneezing distance of the new-for-’05 Mustang GT’s 5.1-second sprint. Contemporary reviews even lauded its roadholding, or were at the very least impressed that such a hefty wagon could grip the way it did. The Magnum managed this while offering more legroom than a Chevy Tahoe and boasting cavernous storage space to boot. It did suffer from poor interior quality, however, with a sea of cheap-feeling plastic throughout the cabin. The pillbox windows did little for overall visibility.

But Dodge bet that Magnum buyers were more interested in the car’s character than minor considerations, such as how well they could see out of the car. To wit, the company went all-in on the Magnum’s personality amplification for 2006, rolling out the 6.1-liter, 425-horse V-8-powered SRT-8. Along with quicker acceleration and bragging rights owing to its 13.6-second quarter mile time, the SRT-8 received upgraded seats, 20-inch wheels, larger Brembo brakes, uprated dampers and stiffer suspension components, and a throatier exhaust. Between both V-8 optioned cars, the muscle wagon was definitively back.

The effect was noticeable on the sales floor, too—Dodge moved more than 50,000 Magnums in 2005 alone. For the 2008 model year, the Magnum received an updated interior and a front end restyling that more closely resembled the Charger. Unfortunately, the Magnum’s life was about to be cut short. Not long after the freshened cars hit the showroom, Chrysler announced in late 2007 it was canceling the Magnum. Given its healthy sales and that the Chrysler 300 soldiered on till now and the Charger has thrived, the Magnum may well have had a few more good years in it.

Despite healthy production numbers for the R/T, finding a sharp, unmolested example can be a challenge. Sourcing the much rarer SRT-8 is harder still. Prices, though, are very reasonable, and are only slowly increasing. A #2 (excellent) condition R/T model can be had for $16,000; a similar-condition all-wheel drive R/T model will fetch $1400 more (#2-condition Charger R/Ts, both rear-and all-wheel drive, come in at $15,800). If you’re looking for a top-dog SRT-8, a #2 condition car slides in just under 30 grand. Either is a big, throaty muscle car option that just happens to be able to haul stuff.

Interest in the Magnum based on insurance quotes sought from Hagerty skews toward boomers, at 45 percent. Gen X follows at 29 percent, and younger enthusiasts make up about 18 percent. These proportions have held relatively steady over the last three years, suggesting that a change in value driven by refreshed interest in these cars is unlikely to occur anytime soon.

In contrast to Chrysler’s pivot to rear-wheel drive roots and retro styling with its full-size cars, Cadillac’s Art and Science design and CTS model were at the core of the brand’s effort to reposition itself as an alternative to Mercedes-Benz and BMW. The second-generation CTS sedan rolled out in 2008, with the Sport Wagon following in 2010. Cadillac’s performance-oriented V-Series models, which took aim directly at AMG and BMW’s M, came soon after, with the second-gen CTS-V sedan debuting in 2009 and the CTS-V wagon in 2011.

The sedan—and subsequent coupe—were impressive, but the CTS-V wagon stole the show. The 556-hp 6.2-liter LSA V-8 was backed by—joy of joys—a Tremec 6060 six-speed manual transmission. Yes, a six-speed automatic was available, too, but at the time you could count the available big wagons with manual transmissions on one hand and have four digits left over. MagneRide dampers helped ensure a balanced driving experience, and massive brakes woah-ed the two-ton wagon down as well as many sports cars. Cadillac had created a unicorn.

A bruiser if there ever was one, the CTS-V wagon got to 60 in the low fours and crossed the quarter in 12.5 seconds. The sedan version cracked the eight minute barrier at the Nurburgring, and while it was marginally heavier, the wagon didn’t lose much in the way of handling. While they do feel their weight, they’re agile and incredibly capable.

Having spent years with not one, but two CTS Sport Wagons, I can attest to the Caddy’s practicality. It’s unlikely anyone’s going to go get lumber in their now-quite-valuable CTS-V wagon, but you certainly could. Rear seat room is a bit tighter than in the Dodge, but the front seats (either base or Recaro) will happily accommodate occupants of almost any size. The interior isn’t opulent, and some surfaces feel more entry-level than the Cadillac’s European competition, but it’s cleanly designed and a comfortable cruiser.

Unicorn, though, is the operative word. As much ink as wagons get from auto writers, the modern new car buyer just doesn’t know what to do with them, much less niche models with massive horsepower and three pedals. CTS-V wagon production reflected that—from 2011-2014, only 1767 examples were made, 514 of which were manuals.

The modern car collector, on the other hand, knows well what to do with such a car. Values for the CTS-V wagon started their rise in 2019, a mere five years after production stopped, and well before the pandemic took the collector market to new heights. Today, a #2 (excellent) condition CTS-V wagon comes in at $91,700, up five percent even over the last quarter. As would be expected, manual transmissions command a strong 15% premium over automatics.

Unlike the Magnum, the CTS-V wagon has healthy interest from younger generations—a full 40% of quotes sought come from gen Z and millennials. Gen X represents a similar proportion of interest to the Magnum at 26%, while boomer interest is at 25% and receding. Over the last five years, the CTS-V wagon has placed itself in the modern collector firmament, and the demographic interest suggests it’s poised to stay there.

Despite the valuation differences between these two cars, both of them offer an experience that’s tough to find in the collector car world. People often characterize early SUVs as useful classics, but the Magnum and the CTS-V wagon arguably fit that bill more precisely. There aren’t a lot of models that offer muscle car thrills and can comfortably fit four people with all their luggage on a long trip. These last American muscle wagons are hard to beat.

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Via Insider

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For most classic car fans, a Chevelle SS or Malibu SS isn’t exactly an uncommon sight at shows and auctions. As one wag once joked, Chevy built 63,000 in 1967 and only 130,000 survive today. But how about a wagon? Yes. One was made—for only one year—and last year when I posted a photo of one on a ’70s car group page, one armchair expert insisted that it was simply a Malibu wagon with a 454 and someone just tacked the emblems on.

I get the same thing when I discuss the 1965 Fleetwood 75 (“It’s a ’64; the ’65 was a totally different body!”) and the 1959–60 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham (“It’s just a ’60 or ’61 regular Cadillac!”). Even when I post a picture from the brochures, it tends to fall on deaf ears (or eyes). People love their preconceived notions, that’s for sure.

As many of you undoubtedly know, in 1973 GM completely redesigned its A-body intermediate cars. Everything was new, convertibles were no more, and pillarless two-door hardtops were replaced with pillared “Colonnade” styling. It was very modern for the time, despite the shrieking from those who adored the 1968–72 midsizers. But that’s a story for another time—though I do have photos of a spectacularly original bronze ’72 Chevelle two-door hardtop I need to write about soon.

At any rate, somehow along with the myriad of new mid-size cars, was a peculiar new model. For while the SS coupe continued to be available, albeit in an all-new body, somehow there was now an SS package available for the Malibu wagon. Why? Who knows. Maybe it came up during a three-martini lunch. Maybe some product planner said, “Hey, let’s make the SS available on the wagon with a 454 and see if we sell any!” Perhaps it was the same guy who decades later said, “Psst, hey, put a Corvette engine in the Cadillac CTS wagon. And give it a stick.” I love that guy … if he exists!

It wasn’t prominently advertised, either in the showroom brochures or in advertisements. The first I heard of this model was back in the late ’90s. I had recently acquired some 1973 Chevrolet wagon brochures from a very nice eBay seller, Bill Hilyard. I bought a lot of brochures from him back then.

The ’73 brochure touted that the Chevelle and Malibu wagons were “brand new, all with a hatchback tailgate … They’re smooth and quiet too, with a new cushioning system and precision tuning of the front and rear suspension.” And as I was flipping through the brochure (which I still have, and which assisted in the writing of this article), I found way in the back, listed among the available options, confirmation of the SS package for station wagons.

As you can see above, it was largely a décor package, though all wagons got a V-8 from the get-go; there would be no SS wagons with the “Turbo-Thrift” 250-cubic-inch six-cylinder, thank heavens.

The most noticeable features were the contrasting paint on the lower body, blacked out grille, and of course, the SS emblems. The standard engine was the tried-and-true 350, but if you had the cash and could afford the gas, you could get the 454 V-8 and surprise the other dads in their Country Squires and Grand Safaris.

Finding production information on these special wagons is not particularly easy. I have copies of both American Cars 1945–75 and Chevrolet: The Complete History, but I came up empty. However, I did discover that in 1973, a total of 28,647 Chevelle Malibu SSs were built, of which 2500 had the 245-horsepower, 454-cu-in V-8. Logically, most of the SSs sold were coupes and not the elusive station wagon.

Fortunately, my friend Sean Flanagan saw my post awhile back on this car and referred me to a link to G3GM.com, which provided the numbers I sought: A total of 1432 SS wagons were built, with a breakdown of 1361 with the 350 V-8 and a mere 71 with the 454. Yes. she is a rare birdie.

I wasn’t sure of the color, but fortunately my Chicago pal Jim Smith worked at a big Chevy dealership in the ’70s when he was in high school, prepping new cars and the like. He identified the color as Chamois. As he related, “That’s the name Chevrolet called it. We took a few ’73s in on trade that came in that color.” It’s a very ’70s color, to be sure!

Jim was also kind enough to provide some pictures of another ’73 SS wagon he had. While the Chamois one is oh-so-’70s, colorwise, I love the red with the contrasting dark silver, even though red is such a cliché on Chevy SS models.

I found it interesting that both the car I photographed and the one Jim shot had the third-row seat. It seems kind of counter-intuitive that one would order an SS package for the wagon and then order the third seat as well. Apparently, for dads who wanted to haul—and haul!

I spotted the Chamois example at an AACA regional show last August at Bend XPO in East Moline, Illinois. The show didn’t officially open until Saturday, but our office closes at 1 p.m. every Friday, and I was looking for something to do. It was a warm but rather gray day, and I didn’t feel like making a gin and tonic and reading a novel on my postage-stamp deck without sun, so I stopped by my friend KV Dahl’s garage, and he was showing some cars to another car guy, Dave Mills.

As we were chatting, KV said, “Hey, go on over to the show, no one will mind.” So after ogling several of KV’s classics, I said my goodbyes, and snuck into the show venue.

Unfortunately, I was only there about a half hour before they started turning off the lights as folks finished detailing their classics for the show. I didn’t have much time to gawk at all the beautiful cars, but I covered as much ground as I could. There were many nice cars—including several others that I’ll be writing about at some point, including a fantastic “flat-top” 1959 Impala Sport Sedan—but I was pleasantly shocked to see this SS wagon.

I knew they existed, but I’d never seen one, ever. It was so cool! Practical, yet crazy. Just my style. Of course, I returned the following afternoon with the rest of the showgoers and took many, many photos. The SS wagon was such a cool idea. Sure, it didn’t sell, and today most people don’t even realize these were ever made. It’s good to know that stuff like this was once put on the market. Just do it. No focus groups, just offer i,t and see what happens. I love it.

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Though he got a late start at age 47, Paul Newman swiftly made his mark in auto racing. Behind the wheel he racked up four SCCA National Championships, along with class wins at Le Mans and Daytona, and he found a wealth of success as a team owner during his more than three decades in the sport. Many of the spoils of Newman’s storied career, including championship rings, medals, art, and memorabilia, are headed to RM Sotheby’s online auction, High Speed: Paul Newman’s Racing Legacy, which opens on May 27. Though we could easily find wall space for some of the racing art in the sale, the lot we’re really watching is more racing adjacent: a 1998 Volvo V90 that received an LS engine swap from his race team.

Paul Newman and the phrase “hot rod Volvo” go together like salad and his famous dressing. Newman enjoyed flying under the radar and couldn’t leave his lead foot at the track, so over the years he commissioned a couple of Swedish sleeper wagons he used to bomb around the New England roads near his Connecticut residence. Perhaps the most well-known of these cars was the second one: a 1995 960 with a supercharged Ford 302-cubic-inch V-8. He suggested pal David Letterman get one, too, and it was the comic’s retelling of the story during an interview with fellow comedian Jon Stewart that let the world in on Newman’s love of swapped Volvos.

Before the Ford-powered car, Newman owned a 1988 740 with a Buick 3.8-liter turbo V-6 under the hood. The car recently sold on Bring a Trailer for $87,777, well above the going rate for 740s without a famous owner in their histories, and also exceeding the premium many other stars add to their former cars.

There’s a third, and final, chapter to this story, however. Probably the least known of Newman’s wagons is this LS-swapped V90 coming to sale with RM. A surprise gift built by his race team and delivered to Newman in 2007, the “Volvette” features a 400-hp 6.0-liter Chevy LS2 engine and four-speed automatic found in sixth-generation Corvettes from 2005. Although the car is also reported to have some front suspension modifications, and it rides on Borbet wheels like those on his more notorious Ford-powered 960, the rest of the car remains factory Volvo.

The “Volvette” is a bit more toned down than his 960, for which he requested more aggressive suspension along with a T-5 manual transmission. Still, 400 horsepower is nothing to sneeze at, and though he was 81 when he received the V90 in 2007, Newman could still wheel a car—he finished fourth that year in the final race of his career. Unfortunately, Newman did not get to enjoy this wagon as he did the others—his health declined shortly after receiving it.

As presented, the car is not without cosmetic flaws, but similar issues did not keep Newman’s Buick-powered 740 from its dramatic sale price. The car is offered without reserve and RM estimates bids in the range of $20,000–$25,000. We’ll be watching to see if the Paul Newman premium creates a flurry of bids for this high-powered wagon. Bidding for all lots concludes on June 13.

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We like wagons here at Hagerty. Volvo wagons, it seems, in particular. Grace Houghton, Stefan Lombard, Eddy Eckart, and I all own longroof Volvos. However, we represent a devoted niche; true “estates” aren’t popular among mainstream U.S. buyers, who have instead flocked to crossovers and SUVs. The few longroofs that manufacturers do sell tend to be lifted up a bit and slapped with black cladding. Case in point: this 2023 Volvo V60 Cross Country.

Lest you confuse it with the XC60 crossover, the V60 is lower to the ground, wears a more traditional wagon design, and competes most directly with the Audi A4 Allroad. It was introduced for the 2020 model year as a variant of the second-generation Volvo S60 sedan, which means it shares that vehicle’s SPA (Scalable Product Architecture) platform and four-cylinder engine.

Grace reviewed this car in 2020, and she appreciated the combination of traditional form and high-end freshness. Volvo revised the V60 Cross Country for 2023, adding a new grille, new rear bumper trim, and standard Android software with Google Maps for the infotainment system.

Volvo simplified the trim choices and options across its 2023 lineup, leaving the V60 Cross Country with the Plus trim as standard and the Ultimate trim for $5300 more. For $55,395, this trim includes a Nappa leather interior with digital head-up display, ventilated front seats, adaptive cruise control, parking sensors, and a 360-degree camera.

The most significant change to the 2023 V60 Cross Country is a 48-volt hybrid system for its powertrain, represented by the “B5” nomenclature. Unlike Volvo’s Recharge models, there is no plug-in function here; a small electric motor functions as an integrated starter-generator, powered by kinetic energy recovered from braking. The gas powertrain remains a 2.0-liter, turbocharged four-cylinder mated to an eight-speed automatic transmission. Horsepower is down three ponies to 247 compared with the non-hybrid predecessor, but torque remains steady at 258 lb-ft.

Specs: 2023 Volvo V60 Cross Country B5 AWD

• Price: $55,395 / $63,585 (base / as-tested)
• Powertrain: 2.0-liter turbo-four; eight-speed automatic; 48-volt hybrid system with integrated starter generator motor
• Output: 247 hp @ 5400–5700 rpm,  258 lb-ft @ 1800–4800 rpm; 13-hp ISG electric motor
• Layout: Four-door, five-passenger, unibody wagon
• Weight: 4122 pounds
• EPA fuel economy: 23 mpg city /30 mpg highway, 26 mpg combined
• 0 to 60 mph: 6.6 seconds
• Rivals: Audi A4 Allroad, BMW X3, Mercedes-Benz GLC, Lexus NX, Infiniti QX55

Volvo calls the B5 a mild hybrid system, which is actually an understatement. In ordinary driving, we never once noticed the battery at work. The gas engine only deactivates as part of the stop-start system, leaving the 48-volt electric system to handle climate and accessory controls.

In one sense, that’s a victory. This is an easy car to drive, and it never reacts unexpectedly despite the technological advancement inside. The brakes are responsive, reassuring. Steering is light and artificial-feeling but precise. Ride is downright plush, even on the optional 20-inch wheels ($3200). Acceleration is not thrilling but brisk enough for easy highway merging, and the transmission programming does a great job keeping the engine primed for mid-range torque around town. The powertrain is also exceedingly quiet, such that it’s very possible to unintentionally double suburban speed limits without intending to.

On paper, however, it’s difficult to see how this hybrid powertrain really moves the needle at all. EPA ratings for city and combined mileage improve barely, by 1 mpg each, to 23 and 26 mpg. Highway mileage, however, drops 1 mpg, to 30 mpg. Performance from 0-to-60 mph suffers as well, dropping from 6.4 seconds with the outgoing T5 system to 6.6 seconds for this B5. Testers at Car and Driver, meanwhile, could only hit 60 mph in 7.1 seconds. The A4 Allroad does the deed in just 5.5 seconds.

In fairness, performance is not the intended focus of this V60 Cross Country. The wagon’s essential appeal is its combination of Scandinavian design and everyday practicality. In that respect, it’s a winner. So many individual elements add warmth and elegance to this cabin: plush blonde leather, light-colored wood accents, handsome brushed metal, and Volvo’s signature Orrefors crystal gear selector. A BMW X3 tells your neighbors you have money, but the inside of a V60 says you have taste.

These details are as endearing now as they were when we last reviewed the V60 Cross Country three years ago, but the infotainment technology is definitely behind the times. The gauge cluster is all-digital yet almost entirely fixed in its configuration. The infotainment screen is vertically oriented (a holdover from this car’s original Sensus system) but the software seems like it would be far more legible and navigable with a horizontal display. Other annoyances include a rattle from the top dashboard-mounted speaker (part of the $3200 Bowers & Wilkins upgrade) and a heated steering wheel (part of the $750 climate pack) that only heats portions of the rim.

None of these missteps are fundamental dealbreakers, especially because the V60 is such a niche item. If you want a reasonably sized luxury wagon (the V90 is considerably taller, longer, and wider), choices are limited. Perhaps in acknowledgment of this, Volvo doesn’t offer a front-drive or base trim (Core) variant of the Cross Country, as it does on the larger XC60 SUV. Still, even Volvo wagon cognoscenti like us can’t help but remark that the revisions for 2023 don’t seem to make the Cross Country any more compelling than it already is.

2023 Volvo V60 Cross Country B5 AWD

Highs: Gorgeous design inside and out. Hushed cabin. Smooth powertrain.

Lows: Unimpressive mileage for a hybrid. Fussy infotainment system. Stereo system sounds better in higher-end models, like the V90.

Takeaway: A niche player whose fans will love it, perhaps rightfully, in spite of its flaws.

***

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Who is cooler, Paul Newman or Rod Stewart?

It’s an out-of-left-field question, to be sure, but one the collector-car market was effectively asked to weigh in on last week, as cars formerly owned by each of them sold on Bring a Trailer. Stewart’s ride was a 1989 Lamborghini Countach 25th Anniversary. Newman’s was a modified 1988 Volvo 740 Turbo Wagon with a turbocharged 3.8-liter V-6.

Of course, the answer is entirely subjective. This being Insider, though, we do have a rubric from Hagerty Price Guide publisher Dave Kinney for guessing how much a celebrity will add to a car’s value. You can go read it, we’ll wait here.

Back? OK. Let’s run through it.

First, let’s discuss how famous these famous people really are. I happen to be a fan both—I’ve seen Cool Hand Luke multiple times and think Stewart’s cover of “Street Fighting Man” is better than the original—but would have to give Newman the nod here. When you’re talking about “household name,” it’s hard to do better than one that literally lives in peoples’ refrigerators and food pantries.

Both are “car guys.” Newman’s credentials hardly need to be stated: Four-time SCCA National Champion, co-owner of a successful racing team, star of multiple car-loving movies. Stewart, it must be noted, is no slouch—he’s owned many fabulous cars over the years, including more than one Lambo.

Where the Volvo really pulls away, however, is its condition. Were these normal sales, the Countach would be clearly superior, showing just 12K kilometers (roughly 7300 miles) and only minor signs of wear, in contrast with the Volvo’s 76K miles, clearly creased seats, and major drivetrain modification.

In this case, the mods and the wear attest to the attention the celebrity paid the car. The rich and famous can, after all, afford to buy lots of cars but, like everyone else, have only so much time. The Volvo clearly reflects the interest and personality of its owner; the Lambo does not.

Bidders seemed to agree with us. Both cars brought strong prices—the Lamborghini more at $555K, and the Volvo $84,777. Yet Stewart’s car is right around what the Hagerty Price Guide expects for a Silver Anniversary Countach in #2, or Excellent, condition.

Volvo’s 700-series cars are not in our price guide, yet even a cursory look at previous BaT sales indicates these are not $80K cars—somewhere between $10K and $20K would be more typical. (The Buick motor is, admittedly, a curve ball. Yet conventional wisdom holds that period-modifications generally do not add greatly to a car’s value.)

These results largely fall in line with what we observed with our 2022 Power List, which quantified the premium celebrities add. Stewart made a strong showing on the list, at number 10 for musicians. But Newman? Among movie stars, he was number one.

***

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Via Hagerty Insider 

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Remember when Ford made cars? Well, OK, technically it still makes A car: the Mustang. But in the 1960s, Ford mostly made cars, and people who bought Fords usually bought Ford cars, not Ford trucks. Never was heard a crossover word! But today, you’re out of luck. And if you want a modern interpretation of the classic Ford station wagon, your best bet is finding a late-model Flex. But in 1967, you were spoiled for choice. Not just in cars, per se, but even amongst Dearborn’s wagons.

Just sticking with Ford and Mercury (no Lincoln wagons then, or ever: the 1998 Navigator was the first Lincoln that was not a sedan, coupe or convertible) you could have full-size Country Sedans and Country Squires at Ford, and Colony Parks and Commuters over at Mercury.

Midsize? Same deal. You could try out a Comet Voyager (non-woody) or Comet Villager (woody), unless you suddenly decided to forget wagon shopping upon spying the all-new Cougar with its sleek lines and Schick razor grille!

And over at your local Ford dealer, you had your pick of several Fairlane station wagons. You could also get a Falcon station wagon.

Interestingly, the ’66 Falcon and Fairlane wagons shared bodies, so the Falcon wagon was basically a Fairlane from the windshield back. The midsize Fairlane had been totally restyled for the 1966 model year, so the ’67s only had minor paint and trim changes, but they were pretty sharp in any body style.

I particularly loved the stacked quad headlamps, first introduced on the ’65 full-size Fords. Of course, the two-door hardtop was the belle of the ball, especially in GT or GTA trim; they all looked good in my opinion.

Folks of a certain age will likely remember this vintage Fairlane from the Dragnet TV show of the late ’60s and the “plain Jane” champagne-colored, four-door sedan piloted by Sgt. Joe Friday and Officer Bill Gannon. Occasionally I’ve seen 1966–67 Fairlane 500 hardtops and convertibles at various cruise nights and car shows. But none of those ever stopped me in my tracks like this amazingly preserved Lime Gold metallic Squire did!

It was September 2021. My friend (and frequent column-photo provider) Jayson Coombes had flown up to the Midwest from Texas in order to join me in attending the Des Moines Concours d’Elegance. We had a fine time, and the day he arrived we went to The Cellar in downtown Geneseo, Illinois, a favorite supper club of mine that has changed little since its opening in 1960.

Geneseo is also home to the annual Trains, Planes, and Automobiles car show, actually held right in front of The Cellar and continuing through most of the downtown area. So that Saturday we were back in town checking out all the cars. And about halfway through we spied this amazing station wagon.

I really did stop in my tracks. Holy cow! I’d never seen a 1966–67 Fairlane Squire in person and up close. And what a fantastic, oh-so-1967 color! I was smitten.

But as I began frantically taking pictures (which wasn’t easy, as this is a popular event and there were spectators all over the place) it became even more impressive, as it was an original car with only 16K on the clock. Wow.

That was apparent the more I looked at it. Check out those seats! And remember, these wagons, even the fancy ones, were workhorses in the day, hauling kids to school, being loaded with luggage and driven to Florida or the Grand Canyon, or lugging sheets of plywood and bicycles from Sears. So finding something like this is pretty rare.

And as a result I took many, many pictures of it! I will walk past a line of 20 red Corvettes, ’57 Chevys, and faux-Shelby Mustangs to gawk at a car like this. It’s just so cool.

In 1967, Fairlane wagons came in Fairlane, Fairlane 500 and Fairlane 500 Squire trim levels. Fairlane 500s were the fancy trim level of course, with niceties such as a wide chrome side molding (except on Squires, where the Di-Noc wood paneling and fiberglass wood-look framing replaced it), color-keyed carpeting, and a choice of four nylon/vinyl interior trim combinations—or all-vinyl, as seen on our wagon here.

The Squire came only in the Fairlane 500 trim. With the six-cylinder engine it had a base price of $2902 (about $26,000 today) and a curb weight of 3217 pounds. The V-8 was naturally a little bit more, to the tune of $3007 ($27,000), and a bit heftier at 3386 pounds.

Part of the reason that I had never seen one until 2021 is that only 8348 Fairlane 500 Squires were built for the model year. And that is the grand total for both six-cylinder and V-8 models. So they didn’t exactly grow on trees.

When I first posted pictures of this car online, my friend Jim Smith, who was a kid when these were new, said, “Talk about a rare sight! Even as a kid I don’t remember seeing a wagon like this on the street.”

Part of the reason for that is in 1967 full-size wagons were still king. The fanciest full-size wagon, the Country Squire, sold 25,600 six passenger and 44,024 nine-passenger versions in ’67, and those were just the ones with the Di-Noc wood sides. When wagon shopping, room is key, and honestly the big Fords had a lot more of it.

Price could also have been another factor. The Fairlane 500 Squire, with a V-8 like this one, based at $3007 as previously mentioned. The Country Squire could be had for a base price of $3340—or $3234 if you were willing to settle for one with the six. Granted, $200–$300 bought a lot more then than it does now in 2023, but to get a bigger, more useful vehicle for a couple hundred more? Judging from the 1967 Ford wagon production records, it seems that most folks voted for the “big one” with their wallets.

I so love it. And if the car appears to be in a different location in some of the photos, that’s because it reappeared at the 2022 Geneseo show. Despite taking way too many pictures of it in 2021, I just couldn’t resist taking a few more!

***

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The various and sundry Buick Estate Wagons that existed between the 1950s and ’90s have always held a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? Well, it’s because they combine two of my favorite things: They’re part of the Broughamtastic cars produced by Detroit way back when. And they’re station wagons.

I love station wagons. I grew up with station wagons. I came home from the hospital in a station wagon. So, when I see any station wagon, I’m struck by nostalgia. True, Mom replaced her last Volvo 740GL wagon with a brand-new Dodge Grand Caravan ES in 1992, but by then I was in junior high. The wagons resonate more in my memory than the minivans.

So you combine Broughamage and “longroofs,” and you have exceedingly compelling Klockau material. And if you’re of a certain age, you will clearly remember Buick Estate Wagons, Custom Cruisers, Country Squires, and Colony Parks. Many of which were adorned with either genuine or Di-Noc wood side panels. But today’s example is wood-grain free!

It’s hard to believe, but this 1964 example was the last year you could get any type of full-size Buick wagon until 1970. Really.

You see1, starting in 965, the big Buick wagon went away (albeit temporarily), and in addition to the ever-present midsize Skylark wagon, there was now a Buick Sport Wagon. Which, while undoubtedly Skylark/Special-based, had a slightly stretched wheelbase and shared the roof-mounted windows of its corporate sibling, the Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser. Yes, you could cruise the vistas in a Buick too.

In this fashion, the Buick Sport Wagon became the “big” Buick wagon through 1969. If you wanted a premium GM fullsize wagon from 1965–69, you had to decide between a Caprice Estate and a Pontiac Bonneville or Executive Safari.

Because Olds lost its biggie wagon from 1965–69, as well. In fact, Olds didn’t offer a new fullsize wagon until 1971. But it was worth the wait.

Then in 1970, the fullsize Buick Wagon, in Estate Wagon trim (naturally), finally came back. And it remained in the lineup all the way through the Roadmaster Estate Wagon in 1996.

Which brings us to today’s featured station wagon, which your author went totally crazy for when he saw it. It was just gorgeous and loaded with options, including cornering lamps, roof rack, wire wheel covers, and all sorts of other goodies.

I never got a chance to speak with the owner, but I heard later from local friends that he added pretty much every factory option available when he restored it. Which made this car just dazzling! I’d never before seen a wagon of this vintage with cornering lamps; they were much more common on the flossier Electras and Rivieras.

And while it might be hard to tell in 2022, Buick was seventh in industry sales way back in 1964. Calendar-year production was, believe it or not 482,685 cars. That’s impressive considering average production of marques these days. But it was a different time, in so many ways.

Estate wagons were available in either two-seat or three-seat versions. The two-seat wagon started at $3554 ($34,166 today). It weighed in at 4352 pounds and 6517 were built.

But for those who needed to haul more even more people, the three-seat wagon was available for $3635 ($34,944).  A total of 4003 of those wagons were built for 1964 and were slightly heftier than the two-seat version at 4362 pounds.

Standard equipment was the Buick Wildcat 445 engine, so named due to its torque rating. Combined with the Super Turbine 400 transmission, which produced 325 horsepower at 440 rpm and 445 lb-ft of torque at 2800 rpm, it could haul you to the Grand Canyon or your kids to the local park for baseball practice.

But if you had a cabin cruiser to tow or maybe an Airstream trailer, you could get the optional Wildcat 465 V-8 engine with 425 cubic inches and a four-barrel carb, producing 340 horsepower.

But wait, there’s even more. The top engine option was the Super Wildcat with dual four barrel carbs, and it produced 360 horsepower! As the man said, you’d pass everything but a gas station. But don’t worry, gas was cheap in 1964.

This car was at the Joe Rizza Buick Cadillac car show held in the summer of 2017. It was the first car I really locked onto, wearing that sunny color combnation (Sunburst Yellow and Arctic White, per the 1964 Buick color chart), the bling of the wire wheel covers, and corenering lamps. Awooga!

It was a great show, and I was happy to meet my friend Jonny Valadez there, since he lived in the Chicago area. He brought his ’76 Mercedes 450SL out, and it was neat to see that car too, affectionately named Bobby after one of the characters of one of his favorite shows, Dallas.

We had a great time and took many pictures, but it was sort of bittersweet because it was the last time I saw Jon before he passed away in early 2018. I’m happy to share this Buick Estate Wagon because it brings back good memories of a friend who I’ll always remember.

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Of all the GM wagons made in the final full-size, B-body station wagon years, I think I loved the Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser the most. I mean, first of all, is that a cool name or what? “Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser.” Even if you didn’t even know what kind of a car was, you’d probably agree that is a most excellent name. And these final Olds wagons remained unerringly, unapologetically full sized to the very end in 1992. They even eclipsed their Eighty Eight brethren starting in 1986, establishing them as perhaps the Broughamiest Olds in the lineup.

Yes, the second round of downsizing hit the Oldsmobile full-size line in the mid-’80s. The first round, for those of you just joining us, was in 1977, when the trim, smaller on the outside yet bigger on the inside B-body GM sedans, coupes and wagons appeared on the scene. Round two started in 1985 when the top-of-the-line Ninety-Eight shrunk, along with its corporate cousins, the C-body Buick Electra and Cadillac de Ville/Fleetwood. They were also front-wheel drive, and unit-bodied. Not a rare format in 1986, but completely new to the Olds flagship, which had been proudly gigantic and full-framed for decades.

The Eighty Eight got the same treatment in 1986. So now all of the big Oldses were front-wheel drive, V-6-only and unit-bodied. What was a full-sized car lover to do? Buy the wagon! Yes, the Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser was the last big Olds standing with Rocket V-8 power. As good as the 3800 V-6 in the new 88s and 98s were, the Oldsmobile Rocket V-8 was a lovely engine. Ever heard one run? They sound great! A soothing blub blub blub blub sound, not unlike a ’50s Chris-Craft speedboat.

From 1980 to 1985, the Custom Cruiser shared its grille with its Delta 88 brethren. Which made sense, as it was a part of the 88 line. But that was clearly impossible with the 1986 and up Delta 88s being a completely different body. So the 1981 Ninety-Eight grille (seen above) was dusted off and applied to ’86 Custom Cruisers to differentiate it from the ’85 models. The same trick was pulled in 1987, only this time the Custom Cruiser got the 1982 Ninety-Eight grille. At this point GM decided it no longer needed to change the grille on its luxury wagon, so all 1987-90 Custom Cruisers retained the ’82 grille.

And so it was that the Custom Cruiser entered the 1988 model year, looking very much as it had since 1980, when the 1977-vintage B-bodies got an aerodynamic facelift for a better coefficient of drag and corresponding fuel economy. As had been the case since 1980, ’88 Custom Cruisers, with internal model designation P35 and retailing for $15,655, rode upon a 115.9-inch wheelbase with a curb weight of 4,136 pounds.

Although the Custom Cruiser was prominently featured with the woodgrained vinyl applique on the sides, the wagon was also available without it. Although going from memory, most of these cars had the Di-Noc trim, whether Caprice, Parisienne, Custom Cruiser or Electra/LeSabre Estate Wagon.

I do remember one clean-sided Custom Cruiser from my youth, however. Our next door neighbors back in the ’80s were the Ohlweilers. Their daughter and son-in-law were big fans of Oldsmobile. Jeannie, who was frequently over at the house, had a beige 1984 Cutlass Cruiser that I remember very well. But every once in a while they would arrive in their other car, which was a brown Custom Cruiser without the wood sides.

I do not recall the exact year of that wagon, but it was definitely a pre-1986 model. The grilles on these cars changed every year until 1988, but from my somewhat hazy memory, I believe it was a 1982. It also had those rather plain stainless steel “aero” wheel discs that debuted in 1980.

As I was approximately in first or second grade at the time, I don’t remember much else about it, other than the fact that it seemed a LOT bigger than Jeannie’s Cutlass wagon and my parents’ Volvo 240 wagons! Total production for the Custom Cruiser in 1988 was 11,114 units. All were powered by the famous Oldsmobile Rocket V-8, which by the 1980s displaced 307 cubic inches. It had a bore of 3.80, a stroke of 3.39, and produced 140 bhp in ’88.

That year only two Oldsmobiles were available with it, the Custom Cruiser of course, and optionally it was available in the RWD Cutlass Supreme Classic, in its final year. The ’88 Cutlass Supreme Classic was the former 1987 Cutlass Supreme, as the “regular” ’88 CS was all-new, V-6 powered and front-wheel drive. But the earlier (and much classier, in my opinion) full-framed Cutlass coupe appeared alongside its replacement for one last bow.

Starting in 1989, the 307 was solely available in the big Olds wagon. The MSRP edged upward to $16,795. At the same time production went below 10,000 for the first time, to the tune of 8,929 wagons.

I spotted the featured 1988 example in what I believe is Dark Garnet Red back in July of 2016. It was sitting at a long-standing used car lot in downtown Davenport, where I frequently encounter interesting older models.

Just to give an example, over the past 10 years I’ve seen a mint ’81 Silverado in two-tone blue and white, a metallic tan 1980 Sedan de Ville, a metallic mocha 1991 Cadillac Brougham and a fantastic triple jade green 1975 Lincoln Continental Town Car.

May I digress for just a moment? Those seats! WOW! Now, where was I?

This wagon was a local from new. Campbell Oldsmobile used to be in downtown Rock Island, at least until the early 1990s. Later on it became the new home for Lundahl Volvo when they moved from Moline in 1995. I took my Volvos there for service regularly until Mike Lundahl sold the franchise and dealership to McLaughlin Cadillac circa 2006.

This wagon was identified as a one-owner car on the windshield, and I believed it. It was not mint, but very nice. All the trim was there, it had the required whitewall tires and all four factory wire wheel covers, and even the hood ornament was still in residence. The worst of it was a cracked passenger side reflector/side marker light and crumbling bumper rub strips.

The interior was equally nice, with unworn upholstery, decent carpet and the factory GM radio still installed.

This type of vehicle was all about comfort. Comfort and utility. While you were piloting your burgundy cloth Barcolounger around town, you could be carrying two weeks’ worth of groceries, anywhere from one to seven kids, an Airstream trailer, or your brand-new pontoon boat. These were the last of the full-frame, V-8 domestic station wagons, and thus were nearly in perfect form.

True, they only had 140 horsepower, but it was still a V-8 dagnabit, and that meant torque! Plenty of lovely, ever-present torque to haul whatever you wanted wherever you wanted. Buy a car like this, and you could be Clark Griswold.

Here is more proof that the burgundy ’88 was a one-owner car. The window sticker was still present and on display! It was rated at 17 mpg city and 24 mpg highway. Same as my Town Car, now that I think of it. It was an overcast day and the sticker is not easy to read as a result, but some of the options on this car included a power antenna, pulse wipers, cruise control, a tilt steering wheel, and a luggage rack with an integrated air deflector.

Total price was $17,580. Not a bad deal in 1988. My father got a new company car that year, a Volvo 740 Turbo Sedan, and I recall the price on that one was in the neighborhood of $25,000.

The final year for this style of Custom Cruiser, with chrome wire wheel covers and sheer rectangular styling was in 1990. The price was up again, this time to $17,595. Sales were much lower, with only 3890 built. But recall 1990 was when SUV mania really started ramping up, with the four-door S10 Blazer and S15 Jimmy being introduced, along with the four-door Bronco II, renamed Explorer, as you all know.

The minivans had been going great guns since the Caravan/Voyager duo came on the scene in 1984, but the SUVs made it a one-two punch that spelled the end of the traditional station wagon. In 1990 you could get a big wagon from Ford, Mercury, Chevy, Oldsmobile and Buick.

GM gave it one last try, and along with its aero-styled Caprice and Roadmaster sedans, new, sleek wagons were also back in the lineup. Even the Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser was back, against all odds, but only as a wagon; there was no corresponding Roadmaster-like Ninety-Eight Brougham sedan. But the Olds wagon was clearly lacking in the sales department, as it only lasted through 1992, while the Buick and Chevrolet wagons would make it to the end of the B-body’s existence in 1996. Too bad, the Olds was my favorite.

It may have been basically a Caprice Estate with different seats, wheels and grille, but for whatever reason, I still found it compelling. Maybe because I clearly remember eyeballing one at the 1991 Chicago Auto Show as an even then Brougham-obsessed 11 year old. At any rate, the big traditional wagon has now been gone for twenty-six years, thanks to people wanting to drive bar stool-height crossovers with looks that can stop a clock or crack a mirror. Oh well, life goes on, people change, tastes change, and technology advances. But I still love these Olds wagons.

One final word: Special thanks to pal Jayson Coombes for photographing the showroom new 1986 Custom Cruiser featured alongside the black cherry ’88. It was resplendent in Light Chestnut Metallic at the recent Oldsmobile Club of America meet in Murfreesboro, Tennessee on July 8th. His pictures made for a much better cover photo than those I took of the other car on a rainy weekend. Thank you, sir!

The post 1986–1992 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser: All hail the traditional American station wagon! appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Technically, GM Styling designed the original 1964 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser, but World War II most likely spawned its success. That’s because in the postwar years, Americans were busy doing two things: building families and engaging in outdoor recreation. Conceivably inspired by GM design chief Harley Earl’s 1945 Astra Liner railroad car and industrial designer Raymond Loewy’s 1954 Greyhound Scenicruiser bus, at its launch, the Vista Cruiser instantly became an all-American family all-star.

“We designed the Caprice in Chevrolet Two Studio, and Oldsmobile Studio sent a designer and a couple of sculptors in to master the Vista Cruiser on the right side of our model,” explains former GM designer Dick Ruzzin. Tinted “Vista-Roof” windows, check. Cavernous interior space with available three-row seating, check. A unique My Three Sons–era lifestyle statement, check.

Based on GM’s new intermediate A-body platform, the original 1964 Vista Cruiser had a 120-inch wheelbase and was a distinct model above the division’s standard F-85 wagon, which was 5 inches shorter. The second-generation Vista Cruiser, which ran from the 1968 to 1972 model years, rode on an even lankier 121-inch wheelbase. With it came the technologically marvelous Drop-or-Swing tailgate. Sun visors allowed passengers under the roof glass to escape direct rays in the second-row seats.

Soon enough, midcycle exterior and interior facelifts pushed the Vista Cruiser into the 1970 model year. Changes included a more aggressive grille and fender lines and a more elegant (if you like woodgrain) instrument-panel design. The feature list for the Vista Cruiser remained plentiful, including a rooftop luggage carrier, woodgrain-vinyl body siding, six different wheel-cover options, and such paint colors as garnet, Willow Gold, and teal. Interior features included burl-grained appliqués, “limousine-thick carpeting,” air conditioning, and a signal-seeking radio—with a Reverbatone speaker.

The second-generation Vista Cruiser arrived just as Motown was in the middle of the historic horsepower wars, a party that lasted another few years, until emissions regs shut it down. As such, the Vista Cruiser gained more Rocket V-8 choices, first starting with the 310-hp, 350-cubic-inch version and working up to the 400-cubic-inch big-block borrowed from the 442; for 1970–72, this was replaced by a mighty 365-hp, 455-cubic-incher. Four transmissions were available, including the two-speed Jetaway automatic, a three-speed Turbo-Hydramatic, and a rarely selected choice of three-speed column-shift or four-speed floor-shift manuals.

By coincidence, the Vista Cruiser’s apogee traced that of the 4-4-2, a terrific model name coined to identify Oldsmobile’s four-barrel carb, four-speed gearbox, and dual-exhaust Cutlass. Olds never offered a 4-4-2 version or the division’s high-performance W-30 package for the Vista Cruiser, which would have been epic.

In 1973, a third-generation Vista Cruiser—minus the trademark Vista-Roof windows due to strict new rollover safety standards—debuted, but it just wasn’t the same. It’s too bad Harley Earl’s vision didn’t last. Because now, a half-century later, awash in a sea of plastic-fascia, cookie-cutter CUVs, we actually need the Vista Cruiser like Gotham needs Batman. Somebody please flash on the klieg light—with a Vista Cruiser symbol dancing in the clouds.

1968 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser

Engine: 350-cubic-inch V-8
Power: 310 hp @ 4800 rpm
Torque: 390 lb-ft @ 3200 rpm
Weight: 4138 lb
0–60 mph: 8.2 sec
Cargo space: 100.5 cubic feet
Price when new: $3485
Hagerty #3-condition value: $14,080

The post Hasta la Vista, Baby! Oldsmobile’s Vista Cruiser defined family recreation for a generation appeared first on Hagerty Media.

There’s a short-lived sitcom called Woops! in which the main character lives through a nuclear holocaust and has to settle into a post-apocalypse existence. “How did you survive the missiles?” someone asks. His reply: “I was in a Volvo.” That show ran back in 1992, when Volvo was still pumping 240s out of its plant in Torslanda, Sweden, so even 30 years ago it was common knowledge that these were bulletproof cars built to last.

And since Volvo built well over 2 million 200-series cars, many are still on the road doing grocery store duty. They’ve never been rare. They’ve generally been affordable, too, with prices rarely straying far from the $5000 mark. But today even the newest 200-series Volvos qualify for historic plates and really nice ones are getting harder to find. Is it time to start viewing them as collector cars, or at least as classics? With an exceptionally clean one sold this week for an astounding $36,750 on Bring a Trailer and buyer interest on the rise (particularly among the market’s youngest buyers), maybe it is. But not for the usual reasons a car becomes collectible.

Although it may not have starred in many chase scenes or featured on many bedroom posters, the 240 made Volvo’s reputation for durability with cheeky advertisements and a product that both ran like a top and was one of the safest thing on four wheels. Designer Jan Wilgaard’s famous “brick” shape is bland and functional but also instantly recognizable—even a bit beautiful in that minimalist, Scandinavian kind of way. While not a sexy car, it’s reliable, a bit eccentric, and completely unpretentious. All part of the charm.

Back before crossovers ruled the roads, Volvos (especially wagons) were also a family-car favorite. Plenty of car guys of a certain age (author included) fondly remember the soccer practice runs in the back of a five-door 240. And as we all know, nostalgia is a powerful force when it comes to old cars.

Which brings us to this squeaky-clean Swede and its big result. The beige-over-brown brick that had us spitting out our coffee this week is a 240 DL from 1987, fairly late in the 200-series’ 1974 to 1993 production run. It’s equipped with a four-speed automatic (a five-speed manual was available and typically commands a premium), and under the hood is the understressed and unburstable lump that is Volvo’s B230 four-cylinder. Nothing too crazy about the specs, then. What makes this car special is the condition.

Sold new in Oregon, it shows just 60,458 miles, which are represented as actual. While a Ferrari owner might start to sweat at such an odometer reading, 60K on this car is unicorn-level low. You can still advertise a 240 with under 200K as “low miles,” and even a 240 with 100,000 miles is “barely broken in.” Volvo owners just love to make that joke.

Just as impressive as the mileage is the car’s clean original paint, complemented by an equally clean engine bay and undercarriage. It has some minor nicks and scuffs, but show me a 60,000-mile car that doesn’t. Then there’s the interior. The heated seats still work, as does the factory radio, and the plastic trim is almost all excellent. Cracked dashboard tops are almost universal on Volvos of this era, but there’s not a fissure to be found on this one. The selling dealer, who found the car earlier this year, also recently did the timing belt, some brake work, and a taillight wiring harness. The tires have 2021 date codes, and are wrapped around the original hub caps.

Since bidding quickly shot up to 20 grand with several days to go, we knew this was going to be a pricey car right away. But at $36,750, this Volvo is the most expensive 240 we’ve seen. It sold for about twice its condition #1 (Concours, or best-in-the-world) value in the Hagerty Price Guide and nearly two-and-a-half times its original MSRP (not adjusted for inflation). When we chatted with the seller (who uses proceeds from his sales to fund clean and sober housing, by the way), he wasn’t surprised that it blew past 30 grand, and credited both the low miles and the famous Bring a Trailer premium for this result. No stranger to clean Volvos, he has also sold a five-speed 240 sedan for $16,275 and a four-speed 242 Turbo for $17,850 on the same online platform.

Yes, $36,750 is a ton of money, and gone are the days when any boxy Volvo was cheap, four-figure wheels. But one sale doesn’t make the market. Scruffier 240s are still all over Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace with four-figure asking prices, and even with all the craziness in the car market over the course of 2021, and average insurance quote value for a Volvo 240 in Hagerty’s insurance data was still just $5000. Relax, religiously frugal Volvo lovers: $30,000 wagons are not the new normal.

The post At $36,750, is this beautiful beige brick a breakout Volvo? appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Welcome to What If? Quick Take, a new feature from imaginative illustrator Abimelec Arellano and Hagerty. While the cars shown in our regular What If? features are full 3D renderings and can appear in any number of images, the Quick Takes are off-the-cuff expressions of Abimelec’s imagination. Each one is accompanied by a short story. Enjoy! — Jack Baruth

Althea saw the shadows of the two young men swell on the ground between her and the driver’s door just slightly before she heard the slap of their Air Force Ones on the pavement. My hearing aids need a battery or two, she thought, turning to face them just as they came within arm’s reach. One short, one tall, neither old enough to vote.

“Give us that purse, old lady, or we’ll take it!” They’re not even armed, she thought. Look at what I’ve become: an old lady who can be robbed with bare hands. She screamed long and loud, an ancient keening that caused the boys to flinch but didn’t back them up. Alright, then. Plan B. Folding over and clutching her purse, she wailed,

“Help! Someone call an ambulance!” From a pocket inside the back of her deliberately frumpy old-lady purse she drew a Glock 43 with her right hand, then straightened up and shot the tall boy right between the eyes. “But not for me,” she clarified, as the shorter one turned to run. The ringing in her ears wasn’t as bad as she’d feared: Oh, yes, it’s definitely time to get some batteries. Yet she heard the sodden thump of the boy’s body hitting the ground, his face frozen in a permanent rictus of authentic surprise.

Such a waste. Just another young man dead. And for no reason. But there was no time to think about that now. If she knew this neighborhood, the same nosy people who had mysteriously been absent during the approach of her would-be muggers would come out of the woodwork now. Replacing the Glock in her purse pocket, she bent over to unlock the door of her Mercury wagon.

Her hands were shaking. She was getting old.

Seventy-one years next month, as a matter of fact. And in a world that made any sense at all, Althea would have long since retired from the game. Indeed, she had retired, back in the early Nineties as crack swept the demand for powder cocaine off the streets where she’d made her reputation years before, in the cash-flush party scene of the Reagan Recovery. In the disco era she’d been a user the same as everyone else, but Althea was always a bit smarter than everyone around her and she could see that this was one business where a relatively poor young woman could get rich quick. Which she had done, stacking cash by the briefcase loads supplying parties from Atlanta as far north as Charlotte. Over the course of twelve years, she’d never gotten caught. A few of her people had been snagged, and she paid them to stay quiet. The criminal penalties weren’t so bad then. Cops could be bought and even if they couldn’t, the laws weren’t designed to stop the party.

The IRS, on the other hand, had caught on quick. Althea had arrived in 1992 with some outrageous financials: close to $1.96 million in cash scattered throughout her home and the home of her family. She could dine out every night, wear couture, buy the kind of jewelry that had inhabited her childhood dreams of the Rat Pack and the glamorous life. But she couldn’t buy anything real. Couldn’t acquire property, couldn’t purchase investment instruments. She had a hair salon that could launder a hundred grand a year, tops. That was the limit of her reach. The system was designed to make sure she couldn’t join the upper crust, those people whose systems of crime and theft were infinitely more complex, and often far more harmful, than her simple hustle.

She really couldn’t even drive a nice car; it would attract too much attention. So when she’d turned the business over to her two nephews in ninety-two, she’d searched for the most luxurious vehicle that wouldn’t raise the eyebrows of the police or the tax cops. Mercedes-Benz and BMW had been out of the question. At the Lincoln dealership, a clued-in young man who had run packages for her a decade previously said, “Miss Althea, you don’t want the heat from driving a Town Car or a Mark. But they have a new car that is basically a Town Car, it’s the latest Grand Marquis, and if you get it as a Colony Park LS you won’t look like nothing but someone’s grandma.”

“I’m forty-two years old,” Althea snapped, “I’m nobody’s grandma.” But she saw the sense of the idea. With tax and title, it came out to just over twenty-four thousand dollars. She made four wire transfers: three for one-third each of the price, to stay beneath the ten-thousand-dollar reporting requirement, and one more for five thousand dollars to the F&I manager who would make it all look right.

The salesman hadn’t lied. The big Mercury rode and drove just like the Continentals she remembered from her youth, but nobody gave her a second look as she drove to the salon, to see family, to church. It didn’t need much maintenance. The leather grew shiny and wore thin; a nice young Hispanic man in the neighborhood re-covered the seats with merino wool. There was something about the spark plugs, but that wasn’t expensive to address.

After September 11, 2001, Althea was seized by an odd sense of regret: she’d never seen much of the country. Hadn’t really been anywhere except for the South and New York, the latter just for business. So she pointed the Colony Park wagon west, spinning the odometer past the 100,000 mark in Amarillo, Texas and not coming home until eight months and thirteen thousand miles later. Another local shop fixed the rust and repainted the body.

Her nephews, who never lost their sense of gratitude even as they became wealthy and profoundly dangerous men, kept trying to buy her cars. Sleek Mercedes convertibles, Lexus coupes that looked like startled frogs. At one point the younger one brought over something called an Azure, a stocky boat of a car that reminded her of a library reading room. “Aunt Althea, they can’t touch us, we have our hands on every lever in the South now. Drive something nice, you’ve earned it.”

“Let me tell you something,” she would always reply. “I never got caught. Repeat that. I never got caught. And if you want to retire with my admirable record, this … Azure … is not the ticket for that particular ride.” They’d laugh and take the cars back where they came from, but it didn’t stop them from expressing their own wealth in flabbergasting fashion. Rolls-Royces. Showcase homes. One of her customers at the salon brought her an Atlanta Magazine that had a whole feature on the interior design of one house. They called her nephew a “philanthropist and businessman.”

Well, the philanthropist and businessman was currently sitting in a Federal holding cell, probably next to the one occupied by his brother. The Feds had found a lockup with what Althea derisively called “the full Escobar”: three Hellcats, two crates of ex-National-Guard M16A2 rifles, and over eight thousand bricks of heroin. Then they had waited for the nephews to check up on their property, which they’d been stupid enough to do together.

A dour, jowly attorney named Levy had told Althea the bad news: unless the mother of all legal defenses could be laid on, they’d finish out their lives in prison. With enough legwork, enough lobbying, a series of $200-an-hour private investigators to cast doubts on each of the Feds involved? “I could see a ten-year plea deal,” Levy chirped, smoothing out the creases in a five-thousand-dollar briefcase. “Get them home before their fiftieth birthdays. And I know this judge. I think we could have them out on bail for a few months. Let them see their families. That can help, when you know you have a long time inside ahead of you.”

“And this costs …” Althea had just over a million dollars left.

“Bail is set at two million, cash. That’s each. I’ll need a $500,000 retainer by the end of the week, against a final bill that will likely be five or six times that. None of this should be a problem; your nephews should be sitting on that much spare change in their sofas.” But, as it turns out, they weren’t; the eight thousand bricks were just part of a much larger deal they’d set up and prepaid. They were expecting the arrival of five hundred kilograms at a ratty Florida boat dock in two weeks. Even assuming there was a fair amount of cut in the mix, that was over one hundred and fifty million dollars on the street; fifty million dollars at the dealer level.

But someone had to go get it. And the heat was on everyone, every associate. The Feds were watching for just this kind of breakout maneuver. Two days after their first meeting, Levy gave her an address. “It’s here. Or it will be, anyway. Have someone you trust pick it up.”

“As Anita Baker once said,” Althea responded, “I say if it’s going to be done, let’s do it. Let’s not put it in the hands of fate. Let’s not put it in the hands of someone who doesn’t know me.”

“What’s that mean?” Levy asked.

“It means I’ll do it,” Althea said, and she rose to leave. That was a week ago. She’d driven the old Colony Park down. A man on the boat, some Cuban-looking fellow, had been skeptical.

“Lady, this here is five hundred keeeelo-grams. You know keelo-gram? It is two pounds and more. You think you can put a thousand pounds and more into this old car?”

“One way to find out,” Althea had responded. In the end, it had proven best to fill the footwells and rear seats first, then layer the remaining packages three deep in the cargo area. Althea covered it with a sheet, then scattered some detritus she’d bought at a roadside flea market on top: tacky childrens’ toys, cheap clothing, dozens of vinyl albums. The Mercury was sluggish in the throttle, worryingly reluctant about shedding speed before a stop sign, and rode nose up on the freeway like JFK’s famous PT-109. But it attracted no attention.

Or at least it hadn’t, until she’d gotten within fifty blocks of her destination stash house and had been set upon by this pair of two-bit crooks on her way back out to the car from the convenience store. Stupid, lazy! she chastised herself. But she’d rubbed the skin on her hands raw during the long drive and had just wanted some lotion to deal with it. She never thought she would get this old, never thought she would have this paper-like skin, these ears that couldn’t hear anything, eyes that ran with rheum and fog. And shoulders that didn’t feel broad enough to carry this final load, this business of distributing and collecting on her nephews’ salvation.

It’s nearly over, she told herself, as she motored slowly away from the curb, the boy’s dead body awkwardly crumpled on the sidewalk. But five minutes later she saw flashing lights in her mirror. Slowly, like the old lady she resembled and resented, she pulled over. Got her license out. Put the Glock muzzle down in the crease next to the seatbelt buckle.

The cop coming up was old, white, fat, huffing a bit with the effort of it all. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but we had reports of a Mercury wagon in the vicinity of a crime scene and just wanted to see if you had observed anything… Althea? Is that you?” Just her luck. It was Wilkins, a corrupt viper of a man who had put his kids through school on Althea’s payroll thirty-five years ago.

“Well, yes, Wilkins, it is clearly me. How nice to see you. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about any crime. I’m just going over to see some family.” Wilkins wheezed for a long moment, pondering his options.

“Althea, what’s under all that junk?”

“More junk.” Her heart was pounding. Slowly, with the imperceptible progress of a spider seen intermittently in the glare of headlamps through a bedroom window, she was reaching for the Glock.

“Do you suppose you should open up the tailgate and let me have a look?” Althea took a breath. There was one last option before the worst one.

“Wilkins … give me a number.” The cop closed his eyes, wheezed, thought.

“Five hundred large.” Thank God. She’d have that in a week. Wilkins wheezed again. “Now. I follow you to your house. You pay me now. Then you continue your … errand.” This was a problem. She’d cashed out for Levy’s retainer.

“Honey, I could give you a hundred today,” she replied, hating the sound of age in her voice that felt like it was taking a hammer to her powers of persuasion. “Or I could give you five hundred next week. What’s it going to be?”

“I think,” Wilkins replied, “you’d better open that tailgate.” Althea sighed. Then she laughed. “What’s so funny?” Wilkins snapped.

“I was thinking about this song I keep hearing,” Althea chuckled. “It goes, ‘Baby I’m a gangster, too.’ Everybody’s a gangster, or thinks they are. Even you, honey. But it’s not going to go down like that. I’m afraid it’s time for Plan B.”

Wilkins was fast, for an old man.

Althea was faster.

The post What If? Quick Take: 1992 Mercury Grand Marquis Colony Park appeared first on Hagerty Media.

By the mid-1950s, performance and dynamic design had become the thing in American cars, and Pontiacs were deemed too conservative. After years of disappointing sales, General Motors considered dissolving the brand into Oldsmobile. Instead, in a stroke of genius, GM president Harlow Curtice appointed 43-year-old Semon E. “Bunkie” Knudsen, the youngest general manager in the corporation’s history. Knudsen would revolutionize Pontiac with power and style, shooting it up the sales charts in just a few years.

Even 65 years later, there’s nothing conservative about mid-’50s Pontiacs—those big, proud, optimistic machines dressed in as much chrome as paint, with elaborate grilles and rocket-inspired taillights. They were exclusively powered by Pontiac’s first V-8, the Strato-Streak. Even the base Chieftain models, the 860 and 870, got the 173-hp overhead-valve 287-cubic-inch mill with a two-barrel carburetor and 7.4:1 compression. Buyers had a choice between GM’s Hydra-Matic and a column-shift three-speed manual. Power steering, power brakes, and air conditioning were options.

The Chieftain got even stronger in 1956. The two-door sedan, four-door sedan, and four-door wagon were joined by a sexy four-door hardtop called the Catalina. Pontiac bored out the engine to 317 cubic inches and bumped the compression ratio up to 7.9:1, increasing output to 205 hp. It improved the Hydra-Matic, now called the Strato-Flight, and beefed up the synchromesh manual. “The added acceleration is felt mostly in the upper speed ranges, or highway speeds,” Motor Trend wrote. But 0–60 performance also improved radically, down from 13.8 seconds to an impressive 11.4. According to MT, “Acceleration is smooth and rapid enough for anyone not bent on qualifying for pole position at Indianapolis.”

New shock valving, steering knuckles, and full-length rear leaf spring retainers improved the Chieftain’s ride and handling. Its styling was revised slightly, too. Chief Pontiac was no longer on the hood, replaced by a jet-inspired ornament, and its grille and front bumper got more angular.

A year later, a major restyle brought larger fins and more confidence. The new space-age “Star Flight” design included a rocket spear running down the side of the car. The grille, though still a huge hunk of chrome, was cleaner, and all Pontiacs lost the phony scoops above their headlights, as well as their traditional Silver Streaks, which ran down the hoods and trunks. Knudsen said the chrome strips looked like an old man’s suspenders and ordered them removed mere weeks before production began.

Knudsen also added more power. The V-8 now had a longer stroke and was up to 347 cubic inches. In the Chieftain, it was pumping out 252 horsepower—still with a two-barrel carburetor, which was more output than Chevy’s 283 with a four-barrel. Triple two-barrel (Tri-Power) setups bumped output to 317 horsepower.

Tri-Five Chevys will always be doo-wop cool, but for a fraction of the cost, a contemporary Pontiac Chieftain will turn just as many heads. Prices have been flat for a decade, and values are far more dependent on body style than anything else, with two-door models and wagons bringing more than the four-door sedans. See you at the hop.

1956 Pontiac Chieftain Wagon

Engine: 317-cid V-8
Power: 205 hp @ 4400 rpm
Torque: 297 lb-ft @ 2400 rpm
Weight: 3800 lb
0–60 mph: 11.4 sec
Price when new: $2648
Hagerty #3-condition value: $16,000–$23,000

The post With standard V-8 power, a mid-’50s Pontiac is the affordable alternative to its Chevy siblings appeared first on Hagerty Media.

All it takes is one trip to Speed Week to get Salt Fever. The longing to go back and race can take root and grow, absent any additional tending. For Greg Friedrich, who raced this 1960 Plymouth wagon on the salt for the first time at Speed Week in 2021, one trip about 20 years ago was enough. The stars eventually aligned to guide him back to Bonneville.

Friedrich, a native Minnesotan, had moved to California in the early 2000s. From his new home, a trip out to the salt at the Nevada/Utah border wasn’t that far, so he took advantage of his proximity to finally get out the land speed racing venue. Taking in the view and the sounds of the Bonneville staging lanes on his inaugural Speed Week, Friedrich noticed a ’34 Ford with something a bit strange mounted on the back. It was a license plate—not a common sight in the land of streamliners and lakesters. Even more interesting to Friedrich, the plate was from Minnesota. Friedrich introduced himself to the car’s owner, Tom Conlan, and learned that Conlan had driven the car to the salt, a 1400-mile pilgrimage. Conlan’s goal? Run in excess of 200 mph and then drive the car home.

After a few years living in California, Friedrich moved back to Minnesota where he started his own custom car building and fabrication shop called Gizmos. It wasn’t long before he had a new customer: Conlan. The two worked together on a few projects and really got along, so much so that Conlan asked Friedrich to take on the ’34 Ford race program. The two men did their best to get the ancient Henry Ford steel to eclipse 200 mph, but the unchopped windshield proved to be quite a burden, even when powered by a 572-cubic-inch Hemi. “Trying to push so much air, that thing didn’t want to go above 190,” Friedrich said.

Sadly, Conlan passed away in 2017, but his love of racing had been fully instilled in Friedrich, who decided that he need to build a race car of his own. Like the ’34, it needed to be street-driven. The unlikely vehicle Friedrich chose for his new project was a 1960 Plymouth wagon. He’d purchased the longroof while he was living in California and had intended to turn it into a hot rod, but at the time he didn’t think it would ever evolve into something like this.

Starting with the four-door wagon, Friedrich and his crew at Gizmos chopped the top three inches and converted it into a two-door. That involved a lot of welding and shaping on the quarter panel as well as lengthening the front doors by about eight inches. The overall wheelbase stayed the same. There are a lot of custom touches that a Mopar lover will recognize, including moving the headlights up inboard just a bit. The entire front end is one piece, which required quite a bit of fabrication, some of which was necessary for cleaning up the aerodynamics flowing down the side of the car. There’s also a custom grille and the front bumpers now integrate with a front splitter. Underneath is a custom belly pan and rear diffuser to help reduce drag and lift.

For an extreme build such as, Friedrich had to decide early whether it would be, “a street car that can race, or a race car that’s streetable.” He chose the latter, which meant that the car would lack a lot of everyday comforts, but with safety as a priority, there would need to be some sacrifices.

You’ve surely noticed that cage by now, evidence of the lengths to which this team prioritizes keeping Friedrich in one piece. The whole chassis was built from chromoly tubing and the extensive cage was meant to pass the stringent tech inspectors at Bonneville. The crew at Gizmos worked on the wagon for about two and a half years, which is a rather short build timeline considering that it was often behind on the to-do list in favor of paying customers’ projects. Still, Gizmos handled the bulk of the build aside from the engine and the paintwork. They got the car to Bonneville in time, but plans changed a bit and this year it made the trip on a trailer.

Wheeler Racing engines built the 528-cubic-inch fuel-injected Hemi. It uses Mopar cylinder heads and a Hogan sheet metal intake. Friedrich had wanted to build his own intake, but Hogan is proven to make power and was also able to whip one up and ship it out in less than two weeks as Bonneville was quickly approaching. The engine runs an AEM Infiniti ECU and produces about 800 horsepower on pump gas in a package that’s tame enough for the street. “It’s a safe engine that’s not living on the edge, Friedrich said. “It’s more than I need for what I want to do with the car. We kind of tuned it down a bit. We can always turn it up.”

So how did the big mill cut it on the car’s inaugural Speed Week? “It went really well. The car had little to no issues at all,” Friedrich reported. “My goal this year was to make it down the track.” The first hurdle, of course, was passing tech inspection. Inspectors want participants to race, but they need them to be safe. As such, new cars get an extra level of scrutiny. Typically new cars get two inspectors to do a thorough inspection, but Friedrich’s car was such a spectacle that it had five inspectors milling around checking it out. “They had zero issues with the car, so that was great. It’s nice to see that our hard work and research paid off.”

The car’s first pass was purely a shakedown run, and Friedrich wanted to hit 125 mph, which the car did without issue. At that point, he needed to establish a new goal. “I decided that if we could go 140 during Speed Week, I’d be pretty happy with that.” Back in the pits, the Gizmos team went over the car and everything seemed to be working as it should and Friedrich was pleased with the way the car had handled. Two more runs proved to be more of the same, with Friedrich pushing just a bit faster each time, making sure that the car felt right with the increasing aerodynamic loads. On the team’s fourth and final run of Speed Week 2021, Friedrich clocked 151.909 mph on the first timed mile and got it past 160 for a bit. “I held that for about a half-mile. That was at 4200 rpm. Then I pulled the chutes. I was happy. I was ready to go home.” Indeed, the speed over the next quarter mile backed up what Friedrich’s math told him: 160.615 mph. And that was at just 30-percent throttle.

The chopped wagon competes in the Competition Coupe class due to its body mods, which means the AA engine record Friedrich is running against is 293.857 mph, which isn’t even on his radar. “I liked the idea of building a street car, driving it out to Speed Week, and running 200 miles per hour.” Friedrich and the team of fabricators at Gizmos learned a lot about the car in its first Speed Week, and it performed well, with an extensive nut-and-bolt check of the car when it returned home showing only a shredded alternator belt. “Our goal of driving it out there and driving it 200 is in reach.”

If you want to see amazing race cars, and at least one street car, run on the salt, we can’t recommend Bonneville Speed Week enough. We hope to see you there next year as we follow Friedrich and his speedy longroof on the quest for 200 mph.

The post The chopped-top Plymouth wagon aiming for 200 mph on the salt appeared first on Hagerty Media.

In the 1980s, just as German luxury and performance were becoming must-haves for America’s new wave of young urban professionals, Audi’s image was incinerated by reports of unintended acceleration. Some of those Gucci-wearing yuppies claimed their Audi 5000s had driven through their houses all on their own. The ensuing federal investigations and litigation lasted for years, and the company’s sales plummeted, from 74,061 in 1985 to only 12,283 in 1991.

Audi was almost finished in America. High performance, however, helped bring it back from the brink, thanks to technologies developed in motorsports by its rally, touring car, and Trans-Am teams.

In 1992, Audi introduced its first true high-performance sedan, the S4, to the U.S. A hot-rod version of its now-renamed 100 sedan, the S4 featured a 227-hp turbocharged and intercooled 2.2-liter inline-five-cylinder, a five-speed manual, and Audi’s well-established Quattro all-wheel drive, which had employed a Torsen Type 1 center differential since 1987. It split power evenly between the front and rear wheels but shoved up to 75 percent to the front when the rear tires started to slide. Fewer than 2400 S4s were sold through 1994.

For 1995, the 100 received a facelift and became the A6, while the S4 became the S6 as Audi’s modern naming strategy took shape. The S6 was available as a sedan or a wagon (that’s “Avant” in Audispeak), and like the S4, the S6 was sold in small numbers.

On its debut, the S6 was among the quickest German sedans you could buy, hitting 60 mph in 6.1 seconds. No, it wasn’t as quick as the recently departed Mercedes-Benz 500E/E500 or the E34 BMW M5. Those were packing over 300 horsepower, but the S6 handled as well as its rear-drive rivals and was far more affordable. At $44,270, it cost about half as much as the outgoing Benz.

Mechanically, nothing had really changed from the S4. Audi’s iron-block, twin-cam 20-valve five-cylinder, which makes 258 lb-ft of torque at a low 1950 rpm, was still under the hood. Car and Driver said it “winds to its redline with the growling, turbine-like whine we’ve grown accustomed to hearing from Audi fives,” and called its performance inspired, despite minimal turbo lag—which C/D said “translates to lots of shifting around town.” The magazine praised its steering feedback and suspension, saying the sedan “feels hard wired to its driver.”

Subtle fender flares covered the S6’s 16-inch five- or six-spoke alloys and four-wheel disc brakes. Badging was limited to two—one on the decklid and another on the grille. Audi’s reputation for beautiful interiors dates to this era, and the S6 was universally praised for its cabin design and materials. A three-spoke steering wheel was standard, along with full instrumentation with racy light gray-faced gauges, an abundance of wood, and well-bolstered power-adjustable seats. Front and rear heated seats and a sunroof were included, as was a built-in cellphone. Halfway through 1995, the locking rear differential became electronic.

Despite low production numbers, the S6 is an important part of Audi’s history. It helped revitalize the brand’s image and secured the success of high-volume cars like the next A6 and the first A4. More importantly for you, next to other German super-sedans of the era, the S6 is also a stone-cold steal.

1995 Audi S6

The post All-Wheel Affordability: The first Audi S6 is a rare, turbocharged super-sedan appeared first on Hagerty Media.

I’ve always been a fan of boxy Volvos, particularly the 245 wagon. I love the crisp, clean lines and purposeful design. I’ve had a 1990 DL for a while now, but I got an itch for another, so I cast a worldwide net.

After months of searching, I found this Italian-market 245 Turbo through a site called autoscout24.it. This car checked all the boxes: B19ET engine (a tax-friendly Euro-only unit), M46 manual transmission, and air conditioning, which was super hard to find in Europe. It also has the trick rear-facing collapsible seat, plus unique-to-Italy side marker lights.

It was purchased new in 1983 by a young couple who wanted a family car. I can attest to its use as such, as I found some little green army men in it, and there were still a couple of Bimbo a Bordo (Baby on Board) stickers in the rear windows when it arrived here. After putting just 135,000 kilometers (84,000 miles) on the clock, in 1996, they traded it in at a dealer who placed the ’83 into storage as part of a collection. There it stayed until 2017, when the sellers I purchased it from bought it and began to tidy it up mechanically.

I first contacted them last July, and we finally closed the deal in October. The language barrier sometimes got in the way, but Google Translate was a huge help. And it was pretty interesting working with people I didn’t know, in a different country, on a car that I wouldn’t see in person until it arrived. Based on our conversations, however, I got a good feeling from the sellers. We’ve actually developed a friendship, and my first trip post-COVID-19 will be to Udine, Italy, to meet them in person. They even tried to send me some wine from the region with the car, but that got confiscated somewhere between Italy and New York.

I can’t say it with 100 percent certainty, but I’m willing to bet this is the only Italian Volvo 245 Turbo in the U.S. Can’t wait for car show season!

The post This humble ’83 Volvo wagon hides an exotic lineage appeared first on Hagerty Media.

You know the look. That bewildered, how-did-you-end-up-this-way stare that happens thirty seconds after an Ordinary Person at a social gathering makes the innocent mistake of politely asking you about cars. The conversation starts with promise: a normie might well understand the appeal of a German luxury machine with massaging seats, a 1450-watt premium sound system, and supercar performance with a muscle car soundtrack. The train doesn’t really go off the track until you feel compelled to explain to said person why wagons are cool.

“They’re more practical than sedans, and they handle better than crossovers!”

“[Raised eyebrow]”

“They used to be uncool, like minivans, but now they’re stylish!”

“[Gulps down beverage to justify hasty refill retreat]”

And so on.

Inside the car community, on the other hand, the longroof trend is very much of the moment. Whether it’s Mercedes W124s, Buick Roadmasters, or CTS-Vs, this body style’s combination of anti-fashion and ultra-function strikes many enthusiasts as a savvier alternative to stodgy sedans and towering SUVs. Perhaps that’s why the recent arrival of the Audi RS 6 Avant seemed to generate so much excitement here in America—a new-to-us superwagon making landfall precisely at the climax of this automotive meme’s popularity.

Quick note, though. While the RS 6 Avant’s U.S. debut may feel like a watershed moment, another German über-estate has held dominion over this space in North America since 2005. It gets quietly better, generation after generation, and the latest example is probably the most impressive, most well-rounded vehicle in any showroom, anywhere, for under $150,000.

We’re speaking, of course, about the magnificent Mercedes-AMG E 63 S wagon. The current-generation E 63 wagon launched for the 2018 model year, and what we have for 2021 is a mid-cycle refresh. AMG’s twin-turbo, 4.0-liter V-8 remains central to the formula of this hot-rod Autobahn sled, and it carries on here unchanged with 603 hp and 627 lb-ft of torque that’s sent to all four wheels via Mercedes’ nine-speed dual-clutch automatic transmission.

Updates for 2021 are fairly minor, which is good because this car was nearly perfect right from the get-go. First, the centerpiece of the revised front end is a wider grille with vertical slats resembling those on the AMG GT, and a new front bumper design increases downforce. Then come the changes to the E 63’s interior, where smatterings of additional tech bring the E-Class more in-line with the current S-Class’ suite of infotainment and navigation advancements. Most noticeable is the new AMG Performance steering wheel, complete with touch-sensitive pads and a circular AMG sub-dial for selecting preferred driving settings. Dynamically the E 63 essentially carries over unchanged, but engineers did modify the adaptive air suspension tuning in response to customer feedback that even the ride in Comfort mode was too harsh.

One imagines even that bit of criticism was dragged out of otherwise blissfully satisfied E 63 owners. This heroic hauler does just about everything right, and that starts with its reserved looks. For fun, go ahead and conjure in your mind’s eye every vulgar choice Lamborghini made with the Urus—heinous grille, contrasting black wheel arches, cartoonish proportions, angular roofline. Despite its amped-up visual aggression compared to a garden-variety E-Class wagon, the E 63’s design remains cohesive, refined. The wagon could slip by unnoticed in a private school drop-off lane or restaurant valet, and yet the details you’d expect from a $140,000 machine hold up to close scrutiny. Our test car’s gorgeous Cardinal Red Metallic paint, for example, positively sparkles in the sunlight.

The interior is also stunning, albeit in a much less subtle way. From the driver’s seat, the view is one of almost overwhelming stimuli: huge twin screens, vibrant ambient lighting, various buttons, a touchpad, and a steering wheel so cluttered with touch-sensitive controls there isn’t an obvious place to rest your thumbs without accidentally fiddling. It would take a week-long class for most people to fully absorb the full capabilities of the infotainment system, the steering wheel, and the center-stack controls—an obstacle for drivers preferring a simpler interface.

Fortunately, the materials are high-quality enough that you quickly forget any initial tech friction. There’s no question the S-Class is an order of magnitude more opulent, but the E-Class is still a damn good luxury car that doesn’t buckle under the weight of a price tag approaching Bentley territory. Technology such as the the navigation system, complete with augmented reality that overlays street names and route guidance onto a live video feed of the road ahead, makes this feel like a state-of-the art machine. The overhead spotlight that turns on automatically when you reach toward the passenger seat in the dark? A brilliant, simple solution.

Of course, the E 63 is also highly functional. The back seat can pamper full-size adults in comfort, and the cargo area is massive. The load floor is nice and low, and the rear glass is large enough that the rearview mirror is actually useful should your backup camera become clouded by dirt or snow slush.

That practicality extends to the wagon’s performance, which is right there when you want it but generally unobtrusive in normal driving. The dual-clutch transmission can occasionally be fussy in low-speed maneuvering, but once on the move the nine-speed seems to always find the right gear. Transmission shifts are crisp, with paddle shifts yielding seemingly instantaneous response. The retuned ride is still firm, but livable and fitting of a full-bore AMG wild child. Steering is heavy but not obnoxiously so, and the chassis feels confidently planted even on wet roads. The all-wheel-drive system is continuously optimizing torque distribution from the rear to the front axle, via an electromechanically controlled clutch, and the result is so effective and refined that you don’t even feel it working. And yet, despite the car’s utter competence in every aspect, it’s always rewarding, never boring. Creating a car with this degree of capability is one thing, but making it feel this engaging and fluid in a variety of situations is another. You don’t need to wrestle the E 63 at the peak of its performance threshold to enjoy it.

One option to skip (and save an easy $8950 in the process) is the carbon-ceramic brake package. Granted, you want stopping power with a roughly 4600-pound vehicle that can hit 60 mph on 3.4 seconds on its way to a 186-mph top speed, but no doubt the standard rotors are sufficient, and there is a tendency for the carbon brakes to grab a bit aggressively in low-speed traffic. Thankfully the Burmester Surround Sound system is standard, because it’s absolute aural majesty.

We should celebrate a car that belies supercar performance in such a usable package. It draws as much visual attention as a nicely equipped Lexus GS. You can fit a ton of stuff in it, even enter parking structures without fear of scraping the nose. Go ahead and fill up on 91-octane, all without suffering a litany of leading questions—well-known to high-end sports car owners—that either start or finish with guessing what it is you do for a living, exactly. If anyone does happen to recognize this vehicle for what it is, staring you down as you glide down the road on a tsunami of burly torque, odds are it’s no Ordinary Person, who might otherwise confuse the marvelous E 63 for an Ordinary Wagon. Which it is most certainly not.

2021 Mercedes-AMG E 63 S Wagon

Price: (base/as-tested): $113,500/$140,460 including destination.

Highs: Sensational powertrain, genuine versatility, sacrifices none of its luxury-car essence to thrill when it needs to.

Lows: Not a show-er, for those who want to make a statement. Interior controls and infotainment interface prioritize functionality over user experience.

Summary: Johan of many trades, meister of them all. Simply one of the best-executed vehicles on sale today.

The post Review: 2021 Mercedes-AMG E 63 S Wagon appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Picture this 1994 scene. A young, thrusting city banker is at his desk at Barings, idly flicking through the pages of a Porsche brochure, mulling over the exact specification of his next 911. Little does he know how much his life is about to change.

Editor’s Note: This feature originally appeared at Hagerty U.K., which you can check out here.

In a year he’ll be out of a job (like everyone else at Barings Bank, thanks to colleague Nick Leeson) but for now the most pressing problem is prompted by a phone call from his darling wife on his Nokia 232 mobile. She’s pregnant and that Porsche is hardly a family car.

Enter the Audi RS2 Avant, a practical estate that proudly wears Porsche badges alongside its four rings. And, unlike a previous collaboration with SEAT on the “Engine System Porsche” Ibiza, this time the partnership is all about performance.

Based on the Audi 80’s B4 platform every RS2 is built at Porsche’s Rossle-Bau factory in Zuffenhausen, which has just finished assembling the Mercedes-Benz 500E. And the 959. With Porsche taking on the engine, chassis, brakes and interior design the RS2 is the first Audi überwagon and the first RS model. Our banker couldn’t be happier—well, at least until Barings collapses.

Fast-forward almost 30 years and the world has changed. Today’s wealthy hedge fund managers, bitcoin miners, YouTubers, and TikTokers could indeed buy any number of family-friendly Porsche models, such as the Cayenne, Macan, Panamera or even the electric Taycan. Or they could indulge in the RS2’s latest offspring, the new Audi RS 6 Avant.

A technical tour-de-force with supercar-baiting speed, the RS 6 is the ultimate Audi estate. But with Audi’s shift towards electrification it may well be the last of the breed. Do we need any better reason to bring the pair together on the B-roads of Northamptonshire?

1996 Audi RS2 Avant

It was a rare privilege to drive an Audi RS2 back in its day. Only 2891 cars left the Porsche factory between March 1994 and July 1995 and just 180 of them were right-hand-drive like this one. Of the latter, about 150 made it to Britain, with the remainder finding homes in New Zealand and South Africa. A search on howmanyleft.co.uk reveals 124 cars licensed or SORN at the time of writing, so it is an even bigger treat to be handed the keys to Audi UK’s example.

Although the RS2 was offered in over a dozen hues, it has never looked better than in Nogaro Blue. Aside from a few chips to the black mesh on the lower air intake this car is completely unblemished, having covered just 4500 miles since it was registered, as one of the last off the line, in September 1996.

It’s not a big car by today’s standards but it still takes a little time to walk around and soak in all of Porsche’s handiwork. Most obvious are the bright red brake calipers (Porsche-branded, but made by Brembo), poking through the 17-inch, five-spoke Porsche Cup alloy wheels. You’ll see the Porsche name beneath the RS2 badges front and rear and twin tail pipes poking out of the back. It sits 40 mm lower than a regular Audi 80 Avant, but there’s still plenty of room between nose and road.

Open the bonnet and you may well be bemused at first. The 2.2-liter five-cylinder engine sits inches from the grille and is canted over so that it appears to be off-center. That makes room for the larger turbocharger and hefty intercooler that Porsche installed, together with new injectors, a new camshaft, ECU, and induction and exhaust systems. The words “Powered by Porsche” and “20v Turbo” are cast atop the engine for proud display at cars and coffee events.

Move inside and you’re met with a blaze of blue Alcantara for the seats and door trims, with gloss carbon fiber on the dash and door caps. The white instruments and ancillary gauges are analogue artworks and wait to be brought to life with a twist of the ignition key.

The Recaro front seats are figure-hugging but positioned high so that you feel almost perched on the car rather than in it. The driving position does set you up well for visibility (also thank the thin pillars) and to press down fully on the three pedals, which is definitely required to get the most out of the RS2.

There’s no question that this is still a very fast car. Testing the RS2 when it was new, Autocar hit 62 mph from rest in 4.8 seconds. Even more impressively the magazine’s testers launched it to 30 mph in just 1.7 seconds, beating the mighty McLaren F1. The quattro all-wheel-drive system doubtless provided that epic traction and the rear differential can be locked in slippery conditions for even more grip.

Today it’s dry, though, and with the man from Audi watching, we’re behaving ourselves. That’s not say we don’t thoroughly enjoy the feeling of old school turbo boost, the deliberate action required on clutch and lever to shift between the RS2’s six gears and the car’s remarkably compliant, almost floaty, ride. The brakes need a serious shove and the lack of initial bite is a little concerning until you get used to it. The dive under braking and ensuing squat when the car’s back on boost are verging on the dramatic and body lean through the corners is pronounced.

Yet these are all welcome warnings from a chassis that has a propensity to understeer, which can be cured in a hot hatch style with a lift of the throttle or avoided altogether once you’ve figured out the power delivery. Approach a bend a little more slowly, but get on the power again way before the apex, count to three, and the RS2 will hurl itself away from the corner. Get it right and it’s hugely satisfying, get it wrong and you’re caught in a void of turbo lag.

The off-beat thrum of Audi’s five-cylinder engine is quite muted from inside and mostly what you hear is a whoosh of turbo and the whistle of wind around the door mirrors, making the RS2 subdued and weirdly relaxing in a way we weren’t expecting.

It’s a car that takes a little time to understand, even longer to master, but one that is rewarding and genuinely characterful because of that.

2021 Audi RS 6 Avant

If patience is not one of your virtues then the RS 6 provides instant gratification. Well, almost instant gratification, as you’ll need to configure the car’s driving dynamics system to the max.

Once everything (steering, suspension, power, sound) is set to its most extreme the RS6 will deploy a bewildering 591 hp through its quattro all-wheel-drive system. It will throw itself down the road at a pace that’s unfathomable when you consider its size and heft. 0-62 mph takes barely 3.6 seconds. And all you need to do is find a suitable straight and press as the throttle as hard as you dare.

The car’s acceleration is brutal, its stopping power exceptional and its cornering capability stupendous. Fitted with a rear-wheel steer system the RS 6 turns in sharply, masks its bulk, and is empowered with such prodigious grip that it’s hard to imagine a bend it couldn’t simply blast through.

Somehow it all feels too easy. The eight-speed auto shifts up just as fast on its own as if you use the paddles (maybe faster, since you won’t accidentally head-butt the rev limiter) and even downshifts for corners and, though there is some audible drama from the twin-turbo 4.0-liter V-8, most of that is reserved for people outside the car.

Inside you’ll be ensconced in the rich leather bucket seats, enjoying the glow of the various screens, and shine of the sleek aluminum trim. There’s no question this is a wonderful place to cross a continent or two.

This latest RS 6 is by far the most aggressive-looking Audi Avant to date. Its extended arches are almost touring car-wide, its front splitter sniffs the road and those 21-inch front and 22-inch rear alloys leave barely a gap beneath the wings. It still an estate car, mind, and an awful lot more subtle than the Lamborghini Urus with which it has much in common.

Dial down the histrionics and the air suspension can be squishy, the steering finger-light and the gearshifts buttery smooth, if that’s your fancy. Try efficiency mode and you might even see fuel economy rise above 20 mpg.

The RS6 is perhaps the ultimate all-rounder. You could do your daily commute, thrash down for a ski in the Alps one weekend, and take on a track day the next.

It is a remarkable achievement, and quite possibly the last of its kind, and for that it should be lauded

Of course, for the £100,000 starting price ($110,045) you could buy an RS2 and a tidy Porsche 911. Now that’s something to think about.

Audi RS2 Avant vs. Audi RS 6 Avant

Engine: 2.2-liter 5-cyl vs 4.0-liter V-8
Power: 311 hp vs 591 hp
Gearbox: 6-speed manual vs 8-speed automatic
Curb weight: 1525 kg vs 2075 kg (3362 lbs vs. 4575 lbs)
0-62 mph: 4.8 secs vs 3.6 secs
Top speed: 163 mph vs 155 mph (limited)

The post Avant-garde: Audi RS2 vs Audi RS 6 appeared first on Hagerty Media.

The holidays let us reflect on the friends, family, and items we cherish that make our lives better, even if they may occasionally rub us the wrong way. Such is the journey of Conner DeKnikker and his 1986 Ford LTD Country Squire LX, traversing multiple states to ensure that promises are kept.

Conner is no ordinary young gent; raised with Ford Blue running through his veins, he’s now a Customer Service Division Zone Manager for Ford’s Dallas Region. Ensuring the ideal dealership experience is one thing, but Conner also owns a Bronco, two MN-12 Thunderbirds, an SN-95 Mustang GT, and this Country Squire wagon. The latter is notable because Conner inherited it from his grandparents. Perhaps it’s better to hear the story from the man himself:

My grandparents, Marie and Albert, gave me the wagon in July 2019. I made the 1660-mile trip from Texas, where I revived it after over a decade of sitting in their barn. My grandmother told me she always wanted a wagon like the Country Squire LX, as it was a symbol of achievement (Panther Chassis wagons weren’t cheap), and it seemed appropriate as a mother of five kids. I suppose she felt it would allow her to travel in comfort, transport grandchildren, and be more involved in their lives. She passed away last month, and my grandfather was grieving especially hard for the loss of his wife of nearly 70 years. It was made worse because COVID-19 prevented him from having a funeral service. That’s when I decided to ensure her car would be there for Thanksgiving, since she firmly believed the wagon could bring the family together.

The decision to take the trip was truly last minute. The only person I told was my dad, for two reasons: My mom would worry, and I also wanted the visit to be a surprise for my grandfather. In his time of loss, I felt that my presence would be more meaningful if I arrived unexpectedly, especially with the wagon.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. As Conner’s last-minute decision meant he needed to get the wagon ready for the highway. The list included fresh Synthetic blend oil, coolant, belts and hoses, DOT4 brake fluid, new U-joints, and an axle service. Conner also ensured he had enough entertainment in the form of vintage cassettes and a USB phone charger to keep himself sane throughout the journey.

Day 1 (Sunday, November 22): Conner left for Amarillo, Texas, and enjoyed the sun setting over the Texas Panhandle. The vacuum-operated cruise control held up like a champ, but the vinyl split bench seat’s lack of lumbar support was aggravating his back. Luckily he found a comfy angle, sitting sideways in this V-8-powered living room as if he was sitting on his couch and binge-watching something on Netflix.

Before leaving town, Conner visited a Ford/Lincoln dealership in his territory for an impromptu photo op. Yes, during his vacation. If there’s a higher watermark for a Division Zone Manager than this, I’d like to hear it.

Day 2 (Monday, November 23): Conner left Amarillo in hopes of reaching Grand Junction, Colorado, before a snowstorm hit on Tuesday. The wagon made it without incident through Texas, the top of New Mexico, and into Colorado across the mesa known as the Llano Estacado.  The LX-grade wagon meant Conner had Ford’s multi-function “Tripminder” trip computer keeping tabs on him, which caught him using over 110 instantaneous MPGs on certain downhill runs.

But the wagon quit running as the sun set below the mountains and south of Westcliffe, Colorado. Coasting off the highway, Conner felt confident that he was ready for this moment: the wagon had the tools, extra parts (like the well-known Ford TFI ignition module), a sleeping bag, blankets, food, and water. A little inspection into the crank-but-no-start issue was concerning, as Conner couldn’t hear the fuel pump running. Luckily he had cell phone service and a roadside assistance subscription; a tow company dropped the wagon off at the local Ford dealership in Cañon City. This is also where our weary, road-hardened protagonist found a hotel and called it a night.

Day 3 (Tuesday, November 24): Since Uber or Lyft haven’t reached rural Colorado, Conner grabbed a taxi to the dealership. Perhaps they took pity on a stranded Ford employee, as they squeezed the wagon into their busy work schedule, verified the problem but could not find a fuel pump locally. Getting a part from Denver was impossible due to a snowstorm, and parts stores in the area only use 2WD trucks. Conner reached out to his network of Ford dorks friends, and we recommended using a readily available Fox Body Mustang fuel pump. And $480 later, Conner’s wagon roared back to life. Unfortunately, he missed his window to make it before a snowstorm over the Monarch Pass on US50 to Grand Junction, so he chose the longer route: north through Wyoming. But remember that phrase about the best-laid plans? 

Just before sunset the wagon died once again, south of Colorado Springs. The fuel pump was silenced, so Conner swapped a fuel pump relay—to no avail. Standing/freezing on the side of the road, he had plenty of time to marinate on his decision to travel by 34-year-old station wagon. Hoping for the best, Conner popped in a Lindsay Buckingham tape  and enjoyed “Holiday Road” as thousands of faceless Coloradans whizzed by his wood-festooned wagon. His tow truck arrived an hour later and unloaded the wagon at Phil Long Ford of Colorado Springs.

Day 4: (Wednesday, November 25): Closer to civilization this time, Conner used Lyft to visit the dealership at 7:30 a.m. An apologetic service advisor informed him they were booked until Friday, so Conner’s mind went spinning. He even considered renting a car and going back home to Dallas. That’s when, like any loyalist spending time at a new car dealership with a classic from the same brand, he got creative and a bit lucky.

Conner asked the service advisor if he could borrow a fuel pressure tester. “Why?” he was asked. Conner suggested that knowing if there was 30–40 psi at the fuel rail would determine if there was a problem under the hood that he could fix without assistance. By then, a veteran technician named George Gillian emerged with a fuel pressure tester and volunteered to help. Gillian has worked at Phil Long Ford since 1979. Ironically, that’s the first year of the Panther Chassis, which underpins Conner’s wagon. Small talk commenced and a vintage Rotunda “Super Star” code reader emerged with familiar two-digit codes right behind it. Gillian added, “I remember these codes, but I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner last night.”

Gillian noticed that the fuel pump relay would click on when he touched the ground at the negative battery terminal. He noticed the poorly completed splice (fixed in the photo above) made by Ford’s Division Zone Manager and gave him some well-deserved grief about his commitment to Quality is Job 1. With fuel feeding the wagon, Conner left for Wyoming with only $75 less in his bank account.

Our protagonist then hit I-25 through Denver, Fort Collins, and into Laramie. There’s nothing quite like seeing America through a hood ornament, something that’s lost behind the wheel of a more modern automobile. Conner’s goal was to reach Salt Lake City, but after filling up in Laramie, a gaggle of concerned citizens hollered, “Your car is leaking!” Conner hoped the problem would lessen as less fuel was in the tank. Mercifully it did, to the detriment of the wagon’s cruising range. Many fuel stops later, Conner arrived in Salt Lake City, where he crashed at the home of a friend and fellow Ford enthusiast.

Day 5: (Thursday, November 26): Conner reached the Idaho border, where the wagon’s impressive hood matched the snow-kissed hills and flatland prairies. The heater did its job commendably and the ride was effortless down I-15 and I-84 as he neared Boise. Conner whipped out his box of cassettes and let the stylings of John Fogerty, Simon and Garfunkel, and even Arlo Guthrie’s Thanksgiving classic “Alice’s Restaurant” take him home.

Evening had arrived when Conner reached his grandfather’s house in Cambridge, Idaho. Just in time for Thanksgiving dinner, Conner greeted his father, aunt, and grandfather to celebrate as a family.

Conner’s 88-year-old grandfather cut the Thanksgiving turkey, and the photo proves that the family’s wagon accomplished its mission: Everyone was home for the holiday, but Conner still hadn’t visited the other side of his family.

Day 6: (Friday, November 27): Following his dad from Idaho, Conner headed to California to see his mom. What’s normally a nine-hour trip was extended by Dad’s need to motor well under the speed limit to save on fuel. Conner had enough of that in the Sierra Nevada Mountains and passed Dad in the big wagon, ensuring he wasn’t riding the brakes any more than necessary on the downhill slopes. Turns out Conner’s concerns about his mom not approving of this wood-paneled road trip were unfounded, as she was supportive of his gesture.

Day 7: (Saturday, November 28): There’s something wonderful about traveling without a timeline, no? Conner visited Bob, the town’s local barber and friend of the family. This wouldn’t be noteworthy except for the fact he was closing his business, Continental Barbers, after 57 years. Today was his last day. It’s unfortunate to see American institutions like a local barber shop come and go, much like the popularity of the wood-grained station wagon.

Day 8: (Sunday, November 29): Unlike some family members with reservations about the old wagon, this day began with a McLaren following alongside and a pretty young blonde girl shouting, “Clark Griswold!” out of the supercar’s window. The unexpected Vacation movie comparison surprised our protagonist, much like this unexpected visit to see his mother’s parents. Conner’s previously discussed apprehension to travel because of COVID-19 was on everyone’s mind, but Conner’s loss of his other grandmother ensured that he appreciated any opportunity to visit family.

Day 9–10: (Monday and Tuesday, November 30–December 1): Conner made a futile attempt at addressing the fuel leak when full, dropping the tank and installing a rubber gasket. The original gasket (which should have been replaced alongside the pump) was indeed leaking, but the fix only reduced the severity of the problem. The real problem wasn’t found until he reached home (crack in the return line), but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Again. Our protagonist still had a ways to go, arriving in Kingman, Arizona, by 11 p.m.

Day 11: (Wednesday, December 2): Conner visited Mesa, Arizona, to help a fellow enthusiast with a five-year newer version of his wagon. One fresh starter and new vacuum lines later and the 1991 wagon came back to life after a two-month slumber. The attention that these two received while cruising down the streets was beyond impressive, as these two relics of a bygone era are even the same color.

Conner then travelled to Las Cruces, New Mexico, and noted there were just barely enough gas stations in southern New Mexico to make the trip, given the wagon’s restricted fuel range.

Day 12: (Thursday, December 3): The last leg was only 685 miles, but the wagon proved that older cars can be just as reliable as newer ones, provided you treat it right and remain vigilant when issues creep up. The journey lasted 12 days and covered 4200 miles, a trip that cars like a Panther Chassis Ford were born to devour. There’s no doubt that 1986–91 Country Squires are incredible bargains for reliable, fuel-injected family transportation with a vintage aesthetic. Is it any surprise that Conner gets more looks driving his Grandmother’s wagon than in his latest company car?

***

From all of us at Hagerty, we hope you enjoyed Conner’s story, and we wish you a very Merry Christmas!

Editor’s note(s):

1. Conner remained socially isolated while working from home, and he wore a mask and socially distanced when traveling.
2. This is a good time to mention that Ford mandates its dealerships follow COVID-19 protocols, which you can read about here.

The post How a Ford station wagon brought three generations together for the holidays appeared first on Hagerty Media.

It was the end of a long summer beach day. Exhausted by the sun, my wife and son were snoozing away while I was driving toward home in a lengthily-named 2020 Subaru Outback Onyx Edition XT on a four-lane interstate. Suddenly, the low tire pressure dash light illuminated and warning gong, well, gonged at me. The gauge cluster indicated decreasing pressure in the right rear tire. No reason to panic, but rather annoying, if slightly worrying.

The one big concern on my mind: Does the Outback have an actual spare tire?

Small spares, no spares, or inflators

Frustratingly, many new cars today have tire repair kits and/or inflators in lieu of spare tires. Both of those are, of course, worthless if the sidewall of a tire is damaged. Most new vehicles still carry smaller-than-stock temporary spare tires, which are great as long as you are not in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, on a holiday weekend. Then there are the BMWs of the world (a brand that once proudly had a full-size spares in all their cars) which provides little more than a phone number in the trunks in order to reach help from afar.

Having found a secure and well-lit Target parking lot, I started on the tire change. Step one was to see investigate the Outback’s spare tire situation. There was an obvious leak in the (loudly hissing) tire. Once I opened the hatch and ditched the beach stuff, I looked under the cargo cover. Doth my eyes deceive me? I took out the tool kit (!) that was nestled within the spare tire (!!), still in disbelief.

Good Lord, a full-size spare!

It was there in front of me—all I had to do was unbolt it and lift it out of the trunk. After inspecting the the tire size from both sides, I looked at the wheel and even put it next to the deflating one that was on the car, for comparison. Yes, not only was the tire full-sized, it was mounted on a matching wheel. I almost shed a tear.

The process of replacing the tire was nothing special. With the parking brake on and one wheel chocked with a brick I found, I loosened the lug nuts. I then jacked up the Subi and removed the now flat wheel. Putting the full-size spare on required a bit more jacking. With lug nuts back on, I dropped that bad boy and torqued the lug nuts by feel with the small-ish wrench that most automakers provide in the tool kit. Good enough in a pinch.

An added benefit of having a full-size spare is knowing that the busted wheel that just came off the car will properly fit into the spare tire location. In vehicles with a temporary spare tire, the full-size tire will likely impede the cargo space—not be great when carrying beach chairs and an unnecessarily large cooler.

Exploring the rear suspension

With the wheel removed, I noticed something commonplace but also quite neat about Outback rear suspension. An aluminum upper wishbone control arm connects to a beefy subframe. Subaru says that this sub-frame benefits from the use of high-strength steel and is twice as rigid as that of the previous Outback. The subframe is mounted to the body via thick isolators/spacers, reducing vibrations and giving the Outback that raised look over what would otherwise amount to a Legacy wagon.

Less visible in the above picture are the lower suspension components. Despite Subaru calling it double-wishbone, it is in truth a multi-link setup with three steel links, two of which are sort of aligned to match the upper wishbone. All those suspension components come together at the aluminum wheel hub. On the inner side of this hub, the axle comes in from the subframe mounted differential. On the outer side resides a vented, 11.8-inch brake rotor that is squeezed by a single-piston floating caliper. A sway-bar connects to the subframe and the rear lower control arm via a typical Subaru link.

The new Outback

The sixth generation of the Outback was introduced for the 2020 model year. Subaru did not mess much with the Unofficial Car of Vermont, Colorado, and Other Outdoorsy and Snowy Places (plus dogs). It remains unmistakably similar to the previous generation, but it does hide some significant upgrades. First is the new turbocharged FA24 2.4-liter flat-four engine, originally used in the Ascent three-row SUV and optional on the Outback. Second is an updated interior with an available large center screen.

The turbocharged engine produces 260 horsepower at 5600 rpm and 277 lb-ft between 2000 and 4800 rpm. That is a significant boost over the 182-horsepower and naturally-aspirated 2.5-liter, which itself gets seven extra ponies over the 2019 engine. What seems like a wonderful engine is unfortunately handicapped by a sloppy continuously variable transmission. Like most CVTs, it is a black hole of excitement. Hilariously, there are shift paddles on the wheel that allow the driver to select one of the eight pre-programmed ratios for non-existent gears.

The large, vertically oriented, 11.6-inch infotainment screen allows the use of Apple CarPlay and other audio or climate features at the same time. Handy, but the Apple CarPlay screen is rather small. Further, the Apple CarPlay did not always work well. One time all audio stopped working, even after I unplugged my phone. Even restarting the car did not cure the problem, but it seemed to have magically fixed itself after a good night of sleep.

The Onyx Edition XT model shown here differs slightly from other Outbacks. It builds on the Premium model but rides on specific black 18-inch wheels, has black badging, and specific interior colors and fabrics. Its terrain-selectable traction control system, X-Mode, include additional selections for deep snow and mud. Its all-season Yokohama Avid GT tires are branded the M+S symbol but the thread pattern shows a compromise in favor of a quiet ride. The full-size spare is part of the Onyx Edition model and not available on other models.

Conclusion

Outback faithful need not to worry. The Outback is what it has always been—a tall not-an-SUV station wagon. The integrated, swiveling roof rack crossbars remain, along with great ground clearance, permanent all-wheel drive, and plenty of space. With the newly available engine, it is a little faster, but not much faster, and it can tow a bigger, 3500-pound trailer. Ride is comfortable, steering is mushy. Like our ever-so-humble Site Director expected, “they made it better but not that much better.” Even still, the full-size spare comes highly recommended.

The post On any new car, a spare tire is a full-sized surprise appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Station wagons are in many ways the unsung heroes of the automotive hobby. Vintage longroofs possess a unique, nostalgic appeal: You’re far more likely to have grown up with a brick-shaped Volvo or lozenge-like Roadmaster in your family driveway than a Ferrari Daytona. Station wagons do “understated cool” superbly, but their ranks also include some truly exotic stuff, like Audi’s absurd RS 6 Avant, headed to U.S. shores for the first time this year. No matter your budget, wagons are eminently practical and inclusive; you can pack in your family, friends, and even the dog if you don’t care too much about the carpet.

From four figures to six, Hagerty’s Brad Phillips and Colin Comer rounded up 9 of their favorite wagons for your enjoyment in a recent livestream. The theme was inspired by the Wagon Queen Family Truckster, Phillips says. And really, any list of longroofs that starts with that “damn fine automobile” is bound to impress.

1981–87 AMC Eagle

We take for granted the winter chops of today’s SUVs and their modern tires, but back in the 1980s, there wasn’t a hefty, all-wheel-drive family hauler in most garages. American Motors tackled this mucky, icy situation by building the AMC Eagle wagon—essentially an AMC Hornet up top and Jeep underneath. The torquey straight-six, 15-inch tires, and four-wheel-drive transformed winter driving for those acclimated to a low, rear-wheel-drive estate.

The Eagle wagon was also one of the first vehicles you could shift into four-wheel-drive on the fly: simply yank the Selec-Trac lever, and the vacuum-shift mechanism took care of things. Most of these weird, lifted wagons can be had for less than $10K, and the model has its own collector subset of enthusiasts. After Chrysler took over AMC in 1987, what would have been the 1988 AMC Eagle wagon was simply the Eagle. Production totaled in the hundreds, making 1988 Eagles very rare indeed.

1979–85 Mercedes-Benz S123 wagon

“These wagons will outlive us all,” Phillips declares. “Every time I see one, I think of some Nantucket family’s old country estate conveyance passed down to two generations of kids.” These German wagons aren’t vulnerable to much except rust, if properly maintained. Upkeep is straightforward, Comer points out, given the analog construction of most early 1980s cars. These aren’t simply boring, reliable haulers, either; the 123-generation wagons boast the first turbodiesel powerplant ever put into a mass-produced passenger car (rather than a truck). Snag one of the earliest turbodiesel wagons—they debuted in October of 1980—and you’ll have bragging rights to a true, though little-known, “first” in the automotive community.

1948 Ford Marmon-Herrington Super Deluxe Station Wagon

“Everybody loves a woody wagon,” says Comer. “Take a woody wagon with all the best parts of a vintage four-wheel-drive truck … that’s kinda what a Marmon-Herrington-converted Ford or Mercury is.” In the early years of wood-paneled wagons, those who needed off-road capability could turn to aftermarket manufacturers to convert their two-wheel-drive vehicle into a four-wheel-drive one. Marmon-Harrington did factory-supported conversions for Fords and Mercurys, and Napco took care of GMC and Chevy vehicles.

This stunning example is a 1948 Marmon-Herrington converted Super Deluxe Station Wagon; its meticulously restored condition and drivetrain conversion earned it a $200K+ presale estimate at RM Sotheby’s 2020 Scottsdale auction. Comer admits these wagons ride horribly and are extremely slow, but says they’re worth a lot of money for good reason: Marmon-Herrington-converted wagons were essentially vintage SUVs before the era of factory-produced SUVs.

1973–91 Chevrolet Suburban

Yes, the modern Chevrolet Suburban is more of an SUV or a truck than a wagon, but Brad defends his pick by citing 1970s Chevy advertising, which hailed the Suburban as a “superwagon.” Naturally, he was hooked. The wagon above is the Phillips’ 1977 model, a trailoring special with a big-block engine, 3.73 gears, and a 14,000-pound towing capacity. “It was a monster,” Phillips recalls. He bought it with dreams of cross-country family road trips, but after a trek down the Blue Ridge Parkway, realized that the weak ’70s air conditioning left rear passengers sweltering in the summer heat.

Comer has Suburban stories of his own. In 2018, he bought the cheapest car at the champagne-infused Monterey Car Week: a $1925 1998 Chevrolet Suburban. Want the details? Check out his story here.

2006–2008 Dodge SRT8 Magnum

Dodge’s SRT8 Magnum was essentially the factory-hot-rodded version of the Magnum wagon: its 6.1-liter V-8 churned out 425 hp and sent that muscle to the rear wheels for some serious burnout potential. Red doesn’t suit it, in Comer’s book; he’d have one murdered out in black. And why not do a Hellcat swap, too? 425 hp was big in 2006, but times have changed. “A Hellcat would just bolt in,” he says.

Still, Comer points out that Dodge thought out this muscle wagon, equipping it with the brakes and suspension to handle the beastly V-8 power. The one ergonomic downside, both he and Phillips point out, is visibility—the high beltline and narrow windows gives the driver a gunship view.

1967 Ford Country Squire

Phillips gets a bit enthusiastic when the Barn Find Hunter’s 1967 Ford Country Squire appears on the screen. “Tell me that’s not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Look at the prow on the front of this, all that cargo capacity!” Tom Cotter’s patina’d woody also boasts a unique drivetrain: a 428-cubic-inch V-8 mated to a four-speed and breathing out of a dual exhaust. Cotter sold the wagon for nearly $50K on Bring a Trailer back in May of 2020.

“Even without the 428, the Ford Country Squire does it for me,” Phillips says. “It just screams family adventure.” This Country Squire hails from a day in which, unlike our own, Ford was happy to put whatever engine and transmission combo you might desire into a variety of models. A Q-code V-8 and a luggage rack? Why not?

1994–96 Buick Roadmaster

Known as “Shamu” by wagon enthusiasts, the 1994–96 LT1-powered Buick Roadmaster is a crowd favorite and even earned itself a spot on our 2019 Bull Market List. It’s got big horsepower, torque, and rides “like you’re floating on a cloud,” Comer says. His wife has one as a daily driver; Comer says he bought the iron-block beast for $6500 and hasn’t had a minute of mechanical drama from it in five years. “It holds more than my F-150 in the back, too,” he recounts. Among the loads the trusty Roadmaster has hauled: 4×8-foot sheets of plywood, a refrigerator, and two mattresses (not all simultaneously, of course.) Plus, this luxurious wagon even has a sun roof and a roof rack.

2021 Audi RS 6 Avant

The Roadmaster is an accessible, every-day hero, but Audi’s RS 6 Avant represents another end of the wagon spectrum: the high-performance, high-dollar import. Audi’s bringing the box-flared, hot-rodded four-wheel-drive wagon to U.S. shores for the first time ever, and charging a pretty penny too: the 590-hp longroof starts at $110,000. Comer admits it’s above his pay grade, but he can’t deny its appeal. “It’s a menacing-looking vehicle. If Batman had a family, he’d drive something that looked this mean.”

2008 HSV ClubSport R8 Tourer

The CTS-V wagon’s reputation is well-established in the U.S., and, especially in the case of the stick-shift models, its collectibility is undeniable. (Check out the most recent sale record.) However, maybe you want something a bit … weirder. Welcome to CTS-V Sport Wagon’s Australian cousin, the Holden Special Vehicles (HSV) Clubsport R8 Tourer. Thunder comes courtesy of a familiar 6.2-liter LSA V-8 and you’ll be treated to a generous dose of right-hand-drive funkiness. “It’s like the Mad Max version of the CTS-V,” says Phillips.

If you’re willing to wrangle shipping logistics and wait around until it’s eligible for import under the 25-year rule, this a particularly poignant time to be honoring this monster wagon: in February of 2020, GM pulled the plug on its Holden subsidiary in Australia, which includes the HSV performance sub-brand. Think an Australian offshoot of an American brand is irrelevant? Think again. “We owe so much to these European arms of domestic manufacturers to help co-develop these products that are really cool,” Comer says. (Check out this C8 Holden test mule, for one.)

The post 9 of our all-time favorite wagons appeared first on Hagerty Media.

Vagon enthusiasts, rejoice. A 2012 Cadillac CTS-V wagon with six-speed manual and 11,768 miles sold for $93,975 (including fees) on Bring a Trailer, establishing a new record for the model.

The auction received 37,098 views and 26 bids, with a winning offer of $89,500. That’s 56 percent higher than similar CTS-V wagons, which have an average value of $51,000 in #1 (Concours) condition.

“This is a very surprising sale, even for a car with a devoted cult following,” says Greg Ingold, associate editor of the Hagerty Price Guide. “New, in-the-wrapper CTS-V wagons have traded in the $60,000–$70,000 range previously, but this one is on a whole new level. It is in extremely good condition, but at 12,000 miles, it is hardly a no-mile car.

“This sale demonstrates the strong desire for collectors to have a fast wagon that, most importantly, has a manual transmission.”

Judging from the comments from other BaT users following the sale, it doesn’t hurt that the CTS-V wears Opulent Blue Metallic paint. One commenter even suggested he was “dumb” for ordering a 2013 model in black after considering blue. The actual significance of color preference remains to be seen.

The CTS-V is powered by a supercharged 6.2-liter V-8 that offers 556 hp and 551 lb-ft of torque. In addition to its Opulent Blue Metallic paint, the luxury wagon received Ebony leather seats and an Alcantara-wrapped steering wheel. Options include heated and ventilated Recaro front seats, 19-inch Satin Graphite wheels, yellow-finished brake calipers, Midnight Sapele wood trim, and an Alcantara-trimmed steering wheel and shifter. V models included a hood with a power dome, unique lower bodywork, and mesh grille inserts.

Recent service included replacement of the battery, drive belts, and tires. The wagon comes with complete service records, factory manuals, window sticker (original price: $71,220), and a clean Carfax report.

The seller says the rear differential was replaced under a service bulletin in August 2012.

Say what you will about the final bid, the seller (VEEEEEE) certainly did his due diligence to provide a complete picture of the wagon and its performance; he posted not one video but three—showing a walk-around, backroad driving, and city driving.

While Hagerty’s Ingold is happy for the seller, he says it remains to be seen whether the record selling price is an anomaly or the start of something bigger.

“Keep in mind that this is a single sale,” he says. “One sale doesn’t move the needle, but if more cars like this one start selling for prices like this, we’ll be on top of the new trend. We’ll definitely be keeping a closer eye on the CTS-V market.”

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