If you’ve been reading my columns long enough, you’ll know I’m a big fan of the full-size, “Nimitz Class” cars GM built from 1971 to ’76, from Caprices to Delta 88 Royales to Fleetwood Talismans. They were the last GM hardtops, and the last GM full-sizers that were available in every basic body style: coupe, sedan, convertible, and station wagon.

Buicks were still pretty big in 1976—in fact, this was last call for truly unapologetic room and length. In 1977 all the big Buicks—indeed, all big GM cars—would be downsized to tidier dimensions, except for the Olds Toronado and Cadillac Eldorado, who had to wait until the 1979 model year.

There were three versions of Electra for 1976: The Electra 225, the Electra Limited, and the super plush Electra Park Avenue, the last of which had a center console—though the transmission lever was still mounted on the steering column. The Park Avenue was available as a sedan only.

I have seen two very nice Park Avenues too, and will be writing at least one of them up sometime, but that’s for another day!

Technically, the Limited was also an Electra 225, though it was not badged as such. The lowest priced Electra was the 225 coupe, at $6367. GM built 18,442. Limited coupes started at $6689 and were more popular, to the tune of 28,395 units sold.

Most popular Electra of all was the Limited four-door hardtop, with 51,067 cars built at a starting price of $6852. For comparison, the priciest ’76 LeSabre was the Custom four-door hardtop, at $5166. LeSabres looked more like their flossier Electra brethren this year as well, adding the quad rectangular lights the Electras first gained in 1975.

As one would expect, there were plenty of standard features on the Electras, including the 455-cubic-inch V-8, Turbo Hydra-matic automatic transmission, power front disc/rear drum brakes, High Energy ignition, power windows, and Custom seat and shoulder belts. The Limited added a two-way power seat, a 60/40 divided front seat upholstered in cloth, a quartz crystal digital clock, and of course the much more luxurious seats and door panels. The 225 interior was nice too, but it was a bit plain in comparison.

And there were still many optional extras, as you’d expect of Detroit in the ’70s. Such as the Landau roof seen on our featured example. You could also get steel-belted whitewall tires (steel-belted blackwalls were standard), automatic level control, a four-note horn (these were loud and well worth the extra charge), carpet savers, a litter container, power antenna, automatic climate control, power door locks, power trunk release, and more.

The seats, of course, were really plush. While they perhaps were not as scientifically fashioned as Volvo’s famous orthopedically designed chairs (I can speak to those seats too, as a former Volvo owner) they were definitely cushy. It was the kind of car that was pretty much like driving around in your living room.

And if you were on a business trip to Omaha and the Holidome was full up for the night, the Limited’s seats made for rather nice first-class sleeping quarters—in a pinch!

I saw our featured car at the annual car show held indoors each January in downtown Rock Island, Illinois. I had seen the car before a couple of times, but hadn’t gotten any really good pictures. It was interesting, of course, due to its color. I recall seeing it the previous summer and thinking if it wasn’t the original color, the paint was done very well.

Well as it turns out, the car came out of the factory wearing this color. I did recognize the color, but believe it was limited to the smaller Buicks like the Skyhawk (Buick’s version of the Chevrolet Monza 2+2) and Skylark coupe, sedan, and hatchback. But I was fairly certain it was not available on the LeSabre/Electra/Estate Wagon.

Shortly before I began this column, I saw the car advertised on my local Marketplace: “All original 76 Electra Limited. 2 door, 455/400. 37K original miles. Factory optioned “Firecracker Orange” paint only offered in 76.” So the car apparently was special-ordered in this color. Of course, back then, you could do such things. Today, not so much!

***

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I never know what I’m going to see at the annual Maple City Cruise Night in Monmouth, Illinois. It’s a treasure trove of the unexpected. And this year’s event was a case in point.

Most people know of the Lincoln Town Car, which originally was a top-of-the-line trim level on the Lincoln Continental and later became a model in its own right, starting in 1981. But for several years there was a two-door counterpart: the Town Coupé.

The Town Coupé first appeared in 1973. As one would expect, it had all of the plush interior fittings and extra trim of the four-door Town Car but in the two-door hardtop body style.

And so it went in 1973–74. But in 1975, the Continentals were redesigned in a more squared-up format that brought to mind luxury Pullman coaches. Of course, the Town Car and Town Coupé carried on as before, just in redesigned threads, both inside and out. In addition, the two-door versions were no longer hardtops; the new squared-off coupe roofline added a B-pillar, making the ’74 Continental coupe the final pillarless Lincoln.

There were five official Lincoln models for 1975: Continental coupe, Continental sedan, Town Car, Town Coupé, and the exclusive personal-luxury Continental Mark IV. For 1976, very little changed visually or otherwise, though the Mark IV gained four new exclusive Designer Editions: Givenchy, Cartier, Pucci, and Bill Blass.

As before, the Town Car and Town Coupé were top-trim packages for the Continental two- and four-door models. Not much changed, with the exception of some new and discontinued color selections. But there was no doubt these were fine luxury cars, whether you selected the myriad Luxury Groups, Town Car/Coupé options, or otherwise.

As the 1976 Lincoln brochure conferred: “For more than half a century, the graceful styling and precision engineering associated with the Lincoln name have helped to place it among the finest of the world’s luxury cars.

“Some with a less competitive spirit might willingly rest upon such a reputation (as Lexus has done for 20 years. Oops! I’m digressing again; never mind!). The Lincoln Continentals, however, have for four years now matched their riding performance and other features direct against other Cadillac models in independent televised tests—and in each of them won the preference of the majority of the participating Cadillac owners.”

Oh, those were the days. Cadillac, Lincoln, and (to a lesser extent) the Chrysler New Yorker Brougham, Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight, Buick Electra, and Mercury Marquis. Fine sedans and coupes, decades before buyers seemingly decided they wanted rough-riding SUVs and combovers (oops, I mean crossovers) to carry their New-Balance clad persons and dogs to the gym, instead of supper clubs for prime rib or surf and turf … with gin and tonics and whiskey sours. And don’t forget dessert!

I loved those days—at least from observations via print, TV, and movies of the era, since that was a good 5–10 years before I was born. Those must have been salad days. Driving your majestic, unapologetically large luxury coupe or sedan for cocktails and fine dining.

People loved their lives, their profession, and their children. There was no fretting about what may have been, what could be, what may happen in the years hence (or at least it was kept close to the vest). You just did your best, succeeded or not, and reaped the benefits—or not. But if you did—oh, if you did!—it was a grand time. Drive your V-8 luxocruiser, enjoy fine dining, and sit back and feel proud as your children grew up and succeeded too. Even if by 1988 they were buying Volvo 740 Turbos and Mercedes 190Es instead.

It was a vastly different time than today. Not that it was necessarily all-encompassing better, but there were perks. Like a Town Car or Town Coupé to whisk you to work and back and sit faithfully in your attached garage or in the parking lot at the country club.

Such thoughts went though my head as I spied and enthusiastically photographed this ’76 Town Coupé, gorgeous in optional Medium Chestnut Diamond Fire, with a dark brown coach roof and tan leather interior.

I was hoping to meet my friend Justin Landwehr at the show; he had recently purchased a 1977 Town Coupé in Cream and was going to be at the show. Alas, he had to leave early that day due to other commitments, and I missed him. But his car had been parked right across from this ’76 version. And although I was disappointed that I missed seeing his car, this one almost—almost!—made up for it.

He also owns a gorgeous 1978 Thunderbird in navy blue with Chamois top and interior that I’m hoping to write up soon, but that’s yet another car for another day. Returning to our featured subject, I loved the colors and nice condition of this ’76. And what a great color combination. I see so many bland, boring, allegedly luxury-class SUVs today in silver, refrigerator white, or black, and I think of Lincolns like this and wonder, can’t we do better? We certainly did in the past!

***

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Vega is a four-letter word. Literally and figuratively, of course. You’d think only Chevrolet made subcompacts with questionable fit and finish in the 1970s. Um, Datsun B210 Honey Bees, anyone? Rapid-rusting ’74 Corollas? Pardon me while I roll my eyes. OK, where was I? Yes, well, today I’m not going to add more to the vast array of blogging cannon fodder directed at the Chevrolet Vega, deserved though it may be. No, today I’m here to talk about the good parts—the fun parts. And no Vega was more fun or more interesting than the Cosworth.

Of course, the Vega story has been told many times before. Introduced in 1971, it lasted to 1977. Early cars had issues. Rust issues, oil starvation and the novel-for-the-time chemically-etched piston sleeves proved problematic, especially on the early models, ironically the best looking ones. But they were attractive cars, with their Mini-Me Camaro styling, particularly in the fastback and Kammback station wagon versions.

The zoomy Cosworth version initially was scheduled for introduction in 1974, but many teething issues delayed it to model year ’75. As you’d guess, it had a twin-cam head added, developed by Cosworth, with Bendix fuel injection. All ’75s were available in a single color scheme: black with gold pinstriping and gold pseudo-Minilite wheels, with black interior. Only 2061 were built, most likely due to the $5916 MSRP (about $32,600 today). A hefty premium, when a base Vega hatchback started at $2478 ($13,650). Six grand was Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight territory back then.

The sporting Vega returned in ’76, now offered in a variety of colors instead of the basic black scheme. Pricing inched up to $6066; production was 1447. For that money, you could have gotten a Ninety-Eight Luxury Sedan or Electra. Or a Corvette.

Total Vega production was down to 160,524—not bad, but not as good as earlier years. Cosworth horsepower was about 110, when a plain-Jane Vega generated around 75–80. The irony is that by this time many of the kinks of the Vega had been worked out, and it was a pretty decent car now—by 1970s standards. But the Vega-based Monza was more popular, with its optional V-8 and Italian looks, and other new subcompacts from the competition were proving compelling. And early Vega adopters, having been burned badly, had zero interest.

Chevrolet touted the Vega’s solidity in period advertising and in salesroom brochures. A 60,000-mile durability run was done in Death Valley over a 60-day period. Cars used for the test were equipped with the updated Dura-Build 140-cubic-inch engine.

Only 24 ounces of coolant needed to be added to each test car for the duration, and only one timing belt had to be replaced on a single car. Chevrolet added a five-year, 60,000-mile warranty to all 1976 Vegas, and separate passages were also added for crankcase ventilation and oil return, which prevented oil from collecting around the valve stem seats—an issue on earlier Vegas.

Today’s featured car is owned by Ed Stembridge, who is relatively local to me here in the Land of Lincoln. I’d heard about his car but hadn’t seen it in person. In early September 2018, Ed called and said he was bringing it to the annual classic car show in Galesburg, Illinois. So I finally got to see it in person. Ed’s first car was a bright blue 1971 Vega, which he later souped up with a Buick V-6. He found this car in early 2018. The price wasn’t bad and the car wasn’t too far away, so he drove up to see it—and brought the trailer along, just in case. As it turned out, that was a good idea.

Long story short, he bought it. It ran great, the price was right, and it was in nice shape. It did have a period-correct giant front air dam, which Ed removed because it was just a little too over the top for his taste. The rear spoiler is a similar vintage item, but it looked nice enough, so it stayed.

This 1976 Vega Cosworth was sold new at Sycamore Chevrolet, in Terre Haute, Indiana. The second owner also lived in Terre Haute, and eventually he sold it to owner number three, who eventually relocated to Rockford, Illinois.

The car was completely restored in 1999, right down to the bare shell and the engine. Between 1999 and summer 2018, only an additional 6000 miles have been added to the clock. Ed’s intent is to bring the car back to factory stock—with the exception of the engine and suspension modifications.

One of the previous owners set up the car for autocross, and so the original engine—rated by the factory at 110 hp—now produces between 140 and 150.

Custom features of the engine include:

• Rods polished and ARP bolts
• .030 over 9.5 to 1 forged pistons
• Sleeved block
• Converted to 42 DCOE Webers
• Total Seal rings
• 2 1/4-inch exhaust with 2 chamber Flowmasters
• 4:10 posi rear (upgraded from factory 3.73 gearing)
• IECO lowering shocks
• Flaming River quick ratio steering box

While all inaugural 1975 Cosworths were black with black interior, 1976 offered several interior and exterior color choices. Ed isn’t in a rush to sell off this car, but if a Cosworth in a more interesting color combo appeared, who knows? He also has a couple classic 1960s VW Beetles he’s been meaning to restore.

I remember seeing a white Cosworth with black and white “tuxedo” interior in one of my Chevrolet books that was pretty sharp. And a few years ago, there was a low-miles one on eBay in Firethorn Red with white vinyl seats and red dash and carpet. Now that one was nice! Whichever one you get, I can attest that the seats are extremely comfortable.

While the Vega line would continue for one last curtain call in 1977, the Cosworth was discontinued. Slightly more than 3500 were built in 1975–76, making them a rare sight at car shows today. Actually, any Vega is a rare sight these days—at shows or anywhere else.

Of course, despite the special engine, trim, paint, and other cool additions, it’s still a Vega at heart. So you won’t be seeing Caprice Classic levels of glitz, chrome, and velour-clad sumptuousness. No opera windows! But the interior is still pretty nice—though Ed mentioned that the black interior without air conditioning was a little warm on the drive to the car show.

But that’s not the point. The point is it’s a fun, rare old car. Something you don’t see every day, unlike the myriad Resale Red, Foose-wheeled 1967–69 Camaros you see at every car show and cruise night in the summer time. Cars like this are the standouts, the interesting ones that make you step aside and check them out. All that, and a blast to drive, too. That’s the Vega Cosworth.

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The Bonneville Brougham. Most primo Pontiac of them all. And my buddy Jason Bagge (you may remember him, as I’ve written about several of his cars over the years) found one in Spokane, Washington. He posted pics. He bought it. I got excited. Because I love these. Absolutely. Love. Them. Let me tell you why.

First of all, I have always loved the bigger is better 1971–76 GM B- and C-body cars—especially the fancier versions. It all started at the rod and custom show in downtown Rock Island, Illinois, in early 1991.

I was 11. My dad took me and my brother to the show. It was January, so car show-wise it was the only game in town at that time. We checked out the classic cars and hot rods, and wandered around at the Expo Center. There were always a few vendors there on the fringe, selling automobilia, and one guy had a bunch of old car brochures.

As a domestic luxury car connoisseur even then (my grandparents owned Thunderbirds, LTDs, and Continentals—I imprinted on them), I immediately zeroed in on the 1971 Cadillac and 1971 Lincoln brochures. What size! What Broughamage! What cars! What happened?

I mean the then-new 1991 Cadillacs were nice and all, especially the Brougham and Brougham d’Elegance, but man, those ’71s! Wow. Awooga!

Well, 1971 was kind of the last hurrah for “bigger is better” over at General Motors Corporation. The 1971 biggies were brand new, Broughamtastic, and fully full sized. It was kind of the end of an era. Never again would an all-new GM full-size car be so large, in charge, and dimensionally extravagant. The 1971 B-body Pontiacs were smooth, comfortable, and powerful. And unlike today when your choices are sedan (maybe), combover, and SUV, a variety of body styles were available.

Yep. Four-door hardtop! Two-door hardtop! Convertible, sedan, wagon! No combovers or truck versions. Trucks? Heck, those were for plumbers, farmers, and tradesman—or maybe outdoor adventurers in Montana. You needed a CAR! And a loaded, luxurious sedan, coupe, or convertible was just the ticket. And the bigger the better. Hey, gas was cheap, wages were great, and the USA was the biggest, bestest place to live, bar none! Why not have a car to match?

From 1971–75, the biggest, bestest Pontiac was the Grand Ville. So Broughamtastic, it even eclipsed the former top-of-the-line Bonneville, with its C-body roofline and spectacular interior and luxury appointments. Of course it was the top of the line—it had “Grand” right in its name, for Pete’s sake!

However … For whatever reason, the Grand Ville name, despite its premium luxury, its velour, its power everything, and its sumptuous ostentation, just didn’t have the same brand recognition and familiarity as the vaunted Bonneville name.

Fun fact: the final full-size Pontiac convertible was the ’75 Grand Ville Brougham. Two door coupes and four door hardtops were also offered. I personally love the coupe. Squint a little and it could be a Coupe de Ville. Despite its beauty and sheer luxury, the Grand Ville disappeared after model year 1975, never to return.

But it didn’t really disappear, for the same car essentially returned for 1976—just with Bonneville Brougham emblems instead, a model name that had last appeared in 1970. Yep, as had been the case from 1957, its inaugural year, through 1970, the Bonneville was once again the most premium Pontiac.

And it showed. From the button-tufted velour interior, same as the outgoing Grand Ville Broughams …

To its opera windows and Bonneville etched-glass model identification …

And the all-important cigarette lighters in the backs of the front seats. If you lived through the 1970s, you know lighters and ash trays were as important then as cupholders and power points are in cars today.

And look at all that glass area! Yep, you could actually see all around you, and you didn’t need any backup sensors or backup cameras. By George, you looked behind you and judged for yourself whether or not the coast was clear, rather than hoping you didn’t miss something that you couldn’t see on the camera, like today.

Yes, the Bonneville Brougham was back! And in 1976, it was your last chance to get it in full-blown, seriously full-size fashion.

As I mentioned earlier, my friend Jason Bagge, The Brougham Whisperer himself, snapped up this Buckskin Tan Bonnie Brougham back in July 2018. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve written about his 1972 Bonneville, ’74 454-powered Monte Carlo, and ’70 454 Caprice previously.

As is his usual M.O., Jason planned to keep the car for a while. But then he found more cool old cars, like a 1973 Imperial LeBaron, and his priorities changed. In the approximately eight years that I’ve known him, I conservatively think he’s bought and sold 50 1970s land yachts of various marques and body styles.

So, despite its magnificence, the Imperial and another new acquisition, a police-package 1976 Catalina four-door pillared sedan (and more recently a 454-powered 1973 Caprice coupe) entered his life, and the Bonnie was sold.

So, the photos offer a close look at an excellent 1976 Bonneville Brougham, mostly original, with 400-cubic-inch V-8 power, power windows, power locks, power steering, power brakes, and pretty much power everything else., with 66,000 miles on the clock. And it’s a Brougham. Velour. V-8. Comfort.

Button tufted velour. And lots of stretch out room!

After 46 years of attrition, you don’t exactly see these on every street corner. In 1976, a total of 20,236 Bonneville Brougham four-door hardtops and 10,466 Bonneville Brougham two-door hardtops were built. No convertibles, as the previously-mentioned final Grand Villes spelled the end of topless Broughamage in ’75.

Despite my efforts to talk Jason into keeping this fine example (he doesn’t care for the color, Buckskin Tan—go figure), he sold it to a gentleman somewhere in the Midwest. And as always, I shall keep you all apprised of Jason’s latest acqusitions. Like the Post Office, you know there will always be more. Until next time, stay Broughamy and always tip your bartender.

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In the ’70s, things were going pretty well for Lincoln-Mercury division. On the Lincoln side, the massive, sumptuous Town Cars and Town Coupés gave Cadillac Coupe de Villes and Sedan de Villes worthy competition, the personal-luxury Mark outsold the Eldorado, and coach lamps, oval opera windows and crushed velour reigned supreme. On the Mercury side, the midsize Montego was an upscale choice in Brougham coupe and sedan models or woody Villager station wagon versions and the sporty imported Capri (Dad had one new, in bright yellow) provided interest. One could even get, were one so inclined, a subcompact Bobcat—essentially a Ford Pinto with a Parthenon grille. And then there were the full-size Mercurys.

I am particularly fond of the 1975–1978 versions. Heck, I love them. They were not quite as square-rigged as the Continental coupes and sedans they shared a showroom with, yet more formal than Ford LTD Broughams or top-trim LTD Landaus. The Marquis definitely had a Lincoln vibe, especially from the front with their almost-but-not-quite Lincoln grille and jewelry box lid hidden headlight doors.

Of course, given that most people shopping for full-size cars at their Lincoln-Mercury dealer in the mid-’70s weren’t likely looking for cheap transportation, most Marquis coupes and sedans were the higher trim Brougham and Grand Marquis versions, or the Di-Noc woodgrained Colony Park station wagons.

For 1975, the Marquis became the only big Mercury, with the Monterey and Monterey Custom nameplates put out to pasture. The base Marquis, however, was very close to the 1973–74 Monterey equipment-wise, with the exception of the Marquis-style hidden headlights.

Models were Marquis, Marquis Brougham, and top of the line Grand Marquis, with a Marquis wagon and wood-sided Colony Park wagon also available. When the new ’76s arrived at L-M dealerships, they were essentially the same, with no notable trim or sheetmetal revisions. Like the ’75s, they rode a 124-inch wheelbase on coupes and sedans, and a 121-inch stretch on station wagons.

Our featured car is a 1976 Marquis Brougham “pillared hardtop,” which meant a fixed B-pillar, but frameless door glass. It weighed in at 4693 pounds and had a base price of $6035. 22,411 were built. The Marquis Brougham coupe started at $5955; 10,431 sold. Base Marquis sedans started at $5063 and the top-dog Grand Marquis sedan was $6528.

Marquis Broughams came standard with a 180-hp 400-cubic-inch V-8, but for those who liked towing toys such as a speedboat or Airstream trailer, a 460 V-8 with 202 horsepower was optional. This car also has the optional Twin Comfort Lounge Seats, which provided independent seat adjustment for both driver and passenger. Standard was the flight bench, which was a solid unit, much like a living room couch. If the driver moved the seat fore or aft, so went the passenger.

I had a discussion online with several friends about what color this car was painted. One said Ginger Glow, another said Medium Copper Metallic. I thought it was copper too, but a little research revealed that color was only available on Monarchs, Comets, and Bobcats. So I believe it is Saddle Bronze Metallic.

Whatever the name, it’s a gorgeous color. So much more interesting than the usual blah silvers, blacks and grays on modern cars. It looks especially rich with the contrasting brown top and interior. I spied this lovely example at the July Cruise to Mt. Carroll, in Northwest Illinois. It was one of the few events not canceled due to, well, you know. So I made time to attend, and quite a few cars showed up. It was very hot and humid, and I only lasted an hour or so before retreating back to my climate controlled Town Car, but this Marquis was my absolute favorite! Several other really nice cars were there too though, including a gorgeous navy blue 1964 Impala SS with the 409-which will you can probably read about in the near future.

Standard equipment on Broughams consisted of, among other things, Select-Shift automatic transmission, power steering and brakes, power windows, hidden windshield wipers, electric clock, fender skirts, Brougham wheel covers (but of course!), Deluxe steering wheel, deluxe seat belts, and deep cut-pile carpeting. Interiors came in green, gold, red, blue and black, in addition to the Saddle trim sported by our featured car.

These were smooth, quiet, and yes, thirsty cars. But they were popular, and lasted through the 1978 model year with only minimal changes. As the brochure said, “The image of Mercury cars are among the finest in their class today. Elegant and sophisticated in their styling. Luxurious in their appointments. Roomy and comfortable.” Yes, back then, this was a car you’d be proud to own. And many of its type, full-sized, V-8-powered, with rear wheel drive and full frame construction, roamed the Interstates and suburban streets of the ’70s.

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Have you ever had a car you were immediately infatuated with at first sight, meant to write about as soon as possible, but kept getting displaced by other subjects? It happens to me frequently. Other car shows intervene, more and more photos get taken. Bright, shiny, rolling vehicles with opera windows and crushed velour distract your author.

In that same vein, after a long hiatus, I finally got this most excellent GM luxury cabin cruiser onto the page. May I present the Broughamiest Brougham that ever Broughamed? Well, at least in my opinion.

Sure, there are other good candidates: the 1977–78 Oldsmobile Toronado XSR, 1978 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham four-door hardtop, 1976 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, 1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV Givenchy Designer Series, and many others. But the 1976 Cadillac Fleetwood Talisman is especially decadent—and well loved by yours truly.

Today’s subject is a Fleetwood Talisman in the most attractive color combination of Georgian Silver with a matching silver padded vinyl roof and Light Antique Blue velour interior. Maximum Cadillac. Maximum Brougham. Maximum Awesome.

I have had a serious jones for the 1971–76 Cadillac Fleetwood since I was a kid. A navy blue metallic, 1/64 scale toy Fleetwood Brougham by Pocket Cars had a lot (correction: everything) to do with it.

I loved that little model Fleetwood, and its companion, a Pocket Cars Continental Mark IV in the same blue with an off-white top. Explains why I do so many Cadillac and Lincoln articles, doesn’t it?

My parents got me both of them at about the same time, when I was perhaps two or three years old. They immediately became my favorite toy cars and I carried them around with me, virtually everywhere. And while those originals survived to the present day, they’re a little too rough for publication here. I added mint examples to my toy car collection, and they are shown above.

1976 was, in my opinion, peak Brougham. Over at Cadillac, the sky was the limit in Broughamtastic Broughams. If you loved long wheelbases, opera lamps, velour, leather and wire wheel covers, you were in luck. Coupe de Ville, Sedan de Ville, Eldorado, Eldorado Biarritz (a mid-year arrival), d’Elegance packages, the Fleetwood Brougham, the Fleetwood 75 limousine and sedan … and the Fleetwood Brougham d’Elegance. And the creme de la creme, the totally excessive, totally decadent Cadillac: the Fleetwood Talisman.

1976 was the last year for the truly large, truly opulent full-size Cadillacs, though the Eldorado would continue in 100 percent full-sized form through model year ’78. The last year for the Fleetwood Talisman was 1976.

The Fleetwood Talisman originally appeared in 1974. It combined the Fleetwood Brougham body with velour. Velour, everywhere. And the 1974 Talisman was the most opulent, Broughamtastic four-seat luxury automobile you could buy that year. Yes, that’s correct, it was a four-seater, with giant, velour-clad center consoles in both the front and back.

The 1974 Talisman was an excessively luxurious, velour-bomb of epic proportions. Of course, I love them. Many a driver accidentally fell asleep due to the cosseting plushness, leading to few Talismans surviving today. I’m kidding, of course, but with their massive center consoles front and rear, long wheelbase, and options on top of options, the ’74 Talisman was a special car. Either you got it, or you didn’t. This was unapologetic American-style luxury.

The four-seater Talisman lasted for 1974 only. In ’75, the front velour-clad buckets and console remained, but the rear seat console went away, leaving room for one additional lucky passenger. All the usual refinements, other than that back-seat console, remained as before. Talisman production was 1898 for the inaugural ’74 model, and 1238 were built in 1975.

The 1976 Fleetwood Talisman was introduced alongside all the other ’76 Cadillacs on September 12, 1975. In its final year, 1200 Talismans were built. Our subject car, photographed by my friend Jayson Coombes in autumn 2018 at the Gilmore Museum, is one of them. She appears to be a lovingly preserved example, and the silver over blue combination is just plain excellent. Special thanks to Jayson for documenting this most excellent Cadillac!

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Was 1976 peak Brougham? I think so. I think it’s the year. Sure, the phenomenon of fully full-sized, V-8-powered, rear-wheel-drive luxury sleds with crushed velour and landau tops went on for decades after, but in ’76 it was everywhere, and in screw-the-fuel-economy, fully full-sized form. Also, it was the last year for the gigantic Eldorado convertible.

Sure, there were midsized luxury choices, like the Chrysler Cordoba and Chevy Monte Carlo, and you could even get a Vega with a landau top this year. But for the folks with deep pockets and wanting the full road isolation experience, you had to get the truly large domestic rolling stock.

There were a score or more on hand for your inspection, starting with Chevrolet Caprice Classics and Plymouth Gran Furys and Ford LTDs. If you kept moving up the price brackets, the Lincolns and Cadillacs sat at the peak. And make no mistake, Cadillac was king in ’76.

Certainly in the sales charts. Cadillac consistently outsold Lincoln in the ’70s, with the exception of the Continental Mark IV, which generally trounced the Eldorado. This, despite the fact that the Eldo was also available in convertible form and the Mark was not.

The Eldorado nameplate itself was born in ’53 as a convertible. For model year 1956, an Eldorado hardtop joined the soft top. The convertible was redubbed Eldorado Biarritz and the coupe was named the Eldorado Seville. But that only lasted through 1960. In ’61, the Eldorado was once again only available as a convertible.

In 1967, Eldorado became front-wheel drive and available only as a two-door hardtop, in one of Bill Mitchell’s coolest designs, as a pricier, more luxurious razor-sharp version of the Toronado. But the drop-top came back in ’71. Confusing? You bet. But I absorb all sorts of useless automotive facts. If there is ever a “Brougham” version of Jeopardy!, I will win.

Between 1971–76, there was a pesky gas crisis, and proposed legislation (which never materialized) focused on improved roll-over requirements of U.S. cars made many Detroit execs nervous. In addition, the increasing popularity and decreasing cost of factory and aftermarket automotive air conditioning led to a decline in the demand for all convertibles. And so it was, with much fanfare, that the 1976 Eldorado convertible was announced as the final one.

There was a stampede. GM determined that it had about 14,000 convertible top mechanisms in stock, and, boy, it used every single one. Some just wanted the last new Cadillac convertible, to use and drive like any new car, some (many) were speculators who flipped theirs for thousands over the MSRP (which was not cheap in the first place), and, of course, many dealers took advantage of the situation and inflated the ask themselves.

Final sales figures for 1975 Eldorado convertibles—which had no LAST ONE! LAST ONE! fanfare—were 8950, while 1976 production rose to an even 14,000 units, a 156 percent jump over ’75 demand. And GM probably could have sold a couple thousand more at least, as everyone and their brother wanted one—and now!

Yes, 1976 was a grand year for Cadillac, with giant lux yachts roaming the earth. Each of these fantastic, plush, open-topped conveyances turned in a curb weight of 5153 pounds and an overall length of a smidge over 224 inches. And all 1976 Eldorados, de Villes, and Fleetwoods sported an impressive 8.2-liter, 500-cubic-inch V-8. Most breathed through a four-barrel Quadrajet carburetor. Fuel injection was optional but could be problematic; few came so equipped. But the recently-introduced Seville, in ’75, was the future, at least in overall packaging. Luxury in a more manageable size.

Though the mighty Eldo would hang on in all its massive glory—in coupe version only—through 1978, the ’77 C-Body Cadillacs would be smaller and much more in keeping with the Seville’s design aesthetic. There were smaller engines as well (with “only” a 425-cu-in V-8 instead of the former 500-cube unit) and yet more room at the same time. The future had arrived.

But as you may expect, there were lots and lots and lots of ’76 Eldorado convertibles stuck in hermetically sealed chambers, jealously hoarded by speculators. Which translates to many primo examples, never-driven or seldom-driven, being available today—like this one, recently spotted by yours truly on the electronic bay some time back.

Not only is it in remarkable condition, the color combination stopped me in my tracks: Greenbrier Firemist with white Sierra grain leather and green trim, and a white top. It has the very attractive and optional fiberglass parade boot, too. Oh, and only 34,000 miles. Nice! It appears to be ready to go, a running and driving vehicle. There are, I’m sure, many ’76 Eldorados with five miles on the odometer that haven’t turned a wheel since 1976 and will need EVERYTHING to get running. Not this one, apparently.

This fine green motor yacht was listed about three years ago, and I was so smitten I jumped right onto the eBay link and saved them in ‘The Vault’—also known as my computer desktop. Oh, and was this the last Cadillac convertible, as it was so frequently hyped, by dealers and Cadillac itself? Nope. In 1984, the Eldorado convertible returned, much to the chagrin of those who bought ’76s for investment purposes. The folks who bought one to enjoy, drive and love, probably just laughed.

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