People often say to me, Rich, you’re a goddamn millionaire, what do you drive? The answer might surprise you. I know that when a lot of people think of luxury automobiles, they think of the precisely engineered performance of German offerings, the reliable luxury of the finer Japanese brands, or even the classic appeal of the great American status-symbol: the Cadillac. Not me. Not old Rich ‘n Creamy. I only drive, have ever driven, and will only ever drive one vehicle: A Buick.

I’ve driven Buicks all my life, and I’ve never wanted to drive anything else. To me, they represent the undying optimism of the American spirit; that can-do attitude that has made Americans the most respected and envied people in the world. Loyalty, dignity, strength; all words that spring to mind when I think of these vehicles. But Buicks are more than just a philosophy. Some crave them for their high-performance muscle, some for their pretense-free elegance, still others for their bold styling. But there is one thing all Buick fans all have in common: a hatred of disappointment.

I guess I just have Buicks on the brain because last month was pretty tough. My old LeSabre died. At first I didn’t want to believe it. I just sat there in the driveway, endlessly turning the key, until Peggy got home from her Bridge game. There followed an emotional scene, but eventually she got the hard truth through to me. Cars don’t last forever, and sometimes we just have to let them go, no matter how much we love them. I mean, it was a ‘05 after all, and had nearly 30 g’s on it, but it was difficult nonetheless, especially since that was the last model year for the LeSabre, and so it was a bit of a collector’s item. That was when Peggy suggested that we hit the dealership. A glow and a grin spread across my face.

As we pulled up, the excitement became unbearable. I know a lot of people hate to deal with car salesmen, but I think that’s because they’ve never shopped for a Buick. As we got out of Peggy’s Lexus, one of them was on us. He introduced himself as Bruce, and I gave him a warm embrace. After he backed away, a salesman named Eric took me into the showroom. That was where I came face to face with the finest piece of automotive machinery to ever roll out of Detroit, and Buick’s flagship: The Two-thousand and Eight Buick Enclave CXL.

Vital Stats: Dual Electric defogs, power steering, intermittent wipers, premium leather seating appointments. You want to talk horses? How’s 275 sound? And that signature Buick front grill is bigger than ever. Cue saliva glands. Of course, it also includes GM’s proprietary On-Star system, which does everything but wipe my ass for me. It’s so useful, I can’t figure out why no other car manufacturer has even considered implementing anything similar! In short, this beast is fully loaded; so much so that I initially refused to believe Eric when he listed the features. I spit in his face, called him a liar, and pulled his blazer up over his head. Then I sucker-punched him a couple of times until he fell to the ground, and held a letter opener up against his tender, heaving throat. He suggested we take a test drive, and I released my grip on his hair. What a salesman!

The test drive, as usual, really sealed the deal. The sensation of piloting a Buick is difficult to describe. Unlike a lot of less carefully engineered vehicles, the Buick really shields you from any pesky “road feel.” It is almost like you’re not driving at all! Some people will disparage this aspect of the Buick, saying that not being able to feel the road eliminates half the fun of driving; like having sex while wearing 10 condoms at once. Well, if you’ve been to Haiti as much as I have, you learn to appreciate that feeling, let me tell you. Besides, without all of that sensory distraction, you can concentrate on the really important things, like fiddling with the controls on my 10-speaker High-Definition DVD Satelite entertainment system. Handling is equally impressive; the thing corners like it’s on sails!

After the paperwork was wrapped up, I took the long way home to get a little Rich-time with the new wheels. It was lovely. I could talk on the phone, listen to the news, drive, and watch “A Bug’s Life,” all at the same time! I know a lot of people out there pooh-pooh Buicks, but I think that those people are really just ignorant, like those Klansmen that I accidentally gave a speech to last month. If Buicks really sucked, why would Tiger Woods agree to drive one for only $40 million? Exactly, it doesn’t make sense. Maybe you’ve never sat behind the wheel of a Buick. If so, I suggest you go down to your dealership and try one of the three exceptional models on the dwindling Buick roster. Only then will you understand why, when it comes to cars, I don’t drive Buicks–Buicks drive me.

This entry was posted on Saturday, July 21st, 2007 at 7:31 am and is filed under Slice 'o Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.