Driving Impression: 1974 Buick Regal
Note: I write up driving impressions of virtually every car I photograph, within a couple of days of the drive, so everything is fresh in my memory. Occasionally, because of the constraints of format (ie, buyers’ guide) the prepared text doesn’t run. Now, thanks to the joys of the blogosphere, it can.
The road wheels that came with the car were actually refused by the owner, preferring to save her money and choosing steel wheels and hubcaps instead; current owner Michael O’Malley purchased a set of Wheel Vintiques chrome Buick wheels, then searched the world over for the correct center caps. He confesses to installing a couple of options on this particular car, all of which were available but not ordered by the original owner: the map light (which shines surprisingly bright at night), the clock, and the rear defogger among them.
The frameless door swings open wide and seems to weigh as much as an entire VW Beetle; those poor bloody hinges. Thanks to the pull being in the middle of the door, it actually feels heavier that it might otherwise when shutting it. For such a big car, ingress/egress isn’t as simple as you’d expect: tilting the wheel to its up-most position before getting in is recommended for larger folk.
Once inside, there’s grand shoulder, leg and headroom. The control stalks, like the turn signal, still feel good and stiff in their moorings—nothing loose or floopy here. The dash is a mixed bag: the round speedo whispers sporting intent (though its 120mph promise is laughably optimistic) and everything is fine ergonomically—everything falls to hand. No searching for anything, except perhaps the radio, which is mounted a little low. But then there’s the lack of instrumentation beyond the speedometer, the skinny steering wheel (at least it tilts), and the much-derided faux-wood dash trim. You’d think that the cloth seating area would offer a modicum of grip, but this isn’t the case: the rare houndstooth seating option seems to be more nylon or polyester than cotton or wool (or burlap), and your hand glides across it a little too smoothly. It’s more noticeable with your arm on the armrest than it is on your bum.
Twist the key, and … nothing. Thank GM’s one-year-only seatbelt interlock for that particular bit of annoyance, where you have to be fully buckled before you can start the car. (Owner O’Malley actually re-connected this particular feature after the previous owner had it disabled.) You can start the car by standing outside the car and reaching in –allegedly a feature for mechanics—and then hop in, but that’s as big a hassle as doing it right. A warning chime will admonish you, but not disable the car, if your passenger isn’t wearing their belt.
Once you’ve done as instructed, twist the key and … nothing again. Such is the silence inside that neither engine noise nor exhaust rumble make their way into the cabin.
Then you get moving. You are whisked away on a cloud of torque that makes it hard to believe that this is just a 2-barrel 350; gearchanges are so smooth as to be imperceptible save for the space-age whirr of the transmission. The good news is that this is a natural-born cruiser: point it to the nearest interstate and just soak up the miles. The 300-odd-mile trip from LA to Las Vegas would be a dawdle in this. It’s when you’re at speed and want to kick down that you realize there’s nothing more to be had.
Yet there are indications that it wants to break out of the luxo-mold it’s been cast in. Ride quality is a top example: you figure a car like this would soak up bumps around town and maybe get unsettled by larger bumps, dips and whoop-de-dos. Not so: the in-town ride is shockingly communicative through the chassis and seat (the steering’s another matter), while larger bumps and drainage ditches are swallowed like they weren’t even there. No bobbing or porposing after the fact either: eat the bump, keep on moving. It makes for marshmallowy turns, but the fuss factor is admirably low while pointed straight ahead.
The steering, meanwhile, is almost too quick for the car it’s in, considering its bulk and the tire size; it manages to show up the rest of the suspension. That skinny little wheel is one-finger light, and there’s very little on-center slack. The steering response is fantastic—it’s convincing two tons of car riding on tall whitewalls that it needs to go where you want it to that’s the tough part. The late-model Goodyear whitewalls offer admirable grip, but between the understeer and the roly-poly suspension, that steering prowess is wasted. The brakes, however, seem perfect: excellent pedal modulation, no untoward surprises, and it grinds you down from speed without issue or drama. Squeaky pedal effort revealed that a new pushrod and/or grommet was needed (and was on order at the time of our driving impression), but otherwise, no issues here.
To read more about this particular ‘74 Buick, and see more pictures, check out the January 2010 issue of Hemmings Classic Car–on sale now!