One day in the late sixties, Carroll Shelby tried talking Bill Cosby into buying one of his Cobra Super Snake sports cars. For those who remember Cosby’s recording of “200 Miles an Hour,” he wanted a car that does 200 mph to get to work. But, after just one ride, he handed back the keys—suggesting this would be better in the hands of a George Wallace, or a Buzz Aldrin, or a Starbuck of Galactica fame. The car was resold to a gentleman who promptly killed himself shortly thereafter. It was not a car to be taken lightly. The new CTS-V wagon is also not to be taken lightly.
While looking like a cute little grocery retriever, it is nothing of the sort…unless you are Darth Vader, or unless your grocery store is on Mars. So this fat Crankster was bullshitted into driving one at the local dealer, and let me tell you, getting back into my pickup was the hardest thing I have ever done…especially with the erection. If you must know, it lasted so long I had to notify my doctor.
Just to make things clear, it had me at the exhaust note. Everything from there was gravy. What a sound! Any motorhead hears it as his eyes half close like any opiate addict on the ‘good stuff.’ I had a stupid grin on my face, head tilted back, and that noticeable bulge in my nether regions. Ask your doctor if the ‘good sound’ is right for you.
Stick those fart cans up yo’ asses boys, THIS is da sound…
Now, to be perfectly honest, if given all the funding, I would still not buy this car. Why? The Recaro racing seat option. The poor folks at this dealership had to call 911, because I needed the Jaws of Life to be surgically removed from said vehicle.
Caddy-1, Fatman-0
But for the consolation prize, did I mention the erection?
Using a supercharged version of the Corvette engine, this beast will tear you a new one when you put your foot down. Oh yeah, and do so gingerly, the rectum you save may be your own…oh, and your rear tires will last microseconds.
Its competition style brakes will bring you to a stop about as fast as your brains can leave through your nose. Hey, but the handy part is all gray matter will end up in a nifty little storage area on the console! Very handy. They’ve thought of everything!
Transmission? If you’re a real man, it’s a six speed manual and, if you’re a Zano, an auto is available.
With every creature comfort known to man, it’s still a Caddy in every sense of the word. With the exception of the ‘floaty boat’ aspect, it corners like it’s on rails. If you go food shopping for Mexican, just buy the ingredients for your burritos and with a brisk ride in the back wagon area and voila…it’s Messy MexiCaddy Night damnit!
Way back when, Bill Crosby was right; there truly is no reason to build or buy this beasty, but we terminal gearheads are glad it exists just the same. It’s like thinking of screwing Sarah Palin. You know she’s a loon and her voice would decalcify your spinal column, but you would anyway…it’s kind of like that.
Thank god, I’m finally losing the erection…
Ah shit, there it goes again.
The Crank
