Packard: Ask the Man Who's Driven One

Packard's old advertising slogan used to be, "Packard: Ask the man who owns one." I happen to be a man who's driven one.

Driving someone else’s fully restored, concours-quality automobile worth about half the value of your house is a great honor and pleasure! Driving it through modern stop-and-go traffic while trying to change lanes is not.

And yet here I am, behind the wheel of the most incredible 1934 Packard Eight convertible that I’ve ever seen. You’d think that with it being painted such an extroverted two-tone green, other drivers would yield to your movements. But instead, I’m having to maneuver around some guy in a Nissan pickup who just has to have that particular spot in the line of traffic, and the woman in the Kia who just ducked into the lane in front of me and stood on her brakes. Hey lady, 4500 lbs of car doesn’t stop on a dime, you know. It’s obvious she doesn’t have a clue.

It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with on my daily commute to work, but today, I can’t help but sweat and worry a little, albeit with a huge grin on my face.

In a car like this, you’re somebody. You’re no average schmo driver. You’re the guy that adults wave to. You’re the guy to who kids point. “Whaddup, Al Capone!” yells a group of teenagers.


I could do this all day.

In fact, that’s exactly what I’d been doing all day. The owners were asked to show the Packard at a classic car show (along with some of their other cars), and needed it driven there. I’d spent about an hour driving it this morning, five hours fielding questions from bystanders, and was on the return trip when we ran into traffic.

In 1934, Packard introduced several improvements to their lineup and called the new cars the 1101 series. They were built on 136” wheelbases (in the case of this car), and powered by a 320 cubic inch straight eight engine producing 120 horsepower. The car I’m driving is a standard Eight model referred to as a convertible coupe. It’s color, a slightly yellow mint green with emerald green trim, is indeed a real Packard color combination. The cars featured such modern technology as a self-lubricating chassis, suspension ride control, and automatic choke. The transmission is a three speed, but only second and third are synchronized which means you don’t dare put it into first gear unless you’re at a complete stop. The flywheel on these must be massive!

Much to my surprise, it’s relatively easy to drive. You climb in over the running boards, and take your spot on a springy, leather bench seat. Despite the car’s massive length, you can easily reach over and touch the passenger door, so it’s only about as roomy as something like a Miata. Most of that space is taken up by an enormous steering wheel that probably measures two feet in diameter, and doesn’t allow for much knee space for leggy guys like me. Its thin rim and shiny black finish feel great in your hands, but the horn button and one of the three spokes completely block the speedometer positioned down by your right knee.

The gauges are lovely ivory pieces with beautifully machined grandfather clock-like indicators. You’ll find gauges for speed, oil pressure, engine temperature, voltage, and a large clock. The ignition switch is all the way to the right.

When you reach over and turn that key, a slow starter silently turns over the engine, which starts with little drama. The mechanic has set this car up wonderfully, and there’s no need to use the spark advance or choke adjustment levers located on the steering wheel.

I’ve been told that this car doesn’t like fast shifts, so I take great care as I reach out to find the black rubber knob on top of a very long shift lever. The clutch pedal goes to the floor, and I slowly move the lever all the way to the left, and back towards me for first gear. Through the shifter, I can feel the straight-cut gears aligning, and I give it a slight tug to get it fully engaged.

I let out the clutch, give it some gas, and the clutch releases in a very soft fashion. Despite the size and fairly lazy 7.00:1 compression, the engine revs pretty well. First gear is pretty short, so I reach for the shifter again, push down on the clutch pedal, and make the dogleg towards the dashboard for what I’m hoping is second gear, and not reverse. On the way there, I let the engine revs come down slightly, and slowly push the shifter into second gear. I’m thrilled when I let out the clutch and find that I was right! Third gear comes up quickly again, and the process is repeated once more.

Once moving, the car is relatively easy to drive. The cabin is filled with a mechanical song that is a combination of eight cylinders and gear whine, but it’s not offensively noisy. The large steering wheel made steering light and responsive (albeit with about 4” of dead space in the turn, and about 20 turns lock-to-lock), and the engine developed enough torque that I could leave it in third gear for pretty much the entire time, except for a dead stop. At one point, we were travelling an indicated 57mph down an interstate highway, and the car seemed happy to have maintained that pace for hours.

It’s no speed demon, though. Sixty miles per hour probably takes 25 seconds or more, and I couldn’t help but wonder if a tall 4^th gear would have been a great addition to newer cars.

The whole time you’re driving it, you can’t help but be aware of the size, though. There’s no zipping through traffic in this machine, and while the small side mirrors mounted to the spare tires are pretty, they’re virtually useless. You find yourself counting cars and colors via the inside rear view mirror, and making mental notes like, “After the second white car, I can change lanes.” And even then, you do it slowly lest you don’t see some idiot in your blind spot and punt him off the road.

Ventilation consists of two small doors, about the size of an envelope, cut into the cowl. Make no mistake, it still gets very warm in there. I tend to think the car did this to me on purpose, as it forced me to roll down the windows. Once I did, all that mechanical noise disappeared. I could hear the low rumble of the engine with a slight note of valve clatter, and it turned into the road-going machine that it was meant to be.

The car seemed to be talking to me, and together we channeled the spirits of those who had driven it over the last 77 years. I peered out over the long hood, and imagined myself pulling this stately car out of the Packard dealership. It was once someone’s dream car, and I hoped that somehow, their spirit still knew that someone was enjoying the car as much as they had all those years ago.

I know there was at least one spirit with me on that drive. My father’s two true automotive loves were MG TDs, and pre-war Packards. He never owned either one, but I know that, somehow, Dad was riding shotgun with me that day. Out of the corner of my eye, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of him wearing his tweed slouch hat, his elbow out the window, and through his thick beard, he was grinning even more than I was.

As I write this, the last of the dirt accumulated from the drive is probably being cleaned off, and the car prepared for winter hibernation. And while the car’s memories of this trip are being washed away, my memories of a day with this great car will stay with me forever.

I feel truly honored to have been asked to watch over this lovely piece of art for a while during its history, and I can’t thank the owners enough for allowing me the privilege to do so. 

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When Cadillac was king

I met my friend Bob about five years ago while working at the motorcycle shop. He's a wonderfully unassuming, yet classy gentleman who's been around cars and motorcycles (and boats and planes) his whole life. But one of his endearing (and admirable) qualities is his great attention to detail. When making repairs, he's very particular, and everything is done carefully in proper sequence.

This, of course, makes him the perfect one to own and care for some fine machinery.

One of the vehicles he owns is a 1931 Cadillac All-Season sedan. Now, this isn't just any old Cadillac. It's fully restored. It's a Pebble Beach class winner. And it's one of only 4,067 chassis that came with Cadillac's V16 engine.

From 1930-1940, at the height of The Great Depression, Cadillac introduced it's most powerful, most expensive car ever: the Cadillac Series 452. At the time, Cadillacs were available in V8, V12, and now a V16 configuration. Rumor has it that Cadillac heard Packard was developing a new V12 in the late 1920s, and waited until after Packard released the V12 to launch their own V16, and steal Packard's marketing thunder.

GM's design chief, Harley Earl (arguably the father of "tail fins" which appeared on cars in the 1950s),wanted GM to build a car in the same fashion as European cars of the time. When you purchased a new Cadillac, you purchased the chassis and engine. Then, you were given a choice of 10 body styles, and dealers had an additional 30 design sketches that buyers could choose. Colors were to the buyer's tastes. Today, the Cadillac/LaSalle club estimates there were over 70 different body configurations that buyers could choose!

The first two years saw a production of nearly 3,000 cars, then production dropped off sharply. In 1935 and 1936, only 50 cars each year were built. From 1930-1937, the V16 was an overhead valve, 452ci behemoth, and looks much like two straight-eights side by side. By 1938, Cadillac went to a smaller 431 engine, which had a wider V to the cylinders, along with a flathead-style cylinder head design (and dual everything). All of which made for a smoother engine that still put out the same power as the previous one.

Bob's 1931 is an All-Weather sedan, which means it is a four-door convertible. There is even a glass divider window between the front and rear seats. It is a late Fleetwood body, which is easily recognizable by it's v-shaped split windshield (Fisher-bodied cars have a flat, one-piece window). It weighs nearly three tons, and is larger than most Ryder trucks. But it is loaded up with chrome, and is a polarizingly beautiful automobile. I say "automobile", because calling it a "car" would be an insult to such a fine machine!

So several weeks ago, I got a call from Bob. He'd been invited to bring the Cadillac to a private car show, and asked if I wanted to ride along. I said "yes" instantaneously, figuring whatever else might be on the calendar could be blown off.

Early on a Saturday morning, his Corvette rumbled up my driveway in the darkness, and we sped off into the dawn sunrise towards the car's storage facility.

Upon arrival, we parked the 'Vette, and stood there in the chilly pre-dawn light staring at a white garage door. The door rolled open, and there sat the Cadillac. In the darkness of the garage, I could only make out the chrome details which sparkled like the jewelry it was intended to be. Bob got behind the wheel, and the slowest starter I'd ever heard turned over the massive crankshaft. The engine came to life, and 16 cylinders of power forced their exhaust gasses into the morning with authority.

As the car backed out of the garage, I stood there staring at it nearly breathless. The car was stunning in it's dark blue and silver paint, wide white wall tires and perfect chrome details. By today's standards, it's an antique. I can only imagine how it looked to a young car enthusiast when it was new in 1931. Eighty years later, it'll still melts the heart of nearly anyone who lays an eye upon it.

I opened the suicide-style front door and climbed in over the chrome and polished wood running boards. Once inside, you sit on a springy bench seat covered in silvery leather. The dash board is a gorgeous piece of machine-turned metal, which houses eight gauges done in art-deco font. You'd be happy to hang it on your wall as art. A little to the left is a massive ivory steering wheel with levers to adjust fuel, idle and choke. And if you can pry your eyes away from the beauty of the interior, you can look down the long hood and see the hood ornament on the radiator cap - a graceful, chromed swan standing nearly 10" from feet to upraised wing tips.

The transmission is a three-speed manual. The first two gears are straight-cut, so the gear whine is tremendously loud, and your initial comparison is that this fine machine sounds much like a mundane school bus. But it's not until you change to third gear that the gear noise vanishes, the engine's song comes through the firewall, and the car moves down the road in all its majesty. Out on the highway, it's been said these cars will cruise at 80+ miles per hour.

For 1930s technology, the leaf spring suspension (along with the tall tire sidewalls) rides quite nice for a 6,000lb vehicle. You wouldn't want to test the handling capabilities, however, as the steering and brakes are both manual (power for both came along much later in the production run). This makes for interesting travel, as the co-pilot tends to be the one who's monitoring the road at much further distances than the driver. All maneuvers are planned far in advance, and you realize quickly that modern traffic patterns don't work for this car. The massive steering wheel mentioned earlier isn't just there for looks - it's there for leverage, too.

But treat it right, and the car brings it in spades. People wave and honk. Pedestrians stop in their tracks. Kids point with huge smiles on their faces. And that's what this car was made for. It's in its element on the road, making a lasting impression on all that see it.

It's why I'm thrilled that a car like this is owned by someone like Bob. His appreciation for such a fine automobile, and his willingness to share it with others makes him a relative rarity among car collectors. To him, it's not an investment - it's something he owns because he enjoys it.

And I feel honored that, on this day, he chose to enjoy it with me.