I remember clearly the first time I ever saw a Buick Riviera.
It was the summer of 1963. I was in the Army and was briefly stationed at Fort Sheridan on the shores of Lake Michigan in Chicago.I had gone to the post theater to see a movie called "Come Blow Your Horn." In the film, Frank Sinatra was a rich, middle-aged playboy; Tony Bill played his young protege, eager to learn the tricks of a rake's progress.
The film was unremarkable - a typical romantic comedy of the period - except for one thing: Sinatra drove a new car in the film that I had heard about (it had hit the showrooms in limited numbers the previous fall) but had not yet seen: a 1963 Buick Riviera.
I recall thinking that the Riv was one of the most beautiful cars I had ever seen and between mouthfuls of popcorn I vowed that once I had finished my two years of making the world safe for democracy (Hey, Chicago can be a pretty dangerous place!) I would go back to civilian life, make a ton of money and buy myself a Riviera.
I did go back to civilian life and I did buy a Riviera . . . two out of three isn't bad.
But the timing was off on my purchase of a Riv. By the time I got around to honoring the vow I had made myself at age 23 in Illinois, I was 33, married, a father and living in Utah. Also, my finances required that I buy a 1964 model Riv even though it was now 1973. But that was fine with me. My silver-blue '64 was a dead ringer for Sinatra's '63 in the film. Besides, the '73s were ugly compared with the original.
Sadly, like so many dreams of youth, my 12 months as a Riviera owner was a major downer. The car spent considerably more time in the shop than it did in my driveway, costing me $1,100 in repairs, which was more than I'd paid for it. There was so much stuff crammed under the Riv's hood that they had to remove a fender just to change out a faulty windshield wiper motor.
Fast forward to 1994. The three decades since "Come Blow Your Horn" have seen "boattail" Rivs and "down-sized" Rivs and convertible Rivs and Indianapolis 500 pace car Rivs and Rivs with video-screen instrument panels and even (in the 1994 model year) no Rivs at all.
Now we have the 1995 "concept car" Riv, derived from one of those mules that revolve on turntables at auto shows while a young woman in a miniskirt declares it to be "the car of the future."
My Riviera renaissance has occurred this week with a "Dark Green Metallic" version and I'm still trying to decide whether I like the radical new styling. For sure, it has not moved me as the original did on that Army base 31 years ago.
My fellow motorists also seem equivocal. I have gotten smiles and thumbs up from some, while others have held their noses or engaged in body language indicating they are about to lose their lunch. That's the interesting thing about driving a lot of new cars; people are eager to share their opinions with you.
One thing is sure: The new Buick Riviera will not be mistaken for anything else on the road and for that I say hats off to General Motors. For years, the General has been criticized for making look-alike cars. With the new Riv, he has declared, "Oh yeah? Well take a look at this!"
If you are a fan of the traditional squared-off look in auto design - Volvo comes to mind - you will probably not care for the Riv's sheet metal. Think of a porpoise gliding through the water and you'll have a pretty good image of the body style. Rather than being constructed in a factory, it looks as if it was "morphed."
The overall design theme is circles and ovals, creating a flowing, fluid look that almost seems to change shape as it moves. It occurs to me that if one were to dent the Riv, one would have to call a sculptor rather than a body and fender man to make repairs.
Inside, the circular theme continues. Everywhere you look on the dash there are circles, 16 of them altogether, including air vents, instruments - everything except the sound system and climate controls.
Speaking of which, the climate control is one of those automatic systems in which, theoretically, you simply set the interior temperature you desire and the car does the rest. Not so easy. I kept asking the car to make it a toasty 80 degrees inside but it kept insisting on 60 or thereabouts.
In fairness, 80 may be a bit much when it's around 8 degrees outside, but the heater kept coming on before it was ready, blowing cold air on my legs. Give me a good old fashioned manual system any day.
As for the sound system, it had both tape cassette and CD players but, as I have often complained with Delco equipment, the radio had a tough time holding local FM stations without static.
Controversial sheet metal aside, the best thing about the new Riv is the drive train. The standard engine is a 3.8 liter V-6 (0-60 mph in 9.7 seconds), but my test car was motivated by the optional supercharged version of the same pushrod V-6 that churns out 225 horsepower and 275 pound-feet of torque to the front wheels at a low 3,762 rpm - good for 0-60 mph in 7.2 seconds.
The hot rod set will not be impressed with that figure, but for a car weighing in at a George Foreman-like 3,762 pounds, that is wonderful acceleration and is delivered with the smoothness of a jet turbine, the muted wail of the Roots-type blower lending just the right performance note.
Supercharging is old technology, but it is still effective in getting more power out of a smallish engine. Unlike turbochargers, which run off exhaust gases and thus have a lag between throttle and thrust, the supercharger comes on RIGHT NOW. Both work by ramming extra air into the cylinders, a practice that may or may not shorten engine life but definitely makes it more interesting.
Even better, the supercharger does not ask you to pay a hefty penalty in fuel consumption. Whereas my '64 Riviera with its 401-cubic-inch V-8 drank a gallon of ethyl every 11 miles, the '95 Riv with the blown V-6 is rated at 17 mpg city and 27 mpg highway.
The Riv is an upscale luxury coupe with theoretical seating for five. In real life, it will spend most of its time with only the driver on board and that's good because while the rear seat is infinitely more accommodating that that of the Nissan 240SX coupe I evaluated last week, a limo it's not.
Base price for the new Riviera is $27,632. The blown engine (which includes special wheels and tires) is a $1,100 option and a must-have if only to avoid being ridiculed for owning a car that is all show and no go.
The "prestige" option package for $992 is also probably mandatory because no one buys a car like this to cut corners; ditto for the $650 leather seats.
Bottom line for my test car was $31,433, not cheap unless you compare that figure with its German and Japanese competitors, in which case it is a legitimate bargain.
It goes without saying, I hope, that the Riv's standard equipment includes all the usual luxury car convenience gadgets and even a few more, such as separate AC/heater controls for the passenger, automatic headlights, auxiliary climate and sound system controls on the steering wheel and a trunk big enough to hold all the golf clubs for your favorite foursome.