It never fails. I get a convertible to test, and the Salt Lake weather decides to do its impression of winter in Seattle.
Except for a 15-minute roofless (and chilly) ride between rainstorms, the top of my 1994 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme convertible remained firmly in place during my week in the saddle.But it was probably for the best because that's how most drop-tops spend the majority of their time in Utah. Throw out the number of days that are too cold, too hot, too windy (wouldn't want to ruin a good hair day) or just too much trouble and there aren't many opportunities to go topless.
Still, it's nice to know you can remove the roof if the mood strikes, even if it doesn't very often. It gives the convertible, and thus its driver, an upbeat, joie de vivre attitude that the steel-topped version of the Cutlass Supreme can't duplicate.
I owned a couple of convertibles in my youth, when I really needed an image boost, and I have loved them - at least the idea of them - ever since.
One caveat: the Cutlass convert cheats a bit on the convertible concept. Its 5-inch-wide roll bar, looping across the car like a miniature version of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, tends to spoil the top-down silhouette of the car. Also the wide-open feeling - to my mind the whole point of putting up with the downside of owning a convertible - is diminished.
Speaking of downside, convertibles have a ton. Rain tends to leak in even when the top fits well, which the Oldsmobile's does. Then there's the dreaded "cowl shake" as it is known in the industry. Lopping off the top of a car takes away much of its inherent rigidity and the Olds is no exception. Hit some railroad tracks or potholes and the car feels like it wants to turn left and right . . . at the same time. If it were not for the roll bar, which helps tie things together, it would be much worse.
Then there's the added weight (the convert weighs 331 pounds more than the coupe), the lack of security (all you need to break in is a Swiss army knife), and the added expense (the drop-top costs thousands more than the "normal" Supreme) and you have to wonder how they sell any convertibles at all.
But if you want the wind in your face and the sky overhead, you have to pay the price and put up with the inconvenience. Fortunately, for a few hopelessly romantic souls, it's all worth it.
Putting the top down is a piece of cake. Just loosen the edge of the headliner (which is separate from the vinyl top), release an overhead clamp on each side of the car, then push and hold a dash button for a few seconds. Voila, topless.
If you're not the fussbudget type, that's all there is to it. Otherwise, you have to retrieve a heavy, bulky boot out of the trunk (which takes up a lot of the precious trunk space) and wrestle it over and around the top, which extrudes six inches or so out of the rear well. If the Olds were my car, I figure I would go through that hassle maybe once a summer. The rest of the time I'd just let those ribs and spokes show.
Passing thought: unlike the convertibles I owned in the '50s, which had plastic rear windows that rippled and split and quickly became opaque, the Olds has a real glass window, complete with defroster wires.
Ready for the sticker shock? The Cutlass convert does not come cheap. Base price is $25,470, but my test car had nearly $3,000 in options that, along with delivery charges, pushed the bottom line to $28,211.
One of the more interesting options on my car was the head-up display, or HUD. The HUD projects a green-glowing digital speedometer onto the windshield that seems to hover in space about four feet in front of the driver. It also projects flashing green arrows when the turn signal is activated, as well as a "Check Instruments" warning when the gas gauge is low or one of the "idiot lights" comes on.
I never could make up my mind whether the HUD gadget was worth its $250 cost, or $2.50 for that matter. It makes an interesting conversation piece - for a while - but I'm not sure of its long-term utility. After all, the driver's seat of an Oldsmobile is not the cockpit of an F16 fighter plane - glancing down at the dash is not likely to put you into a death spiral or anything.
At first, you can't stop staring at those green numbers floating out there over the hood, but after awhile you forget they are there. Ironically, to read them you then have to change your focus from the road to the display, just as you do when you glance down at the instrument panel.
It may be of some help to drivers who tend to break the speed limit without knowing it. Since I never speed (without knowing it), I am not an objective witness. Personally, I think I'd pass and spend the $250 on a couple of Jazz playoff tickets or something.
More useful than HUD are the touch controls for the radio and the climate control located on the steering wheel. They allow you to change stations/volume on the radio and raise or lower the temperature and/or fan speed of the air conditioner and heater. I think a lot of people have wrecked their cars while fiddling with these controls on the dash, so this innovation gets a thumbs up.
Also worthy of praise is the optional engine package, which for $1,085 upgrades the Cutlass Supreme's motivation from the standard 160 horsepower 3100 SFI V-6 to the 210 horsepower 3.4 liter DOHC V-6. Standard with this engine is GM's 4T60-E Hydra-matic transmission, a very smooth-shifting unit.
Handling was outstanding on my test car, which was aided by a beefed up suspension system, part of the engine upgrade package.
Another safety feature on the Cutlass, new for '94, is programmable door locks. As before, all the doors lock when the shift lever is moved from Park. But by inserting or removing a fuse, the owner can choose between two modes: automatic unlock when the ignition is turned off or all doors remain locked until activated by the driver or passengers.
Another nice touch is a door-handle activated lighting system, especially in a dark garage or parking lot. Also convenient is the keychain remote door/trunk opener.
A driver's six-way power seat and leather upholstery are standard on the Olds convertible. Everyone who rode in the car commented on the comfort of the seats, both front and back. Only the driver's seat has an air bag.
The EPA rates fuel mileage at 17 mpg city, 26 highway. I averaged about 20 mpg.
Nitpick: The last three General Motors cars I have tested, a Cadillac, a Buick and now the Olds, all had less-than-satisfactory FM radio reception. In an age when even radios that can fit in your ear produce flawless sound, the static found on GM's Delco radios seems inexcusable.