Cadillac was founded by Henry Leland in 1902. It was named after a French explorer, Antoine Laumet, a commoner who presumptuously changed his name to that of a nobleman, Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac, when he founded Detroit in 1701. Hence, the moniker “Cadillac” as a symbol of noble excellence was embedded in the brand from the very beginning. 

     Over the years, the term Cadillac as a figure of speech has been used to laud  everything from Obama’s healthcare plan to comprehensive insurance coverage, from WW II fighter planes called the “Cadillacs of the skies,” to everyday consumer items like Huffy bicycles and home appliances. Even the extra large shrimp from the Texas Gulf Coast are called Cadillacs. While the reputations of the various models of the car itself may have waxed and waned over the years, the Cadillac name has endured as a synonym for luxury. 

     Today, it is the third most preferred luxury brand after Lexus and BMW, and its performance and reliability rank up there with the best of all autos. Currently, the CTS 5 (the latest incarnation of the Catera Touring Sedan first introduced 15 years ago) has a 5 star safety rating in all three NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration) safety crash tests. Cadillac is owned and manufactured by General Motors and the cars are still made in the United States; way back in the 20th century, Cadillac was the first to introduce the idea of interchangeable parts to the industry, which revolutionized car production forever. 

     Incidentally, interchangeable parts among all General Motors brands, and Ford Motor Company brands, also explains why Cadillacs and Lincolns became the luxury vehicles of choice for wealthy landowners, ranchers and oilmen living and working out in the vast, remote areas of Texas. Rich or not, nobody wants to break down in the rural hinterlands driving a Maserati. 

     But back to Cadillac, which is where I came to be after pondering Sista’s looming repair bill. Since I hadn’t anticipated being in the market for a new car, I was unfamiliar with current models so I spent time on line researching what Cadillac was offering.  (According to market research data, car buyers these days spend approximately 14 hours researching their purchases on-line before actually shopping.)  A visit to my dealership to look at cars confirmed what I had seen. All the hype and most of the inventory featured the Lyriq, an EV, and the new XT6 SUVs. (My husband drives an XT5.)  Among the 134 vehicles on my local dealer’s lot, there was a smattering of Escalades (not for me since I’m not a rock star or a politician) and a few sedans like Sista, now called the CT4 and the CT5. It was clear that if I bought a new Cadillac, it would have to be one of those. 

     Even though the lot was not filled to capacity, it was still overwhelming to me considering how totally empty it had been all during Covid and for months thereafter. I had arranged to meet a sales advisor, but had also asked our son to meet us because he’s the real car enthusiast in the family and is always up on the latest automotive trends. Plus, he actually likes doing this sort of thing!

     So, we gathered for the test drives. First up was a CT4 turbo charged sedan. “Yes, it’s a 4 cylinder engine, but believe me, you’ll be surprised by the power,” said the salesman as we piled in. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I noticed that even with all the new technology and “infotainment” in the dashboard, the car did have some familiar features and a nicely-done interior. But it seemed small, close; the top of my head barely cleared the sunroof mechanism and the console between me and the passenger seat was small. 

     We took off.  Before I even exited the dealer lot, however, I was already feeling claustrophobic, though I did have to admit that there was a certain get-up-and-go when I pressed the accelerator. The ride was “zippy,” more like a sporty Baby Beamer than the smooth glide of a Cadillac, but then, as we headed up the on-ramp to the Interstate, there it was: the labored whirrr of the 4 cylinder engine, turbo or no turbo. “Nope,” I said. “This isn’t going to do.”  

     Back to the dealership. There I learned that if I wanted a 6 cylinder sedan, it had to be a CT5 V-6 dual turbo and there were only three of those models on the lot. The salesman pulled up in a white one with Sahara beige interior. Again we piled in, much more easily this time, I might add. We took out on the same route as before, but this ride was so much more comfortable. The car was only a few inches wider and longer than the CT4, but what a difference. The interior was roomier and the engine was smoother — no whirs or grinds as we ascended the on-ramp. “Yes,” I said, “this is much more like it.”

     We went back to the office “to negotiate.” I did like the car, but there were two main problems with this particular vehicle: there were some upgrades that I didn’t want and didn’t want to have to pay for, and then there was the biggest drawback: it was white!! Summit white!! I hate white. We discussed price, incentives, trade-in, but I kept coming back to the fact that the car was white. Finally he asked exactly what it would take for me to be “color blind.” I gave him a number and, surprisingly, he agreed (after checking with his boss). It was a good deal but, ultimately, I was still reluctant to confirm the sale that day. He wasn’t happy, but that’s the the way it goes…

     In between calls from the salesman and his boss, and in discussions with my husband and son, I continued to think about all this for a few days. This was a big decision and it boiled down to an existential issue: if this were to be my last car purchase, should I “settle” for something that wasn’t exactly what I wanted?

     My son suggested we get on line and configure the exact CT5 V-6 for me in Raven black with Sahara interior, a Bose sound system, and 20 inch wheels. I had no idea that nearly 30 percent of new car sales these days are completed this way in the “build-and-buy” programs of auto manufacturers through their local dealers. (No doubt this is another now-preferred practice resulting from low inventories during Covid.) Anyway, up she popped on screen: my next “Sista.” The following week, I took the order into the dealership. They got the sale and I’m happy. The car will be here in the spring.

     All I have to do now is think of a new name for her. I’m excited. Its arrival is something to look forward to, though I am still driving Sista with nostalgic affection these days. For me, Cadillac is not just a figure of speech, it is a love of the cars and a loyalty to the brand based on 40 years of good experiences. 

     And FYI: No, I am not getting any incentives from Cadillac for these posts.