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2014 Buick Regal GS AWD

"This is just silly," I said as I laughed my way sideways around the icy track at Circuit ICAR, a racecourse, drag strip and kart track at the Montreal-Mirabel International Airport in Quebec. It wasn't the activity that had me cracking up, though. After all, winter driving experiences aren't uncommon in this business.
No, in this particular case, it was the car that had me chuckling. I wasn't in a mad hot hatch or a rally-derived rocket - I was in a Buick. The 2014 Regal GS, to be more precise. Somehow, despite its recent product renaissance (not to mention its distant - yet storied - history of performance models), I was having a hard time believing that this attractive, turbocharged, all-wheel-drive sedan sliding around the Great White North could possibly be wearing a Tri-Shield badge on its nose.
But it was, and slide about it did. While having access to a vehicle in this setting is fairly rare, what's rarer is the fact that I've had so much exposure to it. In Mr. Ewing's recent Volkswagen Golf R drive story, for instance, his ice capades were his first experience with the new model. In my case, though, I was lucky enough to first test the refreshed Regal GS for a week back in December before flying to Quebec to drive it on the snowy, icy, winding roads of Canada's most fiercely independent province and on the track at Mirabel.

Junkyard Gem: 1973 Buick LeSabre Custom Hardtop Sedan

The steps on Alfred Sloan's "Ladder of Success," in which you'd start your career by buying a Chevrolet and then move up through the GM marques as your wealth increased, stayed rigidly fixed from the 1930s into the late 1960s. By the early 1970s, though, "prestige creep" among The General's divisions had set in, with lower-zoot marques leapfrogging their betters with ballooning price tags and snob appeal; a fully-loaded Chevy Caprice could cost more than an Olds 98, a Pontiac Bonneville could out-snoot a Buick LeSabre, and the LeSabre itself came to threaten mighty Cadillac at the top of the GM pyramid. Here's a fully depreciated '73 LeSabre Custom Hardtop Sedan, once the picture of Malaise Era opulence but now brought down to earth in a San Jose self-service car graveyard. The high-rollingest of all LeSabres in 1973 was the Custom (though shoppers for full-sized 1973 Buicks really wishing to rub the noses of their lessers in their success could opt for the even pricier Centurion or Electra 225), and that's what I found among the Achievas and Cateras of this yard's GM section. Wasps now nest in the rust holes caused by rainwater seeping beneath the padded vinyl roof, but this car once told the world, "I've made it!" It went without saying that your big, comfy Detroit luxury sedan had a big, comfy front bench seat; let those frivolous rakehells in their Rivieras have their bucket seats. Believe it or not, a three-on-the-tree column-shift manual transmission was still standard equipment on the lower-level Buick Century in 1973, but all LeSabre buyers enjoyed two-pedal luxury that year. Some junkyard shopper grabbed the massive 455-cubic-inch (7.5-liter) V8 — rated at 225 horsepower, due to Nixon's stricter emissions standards and the switch from gross to net horsepower ratings — before I got here. I'm guessing this car got driven into the ground by the early 2000s (there's a 2001 calendar inside) and then spent the next couple of decades bleaching in the harsh South Bay sun before arriving here. So good, shoppers bought them sight unseen!

We really want to use an eCrate to restomod an old GM car. Here's what we'd build

You hopefully saw the news today of GM's introduction of its Connect and Cruise eCrate motor and battery package, which effectively makes the Bolt's electric motor, battery pack and myriad other elements available to, ah, bolt into a different vehicle. It's the same concept as installing a gasoline-powered crate motor into a classic car, but with electricity and stuff.  This, of course, got us thinking about what we'd stuff the eCrate into. Before we got too ahead of ourselves, however, we discovered that the eCrate battery pack is literally the Bolt EV pack in not only capacity but size and shape. In other words, you need to have enough space in the vehicle to place and/or stuff roughly 60% of a Chevy Bolt's length. It's not a big car, but that's still an awful lot of real estate. There's a reason GM chose to simply plop the pack into the bed and cargo area of old full-size SUVs. Well that, and having a rear suspension beefy enough to handle about 1,000 pounds of batteries.  So after that buzz kill, we still wanted to peruse the GM back catalog for classics we'd love to see transformed into an electric restomod that might be able to swallow all that battery ... maybe ... possibly ... whatever, saws and blow torches exist for a reason.  1971 Buick Riviera Consumer Editor Jeremy Korzeniewski: If you’re going to build an electric conversion, why not do it with style? ThatÂ’s why IÂ’m choosing a 1971-1973 Buick Riviera. You know, the one with the big glass boat-tail rear end that ends in a pointy V. Being a rather large vehicle with a big sloping fastback shape, IÂ’m hoping thereÂ’s enough room in the trunk and back seat to pack in the requisite battery pack. That would likely require cutting away some of the metal bulkhead that supports the rear seatback, but not so much that a wee bit of structural bracing couldnÂ’t shore things up. The big 455-cubic-inch Buick V8 up front will obviously have to go. Remember, this was the 1970s, so despite all that displacement, the Riviera only had around 250 horsepower (depending on the year and the trim level). So the electric motorÂ’s 200 horsepower and 266 pound-feet of torque ought to work as an acceptable replacement.   1982 Chevrolet S10 Associate Editor Byron Hurd: OK, so the name "E-10" is already taken by a completely different truck, but let's not let labels get in the way of a fun idea.