BUICK GRAND NATIONAL.

A ruthless snarl rumbles menacingly through the city. Tires roll over the slick wet asphalt. A proud hawk soars above. A cigarette dangles from a bottom lip. It could only mean one thing.

A 1987 BUICK GRAND NATIONAL IS PROWLING THE STREETS.

You know how people talk about the feeling of “goosebumps” or “chills” when hearing a great song? Or it could happen from watching a really epic movie scene that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? I get the same power when seeing a Buick Grand National roll down the highway…and I know I’m not alone.

If you see one and get lucky, a platinum blonde with teased hair the size of Texas and legs for days will be driving. If you get REALLY lucky, someone that is basically Wade Garrett (Road House) is behind the wheel. Mid-50’s, sandy mullet, black jeans, scars, half asleep, lucky horseshoe ring, I  Wanda tattoo, soft-pack cigarettes, empty Miller High Life bottles clanging around, rabbit’s foot keychain, faded maroon interior, faded cassette tapes on the dash, faded scratch tickets, faded painters’ union card, divorce papers crumbled up on the floor, JUGGS magazine, the same Dokken tape stuck in the stereo for the last 7 years and a pair of LLBP’s (lacy long-butt panties) on the backseat.

That’s right, this son of a bitch is headed straight to the bowling alley.

It’s hard to believe that a car can evoke this type of adrenaline, but the feeling is real. It’s absolutely real.

Uncle TNUC isn’t going to pretend he’s an automobile guru, so I’ll spare you with the long history lesson. What’s of great importance is that the 1987 “Grand National Experimental” (GNX) is highly regarded as being the last American muscle car. For Buick’s final production of Grand Nationals, they created a monster.

The ’87 GNX had an output of 300 brake horse power and 355 lb-ft of torque from its turbocharged, intercooled V-6. It beat out a Ferrari F40 and Porsche 930 in a performance test. Changes to its interior included an analog turbo boost gage. The GNX was created to be “The Grand National to end all Grand Nationals”. Any color was available…as long as it was black.

If a gun was pointed at my head and I had to choose just one song that captures the essence of the ’87 GNX, not a list of songs, ONE FUCKING SONG, I’d look up at the gunman with a shit-eating grin because the answer is too easy. The clear choice is The Doobie Brothers’ “Dangerous” from the 1991 action movie Stone Cold. Sure the song lyrics reference Harley motorcycles, but listen to those grooves and try not to imagine a guy in a sandy mullet screeching down the highway in a black Buick of death. Empty soft-packs of Vantage 100s crumbled up in the rear dash window. A sun-faded Garfield suction cup clinger hangs on for dear life. Now turn this up…

“Dangerous, that’s why you love it”

R.I.P. 1982 – 1987
“I RIDE THE WIND FOREVER FREE”

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