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Omega Red |
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1980 Oldsmobile Omega in "Cinnebar" maroon. |
Very few women respond in-kind. They may grudgingly remember it but my query will not create the same response. They usually react as if it's some kind of punishing quiz-show where they can win the initial $50 question to move on (an annoyance), thanks to my apparent and suddenly unexpected persona of Phil Regis. They usually remember their first car pretty well, but the response is pretty matter-of-fact. A girl's first car isn't that big a deal for them, just a means to an end. Sometimes you get a nice, cross-wired chick like Marisa Tomei's character in My Cousin Vinny (undeniably hers having "poo-aw'si tree'yack-shin") [positraction for the uninitiated as a limited-slip rear differential option on 1960's GM cars with rear-wheel drive so you wouldn't get stuck in the mud] but for the most part, sans hyper-cute, soul-melting, chipmunk-y tomboys you could take home to your parents, they aren't wired the same way. Not their fault, it's just how dem girls is.
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Tomboy fatale, Marisa Tomei in the 1992 film, My Cousin Vinny |
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Used "clunkers" are interesting and undeniably have a LOT OF CHARACTER. Mine had roll-up windows and no air conditioning and other such faults and was moderately reliable on good days, but I was learning maintenance with OJT on Live TV so-to-speak. Made for some interesting nights, the carburetor over-rich requiring a monkey-wrench to hold-open the butterfly-valve after unscrewing the wing-nut on the round air-filter. Yep, mine was carbureted: a 1980 Oldsmobile Omega!
Oldsmobile was a car company founded in 1897. Yeah, it's old. It's also regrettably dead. Last car to roll out of their production line was an Alero in 2004 some nearly 10 years ago. GM was downsizing their cars and Olds' didn't make the cut, later they axed Hummer, Saturn, and even more regrettably, Pontiac in 2010. Should'a been Buick. Should'a been, instead of catering to the Chinese who prefer Buick and buy 'em by the shipload. It's not all about money, Bob Lutz. You'll go to Hell for that one you know, Bob, for killing America's soul, and you'll go soon.
Aside from the "Super 88" in the 1950's, they really didn't start making badass cars until the mid 1960's with the "Olds 442", "JetStar", "StarFire", "Cutlass", "Delta 88", and "Toronado". These cars were big and had big, bad V8s in 'em. Until then, Oldsmobiles were old-people cars, but these had a little pizzazz. In the 1970s, GM borrowed a lot of Chevy Nova parts to make the Oldsmobile Omega as a sort of upper-class-trim version, then later from the Buick Skylark. Huge, boat-of-a-car. Massive. Trunk could hold 20 bodies. Heavy cars weighing-in at 3300 pounds, a "Rocket" 5.7 Liter V8 engines producing ... 115 horsepower. Though in GM's defense, there was an SX Rally model that had 176hp in limited numbers. I did not have any of these variants.
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1980 Oldsmobile Omega (getting rather hard to find, now). Hey, what's that guy doin' back there? Could that be a time-cop version of me looking at my third car, a 1981 Chrysler Cordoba? |
Instead, in 1980, the OPEC crisis caused a lot of people to go small. At 2400 pounds, the smaller, leaner, weaker, Oldsmobile Omega had an "Iron Duke" 4-cylinder engine producing 92 horsepower. There was an SX model again with a V6 at 130hp, but I didn't have that one, nor the slightly up-trimmed "Brougham Edition" which had a stock, factory-installed CB radio (before cell-phones kid, though I'll laugh back at you when people wonder what iPod connectors are for in cars sold now but in 20 years no one will know what an I-anything is). Top speed, 103 mph (the speedo stopped, as many cars did in the 1980's at 85mph). 0-60 in 11.8 seconds.
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A throwback from the 1970s when every car had a mandatory BROWN option. |
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Actual interior shot of my car's setup. Note* The dash was a hard, plastic with bumps not kind to Armor-All or detailing. |
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It seems Paul is still with Karen? Doing a Google search it looks like he sold the place and she left him for the dude who bought it out. Ah, you can't go against the power of Pizza! Heroes in a half-shell! Turtle Power!
I started learning maintenance on this 1980 Oldsmobile Omega. In the 2 years I had it, I changed the spark-plugs and went through 3 separate thermostats (I over-torqued the thermostat housing coupler and cracked the flange twice, causing an instant leak, and had to schlep over to a well-visited junkyard called "Frams" owned by an old, angry man named, not surprisingly, "Fram" who seemed like a WW-II vet, who was not unlike a more-grumpy, crusty, "Frank" from Jabberwocky and I assume eventually "died of anger". I had replaced various parts from some of those fender-benders (cosmetic). Had to change the exhaust (rusted-out utterly due to New England salting the roads 6" deep in the winter). Changed out the headlights (closed box-like structures). Changed the flasher bulbs in the front. Changed the taillight bulbs (and learned I needed the 1157A variety dual-filament, not the 1157 single-filament bulbs as such rookies make said-mistakes). Changed wiper-blades. Learned to fill the gas tank because by 1987, full-service gas-stations were nearly gone. Learned about octane and oil viscosities (the hard way, I never recommend 20W-50 for anything, ever unless you're living in Tucson, Arizona in the summer and the low is 130F). Learned about topping power-steering and brake fluids. Changed the failing "master cylinder" for said-brakes (well, had it changed, that's a big to-do). Changed and learned about over-tight squeaky fan-belts and the oh-so-important "tensioner pulley". Had to replace the fan motor as that died, and a radiator fan dying is not a good thing as the car will overheat and melt the engine block (I avoided this fate). Changed a broken alternator and carburetor each. Replaced tires, a whole fender, and a windshield. Replaced a side-window due to it being smashed-in because of a theft of my Whistler 300 radar detector. Fuses also replaced occasionally. Badly-tuned carburetor (after I replace it) caused "dieseling" meaning thought the car-keys was out of the ignition and you turned the car off and walked away, the car was STILL RUNNING! Fuel was still being combusted continuously through gravity-feed and combusting in the cylinders without a spark from the spark plug (which, when replaced were melted). This continued due to a perpetual explosion pulling the fuel in via a vacuum line. Not good. Possessed! Fixed though.
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Ah, this image is very familiar to me and gave me grief, and joy of success. |
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Heck, just about everything went on that car at one time or another. Amazing I wasn't killed by it. Ran out of gas on a few occasions. My brother Steve would announce, "Start walkin'!" Yep. ..and I did.
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Dude! Wanna lift? I'd do me. Wuh? |
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This blog is not a requiem of the Oldsmobile Omega, but a homage.
I was new to all things cars. I didn't know about 0-60 times (11.8 seconds is pretty slow) or suspension mods, when or where to change fluids, etc. It was just.. a car. Yet, despite my ignorance and innocence, the Oldsmobile Omega gave me freedom, and that's a big deal. It was a cheesy, grandma's car, not some symbol of virility or wealth. When I'd go on a date, the girl would sort of warmly smile. I was the '80s nerdy kid trying to make ends meet, not the edgy, cool guy. I was the kid who was trying to win the girl with a bouquet of hastily-picked daisies in-hand (often from the next-door neighbor's lawn) and an out-of-the-plastic-wrapper Arrow white-collared shirt hoping I might win a kiss by evening's end. The goofy, unsung hero against such competition as those harder-core hard-knock-school'ed ruffians that learned cool-car-cred in auto-hobby shops early-on and drove an IROC Z/28 or a Ford "5.0" Mustang. By 17, I hadn't focused on that kind of thing, and I realized I was against some odds. Still, I managed to "get the girl" by personality alone. Even still, I hadn't learned how to be as kind and compassionate as I am now, indeed, I failed by way of ambivalence, not seeing both points of view, and, well, being 17. I was still a bit selfish and self-oriented and my mind didn't always think things through, and some girls I had lived with suffered for my neglect and inexperience. I never meant malice, I was just .. well, dumb. I learned from these things though, grew, improved.. I'd like to say I'm a better man now than ever. I'm sure now that I've reached this point in my life I'll probably start to degrade physically as is Life's little joke and start crapping my pants and forgetting my own name as age sets on.
So now I have a rather impressive Corvette Grand Sport and I've done a few light mods to it already to personalize it. I've learned to appreciate the "car" in my life. I've learned to take care of it, what to listen for, what symptoms mean what oncoming, future disasters. I honestly didn't really start getting into cars until I was 23 and didn't get really, really getting into them until I was about 30, when all men's brains start to finally gel. Women figure-out things a bit earlier-on. Still, I don't value "Rosie", my 'Vette as a representation of myself, or something to show-off like a teen might. Indeed, I simply find it as a friendship that will grow over the years. Sure, there'll be problems like any friendship, but things can be overcome, and like my old Oldsmobile Omega (which I miss, actually) will become an endearing, long-term kind.
Here's the original brochure for the Oldsmobile Omega for
Do you remember your first car? Ah, I see you rolled your eyes up to think, and there! There's that warm smile. Enjoy the night, friends, and keep driving.