Spring 1972. We all waited with great anticipation for Dad to come home. On this day, it would not be by cab or subway.
When pop turned the corner, he didn’t just come home. He arrived. And gracefully moored his shiny new El Dorado in the parking spot before us.
Personally, I favored Mustangs. But I was taken aback by the Cadillac’s subtle wing curvature, roofline and sheer size. Dad called it one of the most graceful American cars to ever come out of Detroit.