Black Grand National

“All I ever wanted was a Black Grand National”

How about that? Who knew just a short couple of decades later I’d have an anthem for my car? It’s special to me because of the memories, because of the cool factor, and because of the way it makes people kinda scratch their heads. It’s a 1985 Buick Regal Grand National. Yes, it’s a real one… BUT it’s more than likely not the one you hear everyone ranting and raving about. It’s a precursor, of sorts, to the up and coming 1986 and 1987 models that seemingly did the impossible and made a mockery of nearly all of the high performance cars of the era.

At the time I was driving it, it wasn’t all that fast. And now? It’s till not that fast. I was always kind of scared to make changes to it for one reason or another. Most everyone seems to think it’s fine the way it is and I tend to agree. As I continue to age like fine milk, and my free time dries up like water in the Sahara, I realize that it’s a piece of artwork and a fairly important part of automotive history. More than that, at least to me, it’s a representation of unrealized potential just waiting to be brought to the surface. At the moment, it’s busy collecting mountains of dust and working on making sure that all the plates in the battery are thorougly welded together so I have to buy another one this year… Ah, the memories.

Not that many will be interested, but I’m going to elaborate anyway. The 1984 and 1985 model year Grand National coupes were something of a test bed the more I look at it. Something that was capable of using an methanol injection system that never was. The bulge in the back of the hood was there for good reason, and it wasn’t because it was cool. There’s a turbocharger sitting right under it and it sends all the compressed goodness, and all the heat, directly into the intake manifold via a direct connection from the compressor housing. That’s right, no intercooler, no secondary air charge cooling at all. Just a turbo stapled directly to the intake manifold. Now, this wasn’t the only interesting part of the engine compartment becuase where turbos go whoosh, the explosion gasses needs to go as well. The way in which this downpipe finds its way to the underside of the car is kind of the way you’d envision a mole drilling through your yard. A little this way, a little that way, gotta get skinny to go around this rock, back to normal, and we’re out! I digress, it’s all just fascinating to see how this piece of equipment came together to create a legend. A legend that never seems to die, even 40 years later.

Stay tuned for the “Barn Find” transformation later this year! I’ll be sure to share all the gory photos and prepare for all the “How could you just let it sit there?!” comments from the people who probably have more hours driving a couch than a driving a nail.

I think I have to go turn my TV off. (If you don’t get it you might be old, while I pretent to be young)