For Michiel, the Cadillac Seville Bustleback is Mike Tyson with a Smurf backpack

People who have been following me at AutoWeek for some time may be familiar with my preference for American cars. I strongly prefer designs from the 1960s, although that decade is also seen as the peak of their creative expressions for many non-European car brands. In that period, there was certainly much more honor to be had for car designers than in the 1980s, when this profession threw its weight behind it en masse – although we should certainly not discount the ‘nineties’ in that respect.

Usually Cadillac is stylish, but the Seville Bustleback…

However, anyone with an innate preference for underdogs can indulge in the almost inexhaustible archive of forgotten and maligned models from the 1980s. Oil crisis, nuclear threat, Iron Curtain, Cold War; the uncertain times and gloomy prospects had an impact on the supply along the local car boulevard. Take Cadillac, the self-proclaimed figurehead of automotive superiority. It’s not my brand – I prefer Chevrolet and Buick – but generally a Caddy is always stylish. Okay, certainly impressive. I especially sympathize with a model that does not possess either of these qualities. A model that I would buy blindly if it was reasonably priced in front of me: the Seville Bustleback. A car that looks as if Mike Tyson has strapped on a child’s backpack – from the Smurfs, Freggles or, for my part, the Snorkels. One of the last tricks of chief designer Bill Mitchell at GM. It is not known exactly what he consumed during the drawing process and in what quantities, although we know that this son of a Buick dealer, who died in 1988, liked a drink. But a man who produced the most beautiful Rivieras, Stingrays and Camaros from his pencil is difficult to reconcile with a Seville that looks as if he barely managed to avoid the chopping block, with a severed trunk as the only ‘collateral damage’. Mitchell’s source of inspiration (cars from the 1930s, with their slanted ‘glued-on’ trunks) is clear, the execution is – how do you say something like that nicely? – quite remarkable. Until the D-pillar everything goes neatly according to the eighties style guide, after which the inspiration apparently ran out. One more firm diagonal line and Bill was done. Goodbye, let’s figure it out with your completely blown out of proportion Caddy. And that crazy shape is the reason why this Seville is so nice. Pure cult. And those who want the total experience should have a two-door, ‘two-tone’ copy, one with a spare wheel stuck to the front screen. A shitting dog on wheels, moving tragedy, too kitsch to look at. In short: a wonderful guilty pleasure.