This Car Cured My Road Rage

For about 3 years prior to buying a 1999 Pontiac Grand Prix GTP I was driving a Hyundai Sonata. I live in Detroit, so I endure a daily torture involving 2 hours worth of driving through streets whose pothole population is only exceeded by Detroit's dangerously incompetent driver population. I figured that this car would probably be my coffin, so I wanted to make sure that I died in comfort.

I looked around and the car I liked the best was the Grand Prix. Under the mistaken assumption that the Grand Prix is not, for insurance purposes, considered a sports car, I was especially intrigued with the 240-horse power provided by the GTP. I'm no mechanic, so 240 HP didn't mean jack to me. That is, until I peeled out of the dealership lot and left a patch the length of 2 cars. I didn't need none of that fancy "book learnin'" to realize that 240 HP would allow me to exact sweet revenge upon all those who taunted me for driving a Korean import.

First of all, the GTP is different from the GT by 40 HP (courtesy of a supercharged 6-cylinder engine), the requirement to use expensive premium gas, and the bleeding you will suffer at the hands of your insurance company. To me, the peace of mind that comes with knowing that pretty much nobody will pass you on the road unless you permit him to do so is worth the extra cost. Mustang GT and the Trans Am are still Brahmin, but fear no longer high school chicks driving plain old Mustangs or Firebirds.

I've driven the Grand Prix GT as well, and I think it's a very nice ride, with a good amount of power. I refuse to lower myself to drive the redheaded stepchild of the Grand Prix line, the SE. From behind you can tell the difference between a GT and a SE: the GT and GTP have dual exhausts, while the SE has something out of the "I'm not going to pay a lot for this muffler" ads.

But the SE does play the important role of decoy in the automotive ecosystem. Someone in an Accord probably passes dozens of SEs a day. This makes the driver think that he is driving a high performance vehicle. Then he tries to squeeze in front of a GT or, GASP, a GTP and he is given a spanking like he just wet his bed.

Even though I have been brainwashed by Corporate America into believing that power is everything, when it comes to the Grand Prix there is more. I like larger cars, and this is a perfect size. It's wider than most cars, and that appears to improve its handling. The interior is spacious and "well apportioned". I don't know what that means, but I've always wanted to write it. The hood appears to go on forever, but it is not that ridiculously stretched out style like the Firebird.

I like leather, but not particularly inside a car. Since the Grand Prix leather option gives you a heated driver-side seat, I took the leather. The sperm count decimating heated seat has probably reduced me to the reproductive equivalent of a Chernobyl survivor, but it was way comfortable in the miserable -40 degree weather the Midwest suffered through last winter. I’ll worry about impotence later.

In my opinion, the best feature is the "Heads Up Display". This is a digital display that appears to be projected onto the windshield, giving you access to information like your speed and your radio station without making you look down at your dashboard. You've got to see this feature to believe how useful it is. It's supposedly expensive to get fixed if it breaks, but it is such a cool feature. You don't realize how often you're having to look down at things until you use the "Head Up" for a couple of days. Sure, the "Heads Up Display" removes "I didn't know how fast I was driving" from your repertoire of lame excuses to tell the cop who pulls you over, but get the GTP and no cop is going to be able to catch you.