The Ride: Cadillac Escalade Platinum

By Gunnar Heinrich with photography by Neil Rogers

FIRST impressions mean so much.

Back in March, the Suburbans that GM transported the ADL crew around the City (for NYIAS) displayed an unreal level of refinement for any Michigan built vehicle that I’ve experienced since – ever.

The Cadillac Escalade Platinum which is essentially the same truck only shorter in length and wheelbase takes the Suburban (Tahoe) level of accoutrement and raises it by a Vegas high roller’s wager.

Anodized-chrome trim dripping over exterior sheet metal broadcasts the truck’s arrival from a distance of give or take three blocks away. Once the presence parades to curbside; step inside and close the door with a satisfyingly soft “whump!” and you soon realize that there’s truth to Jim Taylor’s talk of Cadillac turning a new page.

The marque has changed. And hasn’t if we remember our history.

On first take, fit and finish seems Lexus precise. The new interior’s so nice, so buttery soft, it makes an ’00 STS seem like the act of some ugly transnational cooperative act of friendly commerce gone wrong: Cadillac Built by Zil.

The second impression that hits home is the absolute silence that envelopes a cabin. New York’s war zone asphalt seemed such a distant reality.

There’s a bit of rocking front to back as the truck crossed the more serious dips in asphalt that coincide with each intersection along Park Avenue, but nothing that remotely reassembles the jello mold jiggle float of yesteryear’s Fleetwoods.

But what’s more telling than just about any specific feature in how this Caddy registers, is how the truck registers with people.

Arriving outside Grand Central Station, Team ADL exited the vehicle onto the sidewalk where a middle aged man ground his New Yorker’s gate to a halt; turned, stared, and muttered the simple word that any Escalade owner would really want to hear.

“Wow.”