Full disclosure:  The designer of this car, David McIntosh, inspired me to become a car designer.  So naturally, my analysis will be less than objective.  Having said that, the much-maligned Buick Reatta definitely qualifies as a misunderstood classic.  Think of it as an 80s version of the Studebaker Avanti.

In 1986, Mr. McIntosh came to my third grade class as part of a career day (his daughter was in the same class).  He brought a presentation showing Reatta sketches, renderings, clay models, basically the entire design process.  I was enthralled.  Later, on the playground, I ran up to him with one of my sketches and got my first critique — at age 12.  He said I should add more shape to the rear spoiler, but overall, he liked the design.  From that moment, the die was cast.  I knew what I wanted to be.

Okay.  Enough reminiscing.  Back to analysis.  Buick design has run the gambit over the years — from stocky to sleek, gentile to garish.   I would argue that having such a varied visual history can be a good thing;  it allows a designer to move the brand in a variety of new directions.  Hence the Reatta, Buick’s first foray into the sports car market in — well, maybe ever.  It was available as both a coupe and a convertible, and it was clearly designed with both in mind.  McIntosh’s theme has a cleanliness to it that I find very appealing.  Calming, as well.  The negative sweep of the DLO provides a tasteful counterpoint to the positive sweep of the bodyside.  The fact that this is a special model is reinforced by the unique Reatta badging on the wheels and hood (I wish more companies would experiment with the brand-within-a-brand approach).  The hidden headlamps are tied in nicely with the chrome-trimmed side markers, giving the front end an upscale appearance without being too complicated.  The rear end is capped by the simple light bar with the B U I C K lettering acting as ornamentation.  All of these elements are grounded by the black molding that runs around the Reatta’s perimeter.  I’m usually not a fan of moldings like this, but here, it seems curiously at home.  Not sure why, but it does.

For whatever reason, the Reatta never caught on, and it left the market in 1991.  Occasionally, I’ll see one of these on the street, and think back to that third grade class.  That’s how it starts for most of us in this business — one moment, one car, one inspiration.  The Reatta may not have been the right car at the right time for the marketplace, but its timing was near perfect from my point of view.