I never fancied myself a particularly effective criminal. I can dream up a plan and sometimes even muster a little confidence to do something I probably shouldn’t, but crime proper seems awfully exhausting. Scheming, conniving, and high-stakes improv are plainly more work that I have time for, and that’s even before the logistics of lies, deception, and loose-end hit-list maintenance.
Personal limitations acknowledged, I’ve settled for white-collar professionalism. Of course, we all have our triggers. Mine was a pair of silly tweets.
“‘Never tweet’ remains some of the best professional advice I’ve ever received,” recently tweeted The Drive’s Stef Schrader.
That very afternoon, Driving contributor Jil McIntosh also tweeted. Our exchange, a playful disagreement, won’t make much sense to outsiders, but the fateful taunt it ended with might: “What, you’re going to steal my garden flamingo?”
At this moment, my moderating instinct broke.
I began a turn to the dark side. Darker than automotive PR, darker than an extreme AMG, darker than even an uncomfortable joke about my past indifference toward waking up in the morning, the contents of my mind clouded to a dull matte. Swirling with explosive metaphor, the realization was plainly articulated: Now I am become crime, the stealer of lawn ornaments.
I hurried through my afternoon editorial duties and set to work planning the operation. Working to a perceived deadline on social media attention spans, I’d have to act quickly and decisively with a tight plan and clear objective.
Like any criminal worth their salt, I first assembled a ransom letter on the back of some discarded mail. This ensured that my target knew where the ransom was to be delivered, while also masking my handwriting from any advanced investigative analysis.
The rest of the plan was simple: that night, I would don a black balaclava (actually a helmet sock, coincidentally leftover from the CT4-V Blackwing launch), make my way to Jil’s peaceful rural home, and park my big orange Cad just out of sight. Creeping unseen under cover of darkness, I would retrieve the bird from its perch in the garden and slip stealthily back around the house. Crucially, I would then tape my cut-paste newsprint ransom note to the front door before bolting across the lawn and taking off in my getaway car.
Imaginative a writer as I am, the scheme was codenamed Operation Flamingo.
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
Under cover of darkness, the Cadillac set off toward the target. Assisted by the car’s adaptive cruise control, I made my way calmly and uneventfully to the area of operations. It was important to keep a low profile, so I drove the CT4 like I would any other car: responsibly, playing You Can’t Stop the Bum Rush at a moderate level, and with only the occasional boot from a green light. As the slightly sportier-plus model in the CT4 lineup, the CT4-V was mercifully suited to this sort of cruising, and I completed my journey without succumbing to the impulse to play.
Upon arrival near my target, I capitalized on another of this CT4-V’s strengths: its deep orange paint’s metallic vibrance. Whereas the conspicuous inconspicuousness of a black getaway car could be a liability, the aggressive flair of Blaze Orange stands too proud to draw any suspicious attention. Resting against the backdrop of rural quiet, the Cadillac could hide in plain sight.
It all looked promising, but the plan had to be seamless. Operating within a stone’s throw of a police station, I had to look unassuming on approach, move invisibly through the dark, and make my getaway in a quiet hurry.
I thus laid my worst-case groundwork. The car was positioned next to a line of bushes that could be used for concealment even at a full run, its nose pointed in the direction of my getaway. Sport settings were dialled in. The auto-returning seat was rolled back for ease of entry on a hurried return, and the dimmer switch was rolled all the way down to conveniently minimize the cluster and eliminate all other graphic displays and interior light sources. Finally, CarPlay was set to start playing “Steal My Sunshine” on startup. It was time to roll down the mask and set to work.
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
I made my approach along the ditch, gliding slick as a whistle. Black top, black mask, black underpants — from my first step into this new life as a criminal, I was dressed for success. But from my second step, my plan was under threat.
Enclosing the treeline — my planned point of entry — was a new stretch of fencing. With no path but around, I was thus channeled right along the trees’ face to the mouth of the driveway. I peered around the edge. Why was a light still on near midnight? Old people are supposed to be asleep by this hour.
Backlit by such harsh streetlamps, there was no time to ponder. I moved decisively, pivoting my back around the edge and watching for shadows. It was close — a 50-foot silelleette had already swept the garage door, potentially revealing my position to almost every window on the house.
No alarms. I got lucky.
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
Undetected, I pressed back to slink behind the garage and up to the side garden around its other side. Now in direct view of the back of the house, I took cover behind the graceful tree that thoughtfully shelters Jil’s bird feeders.
My target lay just ahead. Standing almost imperceptibly among the coursing, leafy greens, the silhouette of a hooked neck jutted from the growth. Yet as close as I had gotten, a challenge laid ahead: the long reach to extract the flamingo from its planty perch.
I had to lift carefully. I couldn’t step in the garden bed, and the smallest rustle of its leaves could pull attention through those open windows. Any noise and I’d have to bolt, compromising the night’s operation and surely precipitating more stringent future garden security.
Cast and welded, this flamingo is significantly heavier than the one from Nanalan that I’d pictured in the planning phase. I did not come this far to fail, however. Stirred but not shaken, I summoned my most ignoble strength to raise the compliant bird from its footing. High on adrenaline, I darted back around the house, taped my ransom note to the door, and headed for the car.
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A tap of the handle, and the car was unlocked. Another tap of the starter button, and seat memory function automatically assumed my preferred driving position as the car fired up. One more press of the V button on the steering wheel, and the CT4 adopted my preferred performance settings for a slick getaway. Finally, a press of the right pedal and we revved to speed in 5.9 seconds.
I tend not to drive press cars like I stole them, but I was willing to drive the CT4-V like I’d stolen a flamingo. Peeling away from lights and around ramps, the car’s all-wheel-drive gives the getaway its best. A little traction-controlled yaw keeps the chassis playful, while its firm setup affords far more confidence than a normal sedan.
From inside, acoustic front glass keeps my Len soundtrack contained while a selectable ‘stealth’ engine noise setting keeps the buzzy, admittedly unpleasant powerplant noises at bay. Less discerning criminals may choose to max this slider, but should be warned that the I4 sounds more like an affordable Japanese sports car than a muscular saloon. It’s a sound signature not unlike the Civic Si’s, but with the throat of greater displacement.
That’s a vanitous gripe, however, when the priority remains getaway performance. Plant your foot on a highway whim, and it can take a moment for the V’s ten-speed automatic to catch up. Tap the accelerator to the floor for a fraction of an instant, however, and a little cog appears by the gear display. Like a finger readied over the trigger, that nudge primes the car for a rapid downshift across several gears at a time. Then, once your inputs relax and the CT4 senses that you’ve completed your maneuver, the setting reverts to a state of civility.
2022 Cadillac CT4-V Photo by Elle Alder
Teasing sub-2,000-rpm turbo whistles out of the engine compartment as I eased the CT4-V back toward my safehouse, I reflected on my time with the car as a whole. Neither I, nor I’m sure the Cadillac, had counted on a foray into crime this week.
But for all the darkness, this caper has affirmed that I am fair. Not knowing whether poor Jil would actually have any ginger or molasses on hand, I left the timeline open-ended to allow her the flexibility to gather those assets and deliver in full when she was able.
Looking back, there are a lot of times I now wish I’d had a CT4-V on hand. With a -V getaway car, I could’ve gone unnoticed by my teacher the first time I skipped class (gym, which I’d put off until grade 11). The boldness of the CT4 also could’ve inspired me to steal waaaay more Ikea pencils when I was young, but we must all live with some regrets.
Fortunately, there’s plenty of time ahead. Now that I am become crime, the world is my caper.
Keyword: Heist Review: 2022 Cadillac CT4-V