Cadillac. For many years, the name conjured images of land yachts, driven slowly and deliberately, often with questionable parking jobs involving shrubbery. Back in the early 90s, owning a Cadillac seemed to be a statement – and not necessarily a cool one. The lineup was, shall we say, traditional, featuring models whose names alone – Seville, DeVille, Eldorado, Fleetwood Brougham – sounded like they belonged in a museum, or perhaps parked outside a bingo hall. These weren’t exactly the cars setting enthusiast hearts racing, even by the forgiving standards of automotive contrarians.
Then came the late 90s and Cadillac’s supposed resurgence. The Catera? Let’s not even go there. The real game-changer was the Escalade, a vehicle that arguably saved Cadillac from fading into Lincoln-esque irrelevance. But even the Escalade’s success seemed to catch GM off guard. It took them four long years to follow up with something genuinely new, possibly because the prevailing GM strategy at the time was, “If it’s working, do something different.” A strategy, incidentally, that Acura seemed to have borrowed liberally.
Finally, in 2003, Cadillac unveiled the CTS. A rear-wheel-drive sedan that looked like it was designed with a T-square and a distinct aversion to curves. Rumor has it, the designer was threatened with a Cavalier as a company car if he dared to round an edge. One could imagine him later penning the GMC Terrain under similar duress, this time with a Chevy Spark looming as punishment.
And then, in 2004, the beast arrived: the CTS-V. I actually owned one of these early models. Here’s my take on it.
Why on Earth Did I Buy a 2004 CTS-V?
There are really two parts to this story. The first part is pure, unadulterated gearhead logic. While the 2004 CTS-V might have worn a Cadillac badge and possessed a certain squared-off formality, beneath the surface it was anything but grandpa’s car. It packed the heart and soul of a Corvette Z06 – the engine and transmission, no less! And not just any Corvette engine, mind you, but the Z06’s powerplant. That meant it wasn’t just Corvette fast, it was Z06 fast, complete with those cool little fender vents that screamed performance.
Front view of a black 2004 Cadillac CTS-V, highlighting its angular design and aggressive stance
The second reason is a bit more… opportunistic. I stumbled across a private listing for the 2004 CTS-V on AutoTrader.com. Intrigued, I went for a test drive and met the seller – a Korean student facing imminent deportation due to a visa issue. This unfortunate circumstance became my golden opportunity. Let’s just say I channeled my inner CarMax negotiator and made a rather… assertive offer. It’s a story for another time, perhaps best told over a pint of something strong. Years later, knowing he’s likely back in Korea, possibly dodging the whims of a less-than-benevolent leader, I do feel a twinge of guilt. Especially since he left a perfectly good motorcycle helmet in the trunk. Score!
Hitting the Road: The 2004 CTS-V Driving Experience
The first-generation 2004 CTS-V opted for traditional sport suspension, eschewing the MagneRide system that graced later models. Honestly, that’s perfectly fine. Despite countless videos featuring engineers in lab coats waxing lyrical about MagneRide, most of us are still in the dark about what it actually does, beyond involving magnets. Which, I suppose, means you could theoretically stick fridge magnets to your shocks. A fun DIY project for a rainy weekend.
The 2004 CTS-V’s sport suspension had a dual mission. First, handling. And in this department, the CTS-V was genuinely impressive. Later in life, I had a Porsche Panamera as a company car, and I kid you not, the CTS-V felt sharper, more agile at the limit. Perhaps the Panamera, being only marginally smaller than a Fleetwood Brougham, contributed to that sensation.
The second mission of that suspension was… road surface analysis. Every bump, pothole, and unfortunate insect became intimately known. The ride quality was, to put it mildly, firm. My hypothetical elderly Cadillac neighbors from the 90s? They’d have likely traded it in before even attempting to navigate a drive-thru ATM, let alone an emissions test.
But I was young(er) and foolish(er), and all I craved was power. And the 2004 CTS-V delivered that in spades. Cadillac claimed a 0-60 mph time of 4.6 seconds and a 13.1-second quarter mile. Numbers you needed to have memorized if you wanted to impress anyone south of the Mason-Dixon line.
The real-world execution, however, was often… less impressive. Launching the CTS-V with any enthusiasm often resulted in a rapid and unscheduled differential disassembly. Early 2004 CTS-Vs were notorious for grenading differentials. GM, in turn, became equally famous for denying warranty claims with creative excuses like, “Differential failure is not covered when driving in a straight line,” or, “Parking lots are known differential failure zones.”
Beyond the potential for exploding differentials, achieving those quoted performance figures was further hampered by the transmission. The shifter felt like it was designed by GM engineers whose only experience with manual transmissions came from watching rowing competitions. The result was a long, vague, oar-like shifter with about an acre of play. Seriously, even when in gear, you could wiggle it an inch left and right. The CTS-V’s next owner wisely installed a short-throw shifter before I even had a chance to hand over the spare key. Smart move.
Design and Interior: Angles and… Budget Plastics
Despite its aggressively angular, curve-averse styling, the 2004 CTS-V’s exterior was a definite high point. I’m a sucker for press car colors (except for that regrettable pewter station wagon phase), so naturally, I opted for black on my CTS-V. The factory body kit, to my eye, was tastefully aggressive, muscular in a subtle, “Luke, I am your father” kind of way. And the 18-inch wheels filled out the arches nicely, even if they did further contribute to the geriatric-unfriendly ride.
Side profile of a black 2004 Cadillac CTS-V showcasing its sharp lines and 18-inch wheels
The interior was generally a decent place to be. The seats were comfortable, the steering wheel felt substantial, and the air vents, despite their somewhat flimsy plastic construction, were remarkably effective at directing airflow to precisely the square inch of cabin you desired. Rear seat room was adequate, and trunk space was surprisingly generous – perfect for stashing motorcycle helmets, apparently.
Close-up of the 2004 Cadillac CTS-V interior, focusing on the steering wheel, seats, and air vents
However, this was early 2000s GM, so interior compromises were inevitable. The biggest offender was the center stack. The plastic used felt like it was sourced from the lowest bidder, possibly manufactured during bathroom breaks at a factory that primarily produced discount patio furniture. It looked and felt… budget.
Another peculiar design choice was the foot-operated parking brake. This resulted in a rather crowded footwell with four pedals vying for space. And the parking brake pedal was positioned alarmingly close to the clutch, just waiting to be accidentally engaged during a spirited gear change. A recipe for awkwardness, if not disaster.
The Verdict: 2004 Cadillac CTS-V – A Performance Pioneer with Quirks
Owning the 2004 CTS-V taught me a few valuable lessons. Firstly, Cadillac’s brand perception, outside of the Escalade, was still largely undefined in the public consciousness. Mentioning “400 horsepower” and “Corvette Z06 engine” often elicited blank stares or a quick retreat into the world of smartphone games. This didn’t bother me, but if brand recognition is your thing, BMW was still the go-to performance marque. Though, their differentials probably weren’t faring much better.
Secondly, no car, ever, should have been cursed with a transmission as… agricultural as the one in the early CTS-V. I’ve driven later CTS-V models, and the transmission is significantly improved, but that’s cold comfort to those wrestling with first-generation shifters. My advice? Short-throw shifter. Absolutely essential. And for goodness sake, try not to engage the parking brake mid-shift.
Most importantly, the 2004 CTS-V demonstrated that a manufacturer could pivot from building land-yacht barges to creating a genuinely credible performance car in a relatively short timeframe. All it took was a successful SUV to bankroll the project, and a healthy dose of Corvette DNA. The 2004 CTS-V wasn’t perfect, but it was a bold statement, a turning point, and a surprisingly fun, if occasionally frustrating, machine.
Doug DeMuro operates PlaysWithCars.com. He’s owned an E63 AMG wagon, road-tripped across the US in a Lotus without air conditioning, and once rented a Ford Fiesta and took it for a rather spirited lap around Monaco. He once held a responsible position at Porsche, but thankfully, he escaped to become a writer, much to his parents’ dismay.
