A 1960s land yacht weighing 4,200 pounds didn’t feel safe because of weight. It felt safe because it looked massive. Under the hood and under the sheetmetal, there was very little to protect you in a real crash. Tires were bias-ply. Brakes were drums. Steering was vague. Suspension tuning traded precision for that “floaty” feel.

It wasn’t that those cars rode like clouds because they were magical. They rode that way because engineers tuned them to soak up bumps — at the astronomical cost of handling finesse.

Modern cars are heavier for a different set of reasons:

• Crash structures that absorb energy where people sit
• High-strength steels and engineered deformable zones
• Electronics, sensors, and safety systems
• Better brakes, better tires, better handling

The result is a car that weighs about the same as a big old sedan but stops and steers in ways nothing from 1965 could.

That lack of control didn’t stop people from feeling safe, though. In fact, many still remember those cars fondly. Which makes me wonder: are we remembering the machines accurately—or just the way they made us feel?