I owned an '87, back in '98, which was identical to the '86-'88 in most aspects. It was this deep midnight blue (which looked almost black, except at juuuuuust the right angle). The previous owner had put limo tint on the windows, so it was always dark inside, and subsequently, it gained the moniker of "Pimpmobile", due to the potential of the plush, velour back seat (which had an adjustable seat back and dual adjustable seat bottoms!) becoming a mack-daddy's base of operations. It never lived up to that potential; I was never the pimp this car deserved.
It came from the factory with a pneumatically-adjustable suspension. There was a control unit in the cabin which indicated that the driver could adjust the ride comfort (soft, normal, and "sport") as well as ride clearance (I believe about 1.5" either up or down from the standard height). It didn't work anymore by the time it was in my possession, of course, and the rear struts were replaced with the non-air units, which were bolted up to the bottom of the steel air reservoirs, making the rear of the car about 3" higher than it was supposed to be. I loved it that way.
It had this control layout with a unique turn signal/high-beam switch. The stereo was the standard AM/FM/cassette affair, but it came with a 7- or 9-band equalizer (can't remember which). The seat was not power-operated, but was adjustable in about 14,000 different ways (slight exaggeration), and felt like it was probably licensed by Lay-Z-Boy.
(Pictured here is the stereo w/ equalizer, and suspension control unit.)
The engine was 2.4 liters of nothing special. The factory claimed to squeeze about 110hp from the iron-blocked G64B, but I suspect that measurement was taken before the lossy slush-box was bolted up to it. Mine ran fine, until it didn't. My dad and I were unable to diagnose its problem, but I prefer to think that commuting 120 miles per day in an already-12-year-old car was probably the culprit. It'd had its days in the sun, and it was just ready to be retired.
Aside: Something I miss dearly about pre-OBD vehicles was the ability to check CEL codes with a paper clip. The biggest hassle in doing so with the Galant was opening the hood, where the diagnostic port was located, inserting the paper clip, and returning to the driver's seat to turn the key.
Dem rims doe... Mine had those wheels in the picture, too, which I then bolted up to my '95 Accord when the Galant decided to quit working. I believe they were 15x6, cast aluminum, and all kinds of badass.
All in all, it was a great car for $3000 dollars. I lament that I didn't possess the skills nor the inclination to keep it running, and it subsequently languished in my parent's back yard, where it became a home for various forms of desert wildlife.
It was a lot like the 1986 version (see, I stayed on topic!).
(*All photos herein are jacked from unsuspecting internet sources, and used without permission but a lot of thanks toward their respective owners!)