Car Lust

AMC Matador X

           

    

As I continue to bare my soul and share with you overlooked and, uncharitably, terrible cars that I love dearly anyway, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the AMC Matador X. Though it wasn't really a great car, there's just something about the AMC Matador X that makes me want to buy one and drive around with the windows down, listening to Stevie Wonder.

Some would say the Matador X looks ridiculous today, with its overdone details and quasi-muscle car look, but by the standards of the era, it was swoopy, low, and beautiful. Car & Driver dubbed it the best-looking car of 1974, and I couldn't agree more.

With the top-line 360-cubic-inch V-8, the Matador wasn't necessarily fast, but it wasn't slow, either. And in red with white pinstripes ... ooh, la la!

Fiat X1/9

The Fiat X1/9 was never a great car; at best, at its introduction in the mid-1970s, it was a novel styling exercise and a miracle in packaging that yielded a tiny mid-engined sports car with the agile handling to match its excellent weight distribution.

By the standards of 1974, the X1/9 was not a fast car, running only about as quickly as the bog-slow standard family sedan of the time. When the car was discontinued in 1988, wearing a Bertone badge in honor of its designer following Fiat's pull-out from the American market, it was one of the slowest cars on the market, neck and neck with low-grade economy sedans and base-model minivans.

The 1974 edition ran 0-60 in a halfway respectable 11.0 seconds (respectable by the standards of the time, anyway), but by 1976 tightening emissions standards had caused the Fiat to fade to 14.0 seconds--an eternity in virtually any era.

Ferrari 275 GTB/4

I cannot imagine a more irresistible aria, a more haunting melody, a more soul-stirring howl, than a Ferrari V-12--especially one from the mid-1960s, inhaling through Weber carburetors and featuring all the clatter and well-machined sound that gives Ferrari V-12s such a compelling mechanical symphony. There's just nothing quite like the harmonics of 12 cylinders climbing in unison to ever higher, more intense registers.

1990s Nissan Maxima SE

           

    

As you've no doubt noticed, I don't reserve my automotive lust for the exotic or the unattainable. I've always believed that even ordinary cars can be lust-worthy, and in fact some of the sweetest gems are those right under one's nose.

Such is the case with the early 1990s Nissan Maxima SE--these cars are everywhere and, on the outside, completely unremarkable. However, get to know one, and you'll be impressed.

In the marketplace, the Nissan Maxima has historically competed against Honda's Accord and Toyota's Camry, but in the early and mid-1990s, the SE edition of the Maxima, with its 190-horsepower V-6, precise 5-speed gearbox, and taut suspension, made it legitimate competition for the BMWs of the world. Nissan called it the "4 Door Sports Car," and that moniker wasn't far off.

Ford Maverick Grabber

       

        

The Ford Maverick, a heavier and less sporting machine than the Ford Pinto on which it was based (a difficult concept to wrap one's head around), was a weak and flaccid family sedan, featuring the all-too-familiar 1970s bugaboos of a strangled engine, flexible and weak chassis, and garish styling.

However, the Grabber took the stink to epochal levels by applying the hip lingo of the day for performance cars (Grabber!) and slapping it and a performance package consisting entirely of tape and decals onto the cringing Maverick.

The result was the automotive equivalent of putting John Candy in track shorts--tight, mauve and gold polyester track shorts. The car didn't actually go any faster, but at least it was ugly.

I want one. Badly.

Thanks to www.fordmaverick.to for the photo of this timeless classic.

--Chris H.

     

Datsun 510

           

    

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Japanese cars were tiny, spartan, and economical, with a reputation for being reliable but disposable--tinny and underpowered, unable to summon enough consistent speed to easily keep up with American freeway traffic.

The Datsun 510 began to open Americans' eyes to the possibilities of Japanese carmakers cranking out interesting and capable small cars. With its clean, attractive lines and tidy proportions, reminiscent of the BMW 1600 and 2002, the 510 combined strong horsepower with eye-popping agility. The complete package made the 510 one of those rare cars in which a unity of purpose results in a package that is both popular and influential. In this case, the 510, along with the aforementioned BMWs, was one of the hugely influential import compact sports sedans that helped shape American tastes and appetites in the decades to come.

Car-flagration

Taking a break momentarily from my own Car Lusting, I wanted to give a brief nod to the New Jersey-area squirrel that destroyed a 2006 Toyota Camry.

According to the news story, a squirrel had been chewing on a power line suspended above the Camry; when the squirrel chewed through the line, the power of the current lit it on fire, and the flaming rodent "slid into the engine compartment and blew up the car." The car was a total loss, but the family honored the squirrel flambe with a plastic tombstone--happily, just in time for Halloween.

This leaves some important questions unanswered. For example:
1. Is there some significance that the squirrel chose a 2006 Toyota Camry to immolate? Was the squirrel imbued with especially strong buy-American leanings? If so, the squirrel should issue a strong apology to the good people in Georgetown, Ky., who make the Camry.

2. How exactly did the flaming squirrel slide into the engine compartment? Was the hood open? Otherwise, I don't want to think about how a half-immolated squirrel might get into the engine compartment.

3. If one squirrel chews on power lines, I'm guessing more do. And if millions of squirrels nationwide are chewing on power lines, I'm guessing this isn't the only one to chew through and light itself on fire.

Is there a national crisis in which flaming squirrels are plummeting from our skies? If so, it's being dramatically underreported by the media. I, for one, am worried.

--Chris H.

1993 Cadillac Seville STS

           

    

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, well before its recent transformation into a quasi-hip carmaker, Cadillac was almost thoroughly irrelevant. Automotive tastes had moved beyond Cadillac's trademark pillowed-velvet and vinyl-roofed land yachts, and as Cadillac mimicked the rest of GM in moving to smaller front-wheel-drive cars, even the tawdry elements of Cadillac's uniqueness began to fade. As illustrated by the lackluster Cavalier-based Cimarron, and with the possible exception of the Allante, Cadillacs had become little more than plebian cars adorned with a once-proud hood ornament.

When Lexus, Infiniti, and Acura emerged in the late 1980s to engage in full-scale sports/luxury warfare with Mercedes, BMW, Audi, and Jaguar, Cadillac, like Lincoln, was left out of the fight--remembered, if at all, as a punch line to a once-funny joke.

2004 Audi S4 Cabriolet

           

    

If I were to sing a hymn to the greatness of the Audi S4 Cabriolet, with no semblance of rhyme or rhythm, it would go something like this:

O Audi S4 Cabriolet,

Bottomless is the well of your power,

I praise your silky torque.

Soft and supple is your leather upholstery,

Your heated seats warm me to my soul.

Your smooth lines and aggressive stance

Move me to weep with joy.

O Audi S4 Cabriolet, I want to drive you down the path of righteousness--very quickly.

Okay, so it's not a great hymn, but the S4 Cabriolet counts as one of the all-time greatest cars I've ever driven. I finagled my way into getting one as a test car to coincide with my 10th high school reunion (the Chevy Aveo I had the previous week wouldn't have sent quite the same message), and it was stunningly well engineered.

Dodge Omni GLH-S

            

    

What happens when a performance tuning legend links his name to a hot-rod version of one of the most horrific penalty box economy cars ever made? Crazy hijinks, that's what.

The Dodge Omni was actually not too bad as late 1970s American economy cars go, which means that in empirical terms, it was just awful. Slow, cheaply made, not very fuel efficient, and with all the dynamic characteristics of a lawn tractor, it's hard to envision a less likely basis for a serious performance car. Chevette SS or Pinto Boss, perhaps?

When Carroll Shelby, known for engineering and marketing such thoroughbreds as the Shelby Cobra, Shelby Cobra Daytona, and GT350 and GT500 Mustangs, agreed to tweak Dodges, he found the cupboard rather bare of quality cars. In a move that I find hugely compelling, he wasn't deterred--he simply started pumping up Dodge's cringing economy cars into giant-killers.