Car Lust

Year 2K

Okay, I admit it: I like Japanese cars. How much, you ask? A lot. [Reg: "Right. You're in."]

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's look at the year that, for me, may be the finest year for Car Lust: the first year of the new millennium. For me, the year 2000 is the automotive equivalent of an All-You-Can-Eat Steak and Seafood Buffet; it's like being the only male staying overnight in the hotel booked by the Miss Universe Pageant contestants; it's like trying to pick the greatest all-time NFL game, or having to choose the best Porter/Stout out of all the various micro-brewery products. I can't choose just one great car from 2000 to lust after, so here is a list--which, as you shall see, is mostly Japanese, with a touch of German.

The year 2000 straddles the years I like best for almost all the cars listed, and it also includes the first model year of one favorite generation and the last model year of another favorite generation. The year 2000 is the only year that captures them all.

In no particular order, here is a list of cars I would have been ecstatic to own new, and would be pleased as punch to find a used one in good condition today:

1978 Chevrolet Monza Wagon

At the end of the 1977 model year, GM discontinued the Chevrolet Vega. For 1978, the General would depend on the Vega-derived Monza to occupy the "compact" spot in the Chevy lineup. Needing a station wagon version to have a complete line, GM fitted leftover Vega wagon bodies with the "Monza S" front clip to produce the Monza Wagon.

I had one, and it was the worst car anyone in my family ever owned.

My father acquired it in 1980 from someone who worked at the Lordstown Assembly plant where it was built. The day Dad brought it home, we found an ice scraper in the glove box, an artifact of the previous owner. It was red, with a GM Assembly Division logo, and had a mysterious inscription: "GM LORDSTOWN MANAGEMENT TEAM - LET'S GET 150!"

It looked harmless enough. As late-1970s domestic cars go, the Monza Wagon was actually rather attractive.

Point/Counterpoint: Harley-Davidson

Two of our Car Lust contributors, Rob the SVX Guy and David Drucker, have a difference of opinion on the lustworthiness of Harley-Davidsons, and so we're convening this point/counterpoint to debate the relative merits of their cases.

Rob is a Harley cynic, while David is a Harley true-believer. I doubt either will change each other's opinions, but I do expect a very interesting and thought-provoking debate.

Gentlemen, to your corners, and remember--nothing below the belt. Rob, you're up.

Rob: Harley what? Oh, sorry, I can't really hear that well. More on that later. My name is Rob, and I live in a city called Milwaukee. This city is home to one of the most iconic American companies of all time, a company that represents America, freedom, patriotism, and adventure. So why does it deserve any disgust whatsoever?

It seems upon purchasing a Harley-Davidson, you receive a packet that informs you on the next steps to becoming a true Harley-Davidson fan. The first thing you must do is make your bike as loud as humanly possible. This isn't to increase the performance of your bike, or save gas, it's simply to be obnoxious. Once you have gutted any remnants of sound dampening from your exhaust system, you can then cruise down the road blaring your Harley ownership at 110 decibels to everyone within eight blocks.

Peugeot 405 Mi16

For both good and ill, the Peugeot 405 was a landmark car for Peugeot. On the good side of the ledger, the 405 was extremely well-received in Europe, winning the European Car of the Year award in 1988, and establishing a sterling pedigree in international rallying. On the negative side, the 405 was the last car Peugeot sold in the United States before slinking out of this market with its tail between its legs.

With the 405 Mi16, at least Peugeot left on a strong note. The standard 405 was a nice enough sedan--a good driver and pleasantly styled in what would become the clean, slick early 1990s idiom, with just a touch of Peugeot character to keep the car from complete anonymity. The Mi16, though, gave American drivers a taste of the Peugeot performance that Europeans had enjoyed with the 205 Turbo but that never quite infused the still-lustworthy 505.

Teenmobile Challenge

On Wednesday, July 23, my oldest son took the test for his learner's permit. It's a multiple-choice test, and this kid eats multiple-choice tests for lunch. Not much suspense--he passed. 

If all goes well, in late January he will take his license exam.

My son's impending licensure has raised the issue of what car to get a newly-minted teenage driver. Actually, we have a car already picked out for him. Still, I think it an interesting topic for discussion: what car would you give a new driver, and why?

Leave your answers in the comments. I'll collect them into a follow-up post in a few days, and give you my comments and my own answer at that time.

--Cookie the Dog's Owner

1998-2002 Lincoln Navigator

In today's brave new world of five-buck gas and energy-related panic, it borders on dangerous to admit to lusting after a three-ton station wagon. In fact, the desirability of such a vehicle would never have occurred to me but for the 10,000 miles I spent behind the wheel of, first a 1998, and then a 2002 Lincoln Navigator.

Most of those--95 percent--were long-haul miles, with the goal of getting a large enclosed trailer filled with 3,000 pounds of motorcycle from one edge of the country to the other. The rest were in around-town stop-and-go traffic in various cities, towns, and villages.

Those Navigators belonged to one of my riding buddies, and when he allowed as how he'd rather fly, and have someone else haul the trailer to Daytona Bike Week in February of 1998, I volunteered without a moment's hesitation. (Yeah, we trailered our bikes. Sometimes in a blizzard. Get over it.) That first trip, behind the wheel of what could be viewed as nothing more than a tarted-up Ford Expedition (which, itself, was a roofed-in Ford F-150 pickup) was a revelation.

2005 Seat Leon Cupra R

Most in North America have never heard of Seat, outside of the normal connotation of a shelf for one's derriere, but Europeans know Seat as a long-established Spanish automaker, a relatively recent subsidiary of Volkswagen-Audi. The combination of Iberian soul with German engineering has resulted in a delectable line of cars crescendoeing in the truly desirable Seat Leon Cupra R--basically a Volkswagen GTI remixed to a slight but distinct Spanish backbeat.

The Leon is based on the VW Golf, with some of the technical flair of the GTI and its pumped-up, all-wheel-drive siblings--the Audi S3 and the Volkswagen R32. But unlike the slick, sophisticated Germans, the Seat isn't afraid to polarize. The styling is aggressive and attractive in an unconventional way; it's one of those designs that isn't elegant but continues to draw the eye, if for no other reason than to help the viewer decide if it's attractive or offensive.

"Wouldn't you really rather have a ... Maserati???"

There was an interesting comment the other day at the website of Professor Glenn Reynolds, who is better known on the Internet as "the Instapundit":

"Today, coming out from lunch, the Insta-Daughter and I saw a Maserati Quattroporte parked next to my Mazda. I thought it looked very nice, especially the interior, but the Insta-Daughter pronounced it 'ugly' and added 'I thought it was a Buick until you pointed it out.' "

Could this possibly be true? Let's look at the evidence.

2003 Chevrolet Malibu

A little over a month ago, I submitted the fourth-generation Chevrolet Malibu (or Chevrolet Classic, if you prefer) as a potential Car Disgust. The post was an emotional, incoherent rant detailing all of the abuses that my significant other and I had experienced at the hands of the very car shown to the right. Thankfully, Chris never published my screed, which has given me time to hone my incoherent rant into what I hope will be an incisive, invective-filled diatribe worthy of being published as a true Car Disgust.

Once upon a time--in 1997, to be exact--this ubiquitous mascot of rental fleets around the country was the Motor Trend Car Of The Year. Its competition, at least in the domestic space, was fairly lax. The Ford Taurus of the time was becoming increasingly infamous for eating transmissions like most people eat Nilla wafers, and the first generation LH-based Dodge Intrepid was overdue for a refresh, preferably one that involved a change in Chrysler's increasingly notorious paint chemistry of the era.

1993 Porsche Boxster Concept

When the Porsche Boxster debuted in 1996, I felt like the only person in the world who wasn't exhilarated. It's not that I didn't think the Boxster was a terrific car. On the contrary, at its debut the Boxster was beautiful in design and execution, a redefinition of the open-topped sports car that combined the fun of a Mazda Miata or an MGB but with a much sharper performance edge. All of those things were and are true, and by any measure the Boxster is a fantastic car.

No, I was disappointed because my heart had already been claimed by the Boxster show car that debuted in 1993 at the Detroit Auto Show. Compared to that svelte knockout, the production Boxster felt like a milquetoast disappointment. At a glance the two cars look fairly similar, but the show car was just enough more sultry, just enough more edgy and daring than the elegant but straightforward production Boxster that the show car fired adrenaline while the Boxster merely provoked admiration. Slick, smooth, tightly wrapped, and with the air of the exotic, the concept Boxster recalled the Porsche 550 RS Spyder without obvious retro pandering.