Car Lust

Ford Pinto/Mercury Bobcat

Ah, the early 1970s. Gas was cheap ... maybe 20 cents a gallon during price wars. The terms "Oil Embargo" and "Energy Crisis" had not been coined yet. We could put a dollar's worth of gas in the car and drive around town all night. Big cars were everywhere, muscle cars were still being made. But there was a storm on the horizon. For about five years, these funny little cars from Japan were popping up, Volkswagen Beetles were everywhere, and even though the Corvair had been a disaster, Americans were turning to smaller cars. The U.S. automakers responded with the first generation of home-grown import fighters.

So General Motors, American Motors Corporation, and Ford Motor Company launched, almost simultaneously, their assault on the imports. GM had the Vega, AMC touted the Gremlin, and Ford introduced the Pinto, somewhat unique to this group by being the only car to have rack-and-pinion steering, which we all take for granted today. All of these little cars were unibody, had rear-wheel drive, and were introduced in the glory days of no Five-Mile-Per-Hour-Bumper or Unleaded Fuel requirements. When the tougher bumpers were required, starting in the 1974 model year, the initial car styles took a turn for the worse as "Guard Rail" bumpers made the cars look heavy and awkward.

1972 Harley-Davidson 125cc Rapido

Ah, our first street-legal vehicle ... that life-changing moment when freedom from family finally becomes possible. In 1971 Tennessee, it could happen when you were at least 14 years old, got your parents' signatures, had a motor-driven cycle with 5 brake horsepower or less, could see, paid $6, and rode within a 7-mile radius of your home during daytime hours. 

I had the luxury of learning to drive a tractor at 6, a car around 8, all on our farm. We had bicycles, a mini-bike, and a go-kart, so going to a slightly larger motorbike was not a problem. But, unfortunately, choosing one was. Honda was breaking ground with its fantastic line of bikes, and I saw their reliability and features through my friends. I wanted a blue 1972 Honda CL100, a dual-purpose on/off-road bike that sadly is not made anymore. However, my father was writing the check, and he wanted  *American* - a Harley-Davidson.

Anything sold by Harley-Davidson under 500cc was built by Aermacchi in Italy, but my father could not grasp that concept because the bikes had "Harley-Davidson" written on them. He grew up in The Great Depression, was still fighting World War II, and simply would not give his money to the Japanese, though the only two new cars he ever bought were German Volkswagen Beetles--in fact, he bought the third VW ever sold in Nashville. We had a great family friend, the late Bill Abernathy, who had just purchased the first 1972 model Harley-Davidson Electra-Glide 1200 sold in Tennessee, so it was deemed by the powers that be that I would have the first 1972 H-D 125cc Rapido sold here (Do we see a pattern forming?).

Epic Fail Week

I hope everybody else is enjoying our "theme weeks" as much as I am. We started off with an ad-hoc Huge American Land Barge Week (1, 2, 3, 4, 5), balanced that out with Small Cars Week (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6), and now we're hip-deep in Epic Fail Week--a celebration of cars that, for whatever reason, failed in miserable but highly entertaining fashion.

This is just a heads-up--if you've noticed particularly bad cars being featured lately, you're not imagining things.

--Chris H.

Hudson Jet

The tale of the Hudson Motor Car Company's 1953-54 Jet compact is one of the saddest in all of automotive history. The annals of automotive failure are replete with four-wheeled Greek tragedies, tales of the pathetically under-engineered and the terminally unreliable, cars which failed due to their own inherent vices and inadequacies.

The Hudson Jet is not one of these.

It was superbly engineered, its unibody sold as a rock. It boasted excellent performance for its day. It was roomy and comfortable. Its fuel economy is decent even by twenty-first century standards. It was a car with no real serious vices--and yet, it effectively destroyed the Hudson Motor Car Company.

Car Lust--Coming to an Inbox Near You

Problem: You are a Car Lust reader, meaning that, for some reason, you subject yourself to our daily musings on cars that we euphemistically refer to as "interesting." Usually abject is a more descriptive term. This behavior in itself isn't the necessarily the problem, though it's not really indicative of a well-ordered personality.

No, the problem is that you want more options. It just seems too too obvious to come to the Car Lust blog directly, too conformist to visit the Car Lust page on Amazon Daily, and too elitist to harness our RSS feed. You're above all this. Your friends e-mail you; why can't Car Lust?

Solution: Your prayers have been answered, dear reader. Simply go to the Car Lust blog page, click the "Subscribe to this Blog" button (or click here), sign into your Amazon.com account, and bam! You'll receive a daily digest of Car Lust posts via e-mail.

This works for the other Amazon blogs, too, so this is a pretty good way to keep track of Amazon-related musings on bad cars, fine literature, and bacon-related novelties, among other topics. All from the comfort of your own inbox!

--Chris H.

Oldsmobile 350 Diesel

Let's step in the Wayback Machine for a second. Pretend it's the mid '70s. Disco is popular, Saigon just fell, Nixon was pardoned, a peanut farmer from Georgia was just elected President of the United States, and gas prices are about to spike to the highest they'll get, inflation adjusted, for the next 30 years. To add insult to injury, let's briefly pretend that you're in charge of GM's product development during this time. Your customers are abandoning your large, profit-friendly cars faster than the Italians abandoned their lines during the Battle of Caporetto. As for the smaller, more fuel efficient Vega ... well, let's just say the Italian Navy was more successful against the British at night than the Vega's metallurgically suspect engine ever was against rust and engine wear.  In short, you need the following

• A more fuel-efficient lineup.
• Better reliability.
• A healthy enough profit margin where dealers will actually feel compelled to take care of their customers again (i.e. not the T-Platform).

Fortunately, the solution is staring you in the face: Diesels! Diesel engines inherently provide superior fuel efficiency, less engine wear, and as an optional engine, you even get to charge extra! As if all of that wasn't enough, diesels are not subject to the sort of pollution-mitigation requirements that your gasoline engines have been laboring through. The only question is whether there's a market in the U.S. for diesels. Thankfully, the results are rather encouraging on that front--domestic sales of Mercedes-Benz's 240D and 300D are solid, and even the Peugeot 504 isn't being completely laughed out of the showroom.

So, in your capacity of head of GM product development in the late-1970s, you take the plunge. You order your minions to create a diesel engine suitable for installation in larger Chevrolets, Buicks, Oldsmobiles, and even Cadillacs. Certain in the wisdom of your decision, you step back into the Wayback Machine and fast-forward to the present day, secure in the knowledge that you've saved GM and Detroit from further erosion against the import hordes.

"Cimarron, by Cadillac"

Look! Up in the sky! It's Sunbird! It's too plain! No, it's Cimarron! (Roll theme music)

On May 21, 1981, one of the biggest "You've got to be kidding me!" moves in automotive history was made when General Motors' Cadillac Division rolled out this generic economy car to an unenthusiastic, not-so gullible press corps and public. Essentially a rebodied Chevrolet Cavalier, even today the Cimarron evinces grimaces from Cadillac faithful.

Cadillac expected sales of  75,000 Cimarrons in the car's first year; instead, only 25,968 sold. In 1988, the last year of the Cimarron, the sales had dropped to 6,454. The first two years of the Cimarron's existence, the Division was so ashamed of the car that the car was called "Cimarron, by Cadillac", not Cadillac Cimarron. This drove home the fact that the car was a Caddy by name only--which, of course, everybody already knew. Anybody who doubted that the Cimarron and Cavalier were siblings had only to look at the two cars. For example, compare the Cimarron at right to the junky Cavalier immediately below.

The car officially became the Cadillac Cimarron in 1983 after rightfully earning the nickname "Cadvalier." Cadillac's unmet expectations should have banished these product planners into the Phantom Zone until they could have made a car worthy of the Cadillac crest.

This is perhaps the worst and most cynical example of automotive rebadging. Cadillac marketed the Cimarron as part of its "Standard of the World," but the Cimarron's only differences from the other GM "J" cars (Chevy Cavalier, Buick Skyhawk, Oldsmobile Firenza, Pontiac J2000/Sunbird) were Cadillac badges, nicer seats, dressier door panels, and a shock absorber system to help keep the drivetrain from dancing around inside the engine bay. To enjoy Earth's yellow sun, an optional "Astroroof" was available exclusively to Cimarron buyers.

Obviously a reject from the planet Krapton, the Cimarron's mild-mannered approach to everything automotive included an anemic 88-horsepower, 2.0-liter, 4-cylinder engine with a 4-speed manual transmission standard. To further slow you down, a 3-speed slushbox cost extra (Extra?!?!). Cadillac had not offered a 4-cylinder since 1914, nor a clutch in more than 30 years. The 120-horsepower, 2.8-liter V-6 became available in 1985, then was made standard in 1987.

1984-1989 Toyota MR2

On my first Car Lust blog post, I had to introduce myself with a car near and dear to my heart, the 1985-87 Toyota Corolla GT-S (RWD please, not the “cute” FX GT-S). Fast-forward to today; I haven’t driven the Corolla in months due to another quirky, mid-1980s Toyota acquisition: a first-generation Toyota MR2.

Owning one of these is really a unique experience. It’s just one of those semi-old-school Japanese, timeless cars that you see once in a while. Other than sharing the 4AG motor, rear-wheel driving pleasure, and flip light characteristics with the AE86, the first-generation MR2 really has its own character. Of course, it just depends who you ask. Sometimes I get the: “OMG, my mom had one of those cute little cars ... ”  Other times I get the “REALLY poor man’s Ferrari” comment. On a good day, an enthusiast will tell me that he’s won a few trophies from auto-crossing with one in the early 1990s. 

Citroen 2CV

It was designed in the 1930s as entry-level transportation for people who had never before owned a car. It was powered by a simple, robust, easily-serviced air-cooled engine, and rode on a surprisingly sophisticated fully-independent suspension. What it lacked in pavement-burning and corner-carving performance it more than made up for with ruggedness and reliability.

It was first put into mass production as Europe began rebuilding itself after World War II. Seemingly against all odds, it remained in production for decades with only minor changes. Thanks to its cute, cuddly, fashionably unfashionable looks, it inspired a level of affection all out of proportion to its actual worth as a motor vehicle. It starred in memorable movie roles and became a favorite of "hippies" and others who wanted to project a free-spirited, beat-of-my-own-drum image.

No, I am not talking about the Volkswagen Type 1 ("Beetle"). I'm talking about that other air-cooled countercultural icon: the Citroen 2CV ("Deux Chevaux").

Test Drive--1970 Volkswagen Beetle

I was driving down the hill from Griffith Park, when I caught sight of something round and brilliantly red. Even in the depths of my peripheral vision it burned its image like a laser into my synapses. My brain registered: Red - VW - Beetle - original - clean.

A few hours later I got a call from a friend: “I’m in your neighborhood and I found the most amazing car. It’s perfect.”

My Car Lust neural net fired: “You mean the red Beetle at the corner of Franklin? I’ve seen it. Check it out, that thing looks sweet.”

Then three fateful words:
“It’s - for - sale.”

My neural net glowed bright red:
“If it’s good and the price is right I’ll buy half of it with you.”