Car Lust

Isuzu Impulse RS

After hearing the news that Isuzu is leaving the North American market, my first instinct was to shrug it off.   I mean, really, who cares? Isuzu hasn't produced anything worth remembering or lusting after in quite a while, and its withdrawal really isn't a big deal in the automotive world; especially compared to other news. 

However, even companies as boring and derivative as Isuzu occasionally still make wonderful vehicles, and to bid Isuzu farewell I thought it necessary to write a Car Lust about one of the greatest hot hatches ever--the Isuzu Impulse RS.

1986-1992 Saab 9000 Turbo

When Saab debuted the 9000 in 1986, it raised some eyebrows. It's not often that a car garners attention because of its normalcy; but such is the case when a noted oddball carmaker like Saab introduces a car so seemingly bone-stock conventional as the 9000.

Saab had always been known for cars with profiles that could best be described as quirky. From the early 92 and 95, to the swoopy Sonnetts, to the swollen and hunchbacked 99 and 900, Saabs looked different than normal cars and were seemingly proud of that fact. By contrast, the 9000 was clean and attractive but otherwise unremarkable by the standards of 1986. The aero headlights and the smoothly contoured sides were handsome and aerodynamic, but reminiscent of the ground-breaking Audi 5000 and Ford Taurus. Without the Saab grille and insignia, it would be difficult to identify the 9000 as a Saab--while the 900, on the other hand, showed its Saab heritage clearly and proudly. Only the five-door hatchback bodystyle betrayed Saab's quirky tendencies.

In another break from non-conformity, the 9000's platform was the result of a joint development effort with three other European carmakers. The 9000's chassis and, in some cases, body panels, were shared with the Alfa Romeo 164, Lancia Thema, and Fiat Croma. Sharing a platform with the likes of Alfa and Lancia doesn't exactly raise the spectre of awful and irrelevant clones like the Cadillac Cimmaron or Mercury Bobcat, but its conventionality was a bit worrying for this slavish Saab-ite. Had Saab sold out and built a bland every-car?

1985 Honda Civic CRX

Perfect.

If I had to describe my blue 1985 Civic CRX in one word, that would be it.

I bought it sight-unseen from a dealer my father knew. I took delivery one Saturday morning and drove to my parents' house to show it to Mom and my sister, taking the shortcut through the park so I could play with my new toy on the twisty part in the gorge between the old mill and the goldfish pond.

By the time I got to the house, I was thinking to myself, "This is perfect!  It's like Honda read my mind. Someone finally built the car I've always wanted!"

That CRX was perfect. Completely, absolutely perfect. The most perfect car I had ever owned, driven, ridden in, or even looked at from ten yards away.

Let me explain what made it so perfect.

Subaru WRX STi 22B

To a logical and fair observer, the United States seems like a great place for automotive enthusiasts.  Compared to the rest of the world, we are fortunate to have long stretches of fantastic, sparsely populated driving roads; cheap and plentiful gasoline (for now, at least); decent rural speed limits; and of course muscle cars. Most enthusiasts, however, cannot be accused of being logical or fair on this topic. You see, the vast majority of us have felt the sting of longing for a car that, for whatever reason, is not available in the U.S. And if I can speak for the rest of the sufferers, this experience is completely maddening.

Enthusiasts across this otherwise-great country have felt the heartbreak from unrequited love for unavailable supercars, higher-horsepower derivatives of otherwise accessible cars, Kei cars, Australian muscle cars, and even European Fords. I speak from experience, because I have desired all of these.

Longing for the unattainable isn't particularly novel with any form of lust, of course--if anything, it increases the frenzy. Such was the case for me with the Subaru WRX STi 22B--a car so incredibly desirable and so completely unavailable that it nearly drove me insane in 1998.

Suzuki Alto Works

It has been some time since we last featured a Kei car, so why not go with a definitive example of the breed? Boxy, tall, and tiny, the Alto Works boasts surprising interior space despite its minuscule footprint. Yet, like the most interesting Kei cars, the Alto Works makes its biggest splash with its glitzy high-performance hardware and tempest-in-a-teapot aggressiveness.

Like all Kei cars--not to be confused with the ubiquitous Chrysler K-cars of the 1980s--the Alto Works was limited to its tiny exterior dimensions, a 660cc engine, and a maximum of 64 horsepower. On the surface, perhaps, this doesn't sound like a formula for a particularly interesting performance car--until you work light weight into the formula.

Alfa Romeo GTV-6

The 1980s were a truly fantastic time for European sports coupes. From my personal favorite, the Saab 900 SPG, to the technologically advanced Audi Coupe Quattro, the incredibly stylish BMW 635CSi, the more plebeian but still exciting 16-valve Mk. II Volkswagen Scirocco, Europe was pumping out fun, accessible, and generally useful sports coupes by the bushel load in the 1980s. The Audi had all-wheel-drive; some were turbocharged, several had four-valve-per-cylinder heads. Even the class nerd, the Renault Fuego Turbo, was distinctive and attractive its way.

Well, if the Fuego was the nerd, the Alfa Romeo GTV-6 was the popular kid. The Alfa brought to the table a more sculpted profile than the Saab, a more soul-stirring exhaust note than the Audi, more passion than the reserved BMW, a more exotic feel than the Volkswagen, and dramatically less suck than the Renault.

Ford Ka

In the last few weeks we've featured quite a few big domestic cars; so what better subject than a featherweight European hatchback with a domestic nameplate? I've always found European Fords somewhat jarring; it's this incredibly familiar nameplate on generally unfamiliar cars. GM at least differentiates their unique European-market offering with Opel and Vauxhall nameplates, and Chrysler tends to just import the same cars it sells in America. Meanwhile, European Fords, with their air of Continental sophistication and mystery, seem like the intoxicating and sultry cousins of the girl next door.

Anyway, modern, mass-produced cars don't get much more featherweight than the Ford Ka--either in terms of mass or its name. Its minimalist, two-letter, one-syllable name actually sounds a bit like an Australian pronunciation of "car" (Nicole Kidman to Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder: Let me out of the Ka, Cole, let me out of the Ka!").

1986 Saab 900 SPG

This is the big one, the big Kahuna, the lustiest of my Car Lusts. One year and nearly 300 posts into this blog, we've finally reached my favorite car. I've made a point of only writing about cars that genuinely inspire my passion, and in the process I've repeatedly bared my various automotive psychoses. Well, this car cuts right to the quick of everything I am. It is an inseparable part of my very soul.

Yes, it's a Saab 900--best-known for its center console-mounted ignition key switch, and slightly lesser-known for its quirky unreliability. To unbiased observers, the Saab 900 has a weak chin and a truly curious hunchback profile that looks oddly lumpen and mollusk-like. Like a stranger Renault Fuego, if that's possible. Sure, Saabs of this era were known for their durability and winter traction, but what makes them even remotely lust-worthy?

Great Commercials--1984 GTI

UPDATE: We now have a full English translation of the jingle, courtesy of commenter "Bobster." Thank you!

In 1964, when California-style surf rock songs about hot cars were at their peak in popularity, Ronny & the Daytonas released "G.T.O.", a lively ode to the Pontiac musclecar that became a #1 hit. Twenty years later, Volkswagen "translated" the song into German for a spot advertising the Mk. I GTI:

Renault Fuego Turbo

Somewhere in the few remaining rational recesses of my brain, I know that owning a Renault Fuego is an awful idea. Terrible reliability, expensive parts, and nonexistent dealer support aren't exactly a great combination in a used car. Standard Fuegos were bog slow, and even the hot-rod Fuego Turbo wasn't exactly fast. Its mollusk-like contours and dated detailing are also very likely to inspire much derision and abuse from your friends. Driving a Fuego is unlikely to win you friends or to influence people.

Happily, I have a long track record of suppressing those flashes of rational thinking. Because, you see, I love the Fuego. Like the Isuzu Impulse, the Fuego upon its 1980 debut was an early adopter of the smoothly rounded hatchback contours that would come to characterize so many of the great sports coupes of the decade. The Renault 15 and 17 that preceded the Fuego were typical 1970s wedges, but the Fuego was slick enough to cheat the wind with a .34 cd--a good figure today, stellar in 1980.