Car Lust

1986-1989 Honda Accord

Every so often, an automaker has a special run in which it can seemingly do nothing wrong; great car follows great car, and seemingly every product it touches turns to gold. I would argue that GM had a run like that in the 1960s, followed by Mercedes-Benz in the 1970s, Honda in the 1980s, BMW in the 1990s, and Toyota in this decade. These are the stretches in which a run of great cars builds the brand's reputation and a core of loyal customers that continue to buy over the following decades; in other words, the exact opposite of what GM did from 1975-1985.

Besides the great cars, I find these runs of success so compelling because they illustrate just how deceptively simple making great cars can be. These manufacturers didn't succeed because of fancy new technologies, splashy styling, or unnecessary gimmicks; they succeeded because they delivered original, attractive, cars that last and are fun to drive. Honda is the ultimate example here; once just a respected small automaker, Honda became a global powerhouse by executing the fundamentals flawlessly in the 1980s.

There's something special, just innately right about Honda cars in the mid-to-late 1980s; a purity of styling and engineering that took simple, unpretentious cars and lifted them into genius. I'm focusing on the Accord here, and Cookie the Dog's Owner previously waxed eloquent about his 1985 Honda CRX, and Rob the SVX Guy has done the same for his 1989 Honda Prelude Si, but much of what made these cars great go for the entire 1980s Honda lineup--the Civic, Prelude, Accord, and even the first Acura Integra and Legend.

Saab 9-3 Viggen

I'm currently wrapped in denial. Actually, avoidance might be closer to the mark, but either way I'm currently not in a good mental state. For the past two decades Saab has been my favorite automaker because it so enthusiastically embraced three of my favorite automotive attributes: an individualistic philosophy, the magic of turbocharging, and characteristically hunchbacked profiles. The result? Magic, in the form of magnificently funky and atypically useful sporty cars like the Sonett, 99, 900, and 9000. Long-time readers may remember that the 1986 Saab 900 SPG is my personal Car Lust high-water mark.

Now, of course, Saab's future is in doubt. After two decades of generally benevolent General Motors ownership, Saab is up for sale. Over the last few months, I have been generally and perhaps unrealistically optimistic that Saab would land on its feet, perhaps with an owner that would give it both ample funding and a license to regain its uniquely Swedish mojo. Now, though, I'm no longer as sanguine.

Saabs United is all over the story, and its reporting describes the three bidders currently in the running for Saab. From a car-development perspective, the best scenario is probably a purchase by Koenigsegg, the Swedish supercar manufacturer. Based on the latest news, Koenigsegg and Norwegian investors are reportedly Saab's "preferred candidate." But it's not as if Koenigsegg has an easy road ahead of it. The other two parties are less-well-known, and regardless of who wins, what does it mean to Saab's future if venture capitalists take over?

Anyway, this is where my avoidance comes in. While I am cautiously optimistic about the Koenigsegg group, that optimism does not prevent me from being terrified that Saab will either disappear entirely or simply lose any semblance of relevance. The whole experience reminds me far too much of losing my beloved Seattle Supersonics last year, and I'm not sure my psyche could handle the slow, protracted loss of Saab as well.

So, in an attempt to sooth my jangled nerves while this story unfolds, I'd like to honor the impending end of Saab's stint as a GM subsidiary by featuring my favorite Saab made under the GM banner--the 9-3 Viggen.

Ford Fiesta

It was a frightening time for the domestic auto industry. American automakers had been caught off-guard by volatile gas prices, an uncertain economy, and a customer base that was rapidly turning its emphasis from flash to thrift. The domestic manufacturers' most profitable products--the huge, outdated, gas-guzzlers that had sold like hotcakes for more than a decade--were suddenly out of step with consumer demand.

The market’s turn to smaller, more efficient cars exposed the domestic small-car catalog as obsolete and uncompetitive compared to the more refined and better-engineered offerings from the imports. American consumers reacted by purchasing the imports and excoriating the domestic offerings for their inadequacies.

Confronted with shrinking market share and even the threat of bankruptcy, the domestic automakers were under pressure to respond quickly with potent, up-to-date small cars of their own. Luckily for Ford, a contemporary and competitive subcompact was already available from its European division to bolster its sagging American small-car fortunes. Enter the savior ... the Fiesta.

Lincoln C

The interesting, surprising, thoroughly Lust-worthy little fellow shown at right held pride of place in the Ford section of the Cleveland Auto Show. It's about as long as a Focus, or my GTI, and a bit wider, wide enough to seat three across without too much squeezing. It has a four-cylinder turbocharged direct-injected engine which produces an "estimated" 180 HP (according to a Ford press release) mated to a dual-clutch gearbox similar to Volkswagen's DSG. That combination would be enough for some serious straight-line zip in a car this size. The fat tires on the 20" wheels promise equivalent cornering.

Oh, and the surprising part?

It's a Lincoln.

Chevrolet Citation

If a research company conducted a scientific survey of Americans' opinions of the worst cars ever sold in this country, I would bet the top results would be made up of some combination of the usual suspects--the Yugo; the AMC Pacer and Gremlin; the Chevrolet Vega and Chevette; and the Ford Pinto. Those six stinkers are justly famous for their automotive ineptitude and would likely dominate the list. But I would guess that, trailing just behind those all-stars, the Chevrolet Citation and its General Motors X-car brethren would slot in a solid seventh on the definitive list of automotive awfulness.

My head tells me that this popular disapprobation is well-justified. The X-cars were deficient in many of the criteria that cars are judged upon--namely, they drove poorly, they weren't well-built, and the design was fundamentally flawed. Add to that list of negatives the huge investment GM made in the X-car, the public's sky-high expectations for the car, and, paradoxically, the X-car's strong sales early in its life.

The net result was that GM paid billions of late-1970s dollars to give an entire generation of American car buyers an incredibly convincing first-hand lesson that American cars weren't worth buying. If, as I've argued, General Motors spent three solid decades trying to dissuade customers from buying its family sedans, the X-car can be seen as the most effective effort in that campaign. By any logical set of criteria, the X-car deserves its inclusion in Epic Fail Week. In fact, it should arguably be the headline act in this tuneless concert of shameful failure.

Regular readers of Car Lust can feel free to begin rolling their eyes here, because what's coming next is as predictable as chilly weather in Antarctica. You see, while my head is convinced, my heart thinks the Citation and its much-maligned siblings are interesting, pretty little cars that don't deserve the level of abuse they have endured. The court of popular opinion has already tried and convicted the Citation, but I'd like to reopen the case and defend the poor, cringing X-car.

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.