This post is your opportunity to illustrate what you think a Group B rally version of the Chevrolet Citation might have looked like. If you're one of the three people in the world who has the combination of graphical talent and a mentality demented enough to share my curiosity about the subject, please submit your work to email@example.com.
A week or so ago I was sitting in a drive-through, just whiling away the minutes waiting to be served, when I saw a Chevrolet Citation motor slowly by. For most people this would mark the end of what would make a particularly uninteresting story, but as you may have noticed I'm a little different. My name is Chris Hafner, and I'm a confirmed Citation devotee. As a result, I noticed that the gold Citation that drove by was in absolutely immaculate, showroom-fresh condition, and I instantly fell in love.
Things like this happen to me all the time--I see a weird car on the street, I lust madly for it, and I forget about it when the next one rolls by. This time, however, I made the mistake of telling some friends about the absolutely radiant Citation that had captured my heart. The result was a not-inconsiderable amount of ribbing for even daring to think of a Citation in an object of lust. Even this isn't that remarkable, though; I take a lot of abuse for my car tastes, and almost all of it is completely justifiable.
There was one strange comment, though; one friend suggested that if I was so in love with blocky hatchbacks that I should shift my affection to the Lancia Delta Integrale. Now, I have no shortage of lust for the Delta Integrale; it's both one of the great unobtainable performance cars of the 1980s and the basis for one of the most legendary rally cars of all time. But the suggestion that I prefer the Delta to a Citation struck me as odd; it's a bit like telling a friend who is in the mood for Taco Bell that he should fly to San Diego for some gourmet shrimp fajitas, or like telling a Pontiac Fiero owner that he should own a Ferrari GTO instead.