During the 1980s, times for automakers were exceedingly tough--or so I'm told. Compact cars replaced larger vehicles as the nation's top selling cars, minivans were in full swing, and the "off-road family wagon" was started to blossom. What do all three of these categories have in common? Automaker Chrysler had a stake in all of them. What Chrysler didn't have (and really, this wasn't a problem, but you know, Chrysler was trying to invent niches) was a entry-level personal luxury coupe. And by entry-level, I mean gussied up economy car. Like the Cadillac Cimmaron.
Enter the TC by Maserati; wrapped around Chrysler's venerable K-structure, the TC was basically a rebodied LeBaron with more creature comforts (and a price to match). Outside, a more formal front clip, and a better looking rear fascia, and--oh, the Maserati logo. Not to say it was a bad car per-se, but as a marketing endeavor, it failed. Inside, the treatment was much the same ; same basic structure but quite a bit more formal. Gone were the chintzy plastics, and in their place was a full accoutrement of leather, and wood trim, topped off with a rather nice-looking if not a bit uncharacteristic steering wheel.
Getting this interesting cross-breed vehicle down the road (not with very much gusto, though) were a pair of Chrysler turbo 2.2s (one actually built in the UK under Cosworth), and a torque-choked Mitsubishi 3.0 V6. None of these engines offered very sprightly performance, considering the vehicle was a tad bit chunkier than the LeBaron of the time. Like many vehicles of the time, this little "grand tourer", was indeed available with a manual gearbox, and surprisingly was quite quick with the 2.2 turbo and a stick. Road and Track recorded a quite healthy 0-60 romp of just under seven seconds, and a blast through the quarter mile in a fairly respectable (even for today's standards) 15.5 at 87 MPH. To put that in perspective, those numbers fall in line with a last generation Nissan Sentra SE-R and the minivan-esque Honda Civic Si hatchback. Not too shabby, I don't think.
I shot one a few years ago, and this honestly could be the same car, a few years down the road; unlike the first one I blogged, this one does without the Maserati trident on the fenders, and it has lost a piece of taillamp trim. Other than those two niggles, this example is about as "mint" as I would expect to find in the winter.
The paint is still glossy (Cabernet) all four Fondemental wheels are scuff-free, the hardtop appears to be not only closed fully, but also leak-free (which cannot be said for the last LeBaron hardtop I saw). The biggest surprise about this example (and with any 1980s-era Chrysler product) is the mere fact that it is rust-free, and I suspect that being labelled a Maserati has helped in that regard.
I didn't get a close look inside, as this was spotted in a residential area, and looking into cars would be considered suspicious, but from my memory, the seats had a fair amount of wear (especially the drivers' seat), and the dashpad shows considerable cracking and other wear. All in all, a relatively tidy interior, considering the car's age.
I like these cars (and I think I am in the minority), and it was refreshing to see one still around that hasn't been pampered to the gills; would I want to find one in other than cabaret, of course. Will I ever find one in a shade other than cabaret? Doubtful.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Minneapolis Street Sighting: Hyundai Tiburon FX
For all automotive blogs, there is always one "first"; and this little sporty compact marks a somewhat significant first. Up until now, it never occurred to me that one day I would be writing about the Korean cars that I grew up with. But, in 2015, here we are.
On the surface, writing about a Hyundai isn't a far fetched idea; after all, this is the company that made their name in the US with the diminutive Excel hatchback--and its sedan counterpart. Within years of introducing the Americas to their little hatchback, the company rolled out a sporty little hatchback, called the S'coupe in our market. For the rest of the world, the car was known as quite simply, "Coupe". Yep, Hyundai just added the letter "S" to the name and called it good. Good enough for us, anyway.
In 1997, the S'coupe was renamed the Tiburon for the US market, and with that name came a full reskin with styling that somehow looked dated as soon as it arrived, better powerplants, and the lack of a focused sport model. Oops. A few years later, the first generation Tiburon was given a facelift, which arguably hindered the looks rather than helped them. Oh well, you live, you learn, I guess.
Like most Minnesota cars of this vintage (and I hate using the word "vintage" to describe a Tiburon, to be honest), this little coupe is rather used; dents, dings, doors that don't quite shut properly, and more scars than an open-heart patient. Not exactly standing the test of time very well, is it?
On the surface, this example is pretty beat up, but as I try to recall the last Tiburon of this era I came across...well, that's kind of hard; I hardly see these at all, so this example quite possibly be the best one I've ever seen--at least in recent memory. Even with pitted paint, faint evidence of surface rust (that's probably hiding more under the skin, and odd panel gaps, this particular car is quite clean.
All the wheels were remarkable curb-free, the badges were all in one piece, including the oft-broken trunklid nameplate script. And inside, this little Korean coupe looked almost *new*. Okay, that was probably a stretch, but the interior didn't show nearly half the beating the exterior had endured.
Was this a worthy subject? I think it was, mainly because the vehicle itself is either a) largely forgotten, even by sport-compact enthusiasts and b) likely close to one-of-a-kind at this point. I am honestly proud that I took time to stop and look.
On the surface, writing about a Hyundai isn't a far fetched idea; after all, this is the company that made their name in the US with the diminutive Excel hatchback--and its sedan counterpart. Within years of introducing the Americas to their little hatchback, the company rolled out a sporty little hatchback, called the S'coupe in our market. For the rest of the world, the car was known as quite simply, "Coupe". Yep, Hyundai just added the letter "S" to the name and called it good. Good enough for us, anyway.
In 1997, the S'coupe was renamed the Tiburon for the US market, and with that name came a full reskin with styling that somehow looked dated as soon as it arrived, better powerplants, and the lack of a focused sport model. Oops. A few years later, the first generation Tiburon was given a facelift, which arguably hindered the looks rather than helped them. Oh well, you live, you learn, I guess.
Like most Minnesota cars of this vintage (and I hate using the word "vintage" to describe a Tiburon, to be honest), this little coupe is rather used; dents, dings, doors that don't quite shut properly, and more scars than an open-heart patient. Not exactly standing the test of time very well, is it?
On the surface, this example is pretty beat up, but as I try to recall the last Tiburon of this era I came across...well, that's kind of hard; I hardly see these at all, so this example quite possibly be the best one I've ever seen--at least in recent memory. Even with pitted paint, faint evidence of surface rust (that's probably hiding more under the skin, and odd panel gaps, this particular car is quite clean.
All the wheels were remarkable curb-free, the badges were all in one piece, including the oft-broken trunklid nameplate script. And inside, this little Korean coupe looked almost *new*. Okay, that was probably a stretch, but the interior didn't show nearly half the beating the exterior had endured.
Was this a worthy subject? I think it was, mainly because the vehicle itself is either a) largely forgotten, even by sport-compact enthusiasts and b) likely close to one-of-a-kind at this point. I am honestly proud that I took time to stop and look.
Labels:
1990s,
2000s,
compact cars,
down on the street,
economy car,
fall spotting,
Hyundai,
Korean,
parked cars,
sporty car,
Tiburon
Friday, January 16, 2015
Minneapolis Street Sighting: Saturn SW2
As I ring in 2015, a bit a late, I will continue to post up vehicles that have significance to me; as a child of the 1990s, I grew up in the age of reliable gas-misers that eventually rusted out; among the countess Corolla wagons, Protege 5s and Escort/Tracer wagons, there was one car that stood the test of time more than any other compact in its class--and it came from an unlikely source: GM.
You heard me right--GM. The company that gave the motoring public such disasters as the Daewoo-built Pontiac LeMans, the atrocious Oldsmobile Achieva, and that oft-ridiculed Pontiac Aztek also churned out what could be the most reliable compact people mover sold in the 'states under an American name. Saturn.
The Twin Cam badging on the rear liftgate identifies this car as an SW2, produced from 1993 to 1994 in its first-generation form. Power for this little load-lugger came from a 1.9L four-cylinder which produced a relatively healthy 124 horsepower and 138 ft lbs of torque; even though that's not very much, it was a higher rating than a comparable Toyota Corolla and Ford Escort; despite this, the Saturn wagon was still rated at over 30 MPG on the highway; a family member owned one, and easily got about 40 MPG on the higway, and hight 20s in the city; a quick check online reveals that many owners easily eclipsed the claimed mileage figures.
The main thing that made the Saturn line so revolutionary was the construction; bonded plastic panels insured easy repair in the event of a collision, but also reduced the risk of the most common ailment for vehicles in the rustbelt where I live: rust. Due to the plastic construction, and relative ease of repair after an accident, I still see quite a few first-generation Saturns around town.
While I would usually write up about how preserved this particular vehicle is, there really isn't much that could render it "unpreserved"; the plastic panels don't rust-- buy the plastic does break in the winter. As you can see here, the plastic on this wagon has held up well. No cracks, or even small tears; I'd say this car was babied--possibly from the time it was purchased.
I know it sounds odd, but I've always liked the wheels/hubcaps on Saturns, and these are no exception; I like how they sit flush with the body, and don't protrude outward. Another one of my favorite features of these early Saturns is the front clip. I dunnno, I just like the aesthetics of it all; the way the headlights are positioned, and the shape of the front bumper, and how it connects up to the hood, the whole thing kind of reminds me of a Z31, I guess. I've always liked these, and this is the first time I've tried to put in writing why.
I honestly want to find another wagon, and shoot it more. I had a bit of fun shooting this, and I'm glad I finally found a fully-stock SW versus one with cheapo hubcaps on it.
You heard me right--GM. The company that gave the motoring public such disasters as the Daewoo-built Pontiac LeMans, the atrocious Oldsmobile Achieva, and that oft-ridiculed Pontiac Aztek also churned out what could be the most reliable compact people mover sold in the 'states under an American name. Saturn.
The Twin Cam badging on the rear liftgate identifies this car as an SW2, produced from 1993 to 1994 in its first-generation form. Power for this little load-lugger came from a 1.9L four-cylinder which produced a relatively healthy 124 horsepower and 138 ft lbs of torque; even though that's not very much, it was a higher rating than a comparable Toyota Corolla and Ford Escort; despite this, the Saturn wagon was still rated at over 30 MPG on the highway; a family member owned one, and easily got about 40 MPG on the higway, and hight 20s in the city; a quick check online reveals that many owners easily eclipsed the claimed mileage figures.
The main thing that made the Saturn line so revolutionary was the construction; bonded plastic panels insured easy repair in the event of a collision, but also reduced the risk of the most common ailment for vehicles in the rustbelt where I live: rust. Due to the plastic construction, and relative ease of repair after an accident, I still see quite a few first-generation Saturns around town.
While I would usually write up about how preserved this particular vehicle is, there really isn't much that could render it "unpreserved"; the plastic panels don't rust-- buy the plastic does break in the winter. As you can see here, the plastic on this wagon has held up well. No cracks, or even small tears; I'd say this car was babied--possibly from the time it was purchased.
I know it sounds odd, but I've always liked the wheels/hubcaps on Saturns, and these are no exception; I like how they sit flush with the body, and don't protrude outward. Another one of my favorite features of these early Saturns is the front clip. I dunnno, I just like the aesthetics of it all; the way the headlights are positioned, and the shape of the front bumper, and how it connects up to the hood, the whole thing kind of reminds me of a Z31, I guess. I've always liked these, and this is the first time I've tried to put in writing why.
I honestly want to find another wagon, and shoot it more. I had a bit of fun shooting this, and I'm glad I finally found a fully-stock SW versus one with cheapo hubcaps on it.
Labels:
1993,
compact cars,
down on the street,
downtown,
GM,
parked cars,
Saturn,
station wagon,
wagon
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