Got Muscle?

For several decades, I’ve been whining about the disappearance of the mid-sized muscle cars from the street scene. I’m talkin’ about the kind of muscle cars we had back in the 60s & 70s, like the Pontiac GTO, Olds 442, Chevy SS396, Hi-Po Mustangs and Fairlanes, and those awesome MoPar offerings with the 426 Hemi engines. Nothing made a sound like a 427 Vette with dual-quads, solid lifters, and full-race cam winding it out on Woodward Avenue. My all-time favorite was the 427 A.C. Cobra.

Coming off the line, these fire-breathing beasties would snap your head back, push you into the seat, take your breath away, and leave you with sweaty palms and white knuckles. The sound, vibration, and torque coming out of those engines and transferring to the black top would give you a rush you’d never forget.

I occasionally see one being gently driven by an old guy like me or in a parking lot with the hood up and a bunch of old guys walking around admiring it. I don’t even stop at those parking lots anymore. It’s just too depressing for me.

Yeah, OK, those glory days of big street muscle are long gone and only live on in movies like American Graffiti or in old songs by the Beach Boys and Jan & Dean. The domestic auto manufacturers no longer build cars like that and the streets are probably a lot safer without them. Even the new Chrysler/Dodge products with those smaller, watered-down Hemis in them can’t compare in raw power to what they offered thirty or forty years ago. (Son, can you say, “Wimpy Hemi”?)

One consolation to me is that the cars they make now are superior in all other ways to what they made back then. They are much more reliable, more fuel efficient, and far more eco-friendly. Even though I miss the hotrods of my coming-of-age days, I wouldn’t want to go back to driving one of those monsters on a daily basis.

But, there is that part of me that never really grew up, which still likes hot cars and rock-n-roll. My wife is probably the only person that truly knows how much of me is stuck in the past. I still drive with my right hand on the shift knob, even though I hate that sissified, boy-racer, automatic bump-shift crap. There ain’t nothin’ like ridin’ the clutch on a car with a real manual shift.

However, there is a bright spot on the horizon for guys like me. The last few years, I’ve begun to notice some of those cute little 4-cylinder pocket rockets. Even though my big-iron Detroit friends snicker and call them “rice-burners”, I’m really starting to like ‘em. I’ve even gone out lately to test-drive some of them and they’re a real hoot to drive.

With the price of petrol going out-of-sight these days, they’re becoming even more interesting to me. Most of these little hotrods cost between $20k and $35k. They range between 200 and 300+ h.p. and will do 0-60 in the high 4’s and 5’s. Some are naturally aspirated and some are blown (turbofied). They won’t make your ears bleed comin’ out of the hole, but you will get quite a rush.

I think I’m going to buy one just to get it out of my system. I think I’ll go with the Honda Civic Si Coupe. No wait, I’ll go with the Mazdaspeed3. No, I think maybe the VW GTIMkV. Or how about that Subaru Impreza WRX STI. Ah, but then there’s the Chevy Cobalt SS Coupe. But, I can’t overlook the Mitsu Lancer Evo.

OK, I’ll have to think through this and get back to you. If I don’t stop obsessing like this, they’re going to send me back to Happy Valley for another six months. Man, I really hate that padded room they keep me in.

Zoom! Zoom!

Ode To Corvair

On page 3 of this week’s Automotive News there was a short article about Ralph Nader and the Chevrolet Corvair. In 1965 he wrote a book called Unsafe At Any Speed that took particular aim at the Corvair and was probably the catalyst for the demise of the car.

The reason for the article was mainly to tout A.N.’s GM 100th anniversary edition. For me it triggered a flood of memories that I had about the Corvair. The first car I ever drove (legally) was my Mom’s 1961 Corvair coupe. It was black with a red interior , had bucket seats, and a 3-speed manual trans mounted on the floor. It wasn’t a tire burner, but it was fun to drive. After I had sufficiently broken (literally) it in, she traded that one in for a 1965 Corvair Monza that had a bit more pep to it. I bought that from her the next year after my Falcon died. Coincidently, when I got married, my wife was driving a ’64 Corvair.

The Corvair was unique among Detroit’s offerings at that time. The engine was in the rear and the trunk was in the front, similar to the VW cars. The engine was a flat, air-cooled, six-cylinder power plant. Corvair’s main competitor was likely Ford’s Falcon.

One thing that particularly stood out about the Corvair was the sound it made. The sound would be difficult to describe, maybe sort of a whirring noise. It just sounded sporty. It was fun to drive, was good on gas, and it was cute. It was cool to drive a Corvair. I miss them.