Yesterday, and I can’t exactly remember why it happened, we ended up talking about the Chevrolet Chevette, especially the ultra-base model Chevette Scooter. I found myself getting into a real Chevette-hole, trying to find pictures of just how austere and punishing that entry-est level of Chevettes was, with its absent rear seat and armrest-free door cards and rubber mats on the doors, carpet just a glorious, decadent dream. The best place for those pictures, by the way, is this 1977 Car and Driver review. More importantly, though, is this fact: I started to want one of these miserable things.
The Chevette, even in its most lavish versions, was a primitive, cramped hunk of crap, to put it generously. Its RWD drivetrain was last-generation’s tech in an increasingly FWD world, just shrunk down and crammed into a hatchback. The build quality was often on the level of how on-model your average superhero-based popsicle is, and the car really didn’t offer any especially clever or compelling details.
And yet, somehow, this sad little thing has some strange charm I found myself drawn to. I remember carpooling in high school with my friend Emily, listening to Camper Van Beethoven in her white Chevette, and those are good memories! That car wasn’t too bad, right?
So, yeah, somehow I tricked my brain into kind of wanting a Chevette Scooter. There must be crap cars that you, dear, sexy readers, have somehow found yourself desiring, against all better judgment, right? Cars that you never really thought were especially interesting or appealing or, hell, even good, that somehow hijack your desire?
Tell us about them! Spill your guts! We’re here to commiserate, or describe something even worse!