The word means “to fly” in Italian, but it’s also the infinitive form of the Latin verb “to fly,” though I always confused it with the Latin verb volvunt, from which the name for the Swedish carmaker Volvo derives. The name Volaré was quickly suggested after the disastrous meeting, but then sat on for a bit so it would feel like more work was put into it. George, a new VP, was crushed because he thought the proposal would be “rubber stamped.” George, Len, and I returned to George’s office.
said he would rather not have a new car at all then have it be named Cygnet (little swan) or Signet (precious stone). The V8 made a respectable 175 hp, but these never felt fast I think that TorqueFlight greedily consumed the majority of those horses before they could make it to the wheels.
#Embarrassing quicklie full#
Steering feel was like shoving a 2×4 into a bucket full of well-soggified Cap’n Crunch in cottage cheese, and I feel like I’m still being charitable here. Like “felt like you were sitting on the shoulders of your drunk, swaying uncle while doing 54 on the highway”-sucked. I’m not saying this because I read it somewhere, I’m old enough that I’ve actually driven these wallowy barges, and I can say from direct experience that they, charitably, sucked. The suspensions were soft, with transverse torsion bars up front and archaic leaf springs at the rear, and handling was, um, not great. This was prime Malaise Era stuff, an all-new design to replace the Plymouth Valiant and Dart, but saddled with having to use as many parts as possible from the Mopar bins. What makes it so especially garbage-glorious is that the car this is all based on, the F-Body Volaré, is kinda crap just on its own. Remember that old King of the Hill episode where a businessman from Boston comes to Texas, all enamored with the hype and stereotypes of a dipshit’s idea of Texas, and shows up in a brand-new fancy modern oil-baron-cowboy outfit/costume that embarrasses everyone around him? Here’s a clip to refresh your memory:
It was the automotive equivalent of a poser, a tourist who buys all the new equipment to fit in at some specific context or subgroup, and as a result stands out like a sore and yet too-clean thumb. This thing was a getup, an absurd, funhouse-mirror version of Richard Petty’s purposeful racing cars, and it’s hard to see how anyone could have seen it any other way.
#Embarrassing quicklie manual#
The 360 V8 was just a standard option, and the three-speed TorqueFlite transmission was hardly sporty in any context outside of “sportcoat.” That detail is especially maddening, because there was a four-speed manual available that would have suited the car much better, but that transmission could only be had with the inline-six or smaller 318 V8 engine. Special wheels and tires, a bunch of decals, those silly fake retention straps and hood pins, “Tuff” steering wheel, all that stuff, and the only thing that could even remotely improve the driving would be that rear sway bar, maybe, and uh, maybe the heavy-duty suspension couldn’t hurt. So, let’s see exactly what you did get with the Street Kit Car Package:
Look at all that crap they stuck onto that Volaré! Fake wheel flares, a tacked-on spoiler, front air dam that looks like it may be able to do a bit of snowplow duty if only the front engine/RWD Volaré wasn’t so useless in the snow, the silly louvered side-window stick-on cover, and, perhaps most hilariously, the fake windshield and rear window clips and retaining straps and those fake hood pins. This was a factory-selectable option, and for those of you who are skeptical, here, look at this dealer flyer for the package: The Plymouth Volaré Street Kit Car was, essentially, a regular-ass 1978 Plymouth Volaré dressed up in the automotive equivalent of a Halloween costume of Richard Petty’s famous #43 NASCAR racing car. It’s only the second installment, so, please, Mopar fans, don’t take this as a slight.
#Embarrassing quicklie series#
Huh, I just realized that so far, the Glorious Garbage series is 100% Mopar. My fellow Autopians, please introduce yourselves to the Plymouth Volaré Street Kit Car. The difference here is that where the Dodge DeTomaso was a car that looked the part but was writing visual checks its butt couldn’t cash, this one is such a hilarious and unbelievable caricature that I don’t think there was ever any danger of it being taken seriously. We started the series off last time with what is arguably the slowest car ever to wear the DeTomaso name, and this week our Glorious bit of wheeled Garbage is actually somewhat similar, in that it’s a not-particularly sporty car dressed up as something very much more than it actually is. It’s time for another installment of Glorious Garbage, where we highlight a car that is indisputably piping-hot garbage and yet, somehow, strangely appealing, largely thanks to healthy doses of nostalgia, irony, and, let’s be honest, more than a little self-debasement.
0 kommentar(er)
