As a kid we had a ‘63 Buick Special with no power anything. My mom put up with that for about two years. First significant repair bill and it was traded in for a’ 68 Beetle. My dad mainly drove it and adored it, haven’t spent the happiest year of his life in Germany in the mid-fifties, courtesy of the US Army. Even though it was smaller, we all found the VW more likable. It was like being in a small plane where the Buick was an Armored Personnel Carrier. The Buick smelled of damp and had horrid seats. My mother was used to unpowered brakes, but the brakes in that car scared her when it rained.
Then along came our buzzy little Beetle and the interior was bright and simple and everything fit right. Sure, it was cheaply made and obsolete, but it had spirit and we didn’t make long trips in it. It was my dad’s commuter car and for minor errands. The big station wagon was for vacations, grocery runs, and anywhere all six of us had to go.
A few years later my dad was rearended on the San Diego Fwy on his way to work, hit and run. My parents made the mistake of a 1975 B210 with an automatic! This was a deadly slow car even with a stick. It did 0-60 in about 30 seconds with the autobox. It was just as cramped as the VW and as gloomy and dull as the Buick (they were even similar shades of blue) . We loathed that car. The only reason my folks got one is because it was the model the HS was using for driver training at the time and my brother had it that year. A year later it was my turn and they had switched to Plymouth Volares. Four cylinder automatics, of course! Nearly as slow as the Datsun, but you could realistically fit an instructor and four teenagers (segregated by sex, so four pubescent guys in mine). The Datsuns looked like clown cars in comparison. We were stuck with ours at home, becauseI wasn’t about to agitate for a Volare. I had some pride. I would have failed anyhow, despite none of us liking the horrid Datsun. It later was traded for a Renault Alliance, another underpowered model, but compared to its predecessors it felt perky. And had great seats and plenty of room for four. Too bad it was always breaking down, as it had such a pleasant personality. I rode in the back seat from San Francisco to West Virginia and back and was comfortable the whole way.
So how is it we sometimes love (or strongly like) cars we know aren’t good, but other cars with similar weaknesses get on our nerves? The cars I disliked were dull, dark, and lacking in any delectable personality. A late seventies Impala wagon was another blah one, but I liked my parents’ early Dodge minivan. It had problems, but it was such an honest vehicle, roomy and clever (if not as clever as modern minivans.)
My brother finally just gave up on a decade-old Odyssey with 350k that he bought new. Yup, it was on its second transmission, but other than that it was super reliable, so he went out and bought a new one that’s equipped as simply as the last one. He’s thrilled. I don’t blame him, as that’s a seriously comfy van and he drives delivery and spends long days in the thing. In and out, all day long, mostly city driving, and he got 350k comfortable miles out of the old one, so no conplaints.