THE SECOND COMING!

It has been nearly 30 years since we had a bonified energy crisis. Initially after the first oil embargo in the early 1970’s, it’s long gas lines, odd and even rationing and the virtual disappearance of the station wagon, America responded by producing a collection “gas efficient” automobiles. These lovelies were not only the opposite of the much heralded muscle car, but they could be dubbed part of the “eye-sore” era of autos. In a word they were fugly; and unfortunately a little more popular than the granddaddy of all design mistakes, the Edsall. It was the 1970’s mind you so; weird things were “in” like bizarre color schemes, free-love, and Twiggy, a girl so thin that she could hide from you simply by turning sideways.

These automotive oddballs still haunt the American psyche. Leading the pack of misguided design was the American Motor Corporation. AMC, as it was known, invested heavily in peculiar looking autos, and promptly disappeared from the auto world by the 1980’s. It produced a couple of classics worthy of the “don’t let this happen to you” prize of distinction as the worst looking and least comfortable cars. The Gremlin is the first that comes to mind. A vehicle composed seemingly of tin in a clunky squared off stature; the hatchback looked as if Lorena Bobbitt had practiced slicing on it before utilizing her deft skills on a two-timing gigolo of a spouse.

The AMC Pacer was probably the king of tastelessness. A deformed VW Beetle- looking creation, the Pacer was somewhat akin to a swollen walrus, with an overactive feeding habit, sort of like beer guzzling sports fans named Hal that come over to your house to visit your dad, and sit ever too close to your kid sister. Known mostly for his beer-gut, Hal was the guy that seemed to have a diet only comprised of fast food pork rinds, and too many ding dongs. The Pacer had a bubbled-out rear window and windshield that gave it a swollen appearance. It was akin to what your sexy girlfriend will look like after she becomes your wife, has 3 kids, and a decades worth of nightly rocky road ice cream gallon parties to produce hips that seem out of place on her body. The Pacer was a short squatty styled sedan. What’s worse is that a ton of people bought these hideous things for a while, and gave hope to middle aged ice cream fetish mothers that their own bodies were somehow still in vogue.

Lincoln Mercury’s Capri was a sports car that was big enough for two bodies and a few pair of legs, provided they were attached to people in the front seat. It made a spirited sound similar to dad in the Lazy-boy recliner any night after a cheese and bean burrito festival. The VW Bug fits into the same category with the ingenious trunk up front, and the engine in the rear. Many women spent many an enjoyable time sitting in the back seat overtop of the battery and vibrating engine of the egg shaped classic fuel efficient car of all time.

The Subaru Justy was a rather small subcompact car. It was so small that the whole thing could fit inside of a corner telephone booth. That’s how cramped it seemed inside. Another tin can of the automobile sect, the driver and passenger could stick their arms out each window simultaneously, and the damn thing would have taken off like a lightweight biplane. Orville and Wilbur Wright would have been happy with a Justy! The only car smaller at its inception was the Honda Civic. A survivor into the modern era because it grew, initially it was about the size of a baby’s high-chair. It was practically a round ball and big enough to carry a load of dirty clothes from the hamper to the washer. Unfortunately, loading it would have left no room for the driver.

These hideous classics have been the product of two lapses in judgment given the temporary nature of energy shortfalls of their time. Look out because here we go again! With gas priced at over $4 per gallon, and little Al Gore minions running around clucking that the global warming sky is falling, can it be far behind that modern technology will provide the next round of automotive nightmares. What’s coming may make us long for the day of the Pacer and Gremlin.

Auto producers already offloaded the first gaff of the modern era in the form of “The Smart Car.” As aptly named as “geek” is to the pocket pencil protector carrying four eyed math whiz crowd, these little gems are just as misnamed. They are not smart at all. Unless you are a munchkin from the merry ol’ land of Oz you’ll find that there is barely enough room for two adults in a smart car. If you don’t mind riding 6 inches off of the speeding pavement in a box fit for sardines, then this car may be right for you. I imagine that it comes with a special key so you can roll the doors open much like you do with a sardine can lid.

Children have ridden similar sized vehicles on sidewalks for years. These things are little more than double seated go-carts with an egg shell body placed futuristically atop. It is hideous and already reaching preposterous proportions. The little thing will become like the proverbial squashed bug in the grill of the still much larger vehicles on the road when push comes to shove. Who wants such an ugly hood ornament as that?

Not a smart car, but a coffin car; that’s what they should be called, and for what 60 mpg? (That’s miles per grief). Why not? People bury themselves in their classic cars all of the time. Why not have a smart car you can plug in, and recharge for the run-about town driving sensation, and the permanent burial place when you’re in it and get flattened like a Hummer pancake? It’s about the size of a cemetery plot for you and the misses anyway. Maybe it will help you to drive it through the pearly gates. It is well known that the main entrance to heaven is only about the size of the eye of a needle anyway. In a smart car the occupants might make it.