The Worst Car

Shoving politics aside this weekend, the AAA magazine VIA named the worst cars of all time, in this order:

1. Yugo GV -- 46%
2. Ford Pinto -- 25%
3. AMC Pacer -- 15%
4. Chevrolet Vega -- 14%

I can't say I necessarily disagree, but then that made me question my own selection of automobiles over the years -- which ones were my worst cars?

1. 1977 Ford Courier Pickup
I acquired this ratty little truck when I was living with my soon-to-be first wife in a duplex off I-5, and working the graveyard shift at the Main Jail in downtown Sacramento. Young and looking for "inexpensive," I certainly found that in the Courier.

Actually in decent shape physically, with a white exterior and blue interior (and with blue indoor/outdoor carpeting cut and glued into the bed by its previous owner -- I'd acquired the Courier at an Auto Auction [never again!]), the Courier was loud, buzzy, leaked, and featured the Miraculous Singing Dash, an extra added bonus I'd never sought. The MSD would pitch up in volume on the freeway as some kind of obstruction, part or series of parts commenced first to rattling then transitioned to a grating, ear-piercing whistling when the vehicle reached breakneck speeds of -- oh, say, 50 or 55 mph. I once took the truck to 70 but I quickly determined, after it displayed the agility and braking distance of the Exxon Valdez, to let that be a lesson to me.

I remember this truck for two distinct scenarios involving cats. At the time, I had three cats in the house. One day, in a horrendous downpour, I pedaled the truck ala Fred Flintstone to a restaurant to meet my union president, about 35 miles from the house, involving mostly freeway driving. When I stopped in the parking lot I heard a loud meow from the bed. My young and thoroughly soaked tabby cat, Homes, had ridden the entire distance in the bed and somehow managed not to be flung to his death. I credit the carpet.

In the second scenario, I started the truck, backed out of the duplex driveway, and engaged first gear, heading to the corner. But immediately, something sounded very strange in the engine compartment and its acceleration was even less enthusiastic than normal. As I looked in the rearview mirror I observed what appeared to be either a puff of smoke or something light and fluffy emanating from the back of the truck. I knew that the empty lot next door had a lot of summer weeds, the kind with the puffballs at the ends. I thought: uh-oh, I've run over a clump of weeds and the truck is damaged.

I stopped immediately and looked under the truck. My first sight was that of a thin, shaven, formerly-orange cat tail hanging quite vertically and limply near the radiator. I opened the hood to find my orange tabby Elwood knocked senseless, laying on a flat piece of metal less than an inch below the whirling fanblades above, his body riddled with a series of random and very thin slashes where his fur was absent. Oddly enough, he never slept in my engine compartment again.

Damn. Reminds me of another Homes The Cat story:

Not long after, I couldn't find Homes. I couldn't find him for days, at least 5 or 6. I was convinced he was gone. At the time, a new house was under construction directly across the street from my duplex. One of the construction workers drove an old former CHP black-and-white car, a huge 1971 Dodge Polara (see photo). One afternoon I thought I heard a cat meowing but it sounded as though the cat was far away and in a tunnel. It appeared the sound was coming from the construction site. As I got closer to the car, I continued to hear the meowing. On a whim I queried: "Homes?" and acquired a series of long and tortured meows. The sounds were issuing from the right front fender. It took the two of us two hours to dismantle the Polara to the point where I could reach in and extricate my dessicated and emaciated cat. He had apparently sought a sleeping spot in the car, couldn't get out, and spent almost a week communting to and from the job site in the fender of the Polara. And no, Homes wasn't hurt, just thirsty and hungry.

I was going to tell you about the adventures of my second-worst car, a 1974 MG-B, but I'll save that for another time.

What was your worst car?

BZ