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posts about #1979chevroletchevette more → It's 1979. You Want The Chevette With Air Or The Zephyr Wagon?
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It's 1979. You Want The Chevette With Air Or The Zephyr Wagon? |
10/30/08
10/30/08
10/29/08
However even then I knew from a relative's experience that the Chevette was a reeking mass of shit.
10/29/08
10/29/08
10/29/08
Here's one, to act as a reminder in case somebody should try and sell you one as an "exotic import"...
10/29/08
I was quite small as a child. I know this because I once rode in a Chevette hatchback...in the way back. I think it was smaller than the parcel shelf in a Beetle, which is saying something.
10/29/08
10/29/08
I drove two Chevettes, neither, thankfully, were mine. One belonged to a college roomate of mine, it was a blue 2 door automatic. It was slow, but at least it got crappy gas mileage. The other was a white 4 door automatic with only 29,000 miles on it, and this was but 5 years ago. It was someone's grandmother's car. I actually got it up to about 75 mph down one hill, and thought for sure I was going to die. Then I realized that if I did, I'd have died in a Chevette, and forever and ever that would be inscribed upon my tombstone.
Then I drove home as carefully as I could.
10/29/08
10/29/08
You're going to send me into late-Malaise-Era 5.0 PCH in a big way.
10/29/08
"Son, don't try to harvest corn with a Fairmont"
10/29/08
10/29/08
10/29/08
What parallel universe was this? Everyone knows wagons don't/can't/won't sell and it's definitely not worth wasting ad dollars on them.
10/29/08
10/29/08
10/29/08
Literally. Evidently the previous owners had had epileptic children who went everywhere with full gallon jugs of milk and the kids had grand mal seizures at each stop light. The entire car, especially from the dashboard aft, stunk like days-old spitup from a colicky 6-month-old baby born to a woman you don't like.
From the dashboard forward, the car was merely wretched. The engine hated life and took every opportunity to die seriously. In its tenure with us however, it never managed to achieve the sweetest release, nagged to life at the sparkly end of jumper cables every once in a while and occasionally given the bitter heroic measures of Thrust Starting Fluid. That car introduced me to the miraculous powers of Thrust.
I hated that damned car.
Astounding. I've actually managed to remember a car that I never want to see again. Not even briefly.
10/29/08
10/29/08
10/30/08
10/30/08
10/29/08
Oh, you mean A/C? Sure. As long as you are on a downhill incline.
10/29/08
10/29/08