While Richard Milhous Nixon drove a man-of-the-people-esque '48 Mercury woodie wagon during his first senatorial campaign, once he got to be president, by God, he was going to roll in a vehicle befitting a man of his stature. A car that would show the doubters, the back-stabbers, the East Coast elitists, and- especially- the treasonous press that here was a man not to be trifled with! A man who would make you pay for trying to thwart him during his rise to power! For that, it pretty much goes without saying that you need a great big Cadillac Fleetwood, and that's just what Nixon got once he became president. His first presidential ride was a 1967 Fleetwood 75 limo, outfitted with the best in commie-bullet-stopping armor plate and- we're assuming here- a gold-plated Dilantin dispenser. Now, you'll need to add the presidential goodies yourself, but it's no sweat finding a suitable Fleetwood; take, for example, this 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood 75 limo, priced at just $1,250. That leaves you plenty of cash left over to fix the rust (the seller says "needs body work," which- given that the car is in Minnesota- we're interpreting as "more air than metal") and have the interior done in leather embossed with the presidential seal. Throw a microfilm-stuffed pumpkin in the trunk and you'll be ready to roll!

Sure, Nixon had a lot of power, but de Gaulle had style! Not only that, when you're choosing a President Grade Hell Project, you need to ask yourself: did a Cadillac ever save Nixon's life? The battleship-like construction, hydropneumatic suspension, and excellent handling of the Citroën DS saved de Gaulle at least twice, once when some right-wing dingbat tried to machine-gun him, and again when his DS drove right through a roadside napalm bomb explosion. Clearly, the DS is the way to roll like a president, but it's going to be tough to find one in the same price range as that super-cheap Caddy. Not to worry, though, because all tortures good things are possible in Project Car Hell; we've found this 1967 Citroën DS sitting with a price tag of just two grand! The seller (apparently suffering from the kind of Citroën Fatigue that renders one incapable of using punctuation or capitalization) claims the car is "nearly rust free"- which we're inclined to believe, given that this DS is in Arizona- but follows that statement with the less encouraging "needs new interior and a little work done its been sitting for some time." You figure maybe the hydraulics need complete replacement a little work, and possibly the engine is frozen solid requires some freshening, but so what? If it was good enough for de Gaulle, it's good enough for your garage!

Went for a walk yesterday, daytime for once, and I wound up in a neighborhood I usually stay away from, the champs Elysées. Attempting to steer away from that pickpocket cesspool, I veered off and found myself on the Avenue Gabriel, which borders the back wall of the garden of the President's Elysée Palace (I steer away from that place too usually).
In this heavily guarded place, right across from the back gate is a theater in whose parking lot I found a true beaut.
An Opel Kadett C ('73 to '79) covered in graffiti. Lots of pic here, great litle details, but a mystery: the front windshield is clear of graffiti, the interior is worn but clean, I saw a valid insurance sticker, French DoT tags... so I asked one of the any cops around if they knew anything about the car: it's driven by a member of the current play, the director they think. "The guy is an excentric" (my kind of person), they wouldn't say more but their non answers told me that in their mind he didn't pose a security threat... Which is just as well because I'd love to see that variflex suspension.
Hope you like it. On a technical note, it is parked on the lot of a public, government-owned theater, so I know it's not a full DOTS, it's not on private propery either :)

And since we're feeling so 80s that we're ready to trade some arms for hostages and send the profits to Freedom Fighters, let's watch the original music video for the Bronski Beat song used in this ad. Weren't the 80s great?

The AMC Pacer looks crazy from any angle; as we saw in the DOTS '76 Pacer, it's pretty much impossible to tell if you're getting lens distortion when you photograph- regardless of angle- due to its weird bulbous appearance. Jean-Charles, the French distributor for the Pacer, figured the best approach was to demonstrate how not all big round objects look bad. Image source: Wikipedia

In the 60's and 70's the biggest french action movie star was Lino Ventura, a former pro wrestler who specialized in playing brooding big men and cranky curmudgeons. In one of his movies, Ne nous fâchons pas (Let's Not Get Angry), he drives around in a R8 Gordini; there are many driving scenes, but this one is the best, and one of the most ridiculous of all time. Watch as the tiny Gordini defies the laws of physics as well as the local peace. (the only dialogue is: "you sure you want to drive/ yes, I get nervous when i'm not behind the wheel/ you sure you want to drive?")

As you know, one of my favorite things to do is walk home from a party and hope I'll see something cool along the way (that's how I saw the DAF). Last Friday was no exception, around 11.30 pm, I was walking home and saw a graffiti that made me laugh : "Bruce"; not original but seemed hillarious at the time.

Then 2mins after Bruce, I saw a Simca 1100, my parent's first car ; I remember loving the glorious sound of its engine (probably faulty exhaust in retrospect) and deeply hearting that car. Ours was red/Orange, this one's green but it'll do.

A nearby restaurant owner told me it belongs to an old curmudgeon who doesn't drive it in winter but has been parking his car in this neighborhood for ever (must be a fair-weather Simca).

I came back the next day and the car was still there. Plenty of rust, but all the moving parts seem ok; exhaust also. Though this is a Simca, the grille they put in says Talbot, which had really confused me the previous night (not an absinthe evening, but Calvados works fine also I assure you) but actually tells us about its year:

With the unveiling of the Talbot name to replace Chrysler in July 1979, in France and other European markets the cars were renamed Talbot Simca 1100s, with Talbot badges on the bonnet and Simca badges on the tailgates. So this is the base version, the LS with 53 bhp, from 1979 or 1980. I love the rims, the three spoke steering wheel, and the hatchback design. cult car for me.

There will be about 700 pick up/drop off/recharge locations scattered throughout the city and its suburbs. Autolib will be open to any legal driver who registers with the service. Despite opposition from France's Green Party, which wants to eliminate car use in the city altogether, Delanoe is aiming to have the system up and running by late 2009 or early 2010 and says that it will reduce congestion, the battle for parking spots and pollution. Vive la France! [via Channel 4]

Image Courtesy: Eley Kishimoto

French cars illustrate the essential difference between interesting and ugly... that something far more fascinating lies within. They're like that weird girl back in the 9th grade who was impossibly smart and talked about how she once learned from a South African trader how to kill a man with her pinkie. And maybe she wasn't the prettiest girl in the class, but something in your bewildered pubescent loins knew...

[Photo: The Awesome PCL Map Collection]

I tell you what, every time I see that three-across seating layout of the Matra Bagheera, it makes me ache for a Bagheera to call my own. You figure all the possible automotive seating layouts had been established a century ago, and then here come the French with a totally new approach. Sure, it's a crazy approach, but that's why we love French cars so much! The Murena was the successor to the Bagheera, and the seller of this '80 Matra Murena is quick to point out that "Only 6 are known to exist here." Stressing about hard-to-find parts? No need! This Murena is in "very good condition considering the age of the car," so what could it need? Turnkey operation, for sure- hey, this thing can hardly be considered a project at all! Well, the transmission is hosed ("deliberate and not fast shifts at high revs usually eliminates or lessens problem with 2nd gear"), there's a big crack in a rear fender (plastic body, just like a Fiero!), and no doubt some other surprises. Thanks to UDMan for the tip!

You've got to love that Matra, but where's the power? If you're going to plunge yourself into the never-ending agony infinitely rewarding world of French car ownership, don't you want something fast? Sure you do, and that's why Teargas has found us this 1979 Alpine A310. The '79 A310 was powered by the exact same Peugeot-Renault-Volvo V6 drivetrain as the one used in the De Lorean DMC-12, and if that's not a great reason to buy a car... well, there's really not much more to say, is there? Just like the Murena, the transmission in this car has some issues with second gear. You'll get around to fixing that problem, just as soon as you synchronize the six Weber carburetors. Yes, six- got to have one carb per cylinder in a true performance car, right? The windshield is cracked, but you get a new one (list price: $2,800, which should give you some idea of the cost of every single part, no matter how insignificant, on this car), and there's the somewhat disturbing statement "it was setup for rally and raced before that-by the previous ownder" in the description. Best of all, a "sterling silver Alpine collectible keychain" comes with the deal.

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

My research indicates that 1960 was the last year for this style of hood emblem on the 403, and the turn signal lights suggest that it's a 1958-1960 car. Of course, this could be a rare Tahiti- or Ivory Coast-built car, in which case all bets are off (though the yellow-on-black plate and early letter combo indicates 1963 or 1964 as the first year this car was registered in California). You Peugeot experts are invited to help us out here.


The California sun has not been kind to the steering wheel, but the rest of the interior looks pretty good. Note the pliers sitting on the floor- think that's what's used to start the car?


The view from this angle looks quite Amazon-like, though any other perspective makes it clear you're looking at something French. The list price of the 1960 403 in the United States was $2,250, and you got a four-speed and sunroof as part of the deal. Compare that to the $1,974 price tag on the brand-new-for-1960 Ford Falcon... now, making a choice between those two would be quite the dilemma. And, speaking of dilemmas, we've got a total of four French cars in this series, which is enough for a poll. I'm thinking the Medallion might not fare so well, but You Never Know, You Know?

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Just where do we draw the line between a project car and a parts car? Always a tough call, but we've found an even tougher question: when does a single part become a car? Because of the near-impossibility of reading the huge, CAPS LOCKED, red-and-blue font used by the seller of this 1925 Renault Type 45, it took me a while to realize that this auction is for just the hood of a Renault 45. This seller deserves the Most Unreadable eBay Listing Ever Award, and there's some tough competition for that prize (those of you who wish to wimp out and attempt to extract information from the description can go here). Once you've got the hood- I mean, the bonnet- you're pretty much home free; as the seller states: "AS THE BONNET IS MOST SALIENT AND DIFFICULT PART TO REPRODUCE OF THE TYPE 45, IT IS AN EXCELLENT STARTING POINT FOR A GROUND UP RECREATION." You see? It's a restoration project, not a hopeless parts chase that will take you from Hanoi to Abidjan. The reserve on this auction hasn't been met, but we can assume it's fairly high, since "ACTUAL VALUE OF THIS ITEM IS $20-40K USD." Don't worry about that stuff, however, because having a finished Model 45 will be worth all the pain.

That Renault would be quite a car, all right, but maybe you're more of a Citroën driver at heart. Admit it, you've been lusting for a Traction-Avant for years now, but perhaps the difficulty of finding one in North America has forced you to give up on your dream. Hey, you'll be doing front-drive French burnouts before you know it, once you buy this 1951 Citroën Traction-Avant (go here if the ad disappears). The seller wants four grand for it, which is quite a deal when you consider you get a "heavily customized" project. First thing is the engine, which came from a Renault 5. Le Car power in a Traction-Avant! Naturally, you'll need to ditch that Malaise boat anchor and install the Maserati V6 out of a Citroën SM- hey, if they can put a man on the moon! The seller says "currently not running, needs clutch, body work, paint, interior etc," and that "etc" part covers a lot of scary ground when you're talking about a massively modified 57-year-old French car. As we say so often here (thanks to Kevin Hoover), what could go wrong?

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Actually, the real DOTS Holy Grail would be a Wankel-powered Citroën (or, better still, my all-time favorite musclecar: the '69 SC/Rambler), but finding this thing really made my day. The Citroën GS was made from 1970 through 1986; I suspect this is a mid-to-late-70s car, but can't say for sure. It's still got European plates (and a California temporary registration sticker in the rear window), so most likely it's a recent immigrant and the owner is still battling the DMV to get it fully street-legal here. Never mind the weak dollar- if you need a Citroën straight from France, you pay what's necessary!


This car parks across the street from the '74 VW Thing we saw a couple weeks back, but I don't think they share an owner. A Thing/GS daily-driver combo would be a winner, though.


Does the GS have the famous Citroën hydropneumatic suspension? Of course it does; just because your car has a mere 1.2 liters under the hood doesn't mean you can't have a proper Citroën ride!

Sadly, despite reportedly well advanced plans for a race at Disneyland Resort Paris, the current word on the street boulevard is that the project is short about $31 million in funding. Another fantastical French Grand Prix possibility would be a race actually in Paris, whereas the Disney resort is about a half-hour drive from the city. Of course, the most realistic possibility at this point seems to be simply dropping the French event off the calendar altogether. Though if we had our say (and unlimited funds) we'd like to see a F1 race at Circuit de la Sarthe, where they hold the 24 Hours of LeMans endurance race, or in and around The Louvre.
[F1-Live]

Going out last night I literally stumbled upon a DAF 66 SL, the last offspring of the Dutch manufacturer before being bought by Volvo. For some reason its owner, an Armenian priest was around (at 2 a.m.) and he told me a little about his ride: it's a 73' that he bought from his predecessor, it has 210000 km (ca. 130k miles) and still travels about 60 miles per week. Given his long beard and dignified demeanor I doubt he hoons this little thing but assures it runs nicely, and he's never had a problem since he bought it in the late 80s (amazing when you think it's got a variomatic). Indeed the cars seems to be in very good condition. Iphone pics shot in a dark street with a significant amount of absinthe in me:

It wouldn't be fair to break out the H-bomb of French Hell Projects (the Citröen SM), because we're fairly certain that nothing on the planet can beat the SM in a Project Car Hell matchup. But how about the Citröen CX? The early CX has many of the features that made the SM so wonderful and terrible, but with the added bonus of having been manufactured by a company in complete financial shambles (and with the involvement of both the French and Italian governments). So head on down to lovely Plant City, Florida, and hand over $2,500 for this 1975 Citröen CX 2000 (go here if the ad disappears). The seller doesn't mention anything about mechanical condition, because it's totally unnecessary; you know this car doesn't run! All we get from the seller is "4 cylinder cinline,its standard with red interior seats and holds up to five people," which leaves a whole lot to your darkest imagination. But maybe it will fire right up, the hydropneumatic suspension will leap to the proper height, and you'll roar off into the Plant City sunset with a Hell-free car experience... but that ain't the way to bet.

We all know that Porsche engineers don't compromise performance for any reason, including the sanity of the mechanics who will one day work on their cars. So if long-suffering (yet well-paid) wrenchmen Hans und Günter have to sweat out 72 hours of labor (using all manner of single-purpose, Porsche-only tools) in order to replace some tiny component buried beneath a fiendish labyrinth of impossible-to-reach fasteners... well, if that's the way to make the car perform 0.0019% better, that's exactly how Porsche will do it! And the 928 might be the purest expression of that philosophy, with its engine compartment completely packed with one of the most complicated V8s that ever made a veteran mechanic weep with frustration. And it's not just the engine- the whole car is a lunatic monkeypuzzle, and it will drive you mad. Of course, all is forgiven when you actually get to drive your 928, but getting an affordable one to that point takes some work. Nothing you can't handle, though... right? Right! So come on out to Redding, California, and peel off twelve Benjamins for this running, driving '81 928 (go here if the ad disappears). Yes, just $1,200 for a running 928! It's not perfect; the seller admits that it "nees some luv." We can see evidence of some family strife in the car's description ("bought it to fix up with my boys but they think it is ugly i say they have no class, anyway here it is"), so here's your chance to swoop in and grab this jewel before the boys reconsider. Hey, did Porsche paint those wheels at the factory?

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

The last time we saw a Simca 1000 in this series, it got walloped by a matchup even more unfair than yesterday's (and that was without the taint of National Socialism hovering around one of the contestants like a vile stink-cloud). The Citröen SM is the H-bomb of PCH entrants, and two of them... well, the Simca never had a chance. But the Simca 1000 is a powerful contender in its own right, with the combination of a history packed with wild rally hoonage (see the video above) and French design. And we have just the '64 Simca 1000GL for you! The seller wants us to know that this potential rally screamer is "in need of restore," but no need to worry, because "its whole car." The asking price is $2,000, but we're pretty sure there's plenty of negotiating room available. Rust? Sure looks like it! Running? Ha! But don't think about those things- just imagine how much fun you'll have fighting oversteer on your favorite winding roads. Thanks (and the all-important second half-credit towards a PCH Tipster T-shirt) to Zweirad for the tip!



It's one thing to buy a boxy French car that you can turn into a vintage rally machine, but how about a boxy Italian car that's already covered with factory "Rally" badges? Sure, the Fiat 128 is front-wheel-drive, but you get nearly 300 more CCs than you do with the Simca; that's right, the Fiat 128 Rally came with the "big block" Fiat engine! You might think they'd be impossible to find, but check out this fine '78 Fiat 128 Rally, which has a price tag of only 2,600 bones, or clams, or whatever you call them. The seller claims it's "very solid" and even comes with some (unspecified) extra parts. But we all know that no Fiat 128 was ever "solid," even on the day it left the factory (except for perhaps maybe the one they built special for Enzo Ferrari), which means that you'll be able to enjoy the "three steps forward, five steps back" routine as you struggle to keep your 128 in running condition.

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

The Renault 4CV was a sort of French interpretation of the Volkswagen Beetle... which meant that it wasn't much like the Beetle at all, other than having an ass-engined configuration and being cheap. Would you like suicide doors on your tiny econo-car, monsieur? Of course... and we'd also like a twin-turbocharged Subaru engine putting out 275 horsepower (i.e., sixteen times the original power rating of 17 horses), like the Arizona crazyman who started this 1957 Renault 4CV project (go here if the ad disappears) has. You get acres of description of what's been done so far to the car, which is considerable yet makes it clear that it's nowhere near finished. Not even close (cue evil laughter, odor of sulfur, hellish choir singing the Marseillaise)! But the engine starts up! Look, here's proof:

See? How hard can it be? And how long would you survive once you finished the project? Thanks, and a half-credit towards a Project Car Hell Tipster T-shirt, to Skaz for the tip!

It's going to be hard to top the Twin Turbo Subaru-powered 4CV with an Italian engine swap project that's already as far along, so I'm taking the liberty of finding a car and a separate engine, letting you fill in the frightening blanks. You know the routine here, of course, so let's see what we've got! The main ingredient must be an Italian car with an extremely high Coolness Quotient, and I think I've found just the thing: this 1959 Maserati 3500GT coupe. In stark contrast to the 4CV, there's no description whatsoever, and it's got a little extra something for those of you who like mysterious car deals: the car is in Portugal, with no information of any sort explaining how the seller plans to get the car to you. That's right, a 49-year-old Maserati "Restoration Project" in Portugal, and you know nothing about it! Now, the 3500GT came with an incredibly finicky inline-six engine and fuel injection by you-know-who. That engine was rated at an impressive 220 horsepower... but we say you need to dump it on your garage floor and forget all about that wimpy hunk of Italian iron, because what you need is a Maserati-purist-enragin' twin-turbocharged 1JZ six out of a JDM Toyota Soarer! Once you're done adding more boost (waaaay more boost), you can figure out some way to make the Maserati rear end withstand all the power (or deliver another thudding kidney punch to the already-reeling Maserati purists and put a Ford 9-inch in the back). It's really quite a simple process, from purchase of Portuguese Maserati to complete Toyota drivetrain swap... so get busy!

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Back when I was a young college hoon with a lifetime-unemployment-ensuring art/English double major, my state-funded university went ahead and took a bunch of California taxpayers' money and bought Yale's English Department. They got the works, right down to the office furniture and some French dude named Jacques Derrida. Suddenly, being an English major meant that you had to get serious about literary theory in general and Deconstruction in particular. Nobody has ever been able to explain what the hell Deconstruction is- which is a huge part of its appeal- but it boils down to something like this:

1. All meaning is political.
2. Your politics are wrong, buddy!

Right. So, to explain my role in all of this, we must first learn about the Legend of the Shit Tank:


Back in the day, I lived in a little-known on-campus trailer park, which was as close to Slacker Utopia as you're ever going to see in this world. A couple miles from the Pacific, perfect weather, $75/month rent and free utilities, you could build your own tarpaper shack next to your trailer, you could do engine swaps on the gravel outside your front door (many did, including me and one guy who had a Hemi Dart race car), and nobody got all in your grille about hippie notions of "community" unless that's how you wanted it. In fact, the only serious drawback for me was the sewage system in my '66 Roadrunner trailer (not to be confused with the Plymouth of the same name). Thing is, camping trailers aren't meant to be lived in for long durations, and the idea of having a tank for your sewage that you drain at some approved location isn't a good one when your trailer sits in the same spot with a permanent sewage hookup. This tank, known to trailer experts as the "Shit Tank," was, in my case, a fiberglass nightmare measuring about 4x3x1 feet, and it would get backed up in a manner that would horrify any female who, upon visiting my trailer, discovered that she had to piss in a Prestone jug with a transmission funnel in it and defecate in the public restrooms 100 yards away. So the Shit Tank had to go.

Meanwhile, some more taxpayer money was spent building an opulent mansion on the hill overlooking the trailer park (the other side of the house had a view of the ocean), so that Mr. Derrida could live in the style to which he had become accustomed at Yale. I knew that Jacques would shun the view of the ocean and concentrate his attention on this weird middle-class shantytown he could observe out his windows, and we frequently observed a shadowy figure in the big window, watching our trailer lifestyle with high-powered binoculars. Did he envy us? I couldn't ask him personally, because undergrads weren't allowed access to the Great Man himself (instead we simply bathed in the glow his ideas cast over the English Department), but I could show him how to deal with a recalcitrant Shit Tank!

So, one day I gathered up the necessary Shit Tank removal tools: a Sawzall with an extra-long "Debris Wood" blade and a 12-pack of Brew 102. Boldly plunging the blade into my trailer's sagging bathroom floor, I hacked and cursed and cut through dry-rotted wood, PVC plumbing, and metal braces until, finally, the Shit Tank fell to the gravel beneath the trailer. It was completely full of various unpleasant solids and liquids, so it weighed several hundred pounds. My next move- with Derrida now glued to his binocs for the drama unfolding below- was to crawl beneath the trailer and tie a rope around the Shit Tank. I then went into Pack Mule mode and dragged the stinking thing out into the space between the back of my trailer and the back of my neighbor's trailer. Using a broom handle, I stuffed an old bedsheet into the inlet and outlet holes, dropped a piece of plywood on the whole mess (see illustration, above), and allowed the forces of evaporation to lighten the weight of the tank enough that I could haul it over to the nearest dumpster. This took six months, and every day I could see Derrida up there in his mansion, taking careful notes. What did he learn from all this?

Well, I can't say for sure, but what I can say is that the same tradition of incomprehensible French philosophical theory that led to Deconstruction was also behind the ideas of the French engineers and designers who make French vehicles. That means that those vehicles are so cool that one staggers back in awed disbelief from the best of them, yet so maddeningly impossible to maintain that one simply staggers, period. I'd like to think that it's possible for an Italian or British car to compete, but we'll need to discuss that question another day.

What's even better than a 58-year-old French car? How about a French car from a company that hasn't made civilian vehicles since 1967? Yes, we're talking about Panhard here, and not just any Panhard- we mean the Panhard Tigre! Think you can't afford one? Think again! How about a 1960 Panhard PL17 Tigre with a current bid under two grand? It's got suicide doors! The seller claims it has only "surface rust," a claim we take with many grains of Kansas road salt, and he or she "was told the engine ran." What more do you want? We wouldn't blame you if you kept the original two-banger, but we'd award you the coveted Jalopnik Légion d'honneur medal if you Hayabusized it. Thanks to UDMan for the tip!

It isn't easy to find a car that can compete with a Panhard for sheer PCH-osity, even if we're looking at other French cars, so we're going to drop a 2-for-1 deal on the other side of the scale to even things out. The thing about having two related cars in your Hell Garage is that the Evil One starts telling you to forget the parts-car idea and fix 'em both up instead. Remember that when you see these two Renaults; you get a '72 Renault 15 and a seriously Malaise-tape-striped Renault 17, with a Buy It Now for both cars of a mere $750. Can you believe it? Now, neither one really runs (well, both cars "run"), and the seller has done enough half-hearted parts-swapping between the two that it might take some doing to untangle things. Even though the cars are in Alaska, the seller claims there's no rust... and it's possible that's true, given that a car needs to drive in order to collect road salt. Hmmm... think the drivetrain out of a Fuego Turbo is a bolt-in? We're guessing non, but there's only one way to find out!

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Citroen CX extended, extra axle, cargo box on back. It's one monster that I covet.
The Yellow CitroCab is a CX as well, with custom interior by its owner. How can you not love a car that can hold 4 people and all their camping gear for 2 weeks - and a 4-banger to boot!