Hey, glad you could make it. I just wanted to reach out to you because I thought, on the off chance you haven’t encountered it before, you really should see what the inside of a Zimmer QuickSilver’s trunk looks like. I just felt that you had a right to know, because, look, I respect you, and I don’t feel right with you not knowing. Sound good? Great.

Just in case you’ve taken a sharp blow to the head and have somehow forgotten, the Zimmer QuickSilver was an extensively re-bodied Pontiac Fiero, built by a company used to making ostentatious, ornate, neo-classical cars like the Golden Spirit, the eleven-gold-chains-and-medallions-on-a-spray-tanned-hairy-chest of automobiles.


The QuickSilver, though, was different. It had the looks of a 1970s “personal luxury” car like a Lincoln Mark Iv Coupe, but leaner, lither, and with more dramatic proportions, thanks to Zimmer adding over a foot of length to the Fiero, all in front of the A-pillar.

Since the Fiero was mid-engined, the QuickSilver’s long hood was freed from the burden of messy engine-hauling and could be used to store all the classy shit an owner of a Zimmer was likely to have. Lamé bags of cocaine and Walkmen, I guess?

Since the engine was right behind the doors, there was a second trunk at the rear, a usable rectangular volume of space. That one isn’t that interesting to me. What’s interesting is the seemingly-large front trunk, which, when opened, presented you with this:


That’s what I wanted you to see. This strange, fuzzy gray collection of three dimensional solids, crammed and stacked together with a logic that was likely understandable only to M.C. Escher.

I can imagine approaching this with a couple of suitcases, lifting that long, backwards-opening hood, and then just standing there for a few moments as your brain tries to process the bewilderingly and unexpectedly complex topography it’s being presented with.


Maybe one of your eyes would start to twitch.

I understand why—to a degree—the trunk is like this—there’s components that have to be there, like that big spare tire and what I’m guessing may be a battery or power steering unit or brake master cylinder or something similar under some of those oddly geological-looking gray fuzzy shapes.


I admire the determination that went into this trunk to give some usable volumes, but they’re very odd spaces. Let’s see what we’ve got:


I think there’s four main areas where you could cram stuff:

A. A long, flat object, like half a party sub sandwich, smushed flat a bit

B. Two small connected irregular volumes. Maybe a medium-sized hourglass, laid on its side would fit?


C. The main loading area., You could cram a soft duffel bag in here

D. A smallish, almost cubical box, like a Big Mac box.

I’d love to have seen a set of fitted luggage for this car. I bet it would have looked like the main cast of Monsters, Inc. lined up in a row.


I just felt you deserved to look at this for yourself. I hope this helps you understand the whole situation with everything a bit better now.

Senior Editor, Jalopnik • Running: 1973 VW Beetle, 2006 Scion xB, 1990 Nissan Pao, 1991 Yugo GV Plus • Not-so-running: 1973 Reliant Scimitar, 1977 Dodge Tioga RV (also, buy my book!)

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