I hate Christmas shopping. So when we walked down to the Holiday Market at the Lane Events Center, I told Stephanie I’d meander around the parking lot while she went inside to grab something. Forty-five minutes later, she had two presents and I had bagged eighty cars. This event runs weekends and a few extra days from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve, for exactly twelve days. So this is one short slice of one-twelfth of the potential Curbside Classics at the Holiday Market.

Each car’s identity pops up when the cursor touches the picture. Test yourself, and write down how many cars you got, or didn’t. There was one bike in the lot, and of course, it was a CC too! All eighty after the jump:

Update: I can’t get the identifying caption to not come up below each picture when it is clicked on to enlarge. If you really want to test yourself, put up a Post-It on the screen just below the picture. Sorry.

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Desperate times call for desperate measures; and sometimes the result is nothing short of spectacular. The Studebaker Gran Turismo coupe is gorgeous, despite having been cobbled together on a shoestring in six months. It’s also compromised and imperfect, a car that The Big Three would never have built. It did little to change the inevitable outcome of the Studebaker Death Watch, but then it probably would never have been created under other circumstances. There’s nothing like staring death in the face to focus the last remaining creative forces and take exceptional risks. Along with the Avanti, the GT Hawk is Studebaker’s gran farewell gesture. Gone indeed, but hardly forgotten. Read More >

Revivals are notoriously unsuccessful. But the lure of recapturing the magic of of the past perpetually goads men into futile pursuits, whether it be cars or women. The problem is that the changed circumstance of the times aren’t properly considered: the chemistry that worked so well twenty years earlier may not today.  But it all makes for colorful stories, depleted bank accounts, dented egos, bent valves and prematurely rusty cars. Read More >

Maybe we should change the title to Two Dead Brands At A Time Week. Topping yesterday’s triple knock-out  of Rover and Sterling is going to be a challeng(er). But we’re in contention here with this twin name, twin stick, twin cars, twin wipers, twin brands Colt/Champ. Plymouth has undeniably gone to the Dead Brand underworld. And the Colt name became a brand in its own right, covering a huge variety of Mitsubishi-built vehicles from tiny hatches like this to the mini-van Colt Vista Wagon. The fact that Colts were sold by both Dodge and Plymouth seals the deal. Of course, it wasn’t always that simple, as in the case of the Champ. It had its name changed midway through its run to Colt, hence the two versions here. And Mitsubishi is skating on dangerously thin ice itself these days. But beyond the mortality of its name, the real claim to fame of this car is its legendary twin-stick transmission.

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N.B. In anticipation of Saab’s (inevitable) demise, we’re going to have Dead Brands Week at CC.

We’ll start off Dead Brands Week with a royal Rover triple bang, with this Sterling zombie corpse. When it comes to persistence (idiocy) in trying to flog dead corpses in the US, Rover absolutely takes the cake. It took three US deaths to finally convince Britain’s favorite maker of cars (and its government medium-wigs) to give up the ghost. The last attempt, Sterling, is the classic English car disaster story. Despite Rover’s intentions to avoid the usual pitfalls, by building an essentially reskinned Honda/Acura Legend, they still managed to create the ultimate rolling clap-trap English nightmare. Read More >

My gig is to wander the streets of Eugene and hopefully stumble onto something worthy of your attention. Sometimes, my wildest expectations are exceeded, and then exceeded again. Walking down Willamette Street, I see the distinctive rear hatch of what I take to be a Pinto. Nice enough. But no, this is a Mercury Bobcat; quite a find in this day and age. I start snapping away. And then the owner shows up and tops it all: he’s converted this Bobcat to a steam injection system of his own invention, and it’s going to pull twelves in the quarter mile and get 75 mpg. Incredible! Read More >

There were three key ingredients that that made the Datsun 510 fly: the BMW 1600, “Mr. K”, and a certain sharp rise taken flat-out on Bunker Hill Road.

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It’s Kurbside Klassic Konvertible Saturday! We’re going to have lots of opportunities here at CC to indulge all our pet grudges, peeves and PTSD memories about the ungainly boxes and all their endless variants that Lee Iaccoca kept spinning out of his K-car Imaginarium. But hold on, not just yet! Because (true confession time) there is one version of the original Kar that I find almost bearable, the convertible. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen one, but then Konvertible day hit: I ran into this Dodge 600ES and a similar vintage Le Baron on the same walk ten minutes apart. We’ll save the stubby Chrysler for another time, but in the meantime, lets dig into this rather rare find. Read More >

A happy marriage isn’t exactly the easiest thing to engineer. Gasoline and electricity are about as compatible as Donald Trump and Mother Theresa. I know, Ferdinand Porsche built a “hybrid” in 1899, and there have been others since. But its time to bust the very myth that I’ve been guilty of perpetuating myself: Porsche’s “Mixte” wasn’t a real hybrid. It was an EV with a gas generator to extend its range when the battery gave out, just like the Volt. That’s like calling a single guy with a house cleaner and a hooker “married”.  But the Toyota engineers pulled it off, teaching the two oldest propulsion systems how to dance, simultaneously. And in doing so, the Prius has become the most revolutionary car since the Model T. Read More >

Two key evolutionary developments define humans: a large brain and the ability to run long distances cross-country. That explains why the Jeep is the most iconic vehicle on the face of the planet. The fruits of our brain activity increasingly entrapped us in urban confinement and the constraints of pavement. The Jeep offered the way out: the freedom to take us anywhere our legs once had, and our horses after that. It embodied the cowboy myth, updated for the second half of the twentieth century; the last hurrah of Americans’ conquest of its open spaces. The Jeep became the mechanical alter-ego of man. Well, at least of one six-year old. Read More >

Freedom. Does any other word better sum up the aspirations of the sixties? And does any other image convey it better than a wild mustang running free? The symbols of the ’58 Thunderbird and the ’65 Mustang are perfect reflections of the profound changes that took place in the seven years between them. Flying, even the T-Bird way, is intrinsically exclusive. But running free with your mane trailing in the wind? Now that was a truly democratic and affordable dream, just like the Mustang. Read More >

NB: The car pictured here is a 1959 Thunderbird, but my article is about its near identical 1958 predecessor, because of its historical significance. I hope the dissonance won’t upset the purists here. I could never tell them apart as a kid anyway.

Behold the mythical winged dream machine. The 1958 Thunderbird was the embodiment of the dream where everyday folks would fly above the humdrum of dull workaday existence and dowdy sedans. Once the realm of the privileged few, luxury and exclusivity was now in the grasp of every hard working dreamer; after all, the T Bird was still a Ford. If Ol’ Henry could fulfill the once unthinkable dream of putting every American on wheels, then surely Hank II and his Whiz Kids could do the same with wings. And for a dozen years or so, the Thunderbird soared, and revolutionized the industry by creating the attainable personal luxury genre. Perhaps it tried to fly too high, or the dream changed, because it soon fell back to earth. And after it crashed, and had its wings tacked onto a blinged-out Torino, a piece of the American dream died with it. Read More >

Invasive species can impart devastating effects when the indigenous species haven’t evolved the proper defenses. Two Beetles stowed away on a ship bound for the US in 1949. There wasn’t anything remarkable about them that would suggest their future impact on revolutionizing the largest automobile market in the world. But like a pair of termites, they multiplied and steadily chewed their way through the framework of an industry that thought itself invincible. Eventually, the Bugs got forced out by other small foreign critters, but when the hollowed-out Fortress Detroit finally crashed into smithereens, the Beetles’ teeth marks could be seen everywhere. Read More >

How often does a truly revolutionary car appear? Let’s disqualify uranium powered flying cars on the cover of Popular Science and other quirky eccentrics from consideration, but focus on mass production cars that profoundly and permanently changed the autosphere. Narrow the field further to the small-size end of the US market post WWII, and the number of candidates is all of…two. The VW Beetle completely turned the US car market (and careless drivers) on its head, both in its technical specifications and in creating a mass small-car market. The Beetle had a brilliant twenty-year run, and just as it was running out of compression, it handed the baton to that other revolutionary, the Honda Civic.

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This Curbside Classic took the same trajectory as the Blazer. It started as a legitimate nod of acknowledgment to the S-10 Blazer as the trailblazer of the compact SUV market. But as I got further along, I realized just how badly GM bungled the huge opportunity for the baby Blazer in a segment that became a monster money machine for Jeep and Ford. With the mistakes being all so prototypical GM, I just had to re-write it as a Deadly Sin, even though it would have been easier to just leave it as it was. Which is exactly what GM’s Deadly Sin was: leave it as it was, forever. Well I’m not ready just yet to have someone document my Deadly Journalistic Sins, so here goes: Blazer, take Two.

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