Trailer Park Tesla, Chapter 1: Factory

 

C, 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(4-25)

 

 

Spring had arrived in earnest along Lake Erie, arousing slumbering species of all sorts to this seasonal change. Yet a last murmur of what had gone before echoed across the landscape. Snow blanketed budding flowers, and outdoor furnishings that had been brought out too early. As the start of Major League Baseball commenced, in Cleveland, a nip of frost lingered in the air.

 

Townshend Carr Lincoln sat on his shielded porch, fiddling with the tuning wheel of an old, transistor radio. He had hoped to get the game in real time, via one of their local radio outlets. But while cursing softly over a half-jug of Kentucky bourbon, he instead caught the din of a press conference beginning, in Columbus.

 

Governor Mark Moerlein was at a cluster of microphones, in a rumpled suit and necktie. He did not seem eager to face members of the press.

 

“Before I take any questions, let me offer this brief, opening statement. I think you all know that there have been acts of vandalism across our country, which have targeted owners of Tesla cars, dealerships, and charging stations. Our president has issued a call to action for citizens to defend and protect these vehicles, wherever they may be located. But today, I have a bill before me, passed by the state legislature, which will give financial aid to spur the construction of a new factory, here on our native soil. Thousands of jobs will be created, and Ohio will take a leadership role in promoting commerce and technological advancement. This makes sense for us, and for the nation. So, I want to announce my intention to sign this measure into law, immediately...”

 

Gasps sounded around the briefing room. Then, rude noises and coughing could be heard.

 

A slender, wiry-haired woman in a gray pantsuit stood up, and gestured with the stylus for her iPad. She did not appear to be pleased.

 

“Sir, I am Maggie Maychic from the Canton Repository. Could you please dispense with the stale rhetoric? We all know your political affiliations. But can this move really be justified when our schools are in need of assistance, after DOGE cuts? And many around this region are going hungry while we subsidize sports teams that perennially lose to their competitors?”

 

The governor cleared his throat and slouched against the lectern.

 

“Madam reporter, I think the issue of building our economy is an important cause. I would not compare it to stadium issues for athletic teams...”

 

The veteran scribbler frowned while adjusting her oversized, feline glasses.

 

“Elon Musk is someone with zero ties to this state. He’s a figure of controversy, to be charitable. Not a legitimate member of the current presidential cabinet, and certainly not a role model. Why would we spend a single dollar to help him build his electric cars? Doesn’t his excessive wealth make that seem ridiculous?”

 

Moerlein nearly choked on his own breath.

 

“I think you’ve missed the point on this, we need jobs in our state. Jobs, jobs, jobs! Mr. Musk needs a safe space to build his Cybertrucks and whatever else. This is a perfect location, we are known as a friendly territory for entrepreneurs and innovators...”

 

A balding fellow who was short and stocky interrupted this verbal give-and-take with his own query. He waved from the back row, while dripping perspiration.

 

“Governor, I am Blandon Orridge, from the News-Herald in Willoughby. Is it true that you have chosen a spot in your own home district as a possible site for this manufacturing hub? If so, how does that square with satisfying constituents from more disadvantaged counties around Ohio? Don’t you think that an oversight commission should be established, before any final decision is made?”

 

The chief executive shuddered and snorted at this claim of a backroom deal having already been made.

 

“I CAN CATEGORICALLY DENY THAT STORY! IT IS, WHAT OUR LEADER IN WASHINGTON WOULD CALL, FAKE NEWS, TO BE BLUNT!”

 

The professional wordsmith scratched his head and chortled, loudly.

 

“Do you expect anyone to believe that denial, sir?”

 

Ms. Maychic giggled and tapped her stylus like a drumstick.

 

“It sounds to me like business as usual in our state! Business as usual!”

 

Governor Moerlein shook his head with the intensity of a frustrated pooch. He had reached a point of total futility.

 

“I would think residents of Ohio will cheer the news of getting more jobs. Jobs matter! Jobs pave the way for more of everything good, everywhere, for everyone! If it helps to protect an adviser to our current president, so be it! It’s a win-win-win!”

 

More gasps and coughing resounded in the confined space. Then a third representative of the media stood up, suddenly. He was dressed sloppily, in casual attire. More in the manner of a college student than a mainstream reporter.

 

“Hey, my name is Stuart Veganarti. I run a podcast on YouTube, called ‘No Effs 2 Give.’ My listeners think that all of you older dudes have already been bought by the corporate types. Like with what happened in the Nuclear Bribery Scandal. They don’t vote unless there’s someone in the mix who can be trusted. Which we don’t see too often. Shit, pretty much never at all! Anyway, why put your shovel in the dirt for Elon? That’s a chump move, I think. You want people bombing cars here in our neighborhoods? That’s just messed up! Let him go bankrupt! Or leave America for good! Screw that fascist jackass!”

 

The state leader was puzzled by this spoken-word manifesto.

 

“Umm... I didn’t hear a real question in that, sorry. We don’t get to pick and choose who wants to invest in this state. It’s our job to work with whoever and whatever comes our way. I don’t hold any bias in what gets decided...”

 

Laughter reverberated across the crowded room. Then, members of the press corps began to depart, without being dismissed. They had lost interest in participating.

 

Governor Moerlein was visibly rattled. He slammed the rostrum with both hands, and huffed. His voice sounded weak and hoarse.

 

“Thank you all for coming here today! Thank you! Thank you very much!”

Nothing To See Here – “Chandler Jam”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(4-25)

 

 

On a recent morning at the Icehouse, I sat with a mug of coffee and lazily perused posts via my cell phone. A familiar activity that seems to occur at the beginning of every day, despite best efforts made to wean myself from being mentally hitched to that wireless device. I scrolled quickly past generic reissues of memes and such that looked too similar to be interesting. The sort of fodder that arouses a desire to be rid of social media platforms, in general. One after another, they passed my eyes with uninteresting images and taglines. But then, a video popped up from my friend and local hero, Dennis Chandler. A musician noteworthy for his prowess on guitar and piano, but also because of his long history working with some of our most celebrated music icons and heroes.

 

He was on the right in a makeshift studio of some kind. Surrounded by Lionel trains, tapping skillfully at a keyboard array. A willing partner was on the left, at a drumkit. Together, they produced the sort of happy tones that immediately had me rocking in my vintage, waiting-room chair. The fact that I wasn’t yet fully awake did not seem to matter. I had been metaphorically and musically shot out of a cannon.

 

While watching and listening, I began to imagine participating in this jam session, with a stream-of-consciousness improvisation of my own. The sort of late-night, off-the-cuff escapade that used to transpire when I had the privilege of hanging with friends in the Empire State, long ago.

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

A Blues-based melody

Tripping on syllables

Plucked out, invisible

I haven’t run like this in years

Mystic smoke, thick in the atmosphere

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

He’s tickling the ivory keys

A reminder of a footstomp

And a-ronk a-ronk a-ronk

That progression might be nothing new

But it puts a thousand volts in my dancing shoes

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

The Edutainer, don’t you see?

A mastermind of strings and boards

Shaking up the dance floor

Like the best of olden days, now revived

Link Wray and Jerry Lee, kicking out the vibes

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

A Les Paul or a Flying Vee

Plugged in and power sent

Knobs cranked around to ten

A clockwise twist of the supple wrist

Soul food for the mind, if you get the gist

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Like a time-trip through history

Count off and play your part

Hot licks and shooting stars

Better than going to see the Rock Hall

Jump and jive, bump, boogie, and ball

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Microphone at the vocal peak

Words come from the ether

Like an epiphany to a seeker

Some might not believe in miracles of the modern day

But it’s a certainty that the spirit came our way

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

A lineage from antiquity

Gold rings and narrow ties

Wing-tips and Naugahyde

Like a bright bank of vacuum tubes

A speaker cone pulsing with the groove

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Verses written in a dream

The poet prancing on a pin

While the saints come marching in

Somewhere there must be sunbeam, shining bright

That’ll keep us lit, long into the night

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Wading through the sound stream

Tell me imagination rests

On the crest of made-up success

I’ll be glad to call it a detour from reality

So long as he keeps hitting those keys

 

After the clip had finished, I sat pondering this unexpected visitation from across the cultural spectrum. It took a moment of quiet reflection to comprehend what gift I had received. In a sense, it felt like a witnessing of faith. In Rock & Roll, kinship, and love. A touch of sweetness that I needed to awaken, and feel truly alive, while in the midst of everyday cares.

 

The yield of what transpired was, of course, a writing project at my desk.

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Oh boy, mercy me!

Gonna visit the golden gate

Remembering all those yesterdays

B.B. and Bo, with Buddy and his Strat

Hot dogging heroes, down with the cool cats

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Amplified, electrically

Buzzing walls and windows

Tingling my tongue and nose

When I jump and shout, it’ll be a sign

That we’re on a mission to mountain-climb

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

Art at its rhythmic peak

Anyone unaffected

Must be somehow redirected

When Little Richard is the Holy Ghost

Alan Freed echoing, from coast-to-coast

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

A bold believer in the beat

It’s a timeline, still unbroken

Where wild wisdom is spoken

Keeping up with the pace of rotation

Turning globes throughout the constellation

 

Jamming with Dee Cee

A mentor for modernity

A teacher at the chalkboard

Dispensing truth, in three chords

A cable connected to the sound

Of an everlasting, hometown get-down

 

Upon finishing my page of poetry-slam indulgence, I felt emotionally uplifted. It was similar to the byproduct of writing about trips to visit the Finger Lakes Region of New York, after moving home to Ohio. A reflective moment that occurred while writing a book about my 1981 Chevette, the humble vehicle that carried me across that distance, on so many occasions.

 

I first met Dennis via a telephone conversation, while doing homework for a special section at Gazette Newspapers, in Ashtabula County. We bonded immediately, through our shared love for music. His knowledge and experience were truly staggering. But perhaps even more, was his pure humility. A quality that has made him treasured by students and fans, for generations.

 

I have known very few individuals on his level with that sort of unpretentious perspective.

 

My distaste for the rapid-fire, connectivity of social platforms has often been a subject of discourse, here at the Geauga Independent. Yet today, with thoughts of Dennis and his pal rendering a spiritual jam for those of us in cyberspace, I have to quiet those contrarian impulses. Listening with a mug of coffee, this morning, made a difference in my day. One that I will not soon forget.

 

Thank you, Mr. Edutainer!

Driving Me Happy Chapter 30: Underwhelming

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

The idea for this unlikely volume of work came after I posted in a Facebook group called Underwhelming Cars. There, I offered a photograph of my long-gone, 1981 Chevy Chevette. A vehicle which brought heaping measures of joy and sorrow into my life. I spoke candidly and without reservation regarding this car, eschewing any forethought. My sentiment was true in literal terms, but lacked the gentle polish of useful context being offered. So, in hindsight, what I delivered now seems a bit harsh upon reflection. Possibly, I should have allowed my memories to cool before serving them to a public audience. But I did not. Many chapters later, I regret that hasty choice.

 

Underwhelming Cars - February 2, 2025

 

“(This is) My 1981 Chevy Chevette. It was an underwhelming car by every definition, though I could get 40 mpg on the highway. Friends all had vehicles with more style, power, and resale value. I felt shamed every time the ignition key was turned. The floor rotted out and I had to use a chain and padlock to keep the transmission from dropping. The coil springs broke, the clutch cable broke, eventually, one of the pistons cracked and it ran on three cylinders. It would jump out of reverse, and I had to hold it in gear to back up, which was crazy. I never, ever liked being stuck with this rolling piece of garbage. But, it proved to be invisible when barhopping with work friends. They always wanted to take my ride. It finally expired at 77,640 miles. I eventually used it as a shed for dog food in our side yard, the most dependable service it ever offered. It left my home being towed away by a wrecker.”

 

The entry received over 1100 likes, and many comments. Most of those who responded to my recollections of ownership echoed the sober opinions I expressed. But a few declared in a fit of pique that they had received dependable service from their own versions of the breed. Up to 300,000 miles as reported. One defiant fellow even said his hatchback was bulletproof, and built for the long haul! I was struck by the use of such charitable adjectives for this line of low-dollar cruisers. Though another member of the group mentioned going to rallies where dozens and dozens of these bland beasts were in attendance. I had to blink and reread their words, to be sure of what my eyes had seen. But took them as honest, heartfelt recollections.

 

For a time at least, my beige, Chevette sedan had been exactly what I required to thrive and go forward. It was dependable enough to handle work duties, and sufficed for purposes of basic transportation. I took it on jaunts to several different states. Its thrifty nature and minimal appetite for fuel matched my own budget restrictions at the time. Something undeniably helpful as I crawled from the wreckage of bad personal decisions, taken before I landed back in my native territory. In bottom-line terms, my primal Chevrolet entered our family space at a time of need. It gave me what mattered, a measure of personal freedom.

 

Emotionally, I associated the bowtie nameplate with other, more brilliant and sophisticated models. Many of which have now become part of American folklore. I wanted a Bel Air, Caprice or Monte Carlo. Or maybe a Camaro, with spoilers and dazzling graphics. Perhaps even a Nova SS or Chevelle. But certainly not a tiny-tired, squarish sedan that soon became the butt of jokes, everywhere. Yet at that point in linear time, being broke, in my early 20s, and teetering on the precipice of another implosion, the economy hauler was perfection-on-wheels. It kept me moving at a price I could pay. It meant that I was able to hold down a regular job, something that had proven to be impossible during days as a street rogue and wanderer, in the Empire State.

 

It kept me grounded, financially and emotionally.

 

With so many participants adding to this mix of prose, I began to wonder if a follow-up manuscript to my book might be worthy of publication. An anthology of stories about what the Chevette had meant to each of them, as their own journeys transpired. Temptation urged me to offer receiving submissions at the Icehouse Books address, a post office box in Chardon, Ohio. Numbered three-six-five. I reckoned that editing and assembling such a document would be an interesting experience. A study of the connection between legacy products, and their buyers.

 

This challenge left me silent, at my desk. I needed more time to think about the possibilities.

 

There are hundreds, even thousands of cars that might be termed underwhelming, for a variety of reasons. Perspective provides the necessary guidelines. A thrill to some might well be uninspiring, to others. What causes the heart to quicken, for me, may leave most feeling flatlined. No one choice is more valid than the other. Though common qualities may certainly identify what many would consider to be transports unworthy of praise.

 

I can only bear witness that, during my own mortal life span, the hatchback Chevrolet offered a sense of gravity and balance. Things that enhanced my ability to survive. It wasn’t great or grand, or enviable. Not pretty to the naked eye. Not appealing when flogged over roads in my county, and beyond. Not durable, ultimately. Gone too soon. A heap of scrap tin, hauled away like a load of refuse.

 

Yet having such an uber-plain vehicle, at that place and time, truly mattered. It made a difference in my life, and those of so many others who were seeking affordable mobility. What followed may have been better, brighter, and bolder. But the lowly T-car laid a foundation for our success. Stepping on those smoothed stones, we all moved forward to a more successful tomorrow. We were fortunate for having that opportunity to shine.

 

My gratitude endures. Thank you, General Motors. You literally drove us happy.

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 29: Auction

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

Internet sources provided lots of useful information for this book, specifically when trying to assess how the Chevette helped to reshape automotive life in North America. Here between the oceans, we conveniently became numb to environmental forces and market conditions that affected how drivers in other countries chose their vehicles. But with the boxy hatchback from Chevrolet, that familiar paradigm was upended, temporarily. Consumers in the United States have normally liked big, powerful cars. Or at least they did until such products became scarce on showroom floors. Now, our citizens tilt toward pickup trucks and SUV varieties. We are not a nation that has ever favored downsizing for long. Products like the Henry J from Kaiser, Nash Rambler, Ford Falcon, Chevy Corvair, and others, always gave way eventually to an evolutionary curve toward growth and greater girth. When government mandates for fuel economy finally forced regular people-movers to shrink, the reaction was swift. In modern times, doctors, lawyers, and corporate leaders roll around in big rigs better suited for plowing through mud and snow. Or hauling trailers loaded with cargo.

 

What we once considered beasts of burden are now symbols of American rebelliousness. It is a sign of our cowboy psychology.

 

But the T-car from General Motors managed to earn a spot in our folklore that has endured long after being discontinued. Perhaps not with the colorful, hippie vibe of A VW Beetle or loaf-of-bread Microbus, yet carrying vibrant echoes of a simpler age. When a generation of our populace boasted the youth and exuberance of a group rising from cultural ashes deposited by Watergate, the Oil Embargo, and our exit from Vietnam.

 

I pondered this lingering affection while reading an article by Daniel Rufiange on the Auto123 website. Its headline alone made me pause and take a deep breath, reflectively.

 

“Someone Paid $30,000 USD for a 1987 Chevrolet Chevette.”

 

I had to bow my head for a moment, while remembering that once, long ago, a new-issue of that make and year almost entered our household driveway. I had considered plunking down the bargain price on a second little Chevy, even after cursing the collapse of my first.

 

“It is hard to consider the Chevrolet Chevette a car that made automotive history. It served many owners to the best of its workmanlike abilities, but nothing more. The Chevette was on the market for a decade, but chances are that many who owned one may have already forgotten about it. Be that as it may, as always, some old copy of even the most mundane car is bound to pop up in good condition. And sometimes even with super-low mileage on it. Take, for instance, this 1987 Chevette that recently went up for sale at a Mecum Group auction. The odometer of the car reads just 48.4 miles, or 77.9 km. This model sold new for $4995 back in 1987. In Canada, it sold for around $7000 CAD. For any car enthusiast, it’s interesting to see such a car re-emerge and be offered at auction. But what really drew a double take in this case was the sale price at auction of $30,000 USD, not counting the 10-percent fee that took the total to $33,000 USD...”

 

Viewed with hindsight, my stomach aches when thinking that I once almost paid the initial $4995 amount for a similar mule. That near-miss seemed indefensible at the time. But to drop a much greater sum, long after the fact? That would appear to tempt a diagnosis of mental deficiency. Yet apparently, news of this surreal transaction quickly spread around the world. Somewhere, there is a satisfied buyer drooling happily over their acquisition. Meanwhile, the carcass of my own 1981 model is rusting away in a local scrapyard. A fate less glorious, and far more common, perhaps. Though in memory, it remains a mile marker of roads traveled and memories made.

 

Searching for Chevette clues also uncovered another, older post on the Motor Trend site. The magazine had once been a staple item in our household, during my childhood days. Writer Aaron Gold had penned an article just as puzzling to behold. One that had me lost in a yesterdaze of sentimental wonder.

 

“Chevrolet Chevette: Awful Car or Unappreciated Revolutionary?”

 

The candid tone of his missive struck me right between my eyes.

 

“Thirty-five years after it was mercifully euthanized, the Chevrolet Chevette remains synonymous with crappy motoring. The Chevette may have been humble and horrible, but it was also one of the most significant cars in General Motors history. It marked a major turning point in GM’s fortunes, the company’s first acknowledgement that the world was changing in ways it didn’t yet understand.”

 

He concluded this bare-knuckled retrospective with lines of text that had my eyes going wide open, at the monitor.

 

“The Chevette was never supposed to be a great car. It was designed with mediocrity in mind, and mediocrity is exactly what it reliably delivered – for far too long, unfortunately... It was a major change for a company that seemed unchangeable and a harbinger of the industry’s future. Too bad it was such a lousy car.”

 

I remembered that friends, neighbors, and co-workers all had similar amounts of disappointment to my own, after buying their own editions of the Chevy Chevette. Bodies rusted, transmissions failed, and miles ticked away while fighting pervasive episodes of roadgoing ennui. Yet owning one of these bland and boring appliances provided common ground for our generation.

 

Almost everyone, it seemed, had one of these cars or knew someone who did, closely.

 

My Shove-It had languished at the bottom of a roster filled with better, roomier, more stylish choices that came along as my own options expanded over time. I nearly forgot about it, while crowing with praise over vehicles like my 1987 Ford Crown Victoria, a lost love that I never should have sold.

 

But revisiting stories of how the lowball sedan came into my life evoked sappy, saccharine emotions I never knew existed. Suddenly, I was wallowing in a sort of fondness for the car that I hadn’t felt when holding its thin-rimmed steering wheel in my fingers. Having reached the final chapter of my personal tale, I was somewhat perplexed by this unexpected development. And I faced a quizzical challenge without a clear answer.

 

Was it possible that I actually missed my cheap Chevrolet?

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 28: Brochure

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

While writing my Chevette book, I did plenty of research and reminiscing about the car, and its status as a flawed icon of automotive history. Many memories lingered of piloting my undersized beast around the roads of northeastern Ohio. But perhaps the most insight came from a brochure printed to inform potential customers about this bygone product. It matched the year of my own hatchback sedan, 1981. Inside were glossy photographs, and blocks of breezy text obviously penned by an ad department brimming with hyperbole.

 

I had to smile broadly when reading their description of the vehicle.

 

“One tough small car that’s really going strong. That’s Chevette. And no wonder. America’s best-selling small car has proved itself. From one coast to the other. Chevette’s exhibited solid durability in real-life use for over five years. Traditional Chevrolet quality is designed into this car. Chevette takes it from there with a host of specifics. Full Coil suspension. Extensive anti-corrosion treatments. Double-panel door, hood and deck lid construction. We could go on and on. Yes, every hard-working Chevette starts from pretty sturdy stock. But it doesn’t rest on its laurels. New refinements in Chevette for 1981 make this tough performer even better. Take the new Computer Command Control system for example. This new on-board computer helps monitor engine functions to reduce exhaust emissions and provide the kind of fuel economy that Chevette’s known for. For style, Chevette looks even better with its new contemporary flush-mounted windshield. Extra glamor comes standard with new sporty styled wheels and a bright-accented black grille on both Coupe and Sedan models. Inside 1981 Chevette Coupe and Sedan get the added appeal of a sport shifter. And it’s housed in a handy and handsome floor console. These features join the long list of traditional Chevette standards that continue to make it a lot of car for the money. It all adds up. To a hefty sum of sporty good looks, long-lasting quality and dependability – without a hefty price tag. That’s 1981 Chevy Chevette. That’s one tough son of a gun. ‘For Chevette EPA estimated mileage, check the wall poster displayed at your Chevrolet dealer’s showroom, or ask for an EPA mileage sheet to take home with you.’”

 

That core assertion made me laugh out loud. And, wipe tears from my eyes.

 

“ONE TOUGH SON OF A GUN!”

 

In parts of the country where salt never touched metal, during winter months, perhaps the lifespan of such products might have been longer. But my own experience was that the floorboards of my little Chevy disintegrated quickly. Corrosion treatments? I never thought it likely that anything special had been done to my boxy rig. Tough and dependable? I suppose such adjectives might come to mind when remembering that my Chevette was still running, albeit in wounded fashion, on three cylinders. Right before it was carried away by a wrecker.

 

But I never, ever thought it looked sporty.

 

“A word about this catalog. We have tried to make this catalog as comprehensive and factual as possible and we hope you find it helpful. However, since the time of printing, some of the information you will find here may have been updated. Also, some of the equipment shown or described throughout this catalog is av available at extra cost. Your dealer has details and, before ordering, you should ask him to bring you up to date. The right is reserved to make changes at any time, without notice, in prices, colors, materials, equipment, specifications, and models. Check with your Chevrolet dealer for complete information.”

 

If truth-in-advertising laws were rigorously applied in those days, the resulting slogan might have been more candid, and direct.

 

“HEY, AT LEAST IT AIN’T A GAWDAMM YUGO!”

 

“Make Chevette your own. It’s easy. Start with the basic Chevette you want. It’s already packed with a host of sporty standard features. Now pick and choose from the many options listed below... “

 

GM had always been a market leader in producing vehicles with plenty of available extras. So, it was no surprise that even their lowly econobox could be obtained with many bonus features. Surprisingly, a V-6 version was apparently tested as an ‘off-road’ alternative, but never officially produced. Car and Diver Magazine described it as being ‘By the insane, for the insane.’ A 2.8 L powerplant elevated the coupe from 70 horsepower to 135.

 

“A word about engines. Chevettes are equipped with GM-built engines produced by the Chevrolet Motor Division. Please refer to the Chevette power team information on page 9 of this catalog or see your dealer for details.”

 

My own edition of the breed was incredibly economical to operate. Yet it offered lackluster performance as a tradeoff. Pulling up steep hills, especially if rolling with a load in the back, could be challenging. It was always best to build inertia beforehand.

 

“A word about assembly, components and optional equipment in these Chevrolets. The Chevettes described in this catalog are assembled at facilities of General Motors Corporation operated by the GM Assembly Division. These vehicles incorporate thousands of different components produced by various divisions of General Motors and by various suppliers in General Motors. From time to time during the manufacturing process, it may be necessary, in order to meet public demand for particular vehicles or equipment, or to meet federally-mandated emissions, safety and fuel economy requirements, or for other reasons, to produce Chevrolet products with different components or differently sourced components than initially scheduled. All such components have been approved for use in Chevrolet products and will provide the quality performance associated with the Chevrolet name...”

 

My tiny T-car was admittedly a budget item. The fit and finish were uninspiring. Interior plastic looked and felt cheap. Even with Armor All detailing, it still had the pale sheen of a Walmart shopping cart. The overall design was frugal, as intended. Not cosmetically attractive. But, at such a low price-point, that truth did not really matter.

 

In that distant era, early in the 1980’s decade, I just needed something that would start every morning and get me to work.

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 27: Ideas

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

After writing to General Motors CEO Mary Barra, I started to think more critically about the Chevrolet Chevette and its possible resurrection in a modern form. An idea that might seem puzzling to some, yet would follow a tradition of reviving certain iconic designs. Vehicles such as the two-seater Ford Thunderbird and Bronco 4x4, Volkswagen Beetle, and Fiat 500, have all been reinterpreted at some point. Breathing new life into the lowly, T-car hatchback might be more challenging to justify. But it would certainly remind potential consumers that once-upon-a-time, the Detroit manufacturer loved by so many offered a truly economical and accessible product. One that met global needs and still resonated as a domestic mover of people.

 

In their most basic, North American iteration, the three-door and five-door models offered value at a level never seen before in our markets. Yugo or Renault or various Japanese brands could not match the impressive dealer network and familiarity of a GM mule. Having the bowtie logo on its grille spoke loudly to buyers. It gave them confidence in choosing to make a purchase. Even with traces of the Vega and Monza lingering in its rearview mirrors. Therefore, one could easily conclude that having a mobile so simple in its nature and easy on the wallet, would be attractive even in an era of oversized trucks and Sport Utility Vehicles.

 

Yet while pondering the concept, I wondered if a slight tweaking of that venerable shell might also be productive. The Chevette could be upgraded with all-wheel-drive, repurposed as a high-roof crossover, tarted up with performance options, and even offered as an EV to satisfy those interested in joining the race to full electrification.

 

As a fresh version of the Chevy 500, mentioned in my letter, the platform could reignite love for truly capable and roadworthy trucks, built on a smaller wheelbase. Perhaps an echo of the Chevy LUV, which was of course, a rebranded Isuzu.

 

I mentioned this line of thinking to gearhead friends who also enjoy the craft of creative writing, and their reaction came swiftly. Though I was not quite prepared for the passion with which they responded.

 

One individual stood out from the rest.

 

Shosan Teeg, a fellow wordsmith who I had tried to recruit at the Geauga Independent, an online newspaper blog, laughed loudly at my questionable notion.

 

“You’re serious? Bring back the Chevette? C’mon Rodney, did you bonk your head on the sidewalk or something? That’s the sort of tabloid story I’d expect to read in an issue of the Weekly World News, or National Enquirer! Or on a satire website. Please tell me you’re joking, bruh!”

 

My face reddened as I struggled to speak coherently.

 

“Look man, I’ve got gasoline in my bloodline. An uncle sold Buick cars and GMC trucks for over 30 years. My father once owned a motorcycle dealership, and was a professional mechanic. I’ve had a jones for anything with wheels, since childhood. So, trust me on this, I know it could work!”

 

Sho shook his head and smirked. He had the look of a foreign engineer, with huge glasses and a buzz-cut.

 

“Didn’t you hate your Shove-It? I’ve heard you rant about how it fell apart over time...”

 

I had to swallow my pride. His ability to recall facts was flawless. But I had some context to offer.

 

“Yes, right, I might have said those things abruptly, without thinking too hard. Working on a book about my Chevette experiences has changed those perceptions, however. Softened the focus, a bit, you might say. It has made me remember yonder days when that rig was not so beaten and battered. It gave me dependable service for some time... until it didn’t.”

 

My nerdy pal snickered with the abandon of a cartoon dog.

 

“Listen to yourself, dude! You’re like a high school kid trying to defend a girl who dumped him right before the prom! You said the little Chevy left a trail of parts in its wake! Broken springs and cables, with a Flintstone floor, completely rotted out! Electrical problems, motor worries, and a tow-truck trip to the junkyard!”

 

I bristled at his barebones description of my past assessment.

 

“Right, right, I did run into some problems eventually. They never tried to hide the fact that it was a cheap mode of getting around, you know? Just a point-to-point rattlebox, good for everyday use and not much else. I drove it for three years though, and actually made some memories. That’s what came to mind when I was writing my story...”

 

Shosan grimaced at my sappy reinterpretation of olden days, long gone.

 

“And now you’re on a crusade to get the bigwigs in Detroit to open its grave, and reanimate the thing all over again? Really? I think you’re soft in the head. Quit wallowing in sentimentality. Get real, bruh! Get real!”

 

I made one more attempt to justify my opinion. Though my mouth had begun to stammer with hesitation.

 

“You can’t tell me that people don’t want a real choice at the dealership! Not everybody is loaded with cash. Certainly not keyboard jockeys like us! Price matters. Value matters. Quality matters. Put all that together, and you’ll be rolling millions of cars off the assembly line, again!”

 

My expert friend snorted and fiddled with pens in his pocket protector.

 

“Check the top sellers, Rodney. Half of ‘em at least are full-size trucks. Those beasts are freaking expensive! And by gawd, everybody is making SUVs, even Audi, Porsche, and Mercedes. Along with Volvo, and Volkswagen! Nobody drives real cars anymore! Who wants one of those things? Old people, maybe! Ha ha, that’s it, you’re finally past your prime!”

 

Our conversation concluded without finding common ground. Yet as I continued to work on my book manuscript, the idea of a reborn economy sedan from Chevrolet lingered. I made a list of possible models in a lineup of new-era, Chevette varieties.

 

Chevy III – An extension of the forerunner nameplate that eventually was called ‘Nova.’ Just basic, honest transportation. A can’t-miss idea.

 

Z14 Performance Model – Call it half of a Camaro Z28. With a turbocharged motor under the hood. And a six-speed stick available.

 

Silverado Junior, or LUV 2.0 – A minimalist workhorse, for those who don’t need a big truck.

 

Blazer SE – With all-wheel drive and genuine off-road capabilities. Perfect for weekend adventures, and daily driving in urban areas.

 

Finally, I realized that my note to Mrs. Barra had gone out too quickly. I should have waited a week or two, at least, before making contact through the postal system.

 

Still, there would be time once my volume of work had been completed, to share a copy with the business titan, as a gesture of faith.

 

As their ads used to say, “It’ll drive you happy!”

 

 

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 26: Pickup

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

Perhaps only a manufacturer with the global scale and scope of General Motors could have attempted to offer a true world car in the 1970’s. Yet here in North America, the yield of their courageous investment in technology was generally considered to be a dud. With the supply of crude oil interrupted, and prices soaring, many citizens in this region sought out vehicles that were thrifty, and efficient. But initially at least, there were few such products available. An easy solution was to simply resell foreign makes under the names of our familiar automotive producers. But Chevrolet decided upon a strategy that would satisfy markets around the globe. After introducing the original Brazilian Chevette, in 1973, based on the corporate T-car platform, versions popped up with various badges that included Opel, Vauxhall, Isuzu, Holden, Aymesa, Saehan, and Daewoo.

 

At home, the bowtie brand stumbled at first, with their shoddy and unreliable Vega. But their recovery with the new three-door hatchback, and its five-door sibling, became quite popular.

 

Aficionados of this humble beast are likely to be familiar with versions that were never marketed here in the United States, or Canada. These included a standard variety, made with a trunk at its tail, and a two-door wagon. Both of these looked sharp, and were appealing to drivers in other countries. Yet the most fascinating mutation of this motorcar line was something decidedly quirky in appearance, and purpose. Namely, the Chevy 500, a pickup truck based on the economy mule. What was sometimes known elsewhere as a 'Ute.'

 

In yonder days, small and tidy rigs designed for hauling were popular in faraway lands. Datsun, Toyota, Isuzu, and others offered such choices to consumers. In the realm of Uncle Sam, many thought that they were undersized and useless. Even amusing to behold. But they had great appeal for those with limited budgets, or custom applications in mind.

 

The 500 took this minimalist principle, that less is more, to its ultimate conclusion.

 

At the time it was being built, the notion of owning a pickup based on a cheap, no-frills people-mover would probably have created confusion and ambivalence, here in America. But in the context of modern designs, with the Honda Ridgeline, Ford Maverick and Hyundai Santa Cruz all selling respectably, that paradigm might now have been upended. Still, those at the helm of major manufacturers seem to have little interest in taking these alternatives seriously. Bigger bombs have a greater impact, when unleashed. Gigantic, accessory-laden rigs bring higher profits, and visibility with buyers. This trend has become so pervasive that even small trucks are now much larger than before. And those considered to be full-size are more spacious, grandiose, and filled with content.

 

While pondering this linear progression, I found myself once again returning to an old habit from days spent writing for a variety of local newspapers. I sometimes employed the device of a penning a personal letter, to inspire comment or reaction on a particular issue. This mode of outreach most often proved to be useful, when considering the subject of sports franchises, politics, or the creation of consumer goods. So, I decided to share my opinion candidly, and hope for the best.

 

While at the keyboard, echoes of a bygone Chevrolet slogan, ‘It’ll Drive You happy!’ filled my ears.

 

To: Mary Barra, CEO of General Motors

From: Rod Ice, Chief Content Creator, Icehouse Books

Re: Chevy 500 Revival

 

Dear Mrs. Barra,

 

I am a retired journalist, newspaper editor, and current author from northeastern Ohio. I am the grandson of an engineering professor, and have been interested in motor vehicles since reading Floyd Clymer manuals and scrapbooks, as a kid. For some 35 years I drove pickup trucks exclusively, but in semi-retirement, find them to be too bulky and expensive to operate. Things that are unnecessary in my modern routine.

 

Recently, I have been working on a book about the Chevrolet Chevette. A subject that might seem somewhat odd or even ill-advised. But in personal terms, a 1981 model was the first truly dependable car that I ever owned. Its history of use was mixed, but memorable. I found the vehicle to be very economical when in operation. And though it has long since departed, that beige hatchback remains strong in memory.

 

While researching T-car history online, I discovered that there was a variant of the breed, sold in Brazil and South America. Something that might seem surreal to consumers here in our homeland. But with the world market shaking out details, and divergent forces from opposite factions competing, I wonder if we might have come full-circle. It is undeniable that eventually, EVs will play a major role in transportation. The desire to hold sustained profitability from current models is also a smart business practice. But as a bridge is built to carry us toward future goals, I cannot avoid thinking that this long-ago pickup might have a place in the current reality of our national existence.

 

With only a few tweaks, such as swapping fuel injection for the carburetor, and a mild refresh of interior design, the Chevy 500 could easily find a place on the roadways of America. It would be practical, sturdy, easy to maintain, and above all, very affordable for consumers who do not wish to drop many thousands of dollars on a new vehicle. A sort of throwback to the days when Chevrolet literally put this nation on wheels.

 

Perhaps you might be thinking, ‘A Chevette pickup? Really? I can’t believe we did that the first time!’ Yet I implore you to consider this suggestion with a sober mind and careful judgment. The slate of NART options now being offered (Not A Real Truck) by Honda, Ford, and Hyundai may have their place, but do not really measure up to the standard of a genuine workhorse. The forgotten 500 could easily be modernized and modified, to meet the needs of patrons from coast to coast. And, around the globe.

 

A bigger motor might be considered, or all-wheel drive. Even a hybrid version. Your ability to innovate, as a premier manufacturer, is unlimited, I would think. I ask you to review this proposal seriously.

 

Many thanks here, for your kind attention.

 

Sincerely, RDI

3-15-25

 

Would my petition be taken seriously? I could not guess about that eventual result. But I had spoken out, as a citizen and enthusiast.

 

That in itself was enough.