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.

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 25: Christmas

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

Eventually, even the holidays provided an opportunity to speak poetically about my long-lost, GM hatchback. In our local newspaper of record, I offered a yuletide carol that was based on thoughts about flying over drifts of winter snow, in my economy sedan. Readers took this as a comical, down-to-earth statement of seasonal cheer. Yet it reflected a deeper meaning for myself. I was conflicted about having owned this budget product. It failed to yield the sort of lifespan that I had imagined when first signing paperwork for the dealership, and Bank One, in 1984. But, this experience of contrasts did not fade over time. Instead, the boxy, appliance-on-wheels became a benchmark for all my future vehicles. I judged everything according to how the Shove-It had performed.

 

My noel ditty ran just before Santa’s arrival, in a weekly edition of the paper.

 

“Christmas Chevette” (From the Geauga County Maple Leaf, November, 2010)

See the USA
In your Chevrolet
That’s what commercials say
But when you’re poor
This is what you get
A second-hand Chevette

Yuletide grins
And icy spins
Make the holidays begin
But when you’re broke
Better place your bet
On a second-hand Chevette

Santa’s sleigh
Ain’t a Chevrolet
He can fly both night and day
So I’ll pretend
I’ve got a jet
Not a second-hand Chevette

Chestnuts roast
A holiday toast
To those we love the most
Then the dream is done
‘Cause don’t forget
We’ve got a second-hand Chevette

A Christmas tree
A shopping spree
Wish your neighbors peace
But a rough ride home
Is what you get
In a second-hand Chevette

Sleigh bells ring
And carolers sing
Of what St. Nick will bring
But a lump of coal
Is what you expect
With a second-hand Chevette

A flannel cap
In Christmas wrap
Patterned from a treasure map
Gifts on the cheap
But don’t you fret
With a second-hand Chevette

Friends and fun
This day is done
The Yuletide hymn is sung
Now it’s back to work
For a weekly check
In your second-hand Chevette

 

When reviewed in hindsight, this composition evokes memories of garlands and glitter, and a live evergreen decorated in our living room. A centerpiece for family celebrations, enjoyed by all. But with many years having passed since those festive days of yore, I now think that extra verses for this offering might have been written.

 

Looking backward across the time continuum, through a lens of nostalgia, I began to imagine what might have been penned, if my endurance had proven to be greater. The result follows here, delivered in a similar spirit to that page from long ago.

 

“Chevette Diesel Christmas”

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

Along with egg nog and mints

My pants pockets are still empty

Full of nothing but pennies and lint

I couldn’t make do with a pittance

No presents now under the tree

So, Santa Claus brought me a hatchback

A brand new, Chevrolet D

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

I thought that my old car was slow

But now it takes even longer

To go spinning my wheels in the snow

Neighbors can’t keep from their laughing

Festive they are at this time

Who knew that General Motors

Had a North Pole production line?

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

The car makes a rattling sound

When I go romping ‘round the village

Black smoke and fumes will abound

St. Nicholas thinks that his present

Is something that I should adore

But nothing exciting ever happens

When I put my foot to the floor

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

My Chevy is a champ at the pump

But it won’t land in an auto museum

More likely it is destined for a dump

Brother brags about his new stereo

Sister got blankets and clothes

But I sit here at the steering wheel

After a punch in the nose

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

Rudolph must run far away

The reindeer could do a lot better

Motorvating Father C and his sleigh

No matter how I work the gear shifter

Or stomp on the pedal for fuel

The Chevette just takes it in stride

No hurry for this four-cylinder mule

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

Santa brought what I deserve

Grandma says I should’ve been better

In a year with good deeds on reserve

But I bought into the notion

That intentions were powerful enough

I wanted to get off the naughty list

Yet that hope failed our fat man’s trust

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

That rig is now under the tree

A smoke-belching Chevy, the T-car

Is apparently all that I need

Big trucks might have that motor

They rule the roads like a king

But my poor Chevette doesn’t do so well

I’d rather have won a decoder ring

 

I’m getting dieseled for Christmas

This is the wages of sin

I did not behave when I should have

So, now I’m outside, looking in

St. Nicholas played a trick with his present

That Chevy made my face frown with fear

Now I’m the slowpoke on every street

With honking horns buzzing my ears!

 

My father once owned a diesel version of the VW Golf. And though it was certainly not a competitor for their GTI model, its performance was satisfactory. I took it for a test drive during a summer vacation, and it ran strong. My sire reported that with a full load of grandchildren and goodies, the German transport still returned 50 mpg or more. It liked to be worked hard, in the manner of a farm animal. Something that I imagined was not the case with a diesel Chevette. Though on the basis of rarity, owning one might be viewed as an accomplishment worth boasting about, in automotive circles.

 

Driving my Chevette for three years was a mixed personal experience. Yet no one can argue that it left an imprint not erased by the ticking of a clock. Or the regular turning of calendar pages. In a sense, it gave me membership in a club where a call of the roll would include many Americans, from all walks of life. Each of us had our own reasons for buying one of these humble people-haulers.

 

Our stories of on-the-road adventures might not equal the prose of Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, or Allen Ginsberg. But they have become, indelibly, part of modern lore.

Driving Me Happy, Chapter 24: Redux

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-25)

 

 

Reaction to my column about the prevailing woes of our American economy, and specifically, the auto industry, was surprisingly strong. Many readers commented that they too had been owners of the Chevy Chevette. An undersized, thrifty mule from GM. Though media figures and car aficionados never embraced this vehicle, it sold well, in countries around the globe. There were versions of the little beast that included a trunk-tailed variety, one styled as a station wagon, and even a smallish pickup truck.

 

Only a few months passed before I once again referenced the breed in a newspaper column. I had indeed written a letter to the corporate head of its manufacturer, in Detroit. Though when workng for my weekly publication, I took some artistic license in imagining that he might visit our Ohio community, personally.

 

“Dollar Menu Motorvator, Redux” (Geauga County Maple Leaf, April, 2009)

It was a busy, spring morning at the reborn McDonald’s on Water Street, in Chardon.

As I considered a breakfast of hash browns, eggs, and sausage, sunlight streaked fancifully through the windows. My spot by the fireplace was filled with other local journalists who had come to discuss events of the day. They were a graying, serious bunch. I was the youngest in attendance. Each of us sat with our own reporter’s notebook carrying ink scribbles and stray scraps of paper.

Excitement crackled in the air!

Suddenly, Ezekiel Byler-Gregg of the Burton Daily Bugle pounded his fist on the table. With a throaty growl, he called us to order. “May I have your attention, please?”

The annual Geauga Journalist’s Roundtable had begun.

“Who’d like to start our meeting?” Ezekiel asked, dutifully.

Mack Prindl of the Parkman Register volunteered to speak first. He fumbled with a pair of reading glasses while sorting through his notes. “This week, I’m leading off with a story about the ‘Scarecrow Bandits’ in Chardon. One of the young miscreants is from my township and he’s working on a local farm to satisfy the court decree of community service…”

The group nodded in affirmation.

“Very good. Who’ll go next?” our chairman grunted.

Martha Ann Reale of the Newbury Siren-Monitor raised her hand. She cheerfully announced their latest project, while toying with a strand of native jewelry. “We’ve decided to do a historical series across the next two months. Our first installment will be a review of the long-lost Kiwanis Lake Tavern, and its evolution as the community changed from a collection of summer cottages to a residential enclave.”

Ezekiel chuffed with satisfaction. “Sounds like a worthwhile idea. Who wants to be next?”

Before anyone could answer, a stranger walked into the fast-food emporium. He wore a rumpled, yet elegant business suit. His face was covered with a rude outcropping of beard stubble. It appeared that the fellow had been sleeping in his clothes.

Everyone fell silent. Our concentration on the meeting had been broken!

The newcomer ordered a cup of coffee, then chattered at the counter.

“Who is that guy?” Mack said with concern showing on his narrow face. “Is he looking for directions?”

“He’s probably job hunting here in the county,” Martha Ann observed. “The bad economy has driven lots of people to look for refuge in Geauga. You must be right… he’s lost and confused.”

Buzzing with conversation, the counter clerk gestured toward our table.

Instinctively, everyone flinched!

The stranger turned around with a hungry look in his eyes. “Over there?” he said, loudly.

“Yes,” the clerk repeated.

Chairs slid backward as he approached our table. I noted that he wore expensive rings and cufflinks, but no tie. Coffee stains dotted his silk shirt.

“Good morning!” he said with a wounded smile.

Ezekiel was brave. “Yes indeed it is. Can I help you, mister? You seem to be… looking for someone.”

“That’s right,” he agreed. “I’ve driven a long way to Chardon, from a suburb of Detroit. To find one man… perhaps you know him. Rod Ice?”

Fear made me tingle!

“Yes, I know that fellow,” Ezekiel boasted. “He’s sitting here to my right…”

I gulped with anxiety, but offered my hand. “Uh, hello sir. Do I know you?”

The stranger laughed out loud. “Not at all. But I know you, Rod. You wrote to me when I was chairman of General Motors!”

The room quieted immediately.

“Chairman of GM?” Martha Ann screeched.

“That’s correct,” he replied. “My name is Rick Wagoner. Until last week, I was in charge of the nation’s premier automaker.”

Mack bounced pridefully in his seat. “Well, this is a pleasure. I’ve been a Chevrolet man all my life!”

Ezekiel pulled up an extra chair. “Why don’t you sit with us, Mr. Wagoner. We’d be glad to include you in our meeting.”

The GM executive appeared grateful. He sipped coffee and began to explain his visit. “I worked very hard to save my company. But President Obama felt that I needed to step down.”

Martha Ann snorted with indifference. “Isn’t that amazing? Not the head of AIG, after costing us billions upon billions of dollars. Or the leaders of banking institutions that have burdened our nation’s monetary system. No, instead, he forces out a car guy. How is that justified?”

Ezekiel bowed his head. “It sounds like a case of mixed-up priorities.”

Mack shook his head. “Our wallets and purses are being looted by the government. To rescue those who used to oppose such federal intervention. By leaders who won’t even pay their own taxes!”

A cheer went up in the restaurant.

“That’s a harsh assessment,” I said. “But it rings true.”

“Regardless of all that, I’ve come here with one humble purpose,” Wagoner said. “To ask for your help.”

I was stunned. “My… help?”

“Rod, you sent us a very interesting idea last year,” he continued. “I was impressed.”

Martha Ann sighed with disbelief. “Interesting idea? About what?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “You mean my column about the Chevy Chevette?”

“Exactly!” he cheered. “The Dollar-Menu Motorvator.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “Okay, you wanted GM to sell cars like items on the McDonald’s budget menu?”

“I wanted us to focus again on giving real value to our customers,” he said. “We did that with the original Chevette. Tough economic times demand that of us… it is the only way to survive.”

Ezekiel stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “The profit margin on a Chevette had to be slim. How could you sell that idea to your company with profits dwindling in modern times?”

“President Obama has talked about sharing sacrifice,” the erstwhile executive proclaimed. “A plan to shed costs and give back to the American people would do just that – and help revitalize the nation.”

“Look, Mr. Wagoner,” I said. “I’m flattered by your praise. But my article was… a joke. A goof on current events. A bit of Dave Barry or Mike Royko.”

The group fell silent.

“My column was intended to entertain readers,” I continued. “Not suggest a plan for your industry’s future.”

The former CEO waved his hand defiantly. “I disagree. It was very profound. A strong sentiment from the heartland.”

Mack frowned. “I’m with Rod. You can’t build a recovery on the ‘Dollar Menu’ at Mickey D’s!”

Martha Ann hissed with irritation. “Be quiet, Prindl! Mr. Wagoner is making sense.”

Our guest finished his coffee. “My time at the helm of GM is over,” he whispered. “Now, it is up to you. Use your soapbox wisely. Sell the ‘Motorvator’ idea through your newspaper work. Be a positive force. The country needs that!”

He stood up, and reached for his overcoat.

“Thanks for letting me ‘sit in’ with you,” he smiled.

Ezekiel shook his hand. “Of course.”

Before anyone else could speak, Wagoner was gone.

We sat in mute reflection for a long time.

Martha Ann finally pierced the wordless vacuum with a lighthearted query. “So, Rod, what are you going to do? Take his advice? Or not?”

My eyes were heavy. A morning haze lingered in my head.

“I’m going with a third option… to finish my breakfast!”