THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, July 17, 1995 TAG: 9507150001
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A8 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Patrick Lackey
LENGTH: Medium: 64 lines
I remember four things about the Chevrolet Vega that I bought new in 1970.
(1) It cost only $2,000.
(2) It had three gears, none suitable for driving in city traffic. At 30 mph, second gear was too low; third gear, too high.
(3) Out in Iowa, where roads are salted to melt ice, its body seemed to turn to rust overnight.
(4) The dash was spray-painted cardboard, or perhaps imitation cardboard, whichever was cheaper.
I used to sit in that car, stare at the dash, and hate myself for being so stupid as to owe money on a piece of trash.
The car barely lasted long enough for me to pay for it, and parting was sweet pleasure.
My next car was a green Volkswagen bug named Edna. I swear, if I'd fallen into a raging river, Edna would have driven herself in to save me - she was that dependable. After Edna, the only car I ever named, I bought a French car, then a Japanese car. I didn't visit other nations. I just bought their cars.
Over the years I'd occasionally entertain the notion of buying an American car again. Then I'd remember the Vega.
If memory serves me right, back in those dark days you'd take an American car like a Vega to a dealership to be fixed, thinking you shouldn't have to pay much because it was under warranty. You'd be charged for labor and for this and that - everything except the parts - and you'd drive away with a long itemized list of charges but no shirt. Tattooed on your back was the word SUCKER.
Five years ago my wife and I bought a Toyota hatchback, after I grandly announced at a Toyota dealership that I'd buy any new car on the lot for $6,000. It has proved absolutely reliable except for two successive bad carburetors, both replaced without charge or hassle under the warranty. If it ever failed to start in half a second, I'd wonder, ``What's wrong?''
Still, when we decided to buy a van, we hankered for something American. I can't explain why, but we wanted to come home. We wanted more of our dollars to stay in America. Our nation seemed to need them.
For the first time, we paid five figures for a vehicle, a year-old Ford Aerostar with two built-in toddler seats - perfect for grandparents like us who love to visit grandchildren.
The van was under warranty when the air-conditioner gave out a few weeks later. I thought to myself, ``America, this is a test.'' It was a test I dreaded, but I drove to the dealership where we'd bought the van. A salesman had told us our van was assigned to Service Team C, so I sought out the head guy of Service Team C, a man named Bill, and imitated the sounds the van made before the air-conditioner gave out.
``What will this cost?'' I demanded.
``Nothing,'' he said. ``It's under warranty.''
``How late are you open?''
``Till nine, but it will be ready by five.''
I'd never heard anyone more confident about anything. And the van was ready by five. The problem was fixed. Life is cool again. We love our van. Everyone who rides in it loves it. America is back! by CNB