The goofy cars we used to want to buy

Dad thought the AMC Pacer was the Car of the Future.

 My Dad and I never talked much about cars. We weren't on the same automotive wavelength — until we were. 

A family man and a sales representative who racked up 50,000 miles a year, he wanted a fast Interstate cruiser that rode smoothly. He needed plenty of room for the family, and a big trunk for sales brochures. 

I wanted an MG. Two seats would be plenty for me, and I longed for responsive steering and a manual gearbox. And, oh-my-gosh, real wire wheels! 

I got my MG, and quickly learned how to double-clutch, and how to judge my speed without having any working instruments on the dashboard. 

In retirement, my Dad did consider down-sizing. In a rare moment of communication he told me that an American Motors Pacer really appealed to him. He considered it "the Car of the Future." 

He was wrong about that.

As the Pacer became a universal joking matter he gave up on it and purchased a different car: a Chevrolet Citation. This was one of the so-called "X cars," whose many faults would lay waste to General Motors' reputation.

The Vega: Its motor melted down, its body dissolved into rust.

But by then I had beaten him to the punch in purchasing a maligned GM product. Married, and in need of cars that ran without being push started, I had given up on MGs and purchased Chevrolet Vegas. Not one, but two in a row.

The Vega was a peculiar car, with its self-destructing aluminum block motor racing against its quick-rusting steel bodywork to see which would send it to the junkyard first.

Dad and I didn't learn our lesson right away. Dad fell for the hype that the real Car of the Future would be GM's Saturn.

His loaded Saturn didn't need to be driven to wear out; it fell apart in the driveway. You'll recall that the Saturn's bodywork was plastic. The outside of the car didn't rust. Instead, the interior of the car dried up and cracked into powder from exposure to the sun.

The 1991 Chevrolet Impala/Caprice looked good to me.

Meanwhile, I lusted for one of the ugliest GM cars ever: the 1991 Chevrolet Impala. Its bulbous dirigible body looked to me like the Car of the Future.

I couldn't afford one new, and none were available used yet, so I got a GM Credit Card, which earned points toward the purchase of the General's cars.

Of course I realized that, while my purchases were racking up GM points toward my dreamed-of Impala, GM was raising the price of the Impala to wipe out my incremental gains. There was just something about having the GM card, and the goal it represented, that appealed to me.

Then, one month, we were charged a late fee on the GM card, and my wife angrily cancelled it — wiping out my points in the process. By then I was — almost — grateful, as the blimp-like Impala had turned out to have no future appeal to anyone.

Eventually both my Dad and I would give up buying cars we actually wanted and just buy Japanese cars. This was a sort of spiritual surrender, akin to finally admitting that baldness is real.

No man ever said "Oh Boy! I'm going bald."

Few men have ever said "Finally, I own a Camry!"

Dad is gone now and, in my old age I no longer worry about what might be the Car of the Future. No need.

For entertainment, though, I enjoy looking back at the Cars of the Past. My friend Doug almost daily shares with me Craigslist ads he finds for emotionally appealing cars he knows neither of us will ever buy.

He came up with two today.

The first was a Ford Thunderbird, a "retro-bird" of the early 2000s, designed to appeal to guys our age. The price was low and the photographs showed it in the seller's man-cave garage.

Only two-seats and a tiny trunk, but it takes me back.

Doug wrote:

"The Pabst sign and Viet vet (license) plate are clues in this case. A younger and more intrepid buyer could take advantage (of the low price) but younger people apparently have no interest in these cars. That's the problem with nostalgia: you have to remember what it was about in the first place."

The second find was a heartbreakingly beautiful Jaguar S-Type, at an unbelievably low price. Another retro car, the Jaguar S-Type was evocative of the time-honored Jaguar Mark II.

Doug wrote:

"You could buy this Jag with change from lunch at McDonald's and throw it away along with the wrapper from your burger. Really, there'd be no need to worry about fixing anything. The only question is: Would you even get a week's amusement out of it?"

There was an extra note of nostalgia to that Jaguar: the dashboard odometer was broken, the seller admitted.

Of course it was. A younger me would have smiled in recognition.