1986 Suzuki Samurai Tin Top 1.6l on 2040-cars

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2019 Suzuki Jimny First Drive Review | Internet darling, real-world riot

FRANKFURT — Imagine a Mercedes G-Wagen hit with an incredible shrinking ray, and you'll not be far short of the new fouth-generation Suzuki Jimny, last sold in North America in the mid-1990s as the Samurai. The resemblance is astonishing, but there's enough of the Land Rover Defender, Toyota FJ, Honda Element and Jeep Wrangler in there, too, to keep Merc's copyright lawyers sitting on their hands. Cute as a family of otters in your bath, the new Jimny's proving the social-media hit of the fall, with online fan clubs starting, splintering and re-forming as they argue over which of the six new body colors is their favorite. Yet Jimny's no style pony. That lime green 'Kinetic Yellow' color might be the ultimate urban accessory, but it's formulated to make this tiny utility stand out in bad weather and on building sites. And in a world of fragile multi-clutch-based all-wheel-drive crossovers, Jimny is the real deal: body-on-frame construction, coil-sprung solid axles with three-link location at the rear and a panhard rod at the front, and a transfer-box set of crawler gears. And with entry, exit and breakover angles and ground clearance to rival that of a mountain ibex; this is a proper all-terrain automobile, just at five-eighths scale. It all started of course with Hope: the Japanese Hope Motor Company. Its OM360 was a 1960s Lilliputian take on the World War II Willys MB Jeep. Suzuki bought the design from Hope, and relaunched it with a new engine in 1970 as the first Jimny. Through three generations and 48 years, Jimny's been called variously: SJ; LJ; Farm Worker; Samurai; Gypsy; and Sierra. It's been rebadged as a Mazda and a Maruti, and has sold a total of 2.85 million across 194 countries, including at one time America, though the company pulled out of the U.S. car market in 2012. The outgoing third-generation Jimny had lost its way with a bland, wind-cheating design. The new Jimny is back to basics. Shortened by 1.2 inches, it's now 143.5 inches long, 64.8 inches wide, 67.9 inches high and runs on an 88.6-inch wheelbase. These bonsai dimensions are dictated by the Japanese Kei car, a size and taxation class aimed at tight urban spaces. The new car also gets a stronger, cross-braced ladder frame under the separate body isolated on eight rubber bobbins.

Junkyard Gem: 1991 Geo Metro LSi Convertible

Beginning in 1985, General Motors brought over Suzuki Cultuses and sold them here with Chevrolet Sprint badges, which Americans bought in surprisingly large numbers (considering the crash in fuel prices around that time). When the time came for The General to launch a separate brand selling rebadged Japanese machines— Geo— the second-generation Cultus became the Geo Metro. Sporting a fuel-sipping three-cylinder engine, the Metro mostly sold to penny-pinchers interested only in cheap commutingÂ… but GM decided to make a fun convertible version, anyway. Here's one of those cars, finally retired near Denver at age 30. The 1991 Metro hierarchy started with the El Cheapo base and XFi models, at $6,795 (about $13,810 today), then moved up to the better-equipped LSi. The LSi hatchback coupe cost $7,795 ($15,840 in 2021), while the LSi convertible stood at the top of the Metro pyramid at $9,740 ($19,795 now). Believe it or not, Ford managed to undercut the 1991 Metro with its Mazda-built Festiva, priced at $6,620 in its cheapest form. You could buy a Suzuki-badged version of this car, known as the Swift, and the Swift GT had a screaming four-cylinder engine. 1995 and later Metros also had the option of a four-banger, but a 1.0-liter three-cylinder was the only engine available in the 1991 Geo Metro. If you wanted to get close to 60 highway miles per gallon, the Metro XFi had a specially-tuned 1.0 that delivered, though it sent a mere 49 horsepower to the front wheels (the last new car available in the United States with under 50 horsepower— including highway-legal EVs— was the 1993 Metro XFi, by the way). The engine in today's Junkyard Gem was rated at 55 horses. A five-speed manual transmission was standard equipment in every 1991 Metro, though a thoroughly miserable three-speed slushbox could be had for $465 extra (about $945 today). Because most Metro buyers wanted fuel economy first and foremost, automatic Metros are rare (though I have managed to find one in a boneyard). How many total miles? The five-digit odometer means we'll never know. The 1991 Metro convertible came from Japan, but all the others sold here that year were built in Canada. Today, that plant builds the Chevy Equinox. A new convertible for less than 10 grand was a steal in 1991, when a new Mercury Capri convertible cost $12,588.

Question of the Day: Most heinous act of badge engineering?

Badge engineering, in which one company slaps its emblems on another company's product and sells it, has a long history in the automotive industry. When Sears wanted to sell cars, a deal was made with Kaiser-Frazer and the Sears Allstate was born. Iranians wanted new cars in the 1960s, and the Rootes Group was happy to offer Hillman Hunters for sale as Iran Khodro Paykans. Sometimes, though, certain badge-engineered vehicles made sense only in the 26th hour of negotiations between companies. The Suzuki Equator, say, which was a puzzling rebadge job of the Nissan Frontier. How did that happen? My personal favorite what-the-heck-were-they-thinking example of badge engineering is the 1971-1973 Plymouth Cricket. Chrysler Europe, through its ownership of the Rootes Group, was able to ship over Hillman Avanger subcompacts for sale in the US market. This would have made sense... if Chrysler hadn't already been selling rebadged Mitsubishi Colt Galants (as Dodge Colts) and Simca 1100s as (Simca 1204s) in its American showrooms. Few bought the Cricket, despite its cheery ad campaign. So, what's the badge-engineered car you find most confounding? Chrysler Dodge Automakers Mitsubishi Nissan Suzuki Automotive History question of the day badge engineering question