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Junkyard Gem: 1987 Chevrolet Turbo Sprint

Fifteen years ago, I wrote my first-ever automotive article under the name Murilee Martin, and it didn't take me long to start writing about one of my favorite automotive subjects: the junkyard. Before I'd refined my system for documenting discarded vehicles, however, I shot a lot of boneyard photos that never got used. For today's Junkyard Gem, I have four shots from early 2007 of one of the rarest turbocharged machines of the 1980s: the Chevrolet Turbo Sprint. The Chevrolet Sprint was really a rebadged Suzuki Cultus, from the pre-Geo era when General Motors sold the Isuzu Gemini as the Chevrolet Spectrum, the Daewoo LeMans as the Pontiac LeMans and the Toyota Corolla as the Chevrolet Nova (soon enough, the Spectrum became a Geo, and the Nova became the Prizm). The second-generation Cultus appeared in 1988, becoming the Geo Metro on our shores the following year. The Turbo Sprint was available for just the last two years of the Sprint's 1985-1988 American sales run, and it appears that just a couple of thousand were sold; if I'd known at the time just how rare they were, I'd have shot more photos of this one at the now-defunct Hayward Pick Your Part. The turbocharged 993cc three-cylinder produced 70 horsepower, 22 better than the naturally-aspirated version. Since the Turbo Sprint weighed just 1,620 pounds (that's about 500 pounds lighter than a barely more powerful '22 Mitsusbishi Mirage), it was plenty of fun to drive. For 1988, the regular Sprint hatchback cost $6,380 while the Turbo Sprint listed at $8,240 (that's about $15,375 and $19,855 today, respectively). Believe it or not, a Turbo Sprint actually raced in the 24 Hours of Lemons 10 years ago, though it didn't end well. This ad is for the regular Cultus, not the Cultus Turbo, but the screaming guitars sound reasonably turbocharged. For the most part, Chevy Sprint marketing was all about cheap purchase price and stingy fuel economy… at a time when gasoline prices were cratering. Related Video:

Impala SS vs. Marauder: Recalling Detroit’s muscle sedans 

Impala SS vs. Marauder — it was comparo that only really happened in theory. ChevyÂ’s muscle sedan ran from 1994-96, while MercuryÂ’s answer arrived in 2003 and only lasted until 2004. TheyÂ’re linked inextricably, as there were few options for powerful American sedans during that milquetoast period for enthusiasts. The debate was reignited recently among Autoblog editors when a pristine 1996 Chevy Impala SS with just 2,173 miles on the odometer hit the market on Bring a Trailer. Most of the staff favored the Impala for its sinister looks and said that it lived up to its billing as a legit muscle car. Nearly two-thirds of you agree. We ran an unscientific Twitter poll that generated 851 votes, 63.9 percent of which backed the Impala. Muscle sedans, take your pick: — Greg Migliore (@GregMigliore) April 14, 2020 Then and now enthusiasts felt the Impala was a more complete execution with guts. The Marauder, despite coming along later, felt more hacked together, according to prevailing sentiments. Why? On purpose and on paper theyÂ’re similar. The ImpalaÂ’s 5.7-liter LT1 V8 making 260 horsepower and 330 pound-feet of torque was impressive for a two-ton sedan in the mid-Â’90s. The Marauder was actually more powerful — its 4.6-liter V8 was rated at 302 hp and 318 lb-ft. The ImpalaÂ’s engine was also used in the C4 Corvette. The MarauderÂ’s mill was shared with the Mustang Mach 1. You can see why they resonated so deeply with Boomers longing for a bygone era and also captured the attention of coming-of-age Gen Xers. Car and DriverÂ’s staff gave the Marauder a lukewarm review back in ‘03, citing its solid handling and features, yet knocking the sedan for being slow off the line. In a Hemmings article appropriately called “Autopsy” from 2004, the ImpalaÂ’s stronger low-end torque and smooth shifting transmission earned praise, separating it from the more sluggish Mercury. All of this was captured in the carsÂ’ acceleration times, highlighting metrically the differences in their character. The Impala hit 60 miles per hour in 6.5 seconds, while the Marauder was a half-second slower, according to C/D testing. Other sites have them closer together, which reinforces the premise it really was the little things that separated these muscle cars. Both made the most of their genetics, riding on ancient platforms (FordÂ’s Panther and General MotorsÂ’ B-body) that preceded these cars by decades. Both had iconic names.

The story of the 2014 Chevrolet SS: "Luxury, power, refinement, handling"

Not including the women and men who built it, the 2014 Chevrolet SS has only been seen in person by a piddling number of people - fewer humans than would fill the gymnasium at a high school volleyball game. Not including the men and women who built it, no one has driven it. Even so, it is already saddled with two controversies: the way it looks and the way it shifts.
First to that shifting. Did we love the last Americanized Holden, the awesomely sportsome Pontiac G8 GXP, and its six-speed manual? Of course. Do we wish the SS came with a six-speed manual? Of course. But we'd like a toboggan to come with a manual transmission. We'd put a manual transmission on a weasel if we could because we're just wired that way; if it moves, it should come with a stick and a clutch. Or at least the option.
Let's climb down off the ledge, though. We haven't driven the SS and we have no idea how good (or not) the automatic is. And the Hobson's Choice in transmissions when it comes to sport sedans like the BMW M5, Mercedes-Benz E63 AMG and Jaguar XFR-S and, oh yeah, cars-that-really-should-have-manuals like the Audi R8 and Nissan GT-R and Porsche 918 and every single Lamborghini and Ferrari, for instance, hasn't stopped us from enjoying what is clearly the gruesome, dual-clutched demise of Western automotive civilization. Because in spite of our ululations at the dying of the six-speed light, we understand.