2005 PT Cruiser Turbo GT Convertible - Your Secrets Are Safe with Me

 

Whether you like or dislike a vehicle's styling, it doesn't matter what its design inspiration is. Case in point: with its outboard, suitcase-like fenders, Chrysler's PT Cruiser was intended as a throwback to cars of the 1930s; few cared, they liked it enough to buy it, were ambivalent towards it or had varying degrees of disdain for it dismissing it, at best, as another prime example of answering a question nobody asked. This one is a 2005 Turbo GT convertible I found for sale on Facebook Marketplace in North Royalton, Ohio, with an asking price of $4,200.

Introduced for the 2001 model year, the PT Cruiser was a sensation at first before it became, as is often the case, the punchline to a joke. It was a fashion-conscious vehicle of the moment that transcended its inspiration much in the same way Chevrolet's 1973–1977 Monte Carlo did. You tell someone their vehicle was throwback-inspired and they couldn't care less; they just liked it. Again, or not. 

Back when the lacquer topcoat on this little thing wasn't peeling, cars like the Mazda Miata, Volkswagen New Beetle, Chevrolet HHR (and SSR, to some extent), Ford Mustang and the PT were all the rage and had enough mainstream appeal that it didn't matter what their design inspiration was.

The problem with retro is, where do you go with it after the initial fervor dies down? Chrysler's answer was—and almost inexplicably so—to make a convertible version.

New for 2005, top up or down, this car does have a butch-ness the wagons didn't have; there never was a fixed-roof version of the two-door PT. I have to wonder if Chrysler had come out with these cars first, would I feel differently about them? As it is, and still to this day, all I see is a cutesy, manipulative design attempting to cash in on the hot retro-trend of the day. Nothing wrong with that, just don't ask me to join the party. 

Soon as the fervor cooled for them, they were disposable. A 1964½ Ford Mustang they were not, although in a 2000 article, the Los Angeles Times called the PT one of the most refreshing new car designs since the original Mustang. That may have been so but initial success is not indicative of future appreciation. 

Contemporary road-test reviews were generally benign, if somewhat inert. Above and beyond its styling, the PT Cruiser distinguished itself by being non-distinguishable. With a suspension tuned for as broad a market as possible, it wasn't particularly interested in doing anything better than expected. Based on Chrysler's taller derivative of the Neon architecture, if the PT Cruiser had anything going for it tangibly, it's that, for its size, it was remarkably practical.

Chrysler bragged that, on the wagons, its seats could be configured in 26 different ways. With the rear seats removed, the PT had an impressive amount of cargo space for its size. The rear seats could fold, tumble and be removed, while the front passenger seat could also fold flat. 

On the convertibles, depending on how honest the reviewer was, there was considerable shudder to the body despite efforts to reinforce of the structure. That big basket-handle-looking thing behind the front seats is what Chrysler called the sport bar. It was designed to add structural rigidity and provide rollover protection; it also helped deflect wind over the rear-seat occupants. So, technically, it's more than just a giant basket hoop. And if anything, it looks better than the hoop on the 1993–1996 Oldsmobile Cutlass Convertible.

They were also, at first, fairly underpowered. The original PT's best offering was Chrysler's 150-horsepower, 2.4-liter four-cylinder. Chrysler soon upped the ante, introducing a 215-horsepower turbocharged version for the 2003 model year. The high-output version eventually produced 220 horsepower, and the GT Convertible got that 220-hp engine paired with a Getrag five-speed manual.

Above picture is from e a 2008 PT, poster of the ad didn't provide pictures of the engine. 

And that's the power train our Facebook Marketplace gem here has. Excuse me as I avoid eye-contact with anyone and cover my face as I take this thing for a drive. 

For "just" $4,200, the prospective buyer gets a recent female college graduate's former car, which she used through high school and college. It has 120,000 miles on its 21-year-old ticker, along with lots of parts already replaced, including new motor mounts, newer shocks and front-end parts, new plugs, wires and headlights.

So, essentially, a perfect first car for a high-schooler or college-age student who needs cheap transportation—a beater with a heater, so to speak—that might, thanks to its 220 turbocharged horses, be something you can somewhat secretly have fun driving.

Your secrets are safe with me.

There's conflicting information about what the "PT" in PT Cruiser stands for. Chrysler used PT as the vehicle's platform designation, with the Neon associated with Chrysler's PL, or "Platform Low," architecture and the taller PT architecture becoming known as "Platform Tall." Chrysler also marketed the initials as standing for "Personal Transportation." Looks like some word jockey at Chrysler letter-smithed PT into a marketing-friendly phrase. 

Chrysler discontinued the PT Cruiser after the 2010 model year. Production ended in July 2010, after roughly 1.35 million had been built worldwide.

1962 Chrysler 300 Sport - Those Crazy (Good) old Chryslers!

With arguably the exception of the 1960 and 1961 “toilet seat” [Plymouth] Valiant and Dodge Lancer—and I'll throw the 1969–1973 full-size “fuselage” models into the mix as well—Chrysler had some crazy good designs from 1955 through 1973. None more fantastical, sorry, my blog, my opinion, than its 300 series of cars, which first debuted in 1955. Our well-worn Facebook Marketplace gem here is a 1962 Chrysler 300 Sport.

The Chrysler 300 began life in 1955 as an exclusive, high-performance two-door based on the New Yorker. More precisely, the C-300 used the New Yorker's two-door hardtop body, with some Windsor and Imperial design elements thrown into the mix. The original C-300 was followed by the 300B in 1956, the 300C in 1957 and so on through the 300L in 1965. There was no 300 “I” because Chrysler skipped the letter “I” to avoid having it confused with the number “1.”

There actually were plans for a 300M for 1966. An early proposal called for a 426-cubic-inch V-8, while a later version was to get the new 425-horsepower 426 Hemi. But Chrysler executives decided the letter cars had lost their exclusivity and canceled the project. From 1966 through 1969, there was still a Chrysler 300, but it was no longer part of the traditional letter series.

Then, in 1970, Chrysler resurrected the 300 name for the limited-production 300 Hurst. Despite the “H” in its name, this wasn't another letter car, nor did the H stand for “Hurst Shifter.” Hurst Performance helped turn the regular Chrysler 300 into a rather outrageous special edition, complete with a 440-cubic-inch V-8, distinctive white-and-gold paint scheme and other Hurst-specific goodies. Only about 500 were built.

The original C-300 was called the 300 because its 331-cubic-inch Hemi V-8 was rated at 300 horsepower, making it the most powerful American production car of its day. It was also very much a performance car, with Chrysler building it specifically with racing in mind. The C-300 went on to make quite a name for itself in NASCAR and other competition.

Chrysler hadn't necessarily planned on creating an ongoing “letter series” from the start, which probably helps explain some of the awkwardness of the naming scheme. The letters simply evolved into the way Chrysler identified each year's 300 as the series continued.

In an attempt to broaden the 300's appeal, Chrysler introduced a less expensive, non-letter 300 Sport like this for 1962. It was offered as a two-door hardtop, convertible and, for the first time in the 300 line, a four-door hardtop. The Windsor name was dropped from Chrysler's U.S. lineup for 1962, with the new 300 Sport taking its place while the Newport became the entry-level Chrysler.

While buyers could order the 300 Sport with some serious hardware—including a 413-cubic-inch V-8—the standard engine was the 305-horsepower, 383-cubic-inch V-8, which this car has. The optional 413 came in a 340-horsepower four-barrel version, while the 380-horsepower dual-four-barrel version from the 300H could also be ordered in the 300 Sport.

By 1962, the styling excesses of the late '50s had grown long in the tooth. These cars have sometimes been referred to as “plucked chickens,” a description supposedly used by outgoing Chrysler design chief Virgil Exner to describe the finless 1962 Chryslers. The big fins of the 1957 cars were gone, leaving what looked like a somewhat awkward transition between the wild Exner era and the more restrained designs that followed.

The famous Chrysler push-button automatic transmission controls, to the behind the steering wheel to the left, were still around in 1962, but Chrysler abandoned them for the 1965 model year in favor of more conventional column- or console-mounted shifters.

For sale out in bucolic Painesville, Ohio, a good thirty minutes east of Cleveland, the asking price is $5,500. Supposedly 120,000 miles on her 64-year-old ticker, it was parked back in 1992 and apparently hasn't moved since. The engine allegedly turns over, but to what degree it actually runs isn't disclosed.

Bet you a Kennedy half-dollar it does not run.

It doesn't look too bad, but not too good either, frankly. Still, it looks like it hasn't spent the last 34 years sitting in a grass field, either. There's rust, but nothing too immediately disconcerting. I mean, I wouldn't touch this thing with a pole of any length, but that's just me.

Despite the homely rims, this is a super-cool mid-century car. I'd rat-rod it, keeping the body as is.

Somewhat amazingly, given the price point and its apparent condition, the sale is pending.

From 1999 to 2004, Chrysler resurrected the 300-nameplate affixing it to an LH-series based sedan they called the 300M; picking up where the letter cars left off in 1965. From 2005 to 2023, a Chrysler 300 was a large sedan available in rear-wheel- and all-wheel-drive. 

1965 Rambler Marlin - Twin-Shift! (Twin, What?)

 

Oh, no. Not another Rambler Marlin. 

I know I don't need to further lament my feelings toward these funky—and not in a good way—cars American Motors came out with in 1965. This one popped up on Hagerty's auction site, and after cruising through the photos, I found something unique, different and interesting about it that makes writing another blog about these wretched cars worthwhile.

First, we review...

American Motors came out with the Marlin in 1965 as an answer, of sorts, to the Ford Mustang and Plymouth Barracuda, both of which had debuted in 1964. Fun fact: the Barracuda beat the Mustang to market, debuting on April 1, while the Mustang arrived on April 17.

The biggest difference between the Ford Mustang, Plymouth Barracuda and the Marlin was that, unlike Ford and Plymouth, which essentially based their new sporty cars on existing compact-car platforms, AMC President Roy Abernethy insisted that the Marlin seat six passengers. That meant designers and engineers were forced to use the larger Rambler Classic platform rather than the smaller Rambler American. 

To give rear-seat passengers adequate headroom, designers raised the rear portion of the roofline so they wouldn't have to sit back there with their necks bent forward.

The rest is history.

What makes this '65 Marlin blog-worthy, though, is its "Twin-Stick" floor-shift, three-speed manual transmission with overdrive.

As the name implies, the Twin-Stick has two shift levers. The lever on the left operates the three-speed manual transmission, while the lever on the right controls the overdrive.

The clever part is that the overdrive can be used with both second and third gears. That gives the driver five forward ratios: first, second, second-overdrive, third and third-overdrive. So, in theory at least, this is a five-speed manual transmission—although not in the conventional sense.

There was also an electric kickdown switch on top of the main shift lever. Hit it, and the car could instantly drop out of overdrive without the driver having to depress the clutch. That was handy when accelerating or passing.

If this sounds like a ton of work for the driver, well, yeah, it was. Even in a day and age when many cars came with manual transmissions, the Twin-Stick required a little more thought and coordination than a conventional three-speed.

Chevrolet offered a somewhat similar setup on Corvettes from 1984 through 1988. The Doug Nash 4+3 was a four-speed manual transmission with an electronically controlled overdrive that operated on second, third and fourth gears. It was clever in theory, but the system developed a reputation for being troublesome. Chevrolet replaced it in 1989 with a conventional ZF six-speed manual.

While similar-looking, the "Lightning Rod" shifters Oldsmobile sold on the 1983 and 1984 Hurst/Olds Cutlass models had nothing in common with the AMC Twin-Stick. The Hurst Lightning Rods controlled a four-speed automatic transmission and allowed drivers to manually control the upshifts. Or not.

American Motors offered the Twin-Stick across much of its lineup from 1963 through 1965, but apparently there weren't enough buyers willing to embrace the idea. AMC dropped it for 1966 and made a conventional Borg-Warner T-10 four-speed available instead.

AMC redesigned the Marlin for 1967, moving it onto the larger Ambassador platform. The longer front end made the fastback's proportions look considerably more balanced, but it didn't help sales much. AMC sold only 2,545 Marlins in 1967, and the company dropped the nameplate. 

Crawling From The Wreckage: 1965 Rambler Marlin - BOGO

Crawling From The Wreckage: 1965 Rambler Marlin - Raise The Roof

1972 VW Microbus - Damn Hippies

This 1972 VW Microbus popped up on Marketplace this morning for sale down in Akron, Ohio, maybe an hour southeast of the Triple Wide. Asking price is $23,000.

I can still hear my father snickering under his breath, "damn hippies," as we'd drive by long-haired people hanging out in the park next to our home on Long Island back in the late '60's and early '70's. He was convinced they were all part of the Manson family and were up to no good. That, and they were perpetually stoned and all drove Volkswagens, either Beetles or these things.

 

That stereotype was exacerbated in 1982's Fast Times at Ridgemont High, when Jeff Spicoli and company emerge from the pot-smoke cloud inside a 1967 VW Microbus. 

Doesn't matter if you're into cars and trucks or not, if you're of a certain age, you may appreciate these old Volkswagen "buses." People freak out over these things, and no doubt this one gets its fair share of turned heads and finger-pointing.

This one's a beaut, Clark, but she ain't original and unrestored. The restoration was done seven years ago, and I take it the wooden cabinetry was added then as well. I've never seen the passenger compartment of these things be the same on any two. There are no details on these handsome buckets, for certain this thing was not born with these.

Our jaunty Microbus here is part of the second generation of these things, which first debuted for the 1968 model year, although production began in 1967. The original Type 2 debuted in 1950. The first generation, now commonly called the T1, was the famous split-window Bus. The second generation, commonly called the T2 or "Bay Window," got a larger body, a single-piece curved windshield and a more modern chassis.

The terminology can get confusing. The 1950–1967 T1s are commonly called "Splitties" because of their split windshields. The 1968–1979 T2s are the Bay Windows, with the single-piece windshield like our '72 here has. The 1972 model is generally considered a T2b, or Late Bay.

Contemporary reviewers applauded its practicality and space efficiency; you can stuff a lot of stuff in this little bus, but they lamented its heavy, slow and vague steering, spongy brakes, rubbery shifter and bog-slow acceleration. And while these things were never going to win many drag races, the 1972 U.S.-spec Bus actually got a 1.7-liter Type 4 air-cooled flat-four rated at roughly 66–67 horsepower. Older T1's had engines that made little more than the 50 horsepower. 

Still, and for whatever reason, they left an indelible imprint on the public's psyche for one reason or another.

A 1979 Microbus was cast in Little Miss Sunshine, as perfectly cast a vehicle as there ever was. Five buses were actually used during filming, and the VW became almost a character in the movie itself.

1984 (or 1985) Nissan 200SX - She Might As Well Have Been My Mother

 

Funny how we associate old cars with certain people. This 1984 or 1985 Nissan 200SX popped up on Facebook Marketplace and took me back...back...back. Way back. The Facebook ad doesn't specify the year, although seeing that it doesn't have a CHMSL, it's probably safe to say it's not a 1986 or newer car.

If I recall correctly, her name was Suzanne, and she drove a brand-spanking-new, dark-blue, V-6-powered 1987 Nissan 200SX that she drove with the ferocity of the hellion she wanted to be seen as.

This one has the pokey 2.0-liter inline-four.

She was two, three, maybe four years older than me and was a manager working for the food-service company that ran the kitchen in the hospital where I worked part-time through college. She was a big flirt and flirted with me often. I never took any of it seriously; if she was flirting with God-forsaken me, who wouldn't she flirt with?

Besides, again, she was older than me and was, technically, my boss. The way I'm wired, she might as well have been my mother.

In a day and age when sports coupes actually sold well, Nissan's new-for-1984 200SX was a standout. Although lacking the brawn, per se, of a V-8- or even V-6-powered Camaro, Firebird or Mustang, there was a slick sophistication about these cars that the American "ponies" simply didn't have. They were also built to near-Swiss-watch standards and had a reputation for excellent build quality and reliability.

They didn't jiggle, creak, moan, groan or go clank, and they certainly didn't shimmy-shimmy. If the Japanese sports coupes lacked anything, though, it was styling that was somewhat staid, if not bland. These cars were better looking than most of them. They were also a click or two or three more expensive than the domestic triumvirate, but you got what you paid for.

The S12 was Nissan's version of the third-generation Silvia, and it was sold in North America as the 200SX from 1984 through 1988.

1984 was when Nissan was finally completing its transition away from the Datsun nameplate in North America. The 200SX was one of the transition cars, with early 1984 examples still carrying Datsun badging and later ones carrying Nissan badging. By 1985, the U.S.-market cars were Nissan-badged.

The 200SX name goes back quite a way here. The S10 Silvia was sold here as the Datsun 200SX from 1976 to 1979. Not surprisingly, given that it looks like a set piece from a Godzilla movie, it didn't sell particularly well here.

From 1980 to 1983, the S110 Silvia was sold here as the Datsun 200SX, a far comelier design that sold considerably better.

The S12's successor was badged as the Nissan 240SX and was sold here from 1989 through 1998. Note to self: Blog in the very near future about one of those beauties, especially a 1989 or 1990 notchback coupe.

Contemporary reviews of our Facebook Marketplace find here were mostly positive. They were noted for their fine ride, excellent handling and exceptional build quality. They were dinged, though, for their annoying voice-warning system: "Lights are on... lights are on. Fuel level is low... fuel level is low..." and so on.

The 102-horsepower, 2.0-liter four-cylinder, while fuel-efficient, didn't provide the kind of go its terrific styling would imply. There was also a 1.8-liter, 120-horsepower turbocharged four that upped the ante considerably, especially when paired with the slick-shifting five-speed. The turbo was offered in the fastback version of the 200SX.

Nissan's 160-horsepower, 3.0-liter V-6 became available for 1987 and 1988, and it was a game changer. Curiously, the V-6 was never available in the 240SX.

Our plain-Jane '84 or '85 here hasn't been on the road since the mid-1990s. The ad claims the interior is nice, which it is, and, ahem, "the rot's not too bad." It does have a five-speed, and the asking price is just $500.

I left that job slinging hash and cleaning grease chutes at the hospital shortly after I graduated from college in 1986. I never saw Suzanne again.

I've never forgotten her car, though.