Worst Car Showcase Presents: The Chevrolet Vega
The Vega could quite possibly be one of GM's worst efforts in the sub-compact car market in the history of the company. When GM and Chevrolet introduced the Vega models, which were a coupe (Hatchback), a sedan (Notchback), a two-door station wagon (Kammback), and a sedan delivery (Panel Express), all the way back in 1971, it was their poorly concerted answer to Volkswagen ass-engined Beetle, Ford's cheeky pint-sized rolling fireball, known as the Pinto, as well as the torrent of bland and dreary econo-boxes being shipped over from Japan by the bushel full. Yes, when it came to the era of disco and bell-bottom jeans, the Vega offered a level of downright crude horrors previously not seen at GM, as well as paving the way for the equally mediocre Vega-based Monza (not surprising), and it's eventual replacement, the Chevette.
Sure, the Vega looked like a sub-compact car suitable for the enthusiast on paper when it was new: it was rear-drive, it had a manual transmission available, and was relatively lightweight for it's era. It's because of those three credentials alone it has attracted many hot-rodders over the years wanting a cheap project to get them into the weekend drag races. But, make no mistake, when this car was new, it was about as far from an enthusiast model as you could get.
The Vega, for starters, had a four-cylinder engine, known as the 2300, notorious for it's poor fuel frugality, it's constant thirst for oil, it's tendency to self-destruct partially due to it's oil-a-holicism, and it's cooling troubles. And, above all else, there wasn't any version of the 2300 that could break the 100 net horsepower mark, meaning that even a rat running an exercise wheel could produce more brake horsepower than you could. As a result of this lack of any sort of real power, or lack of a real engine for that matter, you could crawl inch by painful inch to sixty miles an hour in a whole 12.2 seconds, which made rocking out to Europe something of a dreary task to tackle.
And even GM was aware that the Vega was no spring chicken, so they brought in Cosworth to fix the car's anemic acceleration woes. But not even mighty Cosworth with their racing expertise could fix this car's motivational deficiency. The Cosworth Vega managed to get-up-n-go in a scant 8.7 seconds, about a 3.5 second improvement. It was also about 500 dollars cheaper than a base Corvette at the time, which meant that, with what little money you had saved, you could go down to the gun store and buy a gun to shoot yourself in the foot with for not buying the better car. Because it was still too slow and now much too expensive for most anyone to afford, sales fell about 1,500 units short of the projected 5,000 units GM was hoping to sell.
To add insult to the already lengthy list of injuries, reliability was virtually nil and it was more prone to body corrosion than an Alfa Romeo sitting at the bottom of the Dead Sea.
The styling of early Vega were meant to mimic the early second-generation Camaros, then new at the time of the Vega's debut, with their Ferrari-inspired body lines and design cues. The 1974 update also attempted to continue this big-brother-little-brother relationship. But, in all honesty, given the Vega's bastardly tendencies, this relationship is anything but rosy red and should be view wholly as an insult to the Camaro.
It's hard to fathom that GM found two-million suckers that actually wanted to buy this car. You would've had a much better option in walking or taking the bus. To quote (and paraphrase) Mr. John Z. DeLorian on the car, it was a horrible product forced upon Chevrolet by GM management and had an engine that "looked like it had been taken off a 1920 farm tractor."