I know it's wrong to want to punch a 79 year-old man, but after spending an afternoon with this Corvair, I kind of want to take a swing at Ralph Nader. I know he's not the only reason why Corvairs never really caught on, but that doesn't make it any less of a shame. Because this little red bathtub is a gem.
This well-maintained 1962 Corvair is owned by Michael Jasionowski, who goes by "Yoshi." Yoshi is only the third owner of the car, and thanks to careful stewards before him, knows the car's history very well. It was bought by a soldier for his wife before he was to be shipped off to Korea — which never actually happened. The wife got both the car and her husband, and in the case of the car at least, treated it like her prized possession.
No one else was allowed to drive the Corvair, and the car was immaculately kept and maintained, which explains its remarkably original condition today. Even though it's never had a comprehensive restoration, it's solid enough that Yoshi uses it as his only daily driver.
It's in great shape and looks about perfect from 10 feet away, but on closer inspection, there's plenty of little flaws. And that's just how it should be. Yoshi considered spending a lot on a new paint job and more, but realized that the worry factor goes up exponentially, and then he'd be less inclined to drive the car all over the place. I think it's at that sweet spot now, where it looks good but if you get some rock chips or roll your chilidog under the seat you won't have an aneurism.
Yoshi also has a nice white '68 Corvair convertible, with the updated suspension and body style, which is for sale if anyone's interested. Just ask in the comments, and I'm sure a test drive can be arranged.
Using a 50-year old car as a daily is a bold move for anyone, and as many of us know, old cars can be pretty demanding. But that's exactly where the Corvair really surprised me. I'm used to driving 40+ year-old cars around as daily drivers. I'm used to putting up with a bit less comfort and a good bit more hassle just to get around, because, dammit, it's worth it.
But the Corvair proved to be one of the most effortless, relaxing cars I've driven in a long time, new or old. I think it's because of the Corvair's rather unique blend of European technology and design and American standards of comfort and ease. That transatlantic pairing has existed before, but usually in high-end cars targeted at performance and luxury.
This Corvair is basically the Porsche/VW formula (air-cooled flat rear engine, light construction) along with period American traits (roomy interior, couch-like seats, two-speed Powerglide automatic) and the result of that mash-up is a car that's incredibly easy, pleasant and refreshing to drive. I'm not kidding, after driving it around I felt like I just had a nice nap.
If this is how Unsafe at Any Speed feels, then I think I just became a big fan of unsafety.
Exterior 8/10
There's probably no car more influential in 60s-era car design than the first-gen Corvair. Coming out of the Baroque excesses of the 50s, the Corvair is a remarkably clean, crisp, and handsome design. It's not breathtaking in the way an E-Type is, but it's deeply satisfying, with its rational proportions, smart creases, and subtle, elegant detailing.
If you think about all the cars that cribbed the Corvair's basic design, it becomes clear how influential it really was. Let's go down the list: NSU Prinz, BMW Neue Klasse (1600, 2002, etc), Hillman Imp, Fiat 1300/1500, VW Type III Ghia, Simca 1000, Renault R8, even the Soviet Zaporozhets 968. And there's more. This simple, straightforward design language was a big deal.
In convertible form, like Yoshi's, the simple, tub-like shape works very well. The windshield has an interesting little kink in the lower third, and the thin windshield pillars and any lack of roll bars or even headrests means that the effect from inside with the top down is remarkably like driving a motorized bathtub. And it's great.
The little bit of chrome detailing around the car adds some nice jewelry to pop from the vivid red, and, interestingly, if you look at all the badges you'll notice that every single one of them seems to employ an entirely different typographic treatment.
That would never stand today, all those scripts and serifs and sans-serifs and all caps and lower case letters battling it out, but here it's just charming. I also really like the subtle afterburner look of the four round taillamps, and the restrained trim treatment on the front, which must have been difficult for designers used to big, massive grilles.
Interior 7/10
Like the outside, the interior is unfussy and handsome. The dash is a great example of clean 60s minimalism, with a grid-like pattern of polished and matte stripes on the metal parts, a few metal pull-knobs, and a wide ribbon speedo. The steering wheel is a spindly, willowy thing with a lovely little semi-circular horn ring. It feels fragile, but the airy, light quality matches the overall tone of the car remarkably well.
And I love this little Corvair insignia thing in the center of the wheel. What is that on top of the 'o' there — a leaf? A Zulu warrior's shield? An arrowhead? I have no idea, but I love it.
The front seats are almost buckets, but not quite. They're more of a divided bench, which is, of course, very American. They're low-backed, which in a convertible is great for making everything feel incredibly open. There's a good amount of leg room in the front, and a reasonable amount in back as well.
The boxy shape of the Corvair means that the interior space is pretty damn good considering how small the car is, and the same goes for the front-mounted trunk. It's wide and surprisingly deep. The spare tire can be held either up front (which helps with some weight distribution issues) or in the rear, over the engine on a special holder if you need more room for luggage up front.
Yoshi's car had the interior metal parts painted black, but originally those would be body colored, something which he's considering putting it back to when he gets the chance.
Acceleration 5/10
The 2.4L twin-carb flat-6 in these first-generation (non-turbo) Corvairs made a modest but respectable 80 HP. With the manual transmission, I suspect these cars would be reasonably quick in the right circumstances, and for the era. But the lazy, two-gear Powerglide does do a lot to urinate into the cornflakes of speed.
It's not lightning off the line, but this Corvair isn't woefully sluggish, either. Acceleration is gradual but steady, and you can get onto the highway and merge and make 70 MPH without much drama at all. Once at speed, the engine holds it just fine, and never seemed to be straining.
This isn't the Corvair I'd pick to go racing in, but for general around-town and even highway driving, it does just fine.
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