'06 GTO going fast (see, trees are blurry?)
Why is that some cars, more often that not perfectly good ones, completely and utterly fail to ignite the car buying public’s passion? We’re talking here about cars which, on the face of it, tick all the right boxes, but which still never get the recognition or widespread following and acclaim which they, in theory, deserve.
Finding the answer to this question has become something of an obsession of mine, so I’ve decided to turn it into a series of blog posts. The first car in the series is, and this might not be too much of a surprise to some of you, the most recent incarnation of the Pontiac GTO. However, before I get too carried away with the car itself, let’s first take a look at the bigger muscle car picture.
Names like “Mustang”, “Camaro”, “Charger” and “GTO” have a huge cultural significance here in the States, a country where people form a life-long allegiance to a brand and to its muscle-bound contender. Amongst the muscle-car devotees there are even some who will make a snap-judgment about you based on which badge adorns the front of your car; if it’s the wrong one then at best they won’t speak to you, and at worst they’ll probably start hitting both you and your car with iron bars and bits of masonry.
Bearing in mind the passion that people have for these things, when it comes to the development and roll-out of a new version it must be arse-puckeringly stressful for the car company execs, designers and engineers involved; if the styling is too retro you alienate younger buyers, but yet if you don’t retain some of the styling cues of old you may well alienate the old faithful. If the engine is a little on the puny side you’ll alienate the hardcore drivers, but if it’s too hairychested you’ll scare off the poseur brigade who want something that will make them look good without killing them every time they drive it. Somewhat bizarrely, if you make the handling too good people will say it’s not a true muscle car, that it should only go in straight lines, and that if you try to corner aggressively it should hurl you backwards into a tree. On fire.
Clearly, then, with something as revered as some of America’s cultural icons you have to put on the kid gloves and proceed with extreme care.
In recent times the big boys of the car industry in the States seem to have taken their custodial duties a little more seriously. After a period which saw them try to pass-off some increasingly bland attempts at automotive muscleyness (look back at the 1990’s Mustangs and the 2000’s Camaros) they went back to the drawing board. They apparently remembered that with a muscle car it’s about raw power, noise and being cool. It’s about presence and emotions and connecting with some primeval, animal part of our brains and bellowing as loudly as your car as you both hurtle towards the horizon.
In this new age of muscle cars the blancmange-like shapes seen in the 80s and early 90s seem to have gone. First Ford gave the Mustang a much needed re-work and came up with something that ticked all the boxes: it looked good, sounded good, went quickly-but-not-too-quickly, was easily tune-able and spawned a rash of hotter versions from the likes of Roush, Shelby and Saleen. Then Dodge got in on the act with the awesomely retro and bellowy Challenger and Chevy added the trouser-tightenly good looking new Camaro. And somewhere in the middle was the Pontiac GTO.
Finding the answer to this question has become something of an obsession of mine, so I’ve decided to turn it into a series of blog posts. The first car in the series is, and this might not be too much of a surprise to some of you, the most recent incarnation of the Pontiac GTO. However, before I get too carried away with the car itself, let’s first take a look at the bigger muscle car picture.
Names like “Mustang”, “Camaro”, “Charger” and “GTO” have a huge cultural significance here in the States, a country where people form a life-long allegiance to a brand and to its muscle-bound contender. Amongst the muscle-car devotees there are even some who will make a snap-judgment about you based on which badge adorns the front of your car; if it’s the wrong one then at best they won’t speak to you, and at worst they’ll probably start hitting both you and your car with iron bars and bits of masonry.
Bearing in mind the passion that people have for these things, when it comes to the development and roll-out of a new version it must be arse-puckeringly stressful for the car company execs, designers and engineers involved; if the styling is too retro you alienate younger buyers, but yet if you don’t retain some of the styling cues of old you may well alienate the old faithful. If the engine is a little on the puny side you’ll alienate the hardcore drivers, but if it’s too hairychested you’ll scare off the poseur brigade who want something that will make them look good without killing them every time they drive it. Somewhat bizarrely, if you make the handling too good people will say it’s not a true muscle car, that it should only go in straight lines, and that if you try to corner aggressively it should hurl you backwards into a tree. On fire.
Clearly, then, with something as revered as some of America’s cultural icons you have to put on the kid gloves and proceed with extreme care.
In recent times the big boys of the car industry in the States seem to have taken their custodial duties a little more seriously. After a period which saw them try to pass-off some increasingly bland attempts at automotive muscleyness (look back at the 1990’s Mustangs and the 2000’s Camaros) they went back to the drawing board. They apparently remembered that with a muscle car it’s about raw power, noise and being cool. It’s about presence and emotions and connecting with some primeval, animal part of our brains and bellowing as loudly as your car as you both hurtle towards the horizon.
In this new age of muscle cars the blancmange-like shapes seen in the 80s and early 90s seem to have gone. First Ford gave the Mustang a much needed re-work and came up with something that ticked all the boxes: it looked good, sounded good, went quickly-but-not-too-quickly, was easily tune-able and spawned a rash of hotter versions from the likes of Roush, Shelby and Saleen. Then Dodge got in on the act with the awesomely retro and bellowy Challenger and Chevy added the trouser-tightenly good looking new Camaro. And somewhere in the middle was the Pontiac GTO.
Another '06 GTO, also going fast.
On paper this was a great addition to the 21st century muscle car line-up. First launched in 2004, it went through a number of minor changes and tweaks until in 2006 it wound up with a 6.0L LS2 V8 lump up front, which is the same one as you’ll find under the bonnet of the last gen Corvette, belting out 400bhp and 400lb/ft of torque. It had fully independent suspension and a reasonably good chassis, so it cornered surprisingly well. Its longish wheelbase meant that when (not if, make no mistake about that) the back end did start to let loose it was controllable and easy enough to gather it all up and not die crying for mummy. The 6-speed manual was, it has to be said, a little agricultural and needed a damn good yank to get from one gear to the next, but it added to the brawny, manly feel of the thing. As for the interior, the plastics were a little on the cheapo side but certainly no better or worse that those in the Mustang, the GTOs chief rival when it came out. It was certainly pretty roomy, with plenty of legroom front and back for the occupants of the four, deep, nicely bolstered bucket seats. Key point to remember, though, is that we are talking about a $30k car with $100k performance: 0-60mph in 4.7 seconds and a top speed of 185mph (as claimed by Pontiac and backed-up by a Car & Driver test), so you really were paying for the oomph, not the luxury.
And yet despite all of this it didn’t sell in anything approaching the numbers Pontiac and GM were expecting, averaging just over 13,000 cars a year, and so was quietly discontinued at the end of 2006. So what was wrong this car? Why did something which should have sold so well actually sell so badly? For the answer let’s take a look at a couple of factors we haven’t yet discussed.
Firstly, the styling; perhaps it just wasn’t GTO enough for the faithful, and for the poseurs it wasn’t as cool and retro as the Mustang. The car does look fairly unremarkable and is undeniably a far cry from the loud and brash styling of the Challenger, or the overly aggressive mobile snarl that is the face of the Camaro, although for me that’s part of the appeal. But then again, I am British and therefore have a natural aversion to loud, crass shouty looking things. They, on the other hand, are American.
Which brings me to another, deeper issue. For all the associations that go with the name and for all the history behind it, the GTO that Pontiac sold on these shores from 2004 to 2006 wasn’t actually a Pontiac. It wasn’t even American. Now pause here for a moment and consider the implications of that; GM had taken one of the most iconic muscle car names, one with some serious lineage behind it, and stuck it on an import. Can you imagine what would happen if Fiat took a Sebring from their new bed-fellow Chrysler and then chucked a Maserati badge on it? Quite.
Actually, that last analogy isn’t fair, because while the Sebring is a horrid, hateful thing, what you got with the GTO was actually a pretty decent rebadged Holden Monaro, a product of GMs Australian division, and one which was even sold in England under the Vauxhall badge. But, even though Holden do a good line in hairy, lairy saloons and coupes, no amount of hairyness and lairyness could hide the fact that it was a car designed by foreigners and built by foreigners, for foreigners. And when you’re talking about a muscle car with the GTO badge on it that just won’t do.
So perhaps that is the answer; the styling wasn’t “grrr” enough for the American muscle car buying public at a time when the other big boys in the block were getting all misty eyed and retro, and the car itself was lacking that all important “made in the good ol’ US of A” sticker.
However, while this car may have been under appreciated by the masses, it certainly isn’t unloved. There exists an almost cult-like following, a group of people for whom the styling is anything but bland, who will happily stop and compare notes on their beloved ‘Goats’, and who like the fact that it is something of a sleeper, capable of embarrassing other unsuspecting muscle cars, flashy roadsters and even the odd Carrera 2 at the lights. They know that out on the open road their car is more than happy to deliver a sound spanking to Mustangs and Challengers alike, and will even give the new Camaro a bloody good shooing, and love seeing the surprised looks on other drivers’ faces. They love and cherish ‘The Goat’ exactly because it is not a Mustang or a Camaro, and because it’s not ‘retro’ (I’ll be having a rant about that effing word another time). And, let’s be honest here, they love the fact that it goes like stink, bellows and roars when you floor it, and pops and bangs away like a mad thing on the over-run. It turns every journey into a smile-inducing event.
All of which is why I drive one, and why, as far as I am concerned and regardless of what anyone else may say, it is one of the un-sung heroes of the car world.
Oh, and as a parting shot, don’t tell the natives, but the new Camaro is another gussied up love-child of the Holden/GM tie-up, although this time it’s made in Canada, which, for your average American, is possibly even worse.
And yet despite all of this it didn’t sell in anything approaching the numbers Pontiac and GM were expecting, averaging just over 13,000 cars a year, and so was quietly discontinued at the end of 2006. So what was wrong this car? Why did something which should have sold so well actually sell so badly? For the answer let’s take a look at a couple of factors we haven’t yet discussed.
Firstly, the styling; perhaps it just wasn’t GTO enough for the faithful, and for the poseurs it wasn’t as cool and retro as the Mustang. The car does look fairly unremarkable and is undeniably a far cry from the loud and brash styling of the Challenger, or the overly aggressive mobile snarl that is the face of the Camaro, although for me that’s part of the appeal. But then again, I am British and therefore have a natural aversion to loud, crass shouty looking things. They, on the other hand, are American.
Which brings me to another, deeper issue. For all the associations that go with the name and for all the history behind it, the GTO that Pontiac sold on these shores from 2004 to 2006 wasn’t actually a Pontiac. It wasn’t even American. Now pause here for a moment and consider the implications of that; GM had taken one of the most iconic muscle car names, one with some serious lineage behind it, and stuck it on an import. Can you imagine what would happen if Fiat took a Sebring from their new bed-fellow Chrysler and then chucked a Maserati badge on it? Quite.
Actually, that last analogy isn’t fair, because while the Sebring is a horrid, hateful thing, what you got with the GTO was actually a pretty decent rebadged Holden Monaro, a product of GMs Australian division, and one which was even sold in England under the Vauxhall badge. But, even though Holden do a good line in hairy, lairy saloons and coupes, no amount of hairyness and lairyness could hide the fact that it was a car designed by foreigners and built by foreigners, for foreigners. And when you’re talking about a muscle car with the GTO badge on it that just won’t do.
So perhaps that is the answer; the styling wasn’t “grrr” enough for the American muscle car buying public at a time when the other big boys in the block were getting all misty eyed and retro, and the car itself was lacking that all important “made in the good ol’ US of A” sticker.
However, while this car may have been under appreciated by the masses, it certainly isn’t unloved. There exists an almost cult-like following, a group of people for whom the styling is anything but bland, who will happily stop and compare notes on their beloved ‘Goats’, and who like the fact that it is something of a sleeper, capable of embarrassing other unsuspecting muscle cars, flashy roadsters and even the odd Carrera 2 at the lights. They know that out on the open road their car is more than happy to deliver a sound spanking to Mustangs and Challengers alike, and will even give the new Camaro a bloody good shooing, and love seeing the surprised looks on other drivers’ faces. They love and cherish ‘The Goat’ exactly because it is not a Mustang or a Camaro, and because it’s not ‘retro’ (I’ll be having a rant about that effing word another time). And, let’s be honest here, they love the fact that it goes like stink, bellows and roars when you floor it, and pops and bangs away like a mad thing on the over-run. It turns every journey into a smile-inducing event.
All of which is why I drive one, and why, as far as I am concerned and regardless of what anyone else may say, it is one of the un-sung heroes of the car world.
Oh, and as a parting shot, don’t tell the natives, but the new Camaro is another gussied up love-child of the Holden/GM tie-up, although this time it’s made in Canada, which, for your average American, is possibly even worse.
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