Legacy of the Fiero

A 1985 Pontiac Fiero heard it all during the annual West End Cruise Night in Long Branch, NJ yesterday.  While proudly parked alongside classics and other eye-catching cars as bands played music from the 1950s and 1960s, the black plastic-body, five-speed mid-engine coupe overheard the following comments from passersby:

"I had an '88 six-cylinder with the Lotus suspension. Best car I ever had. Absolutely loved it. My ex-wife took it and left it running in Spanish Harlem and jumped on a subway. The NYPD called me 29 days later and told me they found it, in pretty bad shape. Yours is one of my top four cars in this show."

"Frank had a Fiero."

"They came in four cylinders and six cylinders. They came and went. The six cylinders were fast."

"Look -- a Fiero. I didn't think there was any of them left around."

"How many years have you had it?  Twenty-nine?  Wow, most people here have only had their cars three years or so.  Is that the original paint?  Looks good!  Is it automatic?  Oh wow, it's a stick shift!

"Look, a Fiero. It's so cute."

"Five speed!"

"Remember those?"

"I had this exact car, an '85 Fiero."

"I worked on these cars.  It was my first job."

"Someone had one of these. A neighbor."

"I was told they run hot."

"Look, Mary, here's your car. I had an Indy."

"You can take off all the panels and completely customize it."

"It has the vents in the back because it gets hot."

"I've had an '87 for eight years. I've been changing it a lot, but now I wish I kept it all original. Take it to more shows."

"What is this car?"

"Oh, a Fiero! 1985."

"2m4! I had an 86 with a six-cylinder. I am a Fiero conneseur."

"I worked at a Pontiac dealer when they came out. They had a lot of recalls. Yours looks really good."

"That is so cool."

"Remember when you had a Fiero, Steve? You tried to trade it in at Reedman's."

"When we were teenagers. Yeah, that's when they came out."

"That was her first car."

"Look, a Pontiac Fiero."

"I had one of these. It was the worst car ever made. It had a lot of problems and was recalled a lot."

"Is this yours? I love sports cars. I always loved this car."

"A Pontiac Fiero. Wow!"

"A death trap. My sister had one. Had an accident, plastic shattered all over the place."

"It's amazing. These cars don't exist any more. A Fiero."

"Look at that, a Fiero."

Feel free to add your comments about the legacy of the Pontiac Fiero.

25 years with a Fiero

When I rolled a 1985 Pontiac Fiero into the driveway shortly after purchasing it in late September 1985, a teenage neighbor excitedly said, “Wow! A sports car!”

Well, not quite. The Fiero was sporty-looking, but ours came with a four-cylinder engine that turned out a modest 98 horsepower. These were more readily available, fuel-efficient and affordable than the better performing six-cylinder Fieros, so when GM offered low-interest financing to clear showrooms for new 1986 models, my wife and I made our move on a hard-to-find black five-speed manual transmission Fiero. We always liked the Fiero’s distinct looks and were attracted to their plastic bodies, which didn’t dent and wouldn’t rust.

I told Craig, the Queen City Pontiac salesman, I didn’t want the dealer advertisement on the car. “Ah, and some people say I drink too much,” he told me when I picked up the car, and discreetly pulled off the sticker before I drove home, smiling as Stevie Wonder’s “Part-time Lover” played on the radio.

I was back several times during the next few years, sometimes for one minor problem or another or an oil change and tire rotation, and a couple of times for recalls. Mike, the raspy voiced service manager who smoked too much, got to know me by first name, which probably wasn’t a good thing. Nick, our local Bloomfield mechanic, also got to know me on a first-name basis after replacing the clutch -- shortly after the warranty ran out, of course.

My wife learned to drive a manual transmission on the Fiero, which proved a nerve-wracking (and linkage-pin breaking) experience for her. It was normally, however, the car I commuted to work with on the Garden State Parkway. My most memorable experience was driving five hours on Route 22 during a fierce January 1987 snowstorm. The mid-engine Fiero did just fine while other cars whined and struggled, and I knew we would be together a long time.

I occasionally would put a car seat in the Fiero and run errands with my young son, sometimes taking him to his pre-kindergarten class in it. To prevent dirt on the bottom of his shoes from scuffing the Fiero’s passenger seat, I would place a small towel under his car seat. Twenty years later, I still have that towel in the Fiero, under the passenger seat. I can’t imagine, though, a parent of any 3- or 4-year old letting their child ride in a Fiero today.

Shortly after our second son was born, our family acquired its first minivan, and the Fiero became the third set of wheels in our fleet. That meant my wife and I drove it only once or twice a week, when we felt like it. On other days, it napped in the garage, while our newer, more practical cars jealously hung out in the driveway, getting wet in the rain or baked by the sun. Today, our other cars and some other drivers have come to respect the Fiero, which I roll out to the bus station or gym about once a week. I have the oil changed every year in a Monroe service garage by Chris, who never looks forward to it for some reason.

My two sons still haven’t driven the Fiero that’s older than them, even though they’ve mastered the manual transmission of a 2006 Scion tC that dad encourages them to drive occasionally. They seem afraid of the Fiero, perhaps fearing they will break it. “It’s going to be yours one day before too long if you want it,” I tell them. “You might as well start driving it.”

“Long may you run., long may you run.
Although these changes have come…”

(above photo) New Fiero with under-30 Charley in autumn 1985