Shortly after graduating from college in the spring of 1996, I packed up everything I had into my beloved but terminal 280ZX and set out to start a new life in the Pacific Northwest. For my move to Seattle, a new ride was needed, which ended up being today’s subject: a 1982 Dodge Rampage, a vehicle whose oddball qualities I had always found endearing.
Seattle was the “it” town at that time. The Grunge movement, led by bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden, had launched the city into the national zeitgeist earlier in the decade. Pop culture followed, with notable movies and TV shows such as Sleepless in Seattle, Frazier, and Singles featuring the city’s picturesque cityscape and cozy coffeehouse culture. Business was also booming, as it transitioned from a blue-collar town with a few large industrial operations (Boeing, Paccar, and Scott Paper) into the tech hub it is today. It seemed everyone was swimming to Seattle, including me.
A recap: I had decided to swim to Seattle to escape my greatest failure, and to hopefully find a gainful career in a city that seemed to be full of opportunity. Before I did that, though, I needed to find a car that could get me safely to and from work. The Z could have soldiered on for a while, but Dad counseled me to dump it as soon as possible due to severe structural rust. My challenge was that I had virtually no money, having spent most of my meager savings just to get across the country. Luckily my brother, who let me bunk up with him and his family until I got settled, knew of something that might fit the bill for very little money.
The Dodge Rampage was a vehicle that always held an appeal to me, as I’ve always liked things that were a bit oddball and unfashionable. The Rampage certainly met those criteria. Available for just 3 model years between 1982 and 1984, Chrysler produced a scant 37,401 of these quirky little car-based pickups, plus another 3,564 of its 1-year-only counterpart, the 1983 Plymouth Scamp. When my brother mentioned the Rampage, I was immediately interested. I had mental visions of the sporty-looking, tape-striped version with “2.2” proudly stamped on its hood and flanks, and was hopeful that the vehicle was in decent condition.
The Rampage has been covered here more frequently than you would expect, considering its short and shallow production run. To summarize, it was created to compete directly with the Subaru BRAT and Volkswagen Pickup (Caddy in other markets), and to offer a smaller and more efficient alternative to the venerable Chevy El Camino. Chrysler’s decision to greenlight this vehicle was surely informed by the continuing popularity of the Chevy and the decent initial sales figures of the Subaru and VW. Unfortunately for Chrysler, sales of all three had started a precipitous decline by the time the Rampage hit showrooms.
Regardless, it was an inexpensive engineering job, leveraging the drivetrain and front suspension from the Omni/Horizon twins and front clip and doors from the Omni 024, while the rear leaf-spring suspension, side windows, and unibody roof and bed were unique to this vehicle. The only available engine was the earliest version of Chrysler’s long-running K-series ‘Trenton’ 2.2 liter inline 4, producing 84 hp in its preliminary, SOHC, carbureted incarnation, mated to either a 4-speed manual or three-speed TorqueFlite (a 5-speed manual was introduced in 1983). The final product was 183.8 inches long on a 104.2 inch wheelbase, coming in at 14 inches longer than the BRAT, but about a foot and a half shorter than the Chevy. Its load capacity of 1145 lbs was only about 100 lbs less than that of the El Camino, making it an honest half-ton pickup.
When my brother and I went to test drive the car-truck, I was a bit disappointed with what I found. There were no racy tape stripes or simulated scoops, and no flashy red and orange paint scheme. This one was the plainest of Janes, sporting the then-ubiquitous shade of file-folder beige that I can only describe as ‘manila’. She was, however, in decent nick. Her body was mostly straight and free of any significant bumps. The bed, though clearly used, was not abused. The paint was good other than some fading and cracking on the soft nose cap, though the flat black paint on the front bumper had retreated, allowing raw yellow plastic to peek through around the borders. Overall, her appearance was better than acceptable. The simple interior, too, was in decent condition. The seats sported a multi-colored tweedy material that was rugged and showed no tears or excessive wear. I was pleased, also, to find three pedals and a long, floor mounted shifter that would make this a little more enjoyable to drive than the slushbox-equipped Omnirizons that were so common among my high school friends.
Upon driving the truck and finding it in good working order, we agreed on a price of $1000. While this was more than fair, it was about $900 more than I had readily available after selling the Z for $ to the local scrapyard for $100. I then made the imprudent but completely necessary decision to use a credit card cash advance to make the purchase. I can recall the look on the bank teller’s face when she processed the advance, as if to say, “I hope this young man learns to make better money choices.” She wasn’t wrong, but I needed both a job and a way to get to and from that job, so I did what I had to do.
The little truck proved itself useful as I set up my new life in Seattle. I had taken the only job my history degree qualified me for — as a shoe salesman at Big 5 Sporting Goods. After about 2 months of sleeping on my brother’s couch and commuting 35 miles each way from Marysville to Bellevue in some of the country’s worst traffic, I secured an apartment in the downtown Seattle district called First Hill, known locally as ‘Pill Hill’ due to its concentration of hospitals. The location was ideal as it was walkable to most of the city’s attractions, including the Kingdome for Seahawks and Mariners games. The pickup was great for picking up everything I needed to furnish my new 13th-floor studio apartment, and it was economical for commuting and running back up to Marysville for frequent visits with my brother’s family.
That first winter, just before Christmas, Seattle experienced a full foot of snow. The city was completely paralyzed as it had scarcely any snow removal equipment and the locals were not versed in winter driving. While the snow was still falling, an articulated city bus tried to climb the hill beside my building. It made it less than halfway up the hill before losing grip and sliding backward into a jackknife. Less than an hour later, another bus came along and its driver figured he could do what the other could not. He couldn’t. For almost a full week, those two buses blocked the hill until the snow receded enough for the buses to get traction.
It didn’t really matter, though, as hardly any cars were on the untreated and uncleared streets anyway. The little Dodge, though, was undaunted. With most of its 2300 lbs directly over its skinny-tired drive wheels, it was the best two-wheel-drive snow car I’ve ever experienced. Since I had learned to drive in the Northeast, I was in my comfort zone. I spent much of that week driving around Seattle simply because I could.
It did have one feature set that made it less than ideal for Seattle, at least when there were other drivers on the road. Anyone familiar with Seattle knows that it is built on six rather steep hills. With barely over 100 lb-ft of torque, a manual transmission, and a somewhat tired clutch, navigating those hills in traffic proved challenging. Driving from the waterfront area up Spring St to my apartment on Madison Ave was a sawtooth affair — a steep climb between cross streets, then a leveling off as you crossed the intersection, followed by another steep climb. If the light caught you at the top of one of those climbs, you would find yourself waiting for the light while staring straight up at the sky. I seemed to get caught in that position frequently, and almost always with another driver not more than a couple of feet off my bumper. The underpowered Rampage would require a fair bit of clutch slippage to get moving on those hills without risking a stall, and more than once the car behind me served as a bump stop before I could gather enough friction and RPMs to establish forward momentum.
About a year into my Seattle experience, the leasing agent at my apartment building, who had become one of my small handful of local friends, stopped me to ask if I had met “The New Guy.” She said he was from Pennsylvania – she thought near me — and that he had moved out there for a few months just so he could go to Seahawks games. This was shocking to her, as most Seattleites had given up on the ‘Hawks after a long period of poor ownership and uncompetitive teams. The pecking order at the time was:
- The Griffey-era Mariners
- The Kemp/Payton-era Sonics
- The “U-dub” Huskies
- The Seahawks
I met the new guy later that week. His name was Jason, and he indeed lived about 20 minutes from me back in PA. He had rented the furnished apartment below mine for four months, and his season seat at the Kingdome was within shouting distance of mine. We were instant friends, spending most of our free time together. I even got him a role at my place of work doing odd jobs for the season. What started as a bonding over our shared fandom became a brotherhood that would span the next 23 years.
My time in Seattle was truly a mixed bag, as was the Rampage. Beyond meeting Jason, I was able to grow closer to my brother and his wife and two sons. I moved on from my Al Bundy role at Big 5 to working in sales for a local label printer. To make ends meet, I also took a part time job bussing tables at Ivar’s Salmon House, a Seattle institution on the north end of Lake Union. Recognizing that I was going to need to go back to school to get a more marketable degree, I had also started taking a few MBA prerequisite courses at nearby Seattle Central Community College.
Beyond sporting events, I spent weekends mountain biking on some epic PNW trails, or exploring Seattle’s quirky neighborhoods. Jason and I made a habit of walking down to Pike Place Market on nice Saturday mornings to grab a bite, and I would often go for a run near the University or around the Green Lake area. Beyond those highlights, this was truly my time in the wilderness. Seattle was expensive, and I was making barely more than enough to make rent and feed myself. I had no real career prospects, I had racked up some credit card debt – often for basic needs – and beyond Jason I had made no connections or friends that were more than acquaintances.
Before I met Jason, I had considered moving home to PA once the football season ended. While meeting him closed the deal, doing so in the Rampage would not be likely. In the 18 months I owned the Dodge, I replaced the U-joints, clutch, and alternator. It had also developed a nasty habit of overheating and boiling over if stressed. A long highway run or ride up into the mountains would inevitably end with a pool of steaming coolant under the 2.2. This happened enough times that I knew there was likely to be at least a new radiator and a top end rebuild necessary. A couple of months before the trip, I set out to find something a little more reliable for the drive, figuring this would give me time to sort any issues before the trip.
The Rampage served me reasonably well for the short time I owned it. It was an honest, useful little trucklet and I truly liked it, but I didn’t trust it. I chose to leave it and that season of my life back in Seattle. Something more trustworthy and familiar would get me back to PA, so that I could, once again, start over.
Related CC Reading
Curbside Classic: 1982 Dodge Rampage – No Thanks; We Like Our Pickups Extra Large
Cohort Classic: 1984 Dodge Rampage – Iacocca Swings… And Misses
Curbside Classic: 1983 Dodge Rampage – Is The Compact Truck Making a Comeback?
CC Outtake: Dodge Rampage – Losing The Battle To Big Pickups and Moss
My Grandfather had a Black one of these. I guess it did him ok. This was mid 80’s and I was “way too cool” to like any cars that were “current” and front wheel drive.
Around 1992 I owned a Plymouth Horizon this exact “Manilla folder Yellow” color. (I just called it yellow).
Timing belt went on it. Replaced belt and sold the car a few months later.
My Dad also had a black one for several years, sharp looker with red pinstripes, machined-face turbine-style alloy wheels, alloy bedside rails, and a vinyl tonneau cover over the bed, even came with a nice (albeit lower-end) Alpine tape deck and amp. Did all the hauling duty he needed as a homeowner and volunteer church groundskeeper, meanwhile serving as a stylish, economical, peppy and nice-handling work commuter and household second vehicle.
It met its end one evening when he drove it the ~120 miles to pick me up from college for a weekend visit home, and the clutch started slipping. We decided to take the gamble that it might hold out long enough to get back home, so we hit the freeway with a full tank of gas and a light touch on the go pedal. It was losing so much power to the slippage that we had to tank up again partway back, so we picked an exit with gentle ramp slopes, filled up, and got back on the road. On the outskirts of town we had to pick a different exit than usual with a roundabout route to our neighborhood, to avoid the long, steep hill along our usual short route, but we just barely made it home and got it parked at the end of the driveway. By then it had a badly leaking power steering rack and advancing rust, so Dad decided it wasn’t worth paying someone to fix the clutch, instead listing it for sale as a “mechanic’s special”, and that was the end of our Rampage COAL story.
Had I been looking for a new car in those years, I would have looked hard at a TC-3 or an O24, so I found these appealing by extension. Though I will confess that the pale yellow paint and tan interior on your example was perhaps my biggest complaint against the Chrysler Corporation of that time.
So many young people fall for the lure of the big, cool city until the cost of living sinks in.
I have always wanted one of these but never managed to get there. Likely won’t now but get to live through your experiences.
Long time First Hill resident here (Spring St.). My guess is you were in the Nettleton Apartments. That was relatively cheap for the time. The complex has been renamed to “The Mill”, and those studios are now $1,400. That is still cheap for Seattle, but that building is a bit on the tired and nasty side.
Hah – you nailed it. There was quite a community of struggling young adults in the building. It was fairly tired even then – I was stuck in the elevator once and spent the rest of my time there taking the stairs.
Great story Brian! You certainly don’t see many Rampages left on the roads here.
Although I was well north of Seattle, I remember the winter storm of late 1996 very well, having made my way from Central Canada back home to BC during the initial days of it. Kudos to you for being able to navigate around during that.
I suspect Seattle is not much different from the notoriously terrible winter drivers in Vancouver and surrounding areas.
Looking forward to more!
Certainly you had a much nicer car as your first than me-a 1973 Mercury Montego MX Villager wagon-light blue with wood sides!
And my first move away was from Fort Myers Florida to Fort Wayne!
But I really am enjoying these articles. I never drove a Rampage truck but always thought there was a market for them.
Looking forward to the next installment
Great story, and interesting car/truck. I always liked them, from afar.
“The only job my history degree qualified me for”- I put mine to work fueling airliners, and then working at a Honda plant for 27 years. I did briefly have a second, minimum wage job as a museum tour guide, and volunteered at museums off and on.
I can see the attraction in a Rampage. I spent some time in the mid-1980s with an Omni/Horizon and it was a pleasant vehicle. I do recall that goofy shifter that simply never seemed to integrate with the rest of the interior.
I remember how magical front wheel drive was back in those days. Even as it was looked upon askance by many civilians at that time, the fact that you could actually make progress in the snow when others just spun and slipped sideways seemed to be some kind of special ju-ju. And I guess that was particularly the case in places like Seattle where slippery conditions always seem to be bedeviling. I remember seeing videos (from more recent than the late 1990s) of city buses doing just as you described. Aside from the fact that having a bus slide backwards down hill out of control is rather terrifying, watching those videos is a total hoot.
Finally, Ivar’s Salmon House! I recall finding that place in 1979 and thinking that alder-smoked salmon was just about the greatest thing ever. It was like nothing that someone from the East Coast ever knew. I’ve tried going back to Ivar’s a couple of times in the past 50 years, and it hasn’t held up so well. But man, it was something in its day.