With my 1998 328is comfortably incumbent as the number one whip, I once again felt compelled to augment our “fleet.” Why? No idea. The BMW did everything, and did it all exceptionally. But, I was sure I was missing out on something — disappointment, perhaps? So, I decided to actively, if unknowingly, chase it.
Having learned a few things from my previous misadventures, I had a pseudo-rational list of criteria for my next adventure:
- Nothing “old” (i.e., 1980-and-earlier).
- No Fox-body or SN-95 Mustangs.
- No Fiats, MGs, Jensen-Healeys, Alfa-Romeos, Triumphs or other “orphan” European brands.
- No “project” cars; only registered, inspected vehicles in driving condition.
- A V8 would be nice; rear-wheel drive would be nice; manual transmission is always appreciated.
- Cheap! Get something cheap.
After checking out a couple of late ‘80s Celica convertibles (not bad, but flimsy-feeling and short on power), a first-gen Miata (so much more than the sum of its parts, but also flimsy; small, like “meet your maker in an accident” small), I settled on a third-generation Camaro in June 2006.
Why, why, why?
Third-generation GM F-bodies were cheap cars in 2006; I was a cheap enthusiast regardless of the calendar year. At $5,000, it was cheap-ish. Technically, it needed nothing but a driver, which was appealing. But, make no mistake — my expectations weren’t very high. I test drove it on some average-condition backroads with the top up; it seemed sturdy enough. While not terribly performance-oriented, the throttle-body injected (TBI) 305 cu-in. V8 and four-speed automatic were well-matched, with the automatic making the most of the V8’s torque.
The Exterior
It was very, well, white. Like “The Man From Glad” white. (Remember him?)
Initially, the monochrome white livery was acceptable (much more so than monochrome red or teal), but its white-accented wheels were a bit much. Eventually, I tired of it and fantasized about vinyl wrapping the ground effects with argent silver (like the early third-gen Camaros), blacking out the headlight buckets, and upgrading to some 16-inch IROC-Z or Firebird GTA wheels.
I never swooned at the third-gen’s arrival in 1982 but I did think both the Camaro and Firebird were very good-looking cars at the time. By today’s standards, the front overhang dates the design, with a 101-inch wheelbase against an overall vehicle length of 192 inches for the third-gen. For comparison, the recently-discontinued sixth-gen has 110-inch wheelbase and overall length of 188.3 inches. Interestingly, a second-gen 1979 model has 108-inch wheelbase and an overall length of 188 inches.
The Interior
Ah yes, the interior. It is hard to believe that GM could cobble together such a sad excuse for an interior. Ergonomically, it was reasonable-ish. In every other context, it was abysmal: materials quality, fit and finish, durability, . . . you name it. Even the Fox Mustang interior was better trimmed out than this, especially after its ‘87 update.
Acres of “Rock’em Sock’em Robots”-level hard plastic, squeaks and all, much of it with fake Torx heads (why?) molded in.
The indescribably ugly steering wheel — no one ever wanted a steering wheel that ugly. Were all buyers expected to step up to a Z28 or IROC just to get a decent-looking steering wheel?
Then, there’s “the hump,” a bulge near the front of the passenger-side floor pan where the catalytic converter resided. I’ll just say there’s not an overwhelming amount of front passenger foot room.
Honestly, I thought the entire interior was a step back from the second-gen F-body. Yes, there was a period in ‘73 when the F-body program’s continued viability was questioned. But, that period passed quickly enough. GM had to have known they’d need replacement F-bodies someday. In the end Chevrolet had roughly 11 model years to develop and finalize the third-gen interior, and this was the best they could do?
My college roommate Jim had a very nice, bone-stock ‘79 Camaro with an untouched 350 and (wonderfully) a four-speed. It was a very nice, well-assembled, quiet car; they’d built them for nearly 10 years by then so they should have had it figured out, I guess. Maybe the third-gen F-body interior was the clearest “Deadly Sin” evidence that GM was screwed.
The Top
ASC, or American Sunroof Corporation as it was once known, performed the convertible conversions. This included a rather elegant, if 100% manual, folding top mechanism.
Undo the top latch at each end of the windshield header. Press the button between the power window controls on the console to release the pin that holds the base of the top to the hard boot cover. Lift the base of the top to swing it toward the windshield header, away from the hard boot cover. Release and lift the hard boot cover to reveal the top storage well. Lift the top header from the windshield header, and the top accordions neatly into the well. Then, close the hard boot.
Watch the video for a demo. No unsightly top stack or soft boot cover to ruin the look. The design will be familiar in principle to anyone familiar with a C1, C2, or C3 Corvette convertible top. Sometimes, the old (non-power) ways are the best ways.
The Drive
Having had both Fox-body Mustangs and this sad Camaro RS convertible, stock-to stock, the Camaro was a better driving car. It was more responsive; you sat “in” it rather than “on” it like the Mustang, the seating position was lower, and the whole car felt more dialed-in for driving. One magazine road test I remember compared the Camaro RS V8 to the Mustang LX 5.0, summarizing it as, “while the Camaro and Mustang handling numbers are similar, the Camaro hits those numbers easily; the Mustang takes a lot more work behind the wheel to go a little slower.” I agree 100% with that. While I didn’t want to get my Autobahn on with it, it just felt more driving-focused. It was also a hell of a lot harder to get in and out.
I used to drive the Camaro to my friend Charlie’s house for our impromptu jam sessions. He lived about 35-40 minutes west of me. The route I took was about 60 percent highway and 40 percent secondary roads, with the highway part sandwiched in the middle. It was invigorating, to say the least. The Camaro drove well enough to be engaging; the openness of top down motoring was a sensory delight. I always arrived home with my ears slightly ringing, my face lightly chapped, and with a tingling feeling like I’d really experienced the trip.
The Ridiculousness
Third-gen F-bodies have always been a bit of an enigma to me. From a vehicle architecture perspective, it has the goods to be an excellent performer. It rides on a bespoke platform engineered just for its use; no “Mustang-as-Fairmont-variant” for this car. While substantially heavier than a corresponding Fox-body, it conveys no sense of solidity that comes with that additional mass; it has more of an “overweight bucket of bolts” feel to it.
The doors alone feel as if they make up half the car’s weight; over time, they certainly sag as if they do.
It’s a hatchback by design but its cargo value, particularly with optional t-tops stored in the back, is practically non-existent. A Fox-body Mustang hatchback is an El Camino compared to these F-bodies.
It just seems like it should have been better. Ford sold 1.66 million Mustangs between 1982 and 1992. But GM sold over 1.5 million third-gen Camaros alone in the same period, so I guess it was “good enough.”
Experiment 1: The Wonder Bar
Speaking of shortcomings, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t explore why a tired, 17-year old Camaro convertible couldn’t deliver the refinement of Europe’s best. So, the first addition was a steering support brace, otherwise known as a “Wonder Bar.” Standard on 1LE Camaros and IROC-Zs, it tied together both front frame rails and reinforced the steering box mount, which improved steering geometry.
The difference was immediately noticeable after installation; the steering was sharper and more direct. Money well spent.
Experiment 2: Subframe Connectors
In my experience, unitized vehicles with mediocre chassis stiffness tend to employ clod-hopping, overly stiff suspensions in an effort to mask mediocre suspension dynamics caused by chassis flex. The combination provides a decent-ish handling car at the expense of lousy ride quality. Convertible-ized versions of vehicles *ahem* not originally designed to be convertibles tend to bear the worst of this approach. Any additional chassis reinforcement during conversion is insufficient to overcome the loss of chassis rigidity from cutting the roof off the car.
One was to address that loss of rigidity is installing subframe connectors. Now, it is said that, “Every blessing is a curse, and every curse a blessing.” In this case, the blessing of installing the subframe connectors was considerably reduced chassis flex. The curse was that the stiff suspension now worked as designed. Essentially, the car was tighter and quieter but rode like it had two-by-fours for shocks. We’re talking covered wagon, Little House on the Prairie-level ride quality. This wasn’t the “improvement” I had sought. The exhaust also banged on the passenger-side subframe connector. Another “improvement” I hadn’t sought.
By this time, the grim part of autumn was here, and the Camaro went into storage. I’d go to the storage unit every two or three weeks, fire it up, listen to the exhaust periodically bang on the right subframe connector, and take it for a run on clear winter days and on clear roads. It was kind of boring as a runabout; where the BMW made mundane trips an adventure, I really needed to be going somewhere (like Charlie’s) to get that experience feeling. And winter was not the time to be going somewhere in this car.
In the End
After a winter and early spring’s worth of contemplation, I decided to unload the Camaro in June 2007. No great hand-wringing over the decision; as I’ve said before in this series, I don’t like being a three-car guy with a two-car garage. I sold it for $4,500, which does not include my Wonder Bar adventure and subframe connector misadventure.
The buyer did the same thing I did—kept it for a year or two, then listed it on Craigslist. The owner after that, also listed on Craigslist after a year or two.
Compared to my 1970 Mustang convertible, I came out relatively unscathed. Part of it was because I actually used this car. It wasn’t in the garage all the time being worked on to make it usable. The benefit for me was that I just went back to driving the BMW all of the time instead of most of the time. No hardship there.
Which takes us to the big question: What did I buy to replace the BMW? You’ll find out in my next, and final, installment.
Related CC reading:
1989 Camaro RS – GM’s Deadly Sin #6 – 46 Trips To The Dealer In The First Year
In-Motion Classic: 1988 Chevrolet Camaro IROC-Z Convertible-Sports
I have a unibody convertible I am resurecting, it is my second. It is a 1986 Chrysler Lebaron which is another car that was not originally built as a convertible. My first ons, a 1985, was totaled by an at the time cousin, a Mercedes-Benz ML320. Prior to that I had enjoyed it. My son had a 1999 Mustang convertible, he borrowed mine when his was at the dealership for some warranty work, and said it was a lot more solid than his Mustang.
Chrysler and the shop that did the first conversions in late 1982, put a huge inside reinforcement that spns the front and rear of the passenger compartment and runs down the center. Bad thing, it becomes a 4 passenger car, good thing, you can jump up and down on the center reinforcement with doors open, and have no significant flexing.
Due to the (a) lack of a steel roof and (b) the interior reinforcement, the car has a much lower than normal CG for a K-car, and with decent tires and a larger frone sway bar, handles quite well. Torque steer is still an issue, even with equal length outer axles, the roughly 200hp TurboII engine has a lot of punch.
it has more of an “overweight bucket of bolts” feel to it.
That sums it up perfectly. My feelings for these have already been well documented in the DS you linked to above, so no need to add more. But yes, the gen2 was a vastly better built car than these, and that’s not saying all that much.
I had the opportunity to drive a 3rd-gen Z/28 with the T-tops removed. It squeaked and rattled and shook like nobody’s business. I can’t even begin to imagine what the convertible must have been like.
Sad to hear this thing wasn’t (apparently) a really good effort by Generous Motors Corp. .
-Nate
I’d agree that this Gen Camaro does NOT feel like it’s milled from a single block of…?? True the massive doors are heavy, but sound tinny. Legroom is excellent, but as typical of GM products of this era: seats are simply NON-supportive! Despite all that, I do like my ’88 IROC-Z 350 very much, both visually and mostly when I drive her. Mine has a solid top; NO big holes for later leaking. She doesn’t get driven often, but on sunny days when I take her out on sorta winding backroads she is rather fun. :):):) DFO
Similar to the other 3rd Gen F-body story…
These were beautiful looking cars, that were junk…
Other than the looks, there is really nothing good about these cars.
Terrible drivetrains, terrible design, terrible interiors, these cars didn’t even have rack and pinion steering.
The 4th Gen F-bodies were ugly junk. Terrible LT1 engines with good power at the time, excellent T56 manual 6 speed transmissions, weak 7 5/8″ rear axle.
Terrible interior, still terrible build quality.
GM couldn’t give 4th Gen F-bodies away.
The ’94 up Mustangs weren’t great looking, weak engines until 1999, but were much better all around cars.
They did get rack and pinion steering
I think retaining some body structure above the beltline helps stiffness. The only convertible I have much experience with is the VW Rabbit which has a rollbar structure in the rear, and the knee bar under the dash used in Rabbits with the door mounted seatbelt. This car felt as stiff as my A1 Jetta, even when driving on the BQE. It also had a very good top although it was bit bulky when folded.
I like the looks of the third gen F body but question the execution. My son’s friend has a 91 Z-28 as a daily driver, although not in the winter.
My wife’s aunt leased a new 1984 Camaro RS for her then 20 year old daughter. It was teal, because why not, and had the 5.0 engine with a 5 speed. They test drove it around a short block and deemed it was the right car.
On their way home, driving out 595 in Fort Lauderdale, the car began to act up. Then the tease end locked, spinning the car around. No one was hurt and there was no damage.
Chevy sent out a flat bed and called her to say that “there was never any gear oil in the rear end which caused the lock up.”
I am pretty sure the dealer found her another car that closely matched the first one. Good ole GM