Some cars are memorable because they’re fast, beautiful, or historically significant. Others earn a place in your memory simply because of the people and moments attached to them. C’s battered 2000 “Chrysler” Voyager—better known as the Taco Express—was firmly in the latter category. This is the car’s story.
In early 2016, I found myself falling into a rut. I was rapidly approaching graduation at NMSU, where most of my friends had either already graduated or had transferred to other schools. My girlfriend, L, had left me the year before, and my only consistent friend, C, was a few hundred miles away in Los Alamos. I had met C while in high school, although we were only vaguely aware of each other there. We had struck up a friendship the summer before my sophomore year in college at a summer Calculus. C did not know how to drive when I met him—something which did not change until just before I graduated from college. During one video game session, he mentioned that he had received his license, and that he was getting his first car. He ended up getting a 2000 Chrysler Voyager, which we would dub the “Taco Express.”
The exact specifications of the Taco Express were a mystery to me. I knew that it had the 3.0 Mitsubishi V6, and that it was front-wheel drive. Beyond that, however, I am unsure. It also had a transmission, but I do not know which one and we could not figure out which one it had. While I was certain it was equipped with the 4-speed Ultradrive, I could not tell if it actually had four gears. The transmission shifted very smoothly, whatever it was, and it never gave C any trouble. This suggests it was not the Ultradrive, but the Taco Express had been well-maintained by its first owner and one of the repairs done by C’s parents was to the transmission cooling lines, so it is still theoretically possible that C had a functional Ultradrive.
The rest of the Taco Express similarly existed, and I remember shockingly little about it. Chrysler did not even seem to have an idea about the car either, as the title said “Chrysler” and the badge on the back door said “Dodge.” The only thing I can say with certainty is that the Taco Express was, indeed, a car. It had four wheels, and it moved when you put gas in it. It was not a special car. It was not particularly well-made, nor attractive, nor good. But it was C’s first car, and it gave some meaning to my life during a period when my life was devoid of it.
Every time I saw the Taco Express, it had a new dent. This was because C was the worst driver I had ever met. I once watched C make an easy right turn out of a parking lot, and rather than straighten out and drive in a straight line, he kept going right over the curb into the river rock that served as landscaping. He had been driving for six months at that point. One of the dents was convex, being caused by an exploding can of silly string lodging itself into one of the sliding doors. It also leaked oil, which C could not care less about so long as it did it onto a drip pan. But that was part of its charm. C had no delusions about the Taco Express, and it was another opportunity for us to hang out and do things together. Which brings me to the name “Taco Express.” C and I both worked at the local Smiths. While our schedules rarely lined up, on the occasions we had days off together, we would load up the Taco Express and make our way down the hill for food—mostly Taco Bell—and then we would kill the rest of the night doing whatever we felt like doing. These nights were, in hindsight, the only thing keeping me sane. Every other night, I felt like a ghost, occasionally interacting with customers who needed help finding some random product on our ever-changing shelves.
The Taco Express survived at least one death sentence and could have survived another if C had not grown sick of its foibles. First, it developed an oil leak, and not a small one either. C addressed it by putting an oil catch pan under the car, but he was not diligent on checking the oil level, causing it to starve at least once. This probably caused the first serious problem with the Taco Express—a flat camshaft lobe. One day, C noticed the Taco Express was slower than usual, and we determined it was only running on five cylinders. It did not take a genius to figure out that the camshaft lobe that was worn into a perfect circle was to blame. While this should have been the end for the Taco Express, my brother offered to fix it, and we slapped in a new camshaft and seals, fixing the oil leak in the process. This was not the proper way to fix this problem, and we should have replaced lifters at the same time. However, the camshaft was cheap and the car was living on borrowed time anyway. The engine ran fine for the rest of the time C owned the Taco Express, so this was a non-issue.
The Taco Express met its end suddenly and catastrophically. It intermittently would not start. My best guess is that solder joints in the dashboard were failing, causing an intermittent non-start condition. This is a documented problem with this generation of Voyager, and it could have been fixed with a soldering iron and patience. However, before I could take a look at the dashboard, one of the drive axles let go, stranding C in Espanola. While a new CV axle could be had for about $50, C was done. The Taco Express was falling apart around him, and he was not a car guy. It was sent off for scrap, and he borrowed his mother’s car until he finally bought another car a few years later.
Related CC reading:
The 1996-2000 Chrysler “NS” Minivans — The Culmination Of Nineties Chrysler
Interesting you call it a Chrysler Voyager. I believed Chrysler Voyagers were only a thing in Europe and were just Plymouth and Dodges in America?
The title said “Chrysler” Voyager, but the back door said “Dodge.” The grill also was the Dodge grill.
It’s a Chrysler product. What did you expect. My first new car in the world was a 1963 Plymouth. I hated about a year when I got a flat tire. The rim didn’t fit the car. I called the dealer and his answer was I’m not in the tire business buddy. Go buy one yourself. My second experience with them with buying a 1967 Dodge van to deliver products from my company. It got 6 miles to the gallon. The air conditioner never worked right and it finally just quit working altogether. At 55 miles an hour on the interstate with almost red lining. I called up the dealer and said I need to put a higher rear end ratio in this. He said we can do that for $600 tenant voyager warranty. I vowed Dunn and there are never to buy anything from the Chrysler corporation ever again. I own a machine shop. I went to the 1988 machine tool show at McCormick Place in Chicago. I found the machine I wanted, which was a CNC milling machine. Man brought out the contract and I looked at it and saw the Chrysler M in the upper right hand corner. I told him I’m sorry Chrysler Corporation never gets a dime in my money as long as I live. Stay away from them. And as you might mention, the Ayako came along and said he threatened the company out. Well, my 1987 Dodge van was built four or five years after Lee Ayako took over. So much for progress.
When I was a Mopar service advisor, this generation of Caravan came in all the time. They were generally reliable vehicles, too. Trouble spots were not that expensive and the A604 maladies had been fixed by 2000. Things like window regulators and sway bar links needed be replaced often. Worst were the brakes, which were not up to the hilly terrain of West Vancouver and needed replacement every 20,000 km. Parts were dirt cheap and we did pads, calipers and rotors for $330 all in.
The Mitsubishi V-6 engine was also reliable by this time. The featured van had obviously had the bark beat off it and is no way indicative of the overall reliability of the engine.
I’ve owned interesting cars and I’ve owned boring cars. But of all the cars I’ve owned, one of the few that I wish I could still be driving today was my 1993 Plymouth Voyager, in base trim with the 2.5 I-4 and 5-speed manual transmission.
At some point in the years that would follow, and I had need for a cheap, durable beater that could carry a lot of people, I came to miss the Taco Express and wish it was still around. It had a lot of flaws, but it was reasonably reliable, especially under the circumstances.
So what did ‘C’ buy after his mom’s loaner?
C isn’t a car guy, but I really like to know if the next victim of his was so memorable.
Oldsmobile 88, followed by a couple Nissan Rogues. I advised him to buy the Olds, given that it had the 3800. It was not terribly memorable, and it was not so much a victim of his. He learned to drive after a few years, and he’s no longer the worst driver I know.
Thoughts of Mopar minivans will always be entwined with the memories of the numerous road trips we took when my kids were young. My ’90 standard length Dodge Caravan was blessed with the Mitsubishi V6 and three speed auto trans. It was reliable and the trans was rebuilt once at around 130k, We kept it until it reached 166K and sold it to my BIL. My second van was a used ’97 fully loaded Town and Country, we dubbed it the Luxury Liner.It had four doors, rear air, and Capt’s chairs in the second row. This was the ultimate in luxury family travel. Plenty of room for the kids to avoid each other, easy to move around in the interior. Things were great until it passed 100k and then we had quite a bit of trouble with the transmission even after it was rebuilt. The interiors of both vans held up quite well and the ’90 looked almost like new inside after ten years.
I also used my vans to ferry around adults on occasion. Once my Wife and I, and two other couples, were going to see The Phantom of the Opera in San Francisco, I suggested that we all ride together in our minivan. This way we wouldn’t have to manage finding parking for three vehicles at the restaurant for dinner and parking in San Francisco. Minivans are so much better for the ease of the third row passengers than SUVs.
The Oak Ridge Boys sang that “It’s hard to be cool in a minivan,” and they were right, but I enjoyed driving both of those minivans.
And then there’s ‘Hey, Little Minivan’ by the Austin Lounge Lizards…
A friend of mine scored one of these from a buy here pay here lot, it had endless electrical troubles just as described .
No Chrysler dealer seemed able to find nor fix the problem, a shame as my buddy loved the darn thing .
-Nate
Minivans are of course reviled in the enthusiast/Mans world. While I’m both of the previous, I have this sort of dream, take one of the 300HP minivans, find/make some lowering sport springs, put big wheels/tires on it, paint all chrome trim black and go. I’ll never do it, but I’m plenty contrarian to give it thought. I’d like to do it, lets put it that way. A hot rod/sports rod minivan.