6/27

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A few years ago I ran a series about cars named after birds. In honor of today’s Greenwood Car Show, only the greatest car show on Earth, here‘s another Bird—and Car—o’ the Day.

Pontiac Phoenix

Having previously explored the myth of the Slavic Firebird and its American interpretation, the Pontiac Firebird, let’s examine another bird myth made metal: the Pontiac Phoenix.

The Phoenix is a mythical bird that is a symbol of rebirth. After a long life, it immolates itself in a fire, only to be reborn. The product of long nights around the campfire—likely with the help of psychoactive substances—the Phoenix myth endured.

The story dates to ancient Egypt, the Greeks picked up on it, the Persians have a similar legend, and the Romans spread it through the empire, even putting the image of the burning phoenix on their coinage. Centuries later, the city of Phoenix was founded on land that once supported the Hohokam civilization. The first settlers used the remnants of irrigation canals built by the Hohokam four hundred years earlier. Perhaps someday people will build a new city there using the remnants of the freeways and the shopping malls today’s Phoenix will have left behind. 

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Back in the mid-70s, General Motors’ Pontiac division needed to spice up its compact car offerings. With no budget to actually do anything, they went to an old Detroit trick: Change the car’s name. They could then shout “New! New! NEW!” even though it was pretty much the same old, old, old. Having had success with the Firebird, someone in product planning piped up with “Phoenix! We’ll name it Phoenix!” 

The first generation Phoenix was anonymity in sheet metal. Built on the same platform as the Chevrolet Nova, Pontiac troweled on more chrome and added some pretentious details that in Detroit spell “high class.” Somehow they sold thousands of them, but I suspect few of those buyers remembered that car a decade later. Ah, if only such blissful forgetfulness was possible for the suckers who bought the next generation Phoenix. 

The late-70s were hard on General Motors. While they had some successes like the Firebird, the oil crisis, a weak economy, and ever-improving imports had all taken their toll. The company decided to go all in on all-new premium compact cars. They’d be stylish, efficient, and far more comfortable than any of the imports. Each GM division would get their own version of what was known as the X-car. It was a remarkable commitment of money at a difficult time for the industry. The X-cars were to prove GM had its mojo back. 

Instead, they were a nightmare. They were a litany of design and engineering failures, and that was even before the first one rolled down the production line, a place where the words “quality control” were never heard. It didn’t matter if it was a Buick Skylark, a Chevrolet Citation, an Oldsmobile Omega, or a Pontiac Phoenix. They were all awful. The joke was that the X-cars started being recalled before they even left the factory.  

X-car, how do I hate thee, let me count the ways. The engines were noisy and underpowered, the transmissions would blow up, the brakes would lock up, the paint would fade, the upholstery would crack, water would seep in, oil would drip out, and that doesn’t include all the other small problems like bad radios, weak hatch struts, or electrical short-circuits. GM paid out millions to unhappy buyers who’d retained good lawyers while the Japanese automakers banked millions in profits from happy customers. 

About all that Phoenix owners could hope for was that their car would spontaneously combust and the insurance company would pay out. And, if like the car’s namesake it came back to life, the owner would want to douse it with gasoline, light a match, and finish the job once and for all. 

Let’s look at a few Pontiac Phoenixes. 

1978 Pontiac Phoenix. Check out that vinyl roof, the hood ornament, and all that chrome! Now that’s real luggzhury!

1981 X-car Pontiac Phoenix. This photo is from an ad for the car.

Six months later it probably looked like this.