The Chevrolet Corsica is one of those cars that tends to get lost in the crowd. If car magazines write about it at all, it will be in one of their "short takes" - a half-page article with a black and white picture buried three quarters of the way back in the issue.
Chances are if you have had any acquaintance with the Corsica it likely came when you rented one at LAX or O'Hare airport or were assigned one out of your company motor pool.None of this is to disparage the Corsica, it's just that it's not big, not small, not fast, not slow, not exotic, not luxurious, isn't particularly sporty or high tech, has rather bland styling . . .
Let me put it this way, when a Corsica passes you on the freeway or pulls up alongside you at the traffic light, you probably won't notice. I know that, because unlike some of the cars I have evaluated for this column, no one noticed me in the 1992 Corsica LT "Driftwood Metallic" (tan) model I've been driving this past week.
But being noticed isn't everything. Let's face it, on a gray January day in Utah, with most cars carrying a coat of salt and road grime and their drivers bundled up in overcoats and scarves, even Kim Baisinger in a Ferrari F40 might go unnoticed. (Would you believe Robert Redford in a Porsche 911?)
Anyway, if you want to make a statement, you'll give the Corsica a pass. But if reasonably priced, reasonably roomy and more than reasonably comfortable transportation is your goal, the C car is worth a second look.
The vast majority of Corsicas will be sold with automatic transmissions. This is not a car with sporting pretensions, or even major-league economy pretensions, so most buyers will eschew rowing through the gears. With that in mind, the factory, naturally, provided me with a 5-speed equipped Corsica.
The manual transmission seemed particularly odd since the car had some luxury options - power windows, AC, stereo with CD player, power door locks, antilock brakes, power trunk opener, cruise control, tilt steering - that are usually associated with much more expensive cars.
Oddly, the dual outside rear-view mirrors did not have the power controls, an option most people expect to find in any car that has so many other luxo goodies.
But that annoyance was minor compared with the one single item this car does have that got under my skin in a way I've never before experienced. The item I refer to is known as an "upshift indicator."
This demonic device has been around for years. I first saw it a decade or so ago in a Volkswagen Rabbit. All it is, is a circle and arrow pointing upward that lights up on the instrument panel every time some microchip thinks you can save some gas by shifting into a higher gear.
That might not be so bad, but it always wants you to shift into a higher gear. Even in heavy traffic at 30 mph the upshift light won't leave you alone until you shift all the way up into 5th gear - and chug-chug along trying not to kill the engine.
Just ignore it you say? Hah! I tried, I really tried. But the bright orange upshift light is like a backseat driver who never gets out of the car. He is with you forever and will not be denied.
Sure, I tried to pretend I couldn't see it as I would steafastly stare straight ahead out of the windshield . . . but I could see it with my peripheral vision. I tried to convince myself I couldn't, but I knew I was lying. In the first few days of driving the car that orange arrow took over my life. I couldn't think about anything else but trying to keep it from nagging me into shifting.
"I don't want to shift right now," I would tell it. "I'm in heavy traffic and I want to keep the RPM's up so I can get around that truck up ahead and if I shift up I'll be off the power band and won't be able to do it!"
But the upshift light doesn't listen to reason. It just glows and glows, scolding you for your profligacy with the nation's dwindling supply of regular unleaded. To ignore the upshift light was like sending an open invitation to the OPEC cartel to come and take us over.
On the fourth day, when it was either do something about the upshift light or seek psychiatric help, I solved the problem. In a burst of ingenuity I took a three-inch strip of masking tape and slapped it over the dash, thus obliterating the noxious light . . .but underneath the tape I knew it was glowing. I knew.
Automatic transmission versions, of course, have no upshift light. Take my advice and order your Corsica with the auto shifter and spare your sanity.
The Corsica I drove had the standard 2.2 liter 4-cylinder engine (up 14 hp from the '91 model) and it propelled the car more than adequately. A 3.1 liter V6 is optional, and its 140 hp may be worth the extra $610 even though it reduces the EPA fuel rating from 23/31 (automatic transmission) to 20/28.
There is also an optional handling package ($395) that would also likely make the Corsica a better performer all around. But my personal opinion is that people interested in more power and better handling are more likely candidates to buy Corsica's sister ship, the sporty Beretta.
Base price of my test car was $10,999 but the host of options pushed that figure to $13,854, still a very reasonable figure for a car with ABS, air bag, CD player, a decently large trunk, some power goodies and reasonable room for five adults.
Other than upgrades such as standard ABS and airbag, the Corsica is basically unchanged since 1987. Even so, it is well-priced and well-equipped to do battle with its competitors, compact sedans such as the Dodge Spirit, Ford Tempo, Mazda 626 and Nissan Stanza.