I rented this car. And, believe me, I didn’t choose it.

Here’s how the story goes: I flew into LAX for a short vacation with my family over the week of Thanksgiving. I had everything all planned out, neat and tidy--that was, until a certain rental car company who shall remain nameless made a rather annoying mistake and “forgot” that I had reserved a BMW 750iL. They tried to get me into a much smaller car, but since there were five of us, and from Los Angeles we would be driving to San Francisco midweek, nothing smaller than the 750iL would do. We hassled for quite some time. The printed documents in my hand should have been sufficient for a quick transaction, but after being continually insulted, I picked up my bags and went on my merry way.

Down at the Budget booth, they were able to quickly allocate a large car for my anxious family and I, but all they had in stock along those lines were Chevy Impalas, Ford Tauruses, and Mercury Grand Marquis'. I have a certain anti-Ford sentiments, so I accepted the Impala. In no way am I a Chevy fan, nor was I excited to be plopped into this car after all the trouble I went through--by this time, I was too hungry and anxious to complain, so I figured I'd give the car a fair chance. Budget, to be fair, was excessively helpful, and did give me a good deal, fair price and smiling faces.

Now, I pride myself on having some pretty decent taste, and my "tacky" sensors turned on full force upon stepping into the Impala. From the outside, the car really doesn’t look half bad--lifeless, and reminiscent of a useful kitchen appliance, but handsome in its own right--but on the inside, proportions are all wrong, and the color scheme is terribly, terribly off. Every last bit of plastic and cloth inside the car shouts, “Hey! I’m cheap!” Nothing feels at all substantial, nothing looks at all classy, and nothing looks like much effort was put into its design. This car’s interior, with it’s flat expanse of a dash, looks strangely like a late 70’s Detroit American land-yacht. The numbers displayed on the gauges and the clock display, etc, are oversized to a degree that it is absolutely certain that this car is intended for an older audience. So much for Chevy capturing those elusive younger buyers it so desparately needs--

The slag gray cloth the car came equipped with looked incredibly susceptible to stains, and the plastic rotary knobs to be used for climate control felt like if I accidentally bumped them, they’d go flying off. I didn’t get an impression of durability.

The seats, however, seemed generously comfortable--much like your grandmother’s overstuffed sofa. The doors slammed with a very nice sounding “thunk” and every necessary control was comfortably within the sphere of the driver.

Once outside the lot, and the groaning from my spoiled family stopped, I realized the car did have more than adequate power, sourced from an apparently very reliable 3.8liter OHV V6. The engine sounded quite depressed, and I considered stopping off and getting it a prescription for Zoloft, but it performed quite well. Acceleration was brisk, and I didn’t have much trouble keeping up with the jostling SoCal traffic. Handling was fine. The steering felt oddly tuned, but it was no problem to easily keep the big car on its intended path. Braking, too, was better than I expected--the pedal was easily modulated. The air conditioning and heater worked well, the controls were logical, exceptionally placed, and very, very simple to use.

The car got my family and I to San Francisco in old style comfort. The ride was plush and floaty--not exactly something desirable in a car of today, but very handy on a long drive. The trunk lid flexed, as if it was constructed of low-grade alloy, and was very hard to close. A generous slam was required--if my hand wasn't centered over the brake light on the trunk, it wouldn't close at all.

Really, there are no glaring complaints I have about this car. It seems solidly built, averaged more than 20mpg, rides nicely, steers benignly, and brakes safely. Every fault of the automobile lies in its lack of a quality feel and the fact that it lacks a soul--there is no pizzazz or charisma to it. As far as looks go, all I can say is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. However, the materials inside the car need a significant overhaul. Yes, everything works, but nothing works superfluously. Nothing about this car will make you fall in love with it. The switches operate poorly and not very precisely, everything feels extensively poorly manufactured--this utter lack of substance equals a car that is just not very pleasant to be within.

Before you dismiss my review as that of a rich kid whose notions have been jaded by years of expensive European machines, I’d like you to know that my daily driver is a 2004 Honda Civic. I own 3 Audis, 2 BMWs, 2 Hondas, a Saab, and a Chevrolet Corvette. The Civic costs significanly less than an Impala, yet manages to be exceptionally well built. The interior is a paragon of inexpensive, yet durable and attractive materials. My mother, aged 39, just bought a Honda Accord, which is in generally the same price category as the Impala, and is built, finished, and designed incredlbly.

Compare the Accord and the Impala. Two cars, same price, same size. After driving both, you’ll wonder why one feels like it cost $40,000 and the other feels like it cost $12,000.

In itself the Impala isn’t a bad car. But today, there is simply no excuse for General Motors to produce a car that is so far behind the times. GM has its work cut out for it if it wants to avoid a colossal failure with the Impala’s successor. The world is finally beginning to understand that they don’t have to settle for bad cars. I’d love to buy American, but as long as GM and Ford continue to put out inferior products, my allegiance and my money will go to elsewhere.


As a rental car, this machine is fine. As a personal car, I highly recommend against the purchase of one--there are so many worthy alternatives.
Amount Paid (US$): 90/day