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[This review appeared in the Los Angeles Times on September 21, 1990. Due to rising gas prices and recent interest in the brand, we have temporarily republished it on Latimes.com. For the latest car reviews, check out our Rumble Seat story gallery as well as our Autos A-Z pages.]
Geo's Metro is a sitcom on wheels--a minicar never to be taken seriously and certainly more fluffy diversion than earnest transportation.
Even Geo (a division of Chevrolet formed to mask its re-badging and transplanting of Suzuki motorcars) trips the light rather than the fantastic in brochures suggesting it is time we were getting to know Geo.
"Geo Metro is the fun and frugal way to go," claims literature on the 1990 line. "Around town. Around campus. Past gas stations. And into pint-sized parking places."
Yet it is not, we might add, a comfortable means of making long hauls unless you are prepared to return by air. Nor is it a vehicle to light a driver's eyes or flare nostrils as it whizzes past everything in the bike lane.
The Metro has a three-cylinder engine (that's right, you didn't lose the others in the car wash) with a displacement of one liter. That is the exact capacity of a bottle of Evian.
Its minimotor produces 55 horsepower, less than a healthy motorcycle. Top speed is a match for today's high temperature at the Civic Center. Acceleration is in there with parcel post. And how small is it?
At four feet tall and weighing only 1,700 pounds, the Geo Metro isn't much larger than a can of beans.
It is the Bic lighter of modern motoring and the closest thing yet to the disposable car.
Such compromises in dimensions, power and appearance, of course, are the price of membership in the little league of minicars such as the Ford Festiva, Daihatsu Charade and the Geo Metro.
But with the two-seat Metro LSi convertible--in showrooms this month but only in 10 states and mostly those offering year-round sunshine--price may become an additional penalty.
Originally developed by Suzuki as a sensible, downsized commuter car for the clotted and narrow streets of metropolitan Japan (where the up side of any earthquake is additional parking space), the coupe version of the Geo Metro miser went on sale in the United States for $6,000. Sensible. Worthwhile. Fair value for a dinky four-seater.
Yet as a convertible--without any noticeable attempts at gold plating or vicuna upholstery--the Metro LSi carries a sticker of almost $10,000. And you only get two seats for that.
Add the bare basics of air conditioning, a minimal sound system and a brace of floor mats, and you're looking at $11,121. You should also be looking at a long stay in some private facility for the quietly disturbed.
For $11,000 will buy a nicely outfitted Toyota Tercel, Nissan Sentra, Ford Escort or other small cars, which come with four-cylinders and four seats. Eleven grand is even well on the way to paying for a $14,000 Mazda Miata, still spiffy after all these months. Or any of the little pickups. Or even the standard Geo Storm sport coupe.
In short, an additional $5,000 is an obscene premium to pay for a cloth roof, some chassis bracing and a decapitated toy.
Advantages? Of course. The Metro is the consummate gas cheapskate. After some pretty vigorous snorting around town in the convertible, we were logging 38-miles-per-gallon and Geo promises a little better with softer handling. So fill-ups with regular unleaded, even at post-invasion prices, only cost a few pennies over $9.
If your transportation demands be small and your ego strong enough to ignore the snickers of valet parking attendants, then the car does indeed have purpose.
It is a convertible with all the breezy benefits of such vanity. The benign performance makes it pretty harmless in the grip of teen-agers. It is an ideal fifth car to be used as a loaner for house guests.
The Metro does navigate around town like a delivery boy on roller skates. With an overall width of about five feet, you could park the car sideways. And it would be a joy to drive around any campus.
Geo's Metro is a sitcom on wheels--a minicar never to be taken seriously and certainly more fluffy diversion than earnest transportation.
Even Geo (a division of Chevrolet formed to mask its re-badging and transplanting of Suzuki motorcars) trips the light rather than the fantastic in brochures suggesting it is time we were getting to know Geo.
"Geo Metro is the fun and frugal way to go," claims literature on the 1990 line. "Around town. Around campus. Past gas stations. And into pint-sized parking places."
Yet it is not, we might add, a comfortable means of making long hauls unless you are prepared to return by air. Nor is it a vehicle to light a driver's eyes or flare nostrils as it whizzes past everything in the bike lane.
The Metro has a three-cylinder engine (that's right, you didn't lose the others in the car wash) with a displacement of one liter. That is the exact capacity of a bottle of Evian.
Its minimotor produces 55 horsepower, less than a healthy motorcycle. Top speed is a match for today's high temperature at the Civic Center. Acceleration is in there with parcel post. And how small is it?
At four feet tall and weighing only 1,700 pounds, the Geo Metro isn't much larger than a can of beans.
It is the Bic lighter of modern motoring and the closest thing yet to the disposable car.
Such compromises in dimensions, power and appearance, of course, are the price of membership in the little league of minicars such as the Ford Festiva, Daihatsu Charade and the Geo Metro.
But with the two-seat Metro LSi convertible--in showrooms this month but only in 10 states and mostly those offering year-round sunshine--price may become an additional penalty.
Originally developed by Suzuki as a sensible, downsized commuter car for the clotted and narrow streets of metropolitan Japan (where the up side of any earthquake is additional parking space), the coupe version of the Geo Metro miser went on sale in the United States for $6,000. Sensible. Worthwhile. Fair value for a dinky four-seater.
Yet as a convertible--without any noticeable attempts at gold plating or vicuna upholstery--the Metro LSi carries a sticker of almost $10,000. And you only get two seats for that.
Add the bare basics of air conditioning, a minimal sound system and a brace of floor mats, and you're looking at $11,121. You should also be looking at a long stay in some private facility for the quietly disturbed.
For $11,000 will buy a nicely outfitted Toyota Tercel, Nissan Sentra, Ford Escort or other small cars, which come with four-cylinders and four seats. Eleven grand is even well on the way to paying for a $14,000 Mazda Miata, still spiffy after all these months. Or any of the little pickups. Or even the standard Geo Storm sport coupe.
In short, an additional $5,000 is an obscene premium to pay for a cloth roof, some chassis bracing and a decapitated toy.
Advantages? Of course. The Metro is the consummate gas cheapskate. After some pretty vigorous snorting around town in the convertible, we were logging 38-miles-per-gallon and Geo promises a little better with softer handling. So fill-ups with regular unleaded, even at post-invasion prices, only cost a few pennies over $9.
If your transportation demands be small and your ego strong enough to ignore the snickers of valet parking attendants, then the car does indeed have purpose.
It is a convertible with all the breezy benefits of such vanity. The benign performance makes it pretty harmless in the grip of teen-agers. It is an ideal fifth car to be used as a loaner for house guests.
The Metro does navigate around town like a delivery boy on roller skates. With an overall width of about five feet, you could park the car sideways. And it would be a joy to drive around any campus.
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