A lot has changed since I drifted off to sleep that summer night in '75, snugged up in the grass beside the open door of my Chevy Monte Carlo. My chum Bobby lay similarly prone under the Radio Shack speaker in the opposite-side door, and we dozed our way dreamward listening to the hypnotic heartbeats of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. We slept like babies and awakened dew-spritzed and completely refreshed for a day of watching rip-snorting Can-Am sports cars race around Road Atlanta.
just spent a week driving Pontiac's new "sport recreation vehicle" (SRV?), the Aztek. Maybe it's pointless, but I imagine what it would have been like camping at the races under the Aztek's optional snap-on tent while dozing off to a remastered CD version of Dark Side playing through the monster Pioneer sound system. That, of course, would be impossible. Can-Am cars are long defunct, and today's show-business racing doesn't allow spontaneous pasture parking in the infield. But these are mere technicalities in comparison with the real problem: The Aztek is so ungainly, misshapen, and odd that instead of wafting off to sleep on a sonic carpet of metronome heartbeats, I'm sure I'd be nail-biting the night away guarding against vandals chucking eggs and toilet rolls.
There is another adolescent memory that this Aztek brings to mind. It's that common, rascally one about the blind date who's got such a great personality, knows how to cook, makes her own clothes. But none of your pals will tell you if she's pretty. Well, this Aztek does have a fun and larksome personality. Not only does the premium stereo cook 190 watts' worth of sonic boom, but also there's this fascinating roll-out party bin in the cargo-hold floor that caters directly to the tailgate cookout crowd. The optional tent kit, moreover, fits over the angled-glass lift-hatch like a skirt and provides weatherproof protection for side-by-side sleeping atop an air mattress specially tailored to the cargo well.
But you'd be no friend of mine if you didn't 'fess up that this Aztek is one cosmetically challenged SRV. Sure the tent-skirt does its best to conceal the scene of the crime. Tucked into a wooded campsite somewhere—preferably very remote—the Aztek wears its bootie bag like a bustle in the hedgerow. You gotta go home sometime, though, and when you do—when you've packed up the tent and deflated the romperbubble and closed the hatch and tailgate—you're left with rear styling that simply defies comprehension: "What were they thinking?" is the only charitable reaction possible. Or you might sympathize with what editors at the influential Web site Edmunds.com really were thinking: "Butt-ugly." No matter how you cut it, phrase it, try to ignore it, the Aztek and its bodacious bunda will get you in the end.
Don't just take my word for it. Automotive News reports that Pontiac executives are so mortified with the Aztek's record of meeting only 36 percent of its sales projections so far that they've bundled it back to the drawing board after only five months in the nation's showrooms. GM's head of design, Wayne Cherry, waxes philosophical in the AN story: "I think once everybody gets tired of piling it on, and as more and more people realize the [Aztec's] functionality..., we're going to see some real interest in that vehicle. I can say that with an honest face." If only my blind date's daddy had been so forthcoming.
The Aztek deserves some credit if not praise for ignoring superficial attractiveness in favor of ambitious functionality. There are 95 cubic feet of total cargo space to work with, for example. You can fold either side or all of the 50/50 rear bench seat to make room, or you can remove the bench from the vehicle entirely. Furthermore, there's an optional, cargo-organizing net system that rigs up like a bungee spiderweb some 22 different ways. Custom-fitted pocket pouches for cell phones or sunscreen live in the web-mesh front door pockets, and there's a "12-bevvage" cooler living between the driver and front passenger. One flick of its lock-'n'-load handle, and the thing ejects from the cockpit for, I suppose, some drinking while not driving.
At 185 horsepower, Aztec's 3.4-liter V6 is just perky enough to avoid getting all buzzy during acceleration. The front-drive GT model I tested included standard traction control. An all-wheel-drive "Versatrak" version is also available for about $2,500 more, but it's basically a front-driver too until slip sensors redirect a portion of drive power to one or both rear wheels. The AWD version also includes independent suspension and disc brakes at all four corners, although my FWD model had to settle for rear drum brakes and a rear beam axle. Handling, in any case, is competent, whereas Pontiac touts it as sporty; but getting all frisky behind the wheel of an Aztek is one of last things on your mind when you hope to avoid drawing attention to yourself.
For all of its supernaturally offbeat styling, the Aztek has managed to dredge up some unexpected, fond memories. I have to believe, for example, that all those long years ago at Road Atlanta, I had an old Led Zeppelin cassette in my collection alongside Pink Floyd. Listening now, in my mind's ear, I think I hear a word of encouragement and even hope for Wayne Cherry and his Pontiac design team: "If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now.... There's still time to change the road you're on."
