From its debut in 2000, Chrysler’s PT Cruiser has represented, for me at least, an automotive cartoon. I don’t mean this as a criticism-just an observation. To describe the PT Cruiser’s bulbous, comical shape as an homage to a 1937 Ford (on which it’s nominally based) is to betray a complete lack of a sense of humor. The PT Cruiser is a joke, a toy, a sort of corporate prank. It also happens to be uncannily well designed for the job it’s meant to do.
My first reaction to the PT was to conjure up cobwebby images of the Dick Tracy cartoon strip from my youth. Having just spent a week with the all-new 2003 GT version of the PT Cruiser, however, I realize that I was way off. Bumped up to 215 horsepower and 245 ft.-lbs. of torque (from an original 150 hp and 162 ft.-lbs.), the PT GT is all about spunky muscle in a funky package. I found myself in traffic one day humming “Popeye the Sailor Man-toot, toot.” What leafy greens do for bicep function, turbocharging does for internal combustion: “I’m strong to the ’finich’/’Cause I eats me spinach./I’m Popeye the Sailor Man-beep, beep.”
The PT’s extra punch for 2003 comes from a completely new powerplant designed specifically for turbocharging. (The original 150-hp inline-four remains in the line-up, by the way.) The result is a non-traditional turbo feel that’s immediately responsive and torquey over a broad and flat, rather than narrow and peaky, powerband. Indeed, 90 percent of maximum torque (i.e, 221 ft.-lbs.) is available from 2,300 rpm to 5,000 rpm, which happens to be where maximum power culminates at 215 hp.
You don’t have to be a racer-boy or -girl to appreciate what’s implicit in all this. Broad, flat power is the American stereotype: it’s the way macho V8s behave, with their torque-on-demand personalities. The PT GT motor is no V8, understand; but it is ready to rock in almost any rpm range. It also gets 19 miles-per-gallon in the city, 25 mpg on the highway-not a pair of numerals you often find associated with V8s. Premium fuel is the PT GT’s spinach of choice however.
I can’t say I’m particularly enamored of the looks of this Corgi Toy for grown-ups. To tell true, Popeye usually got on my nerves on Saturday mornings as well. I am, however, one of the PT Cruiser’s biggest fans with regard to its “open seating” interior format. There are five seats, four of which fold all sorts of ways; and there’s an adjustable, removable package shelf in the way back. Chrysler boasts over 30 different seating and cargo configurations-although discovering them all without Cliff Notes invites Rubik’s-cube burnout. In all, there are 64.2 total cu. ft. of space for boxy things, long and narrow things, short-big people and tall-thin people.
What you have is a genuine urban assault vehicle whose resources are far more realistic than what’s offered by the swarm of compact SUVs making a counterfeit claim on the same title. Especially with its perky power, the PT GT zips to and fro through traffic on nimble, independent suspension and disc brakes at all four wheels. It Cuisinarts through commuter congestion, thanks either to an available five-speed manual transmission or a four-speed auto with AutoStick clutch-less shifting. I drove the latter, and I really enjoyed slicing and dicing my gear-changes in response to traffic conditions. Chrysler’s AutoStick is still somewhat numb and hesitant compared to a really crisp manual, but it’s light-years sharper in its gear changes than the forebear I first drove in a Dodge Intrepid back in mid-’90s.
In short, I’ve come to the perhaps oddball conclusion that Chrysler’s PT Cruiser is a five-seater equivalent to the four-seater Mini Cooper. Both are meant to scamper about town, steal coveted parking spaces from lumbering behemoths, and generally meet their owners’ urban expectations for hauling people and things. That the PT Cruiser is a good bit larger than the Mini only means that it’s significantly more versatile for the typical American lifestyle, fettered as we are with gadgets and commutes and weekend projects.
What never particularly entered my mind while driving the PT GT was backroads barnstorming. Chrysler touts the GT’s tuned suspension for its sportiness; and a throaty exhaust note was tuned as well to provide this turbo-motor with a signature sound. It never really occurred to me to sport about in the grand touring tradition, despite the G(ran) T(urismo) nomenclature. Just why this is so I can’t exactly say; I certainly loved taking the Mini into the outback.
In the PT’s case, however, there’s something oddly “minivan-esque” about both its persona and its disposition. I just didn’t feel sporty in it. I felt more like a city-slicker wise guy. Popeye, too, may have been a sailor; but in name only. I wouldn’t have put out to sea with him; although I certainly would have wanted him around in a back alley when it was “up with yer dukes.” This is the guy who knew what a city brawl was all about: “I’m one tough Gazookus/Which hates all Palookas/Wot ain’t on the up and square.” And as for squaring off against today’s smug SUV street gangs, Popeye would have had a field day: “I biffs ’em and buffs ’em/An’ always out-roughs ’em/An’ none of ’em gits no-where.” You go, guy. You’s Popeye the Cruiser Man!
