On Wheels by Brooks Peterson

Saturday, November 18, 2000

Monte Carlo's shout is a sexy whisper

As I was wheeling my way through a week with the 2001 Monte Carlo SS (with, note well, the totally bodacious High Sport Appearance Package), a small, Yoda-like voice kept piping up in the dusty nether regions of my consciousness.
   The message, though so faint as to be all but imperceptible, etched itself in my memory: "Foolish it is for your mouth to write checks that your body can't cash."
   Now, that may seem a trifle off the beaten path to you, but bear with me. It makes a certain amount of sense when you consider it within the cosmic totality of the Monte Carlo SS and its place in the scheme of things.
   Seriously.
   Thing is, your Monte Carlo SS is something of an eye-catcher. Particularly when it arrives with a shimmering, almost volcanic coat of Torch Red Paint. And little "SS" badges applied to the flanks and rump. And chrome-tipped dual exhausts. And the aero-cladding in contrasting silver that comes with your elite High Sport Appearance Package.
   What does all this add up to? I'll tell you: a vehicle that exudes aggression. A vehicle that announces to the cowering multitudes that I Am A Very, Very Bad Boy.
   And what's wrong with that? I mean, after all, this is America, not Switzerland. We have a certain lingering affection for outlaws and renegades - stemming, no doubt, from our Wild West heritage and sundry other naughty influences that have found a place in our national psyche. We dote on Wild Things.
   However.
   All this stuff can get you into situations that, if not actually dangerous, can be profoundly discomfiting.
   Case in point: There I am, motoring southbound on Ayers just past SPID, when up beside me comes a perceptibly truculent (no pun intended) Ford pickup. I'm just driving along, see, but I know - I mean, I know - the knuckle-dragger behind the wheel wants a piece of me. He comes alongside, surges forward a bit, then throttles back, trails me for a few seconds.
   And what do I do? I continue to motor serenely along like a good, solid citizen. Finally my would-be challenger, disgusted, floors it and disappears into the distance at about 90 mph.

Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS Four-passenger front-wheel-drive coupe Base price: $22,400 Price as tested: $26,888 Powertrain: Fuel-injected 3.8-liter V-6, 200 hp; four-speed automatic-overdrive transmission Brakes: Front and rear discs with standard antilock (ABS) EPA mileage: 22 city/30 highway Web site: www.chevrolet.com

   Of course I don't believe in that sort of thing. Nossir. Wouldn't be prudent. Speeding bad. Racing on public thoroughfares very very bad. But even had I not been constrained by good judgment, I would have ignored the challenge.
   Why? Because you don't let your mouth (read: throttle foot) write checks that your body (read: car) can't cash.
   Don't get me wrong: The Monte Carlo SS is a perfectly nice vehicle. From certain angles, once you get over those seriously strange ovoid headlights, it's eminently presentable. (While some of the pugnacious cosmetic add-ons are a bit over the top, the spoiler on the trunk lid is actually a plus: It neatly obscures the odd Lincoln Mark III-style simulated-spare-tire bulge that is all too visible on the less gaudily turned-out Monte Carlo LS.)
   But when you're driving a vehicle radiating as much pure aggression as this one, you expect thunderous things to happen when you mash the loud pedal.
   Instead, you get a nice little nudge in the back, and the car steps out smartly.
   In a rationally ordered world, who could ask for anything more? For crying out loud, the thing even gets decent fuel mileage - on regular, yet.
   There is, however, no getting around the fact that we've come a long, long way from the yeasty '70s, when, from '70 to '76, your EmCee could be had with an optional 454 cubic-inch V-8 good for (hang on to yer gimme cap) 360 horsepower.
   Pop the hood on this Monte, however, and you will behold a beautifully engineered, abundantly proven, highly efficient . . . 3.8-liter V-6. That gets you 200 hp.
   So much for the bad news. Indeed, it may not be bad news for you. You may be the sort of individual who likes a flashy car that is really, in its heart of hearts, a solid citizen.
   If you are, you will find little to fault in the Monte Carlo SS. As noted, the V-6 moves the Monte's not-insubstantial bulk (just shy of 3,400 pounds) readily enough, and once you're up and running, the vehicle tracks straight and true: an admirable conveyance for the endless superslab.
   Handling is of a piece with the Monte's somewhat muted mechanical personality as well: Sport-tuned four-wheel independent suspension notwithstanding, it's not a car that begs to be hurled at full chat into decreasing-radius hairpins. It'll do the job - with good ol' American understeer making itself felt all the way - but it's not about to get giddy and silly about it.
   The interior, now, is a success on virtually all counts. Unlike so many coupes that are four-passenger in name only, the Monte can actually accommodate four adults without difficulty. Our tester's all-black interior, which might seem a bit funereal in another setting, was a nice contrast to the flamboyance of the Monte Carlo's exterior.
   Perhaps the best option in the whole package was the heated front seats: a measly 120 bucks for a pair of bun-warmers that'll take the chill off a frosty day before you can say "Fire Down Below!"
   So what does the Monte Carlo SS really, really need? I'd say the real need is for a bit of restraint in the packaging . . . at least until Chevy figures out a way to shoehorn one of those big honkin' 454s under the hood. Till then, heed the words of Yoda . . . and obey.
  
  

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