I think it's safe to assume that aliens have infiltrated General Motors and usurped the positions of high-level decision-makers. That's the only way I can explain what I found when I accidentally wandered onto a Chevrolet new car lot recently on my way to buying a vehicle somewhere else, probably at an import dealer. A Chevy dealer isn't a place I've spent much time in the last 20 years. I'd go to one from time to time, looking for parts for my trusty 1991 G20 van or to get some service, but it never occurred to me to stop in the new car lot and check out the offerings. That's because other than a pickup and Corvette, Chevy just never had anything that I both wanted and was confident would last more than a week before something important fell off. Somewhere between the Citation that lost rear wheels on the highway and the friend who bought a last generation Camaro that spent months in the shop and burned through through three transmissions in the first year, I gave up on anything built by GM and looked elsewhere.
I've been thinking about a new ride since early in the spring, when it dawned on me that I've been driving the same van for 18 years. Talk about being in a rut. A good rut, sure, but still . . . The van has been solid. Reliable as an anvil, comfortable for long cruises, powerful. It's pulled trailers, hauled lumber and engines, served as a mobile bedroom at the race track, been ideal for vacation road trips. And, of course, it has been a terrific rolling blind for photographic missions: a very large percentage of the images on these pages were captured out the driver's window.
The van was proof that Chevy could build something that worked and worked well. But, in traditional GM fashion, it was a 1991 model built with the very best technology 1981 could offer. "GM: always 10 years late to the party" could've been the corporate motto.
Over the years I've pondered selling it, but never could pull the trigger. Heck, it was paid for and always got me where I wanted to go. Early this year, though, when I heard that Congress was considering a cash for clunkers plan that would pay me to take the van off the road if I bought a new car, its fate was sealed. The van is a category 2 light truck in the eyes of the gummint, with a 5.7 liter V8 rated generously by the EPA at 15 miles per gallon. (12 mpg is more like it.) This meant that Uncle Sam would pay me $4,500 for it. Considering the van has a true market value of about $500, it was a no brainer. I went car shopping.
Needing something with good ground clearance, I headed off to view offerings from the usual suspects: Mazda Tribute, Honda CR-V, Toyota RAV4, Nissan Rogue, Subaru Forester. Later I looked at the Ford Escape, a Tribute clone, and decided to buy it because of it's pedigree and the great deals offered by Ford.
But a couple weeks ago a glowing review at Edmunds.com sent me over to the local bowtie purveyor to check out the 2010 Equinox. I'd briefly considered the 2009 Equinox, but moved on because it wasn't cost competitive and came only with a thirsty V-6. What I discovered was that the 2010 Chev Equinox isn't built by your father's Chevy. Heck, it isn't even built by my Chevy. The new Equinox is built by a company seemingly intent on getting it right. And from what I can tell, it did.
In back to back to back road tests with the Nissan Rogue, Ford Escape and Toyota RAV4, the Chevy stood out. It's the quietest of the bunch, interior materials are the best in class, it has great build quality, and is competitively priced. Of course, there are areas where the Equinox lags behind the imports, such as steering feel and cornering performance, but the overall quality knocked me out. So I bought one.
Not without some trepidation, mind you. It used to be an article of faith that buying the first year of any GM model was a guarantee of trouble. The joke was that GM used first model year buyers as beta testers to find out what they'd done wrong. But the Equinox is so impressive, it won me over immediately. It doesn't hurt that much of the key mechanical bits and pieces have been on the road for a couple of years in the new Malibu, which I'm told is just as impressive as the Equinox.
Come Friday, I'll turn in the van. Its fate is set by law: it'll be crushed, which makes me kinda sad. I know I'll miss it. But probably not for long, because I'll be cruising in style in a rolling blind built by the aliens who now control General Motors.
