Homely cars have timeless appeal

Suddenly, they are everywhere. A popularity explosion. I can't drive more than a few miles in any direction and not see at least one of the following three cars: the Honda Element, the Scion xB or the Nissan Cube.

I find myself staring at these cars. Mesmerized by them.

Now, I know nothing of these vehicles, save for recently learning that Toyota makes Scion; and, let's face it, between Honda, Toyota and Nissan, well, you're talking about consistent excellence in auto-making. Mechanically, those things run and run and run. I've personally driven two Hondas for more than 10 years each and near 200,000 miles.

But mechanical admiration is not why I'm staring.

The Scion xB base cost is about $16,500. The Honda Element jumps to $20,500. The Nissan Cube floats from $15,000 to $20,000, depending on engine size. So, all told, as sort of almost SUVs go, these cars are much more affordable than, say, CR-Vs and Xterras and 4Runners, let alone the bigger, make-no-mistake SUVs.

But I'm not staring because these drivers got great deals. I've never sat inside any of these three cars. Maybe they're divine, roomy and comfortable. Maybe they drive like a dream. But I'm not staring inside these cars. My eyes never get any further than the outside.

I'm staring at something these three cars have in common -- one glaring feature these three cars share. It jumps out at you, just smacks your eyeballs. From the outside, anyway, these three cars are remarkably, astonishingly, grippingly ... uh ... homely, unattractive. Almost deliberately so.

The Scion xB makes me think of what would happen if a very large bullfrog made love to a school bus. The Honda Element is what you get when a toaster makes love to a Humvee. The Nissan Cube looks like a genetic experiment gone awry, involving the Scion xB, a hearse and a Shar-Pei (yeah, the dog).

You've heard of feng shui? The ancient Chinese system of aesthetics? You know, a better life through flow, movement, energy? Well, I'm convinced the design teams of these three automobiles had to have gathered at the exact opposite end of the globe, which, according to Google maps, is Ada, Okla., where they teach feng shui's dark cousin, "Gee Mclk," which literally translates "bang your shins on right angles."

I keep imagining a conversation that didn't happen, and I keep wondering how on earth it could have not happened. I keep seeing Phil and Rachel, body design team leaders, about 12 weeks into the project. They step back across the room to behold their work. They freeze. There is a pregnant silence.

Rachel: Phil? We have to stop this. Now.

Phil: Hmm?

Rachel: We have to stop this. If it costs us our jobs, we have to stop building this car right now.

Phil: Rachel, what are you talking about?

Rachel: You don't see it? Look!

Phil: Oh no ... how ... Rachel ... huh ...

Rachel: I know. I know.

Or maybe it was deliberate. Maybe Phil and Rachel were assigned the task of aesthetically unsettling. Maybe it was the goal. Or maybe the way you achieve affordability is because it's cheaper to make all the body welds at right angles.

(I'm) trying to imagine the car shows. Trying to imagine the obligatory beautiful woman standing around, showcasing one of these cars, bathing it in loving and sultry hand gestures, laying across the hood. Trying to imagine that. Can't.

This is not the first time, of course, that Americans have jumped at the chance to own a homely car. I think back to the early 1970s. My high school sweetheart's father owned a Honda motorcycle dealership. One day, he drove up in something that looked like a dirt clod with wheels. Circa Flintstones. Yep. The 1972 Honda Civic. It was the first time I had ever seen a Honda automobile, and I thought: "This is, like, a practical joke. 'Cuz you'd have to intend to make something this homely."

The Honda Civic is the second-longest-running of a nameplate by a Japanese manufacturer -- wildly popular. Toward the late 1980s, the company suddenly redesigned the body. Today, it's a good-looking car. But, I can no more explain what motivated folks to change it from homely to attractive any more than I can explain why they made it homely in the first place. Because, clearly, we're going to buy it, regardless!

By the way, ever look up the word scion? It means a descendant, or a shoot or twig, especially one used for grafting or planting; a cutting.

How perfectly, beautifully, absurdly random. Makes me want to test drive a Scion xB.

Or do some yardwork.

Originally published in View News, Nov. 10, 2009.