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A lukewarm hot rod

More retiring than rebellious, Chevy's throwback HHR is counterculture scrubbed clean.

RUMBLE SEAT

December 28, 2005|DAN NEIL

I\o7N\f7 its search for fresh, edgy attitude that will resonate with Generation iPod, Chevy has turned, inevitably, to the Truman administration. The styling of the HHR -- it stands for "Heritage High Roof" -- is inspired, so they tell me, by the 1949 Chevy Suburban. One must be particular in these matters, since Plymouth and Dodge built Suburbans in those years too.


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This is a most curious source of nostalgia, if indeed it is, since most kids in the 18-to-30 age bracket -- the happy hunting grounds for a $20,000 crossover van -- wouldn't know a '49 Chevy Suburban if they had carnal knowledge of one. Tell the truth, I'm a little hazy on it too. I mean, I could probably pick one out of a police lineup, but this vehicle -- this set of styling semantics -- isn't exactly cultural bedrock. In this respect, the HHR has little in common with retro riffs like the VW New Beetle, the Ford Thunderbird, the BMW Mini, all based on universally recognized automotive icons that ring more bells than the Salvation Army's kettle tenders.

If you reverse engineer the styling of the HHR, to discern what sort of sensibility signed off on it, you would have to conclude that person is older, a lifetime car enthusiast, even an expert, for whom the '49 Sub is not at all esoteric but as familiar as Smoot-Hawley is to Milton Friedman. And, given the popularity of this model in the hermetic culture of hot rodding, you'd be right to conclude that person is a bit of a performance geek.

Taken a step further, considering the exceptional headroom of the HHR, you'd be right to conclude that person is also very tall.

Just call me Poirot. The man behind the HHR is none other than the very tall and snowcapped 73-year-old classic-car enthusiast Robert Lutz, vice chairman of General Motors and the whip hand over the styling department.

The trouble is, outside of lifetime subscribers to Hot Rod magazine, the HHR doesn't remind anybody of anything except the Chrysler PT Cruiser, thus the unfortunate and irresistible sobriquet "Me Too Cruiser." Lutz has scorned the comparison. His case is somewhat weakened by the fact that the man who led the design for the PT Cruiser, Bryan Nesbitt, also held the pen for the HHR.

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