We don't look back at many if any American cars produced between 1974-1982 and say, "Wow this thing rips!" This is the way drivers were forced to live. Something our cars hardly recognized, the environment, kissed engineers upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat. America's cake of heart thrusting performance had become stale. Camaros, Corvettes, Mustangs all wheezed about in the interest of air.
While engineering saved high output dreams decades later, a simpler method moved these sludge makers; bold graphics. The goal of punching your brain with the image of a screaming bird, spitting cobra, and swooping stripes sold. Placing these colors upon familiar body shapes did enough to distract you from two barrel heartbreak. It's all about making the best of materials available. When the material sucks just paint it up and shove it out.
Domestic products of this suffocating era coincided with a nation's new personality. Things we used to invest pride into are being kicked around. The world wants a piece of our hide after several decades parading about in strength. Lessons have been learned and many more are still to find. While finding the new way is painful, there shouldn't be no way to call back days of vibrant joys and leaps ahead. Nothing lasts forever because Earth never stops. Automobiles took a shot to the heart, but a sense of duty kept pistons pumping. Like Theodore Roosevelt upon his podium we'll bleed out all that gave us life to this point never faltering in our quest for better days ahead. This is why cars like this are preserved. They don't rip your hair out, but with the top(s) off or down it'll flow alright. Bad as it looks compared to today, in the time this philosophy warms our hearts.