My mother ended up keeping the car for six more years before replacing it with….you guessed it….a Toyota Camry. I rented a Chevy Metro in the meantime because I had no desire to drive around South Florida in early September with no AC, and the mechanic did not provide loaners anyway. He took a quick look at the car, rolled his eyes, then told me how busy he was and that it would be at least a week before he could make the repair. Since Dad didn’t like dealers, it turned out to be a nearby independent mechanic. We found the warranty in his files, and the company directed me to the shop who replaced the part, who was now obligated to replace it again. Extended warranty? Dad was clearly no fool – if he was going to take a chance on another Chrysler, he wanted some protection. She remembered something similar happening last year and Dad had it fixed under the extended warranty. I drove home and told my mother what happened (and how much I hate that piece of ). I then turned on the AC, and everything again went haywire. I was really in no mood to deal with a break-down, so I took a chance and restarted the car. I limped into a nearby gas station, turned everything off, and took a moment to assess the situation. I was running some errands with the car when suddenly there was a deafening screech, emergency lights came on, the temperature gauge pegged at H, and smoke or steam was streaming out from the grille. I had to fly down to Florida because both my father and favorite Great Aunt passed away from cancer within days of each other. My personal grudge against the Cirrus came about three months after I wrote this review. There were a few other mechanical issues as well, one of which resulted in them spending a week or so with a Plymouth Breeze loaner. The speedometer cable then developed a very annoying whine. Shortly after buying the car, he noticed that only half of the grille was chromed. Though not as bad as their Omni and Horizon, it was no paragon of quality. When I pulled into the driveway, there was an identical white Cirrus. After finishing my business in Miami, I headed up to my parent’s house with the intention of telling Dad to avoid this car. There were numerous squeaks and rattles to go along with the droning V6 and rough-shifting four-speed automatic. The agency gave me a white Cirrus with about 10,000 miles on it, but it felt like far more. I had a business trip to South Florida coming up a few weeks after our conversation and arranged to rent a Cirrus so he could take a closer look outside of the confines of a dealership and I could give him my opinion as well. When he was looking to replace his 1989 Civic in early 1995 (the seats were killing his back), he mentioned to me that he was considering the Cirrus.
My father was one of those people intrigued by the Cirrus’ high-content-to-price ratio.
CIRRUS LXI SERIES
Another in a series of my reviews that appeared in the online version of African Americans On Wheels, a now defunct automotive magazine that was included as an insert in the Sunday newspapers of major cities.
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