This caught my eye as I was checking my emails this morning.
History of the Yugo (link)
All I can say is what a load of twaddle.
“The car was slow, crawling to 60 mph in 14 seconds and topping out at 86 mph. Then came the reviews. C/D’s then technical director, Csaba Csere, wrote, “It’s obvious to me that the Yugo GV is inferior to every other car sold in America.”
And there you have it, every other car sold in America.
(This was probably why it was chosen as the ‘light relief’ transport in Die Hard 3)
Well, we live in the UK, and Hubby and I both had Yugos (mine had the Go Faster stripes having the 1100cc engine to his 990cc) and found them to be the most fun cars we’d ever had.
They were economical to run at 55 – 60 mpg (petrol, not diesel), cheap to insure, nippy, easy to drive and reliable.
No, we did not cane them by pushing them to the maximum every day, taking on boy racers, or trying to be one. But let me tell you this, mine would leave BMWs standing at traffic lights, even though I concede such cars did catch me up before the next set.
Also, when Hubby had a hospital appointment in London, Harriet (my car) performed excellently, getting through the traffic with ease, totally responsive to Hubby’s driving.
Hubby was able to do his own servicing as there were no computers on board, just old fashioned points and plugs.
We ran treasure hunts, it easily contained our camping gear for holidays (and the dog), and if we wanted a bit of speed, both delivered.
In fact, we received a speeding ticket for doing 70 in a 30 mph limit. First, we never knew Harvey (Hubby’s car) could go that fast and second, it was the day we sold it and as is our normal practice, we put the time of sale on the transfer documents.
So, if you wanted a practical car, one that didn’t cost the earth to run and you don’t live in the fast lane with all the ho-ha that goes with it (ie. thousands to keep your top of the range or gas guzzler on the road and fuel it up), the humble Yugo ticked a lot of boxes.
Not all of us want to pose or take part in a Grand Prix each morning on the way to work.