1971 Chevrolet Vega hatchback. Photos courtesy GM Media Archives.
Designed to go head-to-head with the best compact cars in the world, the Chevrolet Vega seemed like it had the potential to modernize the American automotive industry. Though the car itself was hardly revolutionary (except, perhaps, for its unlined die-cast aluminum four-cylinder engine block), the process by which it was designed, the factory in which it was assembled and even the method by which it was transported from factory to depot could have changed nearly every facet of how cars went from concept to showroom floor.
Though GM’s desire to build a competitive compact car dated back to the early 1960s, it wasn’t until 1967 that the design for the Vega was presented to GM senior management by executive vice president Ed Cole. Competing designs (including options from Pontiac) were submitted, but in 1968, Cole’s concept received the green light for production under the Chevrolet brand. In the first of several game-changing moves, Cole, then president of GM, hand-picked the team behind the car while acting as chief engineer. Under a newly implemented “car line management technique,” Cole had absolute say in the Vega program, overseeing some 50 engineers split into body, power train, chassis design, product assurance and pleasability groups. This direct management approach bypassed the usual committees and promised to shorten development time, and GM chairman James Roche announced that this revolutionary car would go from concept to production in just two years.
The Lordstown, Ohio, factory in which the Vega would be built promised to advance the science of automotive construction. Prior to the start of Vega assembly, GM invested heavily in plant automation to ensure optimum line speeds. Robots would be used to produce the bulk of the Vega’s body welds, while computers were used for quality control purposes. Initial projections showed that automation would allow Lordstown to produce 100 Vegas per hour, roughly double the production speed of other GM production facilities. Better still (in the eyes of management, anyway), the plant could be run with fewer human operators, ultimately reducing manufacturing costs.
Even the method by which Vegas would be transported from Lordstown to depots for dealer distribution was innovative. Instead of using conventional rail cars, which carried just 18 automobiles, General Motors worked with the Southern Pacific Railroad to develop the Vert-A-Pac rail car, capable of hauling 30 Vegas per rail car. As the name implies, Vert-A-Pac rail cars hauled the Vegas nose-down, in a vertical orientation, after the cars had been bolted to Vert-A-Pac loading ramps that also doubled as doors. Once the Vegas had been secured, the ramps were lifted into place with heavy-duty forklifts, and unloading was as simple as reversing the process. Though the mere suggestion of hauling cars in positions other than horizontal typically horrifies auto enthusiasts, the Vega was engineered to be transported this way. Engine baffles prevented oil from leaking into cylinders, and special batteries with rear-mounted caps were fitted to prevent acid leaks. Any excess fuel left in the carburetor was drained via a tube to a vapor recovery canister, and even the windshield washer tank was oriented to prevent leaks.
Loading Vegas into a Vert-A-Pac rail car.
The Vega was pleasantly styled, carrying over design cues from other popular models such as the Chevrolet Camaro. It was equipped comparably to rivals of the day, though it had the distinction of being available in a wider array of body styles. Even the name “Vega” had connotations of greatness; after all, Vega is the brightest star in the constellation Lyra, as well as the fifth-brightest star in the night sky. As is often the case with ambitious products and ideas, the Chevrolet Vega somehow failed to deliver on its accumulated potential.
Prior prior to the car’s launch, John DeLorean, then division manager for Chevrolet, saw major resentment at Chevrolet over the Vega. Because the car was designed by a team of GM engineers, no one at Chevrolet wanted to embrace the “outsider” automobile. DeLorean himself could do little to influence the car’s design or engineering, though his reputation (and that of Chevrolet) would soon be riding on the Vega’s commercial success.
Initially, the Vega delivered impressive sales for Chevrolet, selling nearly 278,000 units in 1971, its debut year. Sales climbed to nearly 395,000 units in 1972, almost 396,000 in 1973 and close to 453,000 units in 1974. In the days before the internet, problems with new models were slow to spread via word of mouth, and several years elapsed before design flaws became an obstacle to Vega sales. Almost from launch, however, the Vega’s hot-blooded nature and thirst for oil began to emerge as issues with new owners.
Vega models, loaded for delivery to depot.
Problems with the Vega went beyond engine cooling and oil consumption issues, though they’d both ultimately contribute to the Vega’s legacy (as would the propensity of its Fisher body to rust through before the payment book was emptied). Mechanical and engineering issues aside, the modernization of the Lordstown Assembly Plant took a huge motivational toll on its UAW workers. Even before a 1972 strike would halt Vega production for nearly 30 days, rumors circulated that employees were deliberately performing substandard work, or worse, sabotaging cars on the line.
Though the Vega’s die-cast aluminum engine had undergone some 6 million miles of development testing, serious reliability issues surfaced soon after the car’s release. A six-quart cooling system and small radiator proved barely sufficient to prevent overheating in warmer climates, and the aluminum engine block soon earned a reputation for distorting when hot. This frequently led to the piston rings scraping the silica used to harden cylinder walls, increasing oil consumption (though to be fair, valve stem seals were also a known source of oil consumption). In extreme overheating, the engine block’s distortion could be severe enough to compromise the head gasket, leading to coolant leaks and further destructive overheating.
Chevrolet took until 1976 to resolve issues with the Vega’s 2.3-liter four-cylinder engine, and by then even a serious marketing effort to promote the new “Dura-Built 140″ engine proved to be too little, too late. The new engine improved coolant flow through the block; used a revised head gasket and water pump; added revised valve guide seals; and changed the thermostat, but not even an increased five-year, 60,000-mile warranty was enough to restore consumer confidence. Sales in 1975 totaled just more than 206,000 units, and fell even further, to less than 161,000 units, following the release of the Dura-Built 140 engine in 1976. In 1977, the Vega’s final year of production, only 78,402 models found their way into consumer driveways.
Perhaps the Vega should be remembered not for what it failed to do, but rather for what it attempted. Industry innovations aside, the Vega was available throughout much of its production in notchback, hatchback, wagon and panel delivery versions, giving consumers a surprising array of choices for a single model. Cosworth Engineering supplied a tuned, twin-cam 2.0-liter version of the Vega’s 2.3-liter engine for the 1975-1976 model years, giving Formula One fans a reason to shop the Vega, too. Even a rotary engine was considered for the Vega (up until 1974), but poor fuel economy and difficulty in meeting emissions requirements killed the plan before it went into production.
Though some see the Vega as the car that began a long period of decline for General Motors, others choose to see it as a car that proved GM could think outside the proverbial box. Had Chevrolet (and quality-obsessed John DeLorean) been more involved in the car’s development and engineering, public perception of the Vega could be quite different today. It is, after all, the victors who get to write the history books.