I own an Aztek still, even after it made the “50 Worst Cars of All Time” list published by Time Magazine five years ago. Service is great, comfort is tops. It has been the most reliable vehicle I have ever driven. My running around has escalated since retirement, and though I hated the idea of adjusting to a new car’s temperament, I had to face the facts. My Aztek has 315, 706 miles and, though still serving me well, I don’t put it through the stress of road trips that take me more than a couple of hours away. Now I have a small economy car for longer adventures.
The dear old Aztek has been on some great runs: to the Atlantic Coast twice (the first time my son used it on his honeymoon), to Las Vegas, to Chicago with Jake the chihuahua as navigator, (omg, the traffic!), on countless road trips in the Missouri/Arkansas/Tennessee/Kentucky areas, and on a few backroad jaunts that were against my better judgment. Miles and memories galore! Without question I would jump at the opportunity to buy an identical model if Pontiac were still around and Azteks were in production, in spite of the fact that some family members don’t want to be seen in it… like my sister.
Those Aztek wheels have been the source of my security, freedom and independence since 2001. It is downright criminal that I can never purchase another. Gas mileage is super, body still looks reasonably good, except for the fading of the black plastic trim. Oddly, I saw an identical vehicle in the Bootheel once. It had the same faded black plastic, tail lights that seemed discolored by interior moisture, and a dangling light over the license plate. It seemed that parallel universes had intersected for a nano-second.
I will run those wheels off before I give it up. That process has begun, I guess. One wheel cover is now history, but I won’t replace it. She has earned her scars and she wears them well.