Today, we’re flashing back to the summer of 1978 with a pair of Chevrolet Vega Kammback wagons. Look closely, and you’ll see two matching green versions of this tiny hauler, an early 1971-73 model in the foreground and a big bumper post-1974 version across the street.

At the time this photo was taken, Vega production had ended only a year earlier, and more than 2 Million of these little cars had been built. The Wagon was actually still going and would last into 1979, as it had been absorbed into the Monza lineup, itself a modified, cooler-looking Vega. With such huge production numbers, they were really omnipresent on American roads, which, as you’re probably already aware, was a mixed bag.

Some Vega owners loved their cars, and they proved to be easy machines to modify for speed, but many more had pretty bad experiences. Later on, it surprised few people to learn that even before the car hit the lots, almost every aspect of the Vega, from design to production, was plagued with trouble. The story began in October of 1968 when GM Chairman Jim Roche declared GM’s intention to build a proper American small car with a modern OHC four.

Detroit’s Second Compact Coming and XP-887

It was a natural response to market conditions at the time, even if GM seemed invincible. A decade earlier, imported cars had started to arrive in real numbers, but while Detroit’s first “compacts” (really much larger than some of the big-selling imports) had beat back the tide for a little while, by the mid-1960s, imports had an even larger market share than they did in 1958.

The car Roche had in mind at the time was in its early stages, GM’s XP-887, a corporate idea project under Ed Cole and Clare MacKichan and not yet a Chevrolet. Cole, a genius engineer with many major successes at GM to his credit, was by this time the COO of GM, but he still took a very personal interest in engineering, and the XP-887 was his baby.

MacKichan’s initial looks were very European, which wasn’t surprising given that he had just returned from a long stint at Opel. Indeed, the early looks for XP-887 bear some resemblance to the Opel Ascona A. As it happened, simply building the Ascona in America might have been a better idea as both it and the Vauxhall HC Viva, from GM’s foreign satellites, were much better cars. But in those days, it had to be invented here.

Chevrolet, for its part, had worked on a potential small-car replacement for the Chevy II in the mid-sixties, but this design would not become the Vega. The division was then run by John DeLorean, who, like many of the staff at the Bowtie division, chafed at being dictated to make the XP-887 into a production car by Cole.

XP-887 Becomes the Vega & Vega Kammback

The division’s engineers, according to DeLorean, soon discovered that the project and its cost estimates were pie-in-the-sky stuff. It took a crash program of re-engineering, led by Jim Musser and later Lloyd Reuss (father of current GM President Mark Reuss), to get it ready in just 18 months. That haste led to many questionable decisions that would reverberate for years.

But it wasn’t all bad news. Hank Haga’s Chevy studio worked to restyle it, creating a very attractive shape that was probably the car’s best asset. Haga’s crew had also just been working on the 1970 Camaro, and the new small car was strongly visually linked to the bigger muscle car by intent. It looked good even as a basic two-door sedan, but especially as a hatchback or “Kammback” wagon.

Supposedly, the wagon body was added after Cole saw a Chevy studio rendering of an XP-887 wagon by designer John T. Houlihan, who’d been inspired by a never-built Camaro wagon concept (not unlike the later Pontiac Firebird Type K). Cole was not originally considering a wagon, but a chance encounter with Houlihan led the young designer to opine that the division’s other wagons were too pricey for very young or first-time buyers, which shifted Cole’s thinking, according to Houlihan.

The Vega Kammback name refers to Swiss-German aerodynamicist Wunibald Kamm, a pioneer of automotive streamlining who’d designed many “Kamm-tailed” coupes in the 1930s, including several BMW 328 aero coupes. No doubt the intent was to make the Vega seem more innovative than it actually was.

Fumble Leads to Error, Leads to Mishap, Leads to Fiasco

Unfortunately, just as the design neared completion, GM’s pricing committee ordered a round of major cost-cutting. This meant a three-speed manual would be standard, and certain parts that the production engineering team thought were important were left out, like fender liners that protected the unibody from salt. Then came another blow when Cole forced the division to use the Vega name instead of one of its choosing (Chevette was considered and then put on the shelf).

Production began in June of 1970 at a brand-new $75M factory in Lordstown, Ohio, then managed by Fisher Body. The heavily automated plant, designed to build 400,000 cars a year, got a specialized rail spur and special rail cars that could transport the cars vertically, which added to cost and complexity but actually worked pretty well. The car’s suspension, though basic, also gave it pretty good handling, and fortunately, the bean counters left the standard front disc brakes.

But other things quickly seemed to go wrong. First off, it came out overweight (the original target was 2,000 pounds, but the production car weighed 2,300 to start) and under-contented, but then came rust and trouble with the car’s alloy-block, cast-iron head overhead cam engine.

Using an alloy cylinder head would have reduced weight and eliminated the problem of having two metals that conduct heat differently in close proximity, but an aluminum head was vetoed for cost reasons. As was a properly sized radiator. Once the car overheated, the head gasket was usually toast, and serious overheating could damage the block. For similar cost reasons, Cole had done away with cylinder liners, which could also have prevented damage if the block got too hot. The Vega’s engine wasn’t bad on paper, but it would be five long years before the engine issues were cured.

Then came a worker revolt. In late 1971 GM turned over management of Lordstown to its assembly division from Fisher body, who laid off 700 workers (including quality inspectors installed by DeLorean) and sped up the line from 60 cars an hour to 100. The result was precipitous drops in quality and morale, and then a series of strikes.

Boom to Bust

Nothing seemed to blunt the Vega’s sales momentum, however. And even though it was not particularly high-tech compared to the later VW Rabbit, it was as good to drive as any Datsun 210 and had plenty of style and customization choices. There was even a panel van (essentially a Vega Kammback wagon with steel in place of the rear windows and a stripped-out interior), though it did not last for the entirety of the run.

Despite all the issues, Vega sales steadily rose in the early 1970s, cresting 460,000 cars in 1974, but the dye was cast. Many owners traded in their cars at Honda, Datsun, and Volkswagen stores later on. ‘

As sales slowed in the late 1970s, Chevy also created a variety of specials based on the car, including the Nomad, a customized Vega Kammback wagon with special window inserts to mimic its famous 1950s ancestor. There was also a Pontiac version, the Astre, and the little Pontiac wagon was absorbed into the Sunbird lineup when the Vega Kammback became the Monza wagon. Sales were surprisingly good until the end, but the Vega quickly disappeared from American roads in the 1980s.

The top shot in this post was taken on Front Street in Coupeville, Washington, on Whidbey Island. Amazingly, aside from the cars, it looks almost identical today!