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Hagerty Employee

Why nostalgia for the 1983-87 E80 Corolla might be justified | Hagerty Media

If the infinitely configurable Ford F-150 is the automotive equivalent of a hamburger, the Toyota Corolla is certainly akin to the everything bagel: Filling the need by offering a cornucopia of toppings atop a bland, affordable, and approachable foundation. For several decades, it's been delivering the goods for millions of users around the globe.

Toyota's astounding conservatism in making FWD aficionados suffer through multiple Tercels before taking their bread-and-butter product transverse seems ridiculous in retrospect but there were probably a few good reasons for it. The first two generations of Civics were reliable but fragile and certainly not up to world-car African usage the way the Corolla was expected to be.

The Nova was EVERYWHERE in my childhood. The Twin Cams were not, sadly.
Intermediate Driver

Nope, no nostalgia for this car from me. Though I never experienced on first hand, I saw plenty on the road. They all seemed to disappear en mass right around 1995 or so. Though I too think I saw more Novas than Corollas in my town. I desperately love how 1980s Motorweek describes the cars designed with a straight edge and a pencil as aerodynamic though.

The subsequent generation was, in my mind, where Toyota ignited the rocket engines. The seventh generation put them into orbit.
Intermediate Driver

One of my dad's fishing buddies had a brown Corolla, I recall the Upstate New York winters were not kind to it. Fortunately, that shade of brown almost exactly matched the color of the near-immediate corrosion that befell most of the body panels; soon it was almost impossible to tell, from a distance, where the rust stopped and the paint began. That is, until daylight began to be visible through the body.
I recall he had an 80's Toyota pickup, too, which escaped a similar fate by virtue of the fact that he almost always drove the Corolla. I do recall that truck was the first vehicle I ever shifted gears on- he left me move the lever while he clutched it. This was a great honor to an eleven-year-old boy!