Just For You
If it’s been too long since you heard positive words about the AMC Pacer, read on. The 1970s were a time when Detroit was finally – finally – making smaller cars, but it took a concerted effort: pressure from government safety and emissions regulators, pressure from increasingly popular small imports, pressure from oil-drunk lunatics on the other side of the globe, and pressure from a demanding market. The answer came in small-engined big cars, and small-engined small cars. These included the Chevrolet Chevette, Ford Pinto, and of course the AMC Pacer.
The Pacer was a tool for its time. Power came from reasonably efficient straight-sixes or a V8. It was wide and roomy, offering no immediate small-car penalty to the driver until they were seen driving it. It was safer than it looked, at a time when safety reigned. The early ‘70s introduced a breakthrough in highway safety when engineers began buttressing guardrails with steel drums. No, not the musical instruments, but large 55-gallon barrels with holes in the top and bottom. Picture giant toilet paper rolls, designed to collapse strategically (unlike AMC – oops!) upon impact, cushioning the blow for the driver of a speeding car. After a 60-mph crash, the driver could walk away from a car that was still drivable. In 1971.
But, like most things in the ‘70s, the AMC Pacer wasn’t universally adored. Its rear end looked funny. So did its front end, and its profile. Motor Trend contributing artist Harry Bradley sketched an unorthodox Pacer Pace Car for the 1976 Indy 500. It was America’s bicentennial, and patriotism of the mid-century sort (imperialism, capitalism, and chrome-dense Yank Tanks) was out of style. Meanwhile, used VW Beetles retained 99 percent of their value, and you could buy a Bugatti belt buckle made out of pewter for $3.50 for some reason.
To most folks, it was The AMC Pacer, an automotive punch line. But if it met your needs, as it did for many, it was Your AMC Pacer.
The word choice, then, of the prophet Zechariah’s description of Jesus, is just as precious:
“Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9)
Jesus, whose hometown was a punch line and who was rejected by three entire cities even after a preponderance of miracles (see Matthew 11:20-24), was nevertheless a precious possession of God’s people. He was tailor-made to fit their needs. Righteous. Bringing salvation. He would rule with morality and ethics, which were as sparsely found in leaders then as they are in politicians now, but which were long held as attributes of the coming Messiah: “With righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth” (Isaiah 11:4).
Although his reign spans the universe and his grace is free to all people, the nature of his grace is personalized to you. The gifts of grace include the one-time justification, for all, and the ongoing sanctification, which is tailor-made for you. Your Jesus is sharpening your senses to people in your immediate circle who are spiritually bankrupt. Your Jesus is softening your heart to people who are picked on for desiring an AMC “Flying Fishbowl” Pacer (or who may be marginalized or oppressed for more serious reasons). Your Jesus isn’t removing that temptation in your life because he’s training you for a bigger temptation in the future.
Look, see, here comes Your Jesus. His ride ain’t much, but it’s actually perfect for the job.
The Pacer was gone too soon, after a five-year production run (1975-1980). That’s too bad, because an ‘80s pacer could have been way cool. A wide, spacious, rear-drive compact with period styling and a name possibly inspired by a 1958 Edsel would have been perfect for the ‘80s. Well, perfect if you’re into that sort of thing.
John V16 is the intersection of God and cars. Please support our work and donate a V16-powered 1940 Cadillac Series 90 Sixteen to John V16. Or share this article with a friend.
