5 Cars Gen X Loved That Younger Generations Don’t Understand

As a kid, the phrase “they don’t make ’em like they used to” was bandied about by my elders in reference to a range of topics, but mainly cars. Typically, this was met with eye-rolling by yours truly and, well, what goes around comes around, as they say. Because here I am, a fully adulted human sharing effectively the same complaint: These younger generations just don’t understand the cars my generation loves. 

That being Gen X, the period that captures those born between 1965 and 1980. Not Baby Boomers or Millennials, Gen Xers have their own identity that typically revolves around growing up with a lack of internet (or parents paying close attention). Encyclopedia Britannica — which Gen X kids may have gotten from their grandparents as a big-deal present because it was a tome of printed material — says this generation is resourceful and independent, but also cynical. Neat. What about cars? 

Well, the cars that Gen X would have been into were a far cry from today’s sanitized, homogenous transit pods that come stuffed with electronic nannies attempting to drive for you and acres of digital real estate devoted to distraction. Think loud, inefficient, and fun-as-heck with few frills and little in the way of computerized control. Really, that’s not too far off how you might describe Gen X. These five cars are some of my favorites from the era, and examples I know the younger generations don’t get — just ask my kids.

Volkswagen has been selling the GTI on U.S. shores since 1983. Currently in its 8th generation, VW’s modern hot hatch is a hoot on paper. 241 horsepower and 273 lb-ft of torque from a turbocharged 2.0L inline-4 and a 0-60 split of less than 6 seconds. Given the 20 times Car and Driver has awarded the GTI its coveted 10 Best award, we can safely assume this is a fun-to-drive car. But give a Gen Xer the choice between the 2026 Volkswagen GTI and a clean Mk1 example from 1983, and I’d wager the O.G. gets picked 9 times out of 10. 

Considering the shocking disadvantage Veedub’s first GTI sits at compared to the latest variant from a numbers perspective, younger generations may struggle to understand why. Its naturally aspirated four-pot is down 151 ponies and 168 torques. You have to shift the transmission yourself, something VW removed from the equation in 2024. And the all-important 0-60 mph metric is, well, poky. However, slide behind the wheel of a 1983 GTI, and you’ll find total car-to-driver engagement. 

It weighs just 2,100 pounds and is shod with comically small — by today’s standards — 14-inch tires. The Mk1’s shiny new brethren is a relative porker at 3,300-ish pounds with its heavy 19-inch wheels. This doesn’t just take away from the tossability of a first-gen GTI; it utterly guts it. Light on power, devoid of frills, likely unsafe, and totally lacking in the tech department, an Mk1 Volkswagen GTI is understandably difficult for a young buck to get their head around.

The Cherokee nameplate still lives in the Jeep lineup, but an XJ Cherokee it is not. Younger generations may appreciate the smoother ride that comes from a modern Cherokee’s unibody construction. Perhaps that whiff of Jeep off-roadiness seems exciting without being exhausting. Its XJ forebear is just the opposite; body-on-frame construction ensured actual rough road capability, and a harsh ride to go with it. 

Should you drive one with a manual transmission, the shift lever is unusually long and shifts like, well, a truck. The real bonus here for Gen Xers is that the Cherokee served as the (anti) hero car in “The Goonies”, a 1985 flick of outsized cult proportions that younger drivers may not even be aware of. Like so many Gen X-friendly cars that don’t make sense to later generations, the XJ Cherokee represents automotive simplicity. No screens or real electronics to speak of. The windows operate via manual cranks, and when you open the hood, there’s simply an engine sitting there. 

In this case, a bulletproof (in my experience) straight-6 that is as easy to access as it is to wrench on. An interesting aspect of these Jeeps is that you could burn rubber in two-wheel drive with a proper clutch dump. Traction control was not a thing, and yet, in four-wheel drive, the XJ was glued to the pavement in the worst of conditions. But both scenarios required critical thought from the driver. Something today’s cars require of no one — they just try to do it for you.

How can you understand a car if you can’t even pronounce it? In fairness, Ford’s decision to push a European Sierra on American consumers was a dicey proposition. One that really didn’t work out, as the Merkur XR4Ti was only sold between 1985 and 1989. For one thing, there’s the name, a German approach to Mercury that’s pronounced “mare-core”, not “mer-ker”. My dad owned one of these wacky sports sedans with a boosted inline-4 and screwball biplane rear spoiler. 

It was unlike anything else on the road then, or now. But you had to visit a Lincoln-Mercury dealership to obtain one. Given Mercury hasn’t been a going concern for 16 years, it’s possible younger generations don’t even know of the brand, let alone the Merkur variant, which they may be unable to properly pronounce. Plus, when’s the last time you saw an XR4Ti on the road? If you did, and were unfamiliar with it, you’d be forgiven for thinking someone had raided the JC Whitney catalog to create some kind of Frankensteinian hatchback. 

But the XR4Ti is, in fact, one of the coolest boondoggles of a car to ever hit our shores. Boasting rear-wheel drive, a chassis tuned with Jackie Stewart’s input, and a 175-horse 2.3L turbocharged four-cylinder huffing on 14 pounds of boost, the Merkur XR4Ti was faster out of the gate than a period Ferrari 308, and was offered with a 5-speed manual transmission. None of which would make much sense to drivers who didn’t grow up around these cars.

Millennials and later generations might not know this, but Mitsubishi and Chrysler once made wickedly cool cars. In fairness, both automotive brands are now hollowed-out shells of their former selves. So familiarity with one of the best badge-engineered duos in history may be hard to come by, which translates to an understandable misunderstanding of the Mitsubishi Starion and Chrysler Conquest twins, lovingly referred to as the Starquest. 

My first car was a Starion, and the name alone elicits furrowed brows from those not in the know. A common refrain was how similar it looked to a DeLorean, that car from a movie about going back in time, to the future. Between the moniker and movie reference alone, it’s easy to see why younger drivers might not understand one of Mitsubishi’s all-time cars. Really, the Starion perfectly encapsulates the ’80s with fat rear rubber, boost that hit like a hammer, pop-up headlights, boxed fender flares, and automatic seatbelts with the word TURBO emblazoned in a repeating pattern. 

Like other oddballs of the era, the relative paucity of Starion sales — fewer than 35,000 over a 7-year stretch — makes it an understandably challenging car to “get”. I mean, Google Docs is currently telling me the word Starion is misspelled. However, should you be in the contingent that doesn’t understand the draw of the Starquest twins, take some time to familiarize yourself. Because, IYKYK, as I always say.

You can no longer buy a rear-wheel drive, body-on-frame, V8-powered full-size sedan in America. But for more than 30 years, Ford sold one that any Gen Xer can appreciate: The Crown Victoria. Specifically, we’re talking about the Crown Vic built between 1992 and 2008 — that virtually unchanged variant with its rounded-off lines. During this 16-year span, Ford’s big sedan became the de facto cop car for the entire country and, as it turns out, some police departments still use the aging Crown Victoria. 

The headlight signature still strikes fear into the hearts of middle-aged drivers everywhere. But it also sparks a desire to own one and pretend you’re a cop. Not to mention the excellence of driving a big, cushy sedan with room for six — thanks front bench seat — and a simple V8 that Ford made by the boatload (read: easy and cheap to repair). Cars like this have gone full dodo bird under the modern crossover onslaught. 

And lest you scoff at the pathetic fuel economy of a Crown Vic, just 17 mpg around town circa 2006, realize that Ford’s current six-seater crossover option — the Explorer — is only managing 20 mpg at best. Widely known for being bulletproof, the Crown Victoria defines the phrase I dropped at the outset: “they don’t make ’em like they used to”. But at this point, younger generations more likely associate the Crown Vic with clapped-out Uber rides, or perhaps, as that weirdly long car their grandmother drives, in Mercury Grand Marquis spec, of course.