A year that looked nothing like it sounded
1978 was a year of pretending things were fine. Saturday Night Fever was still on the radio nine months into the year, Grease was the film everybody saw twice, and Jimmy Carter was halfway through a presidency he would not finish. The first oil shock had passed, the second one was a year away, and the country had decided to enjoy the gap. New cars cost an average of fifty-eight hundred dollars, a gallon of gasoline cost sixty-five cents, and the most popular thing on four wheels in America was a two-door coupe with a half-vinyl roof and an eight-cylinder engine that nobody pretended was efficient.
Everything else was already changing. Volkswagen had stopped building the Beetle in Germany and started building Rabbits in Pennsylvania. Honda was selling enough Accords in California that Detroit had noticed. The downsized GM full-sizers from 1977 were in their second model year and had quietly turned out to be very good. The Ford Pinto was in court for the rest of its life. The Chrysler Corporation was eighteen months from a bailout that nobody yet knew was coming. The year's biggest seller through all of that was the Oldsmobile Cutlass, a car that had no business being the biggest seller of anything and was somehow the biggest seller of everything.
