Don’t ever pour a few drinks into me and get me fired up about modern car design, because it’s simply unfair… for me. There are only so many synonyms for the word “suppository,” and trust me, I’ve used them all. That’s why I appreciate it when automakers take a chance in the sheetmetal department. When Nissan decided to denude the Southwest of peyote and come up with the Murano CrossCabriolet and the Juke, frankly, I applauded that someone pushed those cars past the beancounters and the sour-looking management dudes with ill-fitting toupees (there’s probably some overlap there) to hit a retailer near you. I’ve never had an occasion to wear a disguise and try both of them out, but I’ll admit that in my weaker moments the sheer absurdity of the Juke makes me swoon.
Look, anyone could pen an ugly car. I’m convinced that some of the all-time worst styling offenders were simply the product of the management handing the drafting pen to a doe-eyed young designer, with a cranium swollen with wondrous ideas and all high on endorphins for their chance to design a car that people will actually drive in the real world, and then clubbing said designer over the head and tracing around a piece of toast. This technique led to several Chysler products.
The 2012 Hyundai Veloster is not absurd. Or, at least not in the same class of bonkers as either of those Nissans, but that’s not to say it isn’t as boldly different in other respects. First of all, there’s the asymmetry. Two doors on one side, and one on the other. Obsessive-compulsives may want to avert their eyes, or at least step back and forth through a doorway 35 times before looking closely at this car. In the same vein, grammarians should just ignore the word “coupe” entirely. It’s not worth an aneurism to protest; the world’s moved on, “hella” is rapidly approaching acceptance into the OED, and I have an owl so your argument is invalid.
It only takes a glance to realize the Veloster is different, but how different? Read on to find out.