Suzuki Cappuccino, Acura NSX, Volvo 245: The Dopest Cars I Found For Sale Online

Happy Tuesday! It's a day ending in Y, which means you're likely paying more attention to your favorite automotive blog than to you are to your day job. I am, of course, happy to help you out with this. 

I assume you work in some sort of Office Space environment, where your job is moving numbers between various spreadsheets in an unadorned cubicle. I honestly don't know if those jobs all died off between the Dot Com bust and the housing crisis or if they're the only white-collar jobs that still exist, but regardless, that's what I like to imagine I'm saving you from. Isn't the idea of a Suzuki Cappuccino better than staring into the middle distance as your boss emails you about a meeting that could itself be an email? Trust me. You'd rather be looking at the week's Dopest Cars, trust me.

Back when I very briefly owned an NB Mazda Miata, I got the license plate L4TT3 for it. Why? Because it looked like a scaled-up Suzuki Cappuccino, and I have always loved these tiny little cars. I can't own a Cap here in New York, our laws don't allow for registration of keijidosha, but you can live my mini-NB dreams with this $9,000 Cappuccino. 

Is this a shining example of a Cappuccino? It is not! There's rust, there's a ripped seat, the wheels are some real "cheapest thing at Tire Rack just to throw snows on" garbage. But seats can be swapped, wheels can be replaced, and rust is just weight reduction. Don't think about whatever is going on with the brakes. I'm sure it's fine, and whatever is not fine can certainly be fixed with parts that are readily available in the United States. It's fine. 

If there's one thing I love on God's green earth, well, it probably has little to do with cars and much to do with the fact that we can be friends with dogs. But if you were to expand that list of top loves beyond just one thing, you'd very quickly find "beat to hell BMW 3-series" on it. I never seem to love immaculate German cars nearly as much as I do when they've clearly been drifted into walls. 

This particular BMW 328is has off-color quarter panels and doors, a Bride seat with drift stickers on it, a flat wheel, and a tall shift knob. This alone is enough to make me love it, even if the wheels fit properly and all the trim pieces were in their right place. Alas, the wheels look like hell and the trim is missing. This is how all BMWs should look, I think the world would be a better place. 

Remember last week, when I said that my roommates planning a move had spurred me to look into vanlife? Well, Victoria Scott did her best to talk me out of it, and then I thought too much about the economy — then Vicki talked me back out of it, and then we went to war against Iran. I still don't know if living in a van is right for me or a sign of my prepper upbringing, but the Facebook Marketplace listings I keep seeing aren't helping me push the idea down. 

Take this Toyota Van, for instance. Sure, it's not your traditional vanlife Sprinter, but that's part of the beauty. Owners of parking lots know to look out for the Sprinters with ladders on the back and solar panels on the roof, but you can spend the night anywhere you like in this Toyota — it even has "custom magnetic curtains" to ensure your privacy. I'm just saying, with the state of the world, cutting out rent as an expense would be pretty nice. 

There was a time, when I first started at Jalopnik nearly five years ago, that I desperately sought out an EM1 Civic Si. I couldn't afford a nice Integra, but I could maybe swing a Civic if I found one in rough enough shape. It never worked out — I ended up with the Miata I talked about earlier — but it left me with a newfound appreciation for these Civic coupes. 

I now know, of course, that it would be cruel to park such a Civic in Brooklyn. I watched a Chevy Avalanche back into another car while street parking just today — I wouldn't want to subject a prized Honda to such abuse in exchange for puttering between New York stop lights. It deserves open roads, winding canyons, maybe even track time. You should get this EM1 Civic Si in my stead, and keep me updated on all your adventures together. Let me live vicariously through you. 

I have what might be a bit of a hot take to say here: These early Firebirds are the best the car ever looked. The hotter take is that the fourth generation comes in second place, but the real thing that's going to get me angry comments is denigrating the great Bandit Trans Am. Hear me out: I love "Smokey and the Bandit" as much as if not more than the next gal, but when you take the car out of the film it just looks... dated. Droopy, even. It wasn't a great time for American cars. 

A first-generation Firebird like this gorgeous '67 model, however, is just a better-looking '67 Camaro for less money. You think you're getting a first-generation Camaro for the $16,000 this seller is asking? Not until Barret-Jackson and Bring A Trailer both go out of business, and every Baby Boomer dies off. So, not within any of our lifetimes. 

I want to drive another first-generation NSX, because the first one I got to tool around in wasn't a shining example of the model. The alignment was rough, the suspension and clutch were unreasonably stiff for Brooklyn roads, and it turns out power steering is pretty nice in New York City — a feature that particular early NSX lacked. I'm open to being more sold on the car, I want to love it, but I'm going to need to drive a clean example for that. 

Maybe this NSX, at $50,000, is that car. It's far from the cleanest example — it has aftermarket wheels, coilovers, exhaust, intake, and brakes, not to mention a rebuilt title — but it seems to be driving about just fine. The seller claims the car was wrecked two decades ago, and if it's been on the road all that time without issue I'm willing to bet it's fine. I do think it's a sin to put cheap coilovers and RPF1s on an NSX, though. 

I'm a little fascinated by this Datsun, and not exclusively in good ways. Someone obviously put a lot of love and care into it, with the seller claiming a freshly rebuilt engine plus a new windshield, brakes, suspension, door locks, and more. Yet, someone who put all that work into a Japanese pickup also has iron crosses as the side-view mirrors. What's the deal there?

Is this yet another person who thinks they look Edgy, and has never thought through the Nazi associations? Or, was this Datsun purchased specifically because the Japanese were on the Axis side in World War II? If it's the latter, has anyone told this seller about the last few decades of world history? Most iron crosses seem to be owned by folks hoping the South Will Rise Again, but maybe this seller is hoping the same for imperial Japan. I guess it's at least more recent than the Civil War. 

Back when I was deep into the Subaru scene, the Forester XT was what you got when you couldn't find a clean WRX or STi in your budget. The Fozzy used the same chassis as the Impreza back then, and a good number of parts swapped over — you could build up your FXT with the same bolt-ons as the WRX guys, without spending so much on the car itself. Now, though, I've matured. If you gave me the choice today, I'd have an early FXT over the WRX. 

Back in the day, I wanted the lowest, stiffest car imaginable. Today, though, I'd rather have something I can take folks out to the Gunks in to go climbing. This Forester X fits that bill, with five usable seats and a cargo area that'll fit all manner of ropes, cams, and harnesses. Plus, it's fun to scare your passengers with a nondescript-looking car that's far faster than it has any right to be. 

Remember what I was saying about vanlife earlier? The Vanagon is really built for it. Well, not this Vanagon specifically — it's no Westfalia — but Volkswagen vans writ large have long been the van-dweller's abode of choice. I maintain, though, that you don't really need the sleeping area of a Westfalia to make vanlife viable in a Bus or Vanagon. Instead, you just need a hammock. 

Set up a hammock off the back of the van to a tree, or even inside, and you're set. It's comfortable overnight, it packs up to nearly nothing during the day — it's perfect. I really don't understand why more folks in the space-constrained vanlife world don't sleep in hammocks, but maybe that's why I live in a building and they live in vans. They know how to live on the road better than I do, and there must just be something I'm missing. 

The seller of this Volvo 245 claims that it "Has roof rack and 3rd seat." Obviously this means the third-row seat, that folds down into the cargo area, but imagine a world in which these old Volvo wagons came as two-seaters. Same body length, same size, but shooting brakes — no rear doors and no rear seats. That's a better world than this one, and a world I'd like to live in. 

This wagon's seen its share of wear, but it's also clearly been maintained. The AC and electronic locks don't work, but the seller claims the tires, motor mounts, muffler, and alignment are all fresh. It sounds like a classic case of a car just getting too old for someone who needs a reliable daily driver, which puts it into perfect Jalop territory — we love a car that's almost daily-driveable, with just a few annoying problems. We can fix her.