Despite our nonstop globe-trotting lifestyles, which regularly whisk us away to drive the planet’s coolest, most exotic cars, the fact is, none of us can actually afford that bottle of Chateau Margaux served during the press dinner, much less the car we’re there to test. Because under our Nordstrom Rack sport coats, we’re journalists, not hedge-fund managers. Somewhere on the 405 freeway as we head home from our Walter Mitty day jobs, our horse-drawn carriages poof into mice and pumpkins. Or more accurately, into regular-people cars. And sometimes actually into a Camry, the seminal sedan of modern America.
So, like millions of Americans, we have Camry stories, which we asked the staff to share. And after a pause while they debated whether to publically out themselves as Camry-experienced—not that there’s anything wrong with that—here’s what popped across the transom.
Read about the 2018 Toyota Camry here.
Jason Cammisa, Senior Features Editor
April 5, 1995, in Palm Beach County, Florida. I-95 at 3 a.m. Gold 1993 Camry LE four-cylinder. At full throttle, the car would do 106 mph in D then shift into fourth (top) gear and maintain that speed. However, if I clicked the OD Off button, which locked it in third, I could get to an indicated 112 mph and stay there. Which I did. For the entire way from West Palm to Delray Beach.
I thought nothing of the Ford Mustang 5.0 that eventually began tagging along 12 miles North of Delray. Turns out it he was an undercover cop, and it took that long to run my plate. So the blue lights came on, the guns came out, and three backup FHP cars arrived on scene.
I learned more than one thing that night. But chiefly that 112 mph on the Camry’s speedometer was an actual 110. And that doubling the speed limit in Florida gets you an appointment in criminal court with a public defender. Also, that the barrel of a gun pressed to your temple is very cold. (Explaining to the judge that your speedometer calibration was meant to void inadvertent speeding didn’t work, then?—Ed.)
Carlos Lago, Writer, Host, Producer at Studio TEN
I learned to drive a manual in my mom’s champagne-colored 1996 Camry (a ’94 Camry is shown here). She got the stick for its better fuel economy and because it would be harder to steal. (How many people know how to row the gears anymore?) I started out just keeping it in first gear, depressing and releasing the clutch on a straight road. Soon afterward, somehow, oddly, strangely, the engine blew up. My mom has never been sure how that happened. (Consider this a confessional.—Ed.)
Frank Markus, Technical Director
(Frank, who’s famously good with math, found a way to actually make money from racing a Camry.—Ed.) Motor Trend was working on a feature about cheap ways to go racing in the winter of 2003 and 2004, and I raised my hand to go ice racing. The Michigan Ice Racing Association occasionally devolves into demo-derbies, so I headed to a local junkyard and asked what they had that ran. “1984 Camry with a stick for $300?” Perfect! The poor thing’s rockers and fenders were totally rotted out, and apparently its nurse owner had run over some obstruction that kinked a lower lateral suspension link, giving it a hula-hips motion. Several whacks with a 50-pound sledge worked that kink right out. The car was too heavy to run up at the front, but she held up well and finished the season. That spring I donated it to charity and got a receipt for its Blue Book value of—wait for it—$1,800.
Erick Ayapana, Associate Online Editor
I had a good friend in college who had a hand-me-down fourth-gen Camry: dark metallic green with tan interior and gold-plated emblems, which seemed to be the hot look for Japanese sedans. It did a great job of taking us to Vons market and hauling our beer and Totino’s pizza. Like many San Francisco cars, it was full of blemishes. I can’t remember if mine had a dented bumper. But apparently, “the Camry Dent” is a thing—there are Facebook pages dedicated to the phenomenon. (Maybe it’s Camry drivers who’ve prompted these mandatory backup cameras.—Ed.)
Zach Gale, Senior Production Editor
With its pink pinstriping, my grandma’s white W126-era Mercedes-Benz S-Class was unmistakable. But after years behind the wheel of that clattery diesel, she wanted something smaller and quieter. So she bought a gray 1992 Toyota Camry XLE V-6 and added custom high-quality leather to match the exterior (a similarly colored ’96 Camry XLE is shown here). When she downsized again to an early-2000s Toyota Celica GT-S, my sister got the smooth-riding Camry as her first car.
That Camry remained trouble-free except for a rear side window that stopped going all the way up, a little discoloration on the alloy wheels, and a gooey air freshener that exploded all over the interior on a hot day (not the car’s fault!). After 13 years of service to our family, the car was sold to its next owner, probably good for at least another few years of service.
Jonny Lieberman, Senior Features Editor
Two things come to mind concerning my ex-girlfriend Nancy’s 1985 Toyota Camry. One was while we were driving aimlessly on a vacation through Northern California. Out of nowhere, we both looked up and saw a beautiful hawk. Just as we were both saying, “Cool, hawk!” the beast dive-bombed us. It smashed into the windshield, shattering it and covering it with blood. I slammed on the brakes and got out of the car to look for the wounded bird, but it was nowhere to be found. Weird.
Later, the car was stolen in San Francisco. The cops found it a day or so later. However, it had been used in a shooting, so they had to keep it as evidence. Why a 1985 Camry? Easy to steal, a sunroof, and the panels on the backs of the front seats come off to easily stash your handguns. People in the drive-by shooting industry coveted Camrys. Evidently, the intended victims fought back; the Camry had a couple of bullet holes in the trunk. The kicker? The cops recovered it with the roof open, and it sat in an open-air impound lot for more than a month. While it rained. The Camry was declared totaled. (Just another typical Lieberman vacation.—Ed.)
Mark Rechtin, Executive Editor
I owe my career start to a Camry. We were a Camry family … for six months. The suspension settings on our new 1992 Camry were miscalibrated, and it resulted in a horrible ride. It was worst on my dad’s Harbor Freeway commute (which ironically took him right past Toyota USA headquarters). Being an engineer, Dad started asking around our Palos Verdes neighborhood, where everyone seemed to have a new Camry and the same ride issue on L.A. freeways. It irked him so much that he took his complaint to the top of Toyota USA and Toyota R & D—with no satisfactory answers forthcoming. So he sold it. Meanwhile, I got an interview at Automotive News, and when they asked for a typical story tip, I told the editor about the “Camry chop.” I got the job.
Michael Cantu, Associate Online Editor
A 2009 Camry was the first vehicle my wife and I purchased as a married couple. She had a 2004 PT Cruiser when I met her and I made sure that we replaced that unreliable car as soon as we could. I chose the Camry because I figured it was a safe choice (even though it was around the time of the automaker’s accelerator pedal issues). I wanted something reliable and safe for my wife and knew I couldn’t go wrong with a Camry. We didn’t have it that long (I went through cars fast back then) but we enjoyed it, it was a very decent car.
Angus MacKenzie, International Bureau Chief
They say you never forget your first. I drove my first Camry 30 years ago, just outside the town of Mudgee, New South Wales. It was one of the first Australian-made Camrys, and this one inexplicably suffered from torque steer. The puzzled Toyota Australia engineers took these pilot-build test cars back to the factory and tore the front suspension apart. The tie rods had been incorrectly installed, throwing off the steering geometry.
We didn’t think much of the Camry back then. Aussies liked big rear-drive, six-cylinder sedans, so it was destined to be a bit player. We were wrong.
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