Curbside Musings: 1992 Chevrolet Camaro RS – Base Model Beauty

1992 Chevrolet Camaro RS. West Ridge, Chicago, Illinois. Monday, December 30, 2024.

The third-generation Chevy Camaro will always make me think immediately of only a handful of people, including a friend I had first met while in college in Gainesville, Florida over thirty years ago.  “Rita” and I had first become acquainted through a mutual friend, but time has proven Rita’s and my friendship to be the lasting one, as she and I are still friends today.  We’ll still occasionally crack each other up with our random observations shared via text message or through social media.

Our friendship was a unique and beautiful thing from very beginning, and she and I would go out dancing during acid jazz and disco nights at a long-gone, beloved club in downtown Gainesville.  Rita and I also shared a love of ’70s rock.  She had older brothers, and one of my favorite memories of being back in Fort Myers over the December holidays was of she and I playing their LPs in her folks’ living room.  Brainy, beautiful, brave, and truly hilarious, she went on to earn a doctorate and have a successful career in education.  She also loved cars.

1991 Chevrolet Camaro factory brochure pages, as sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.

At the time we met, Rita and I were both driving the base-model editions of the ponycar offerings from Chevrolet and Ford.  My ’88 Mustang LX had the fuel-injected version of the 2.3L “Pinto” four-cylinder that was good for 90 horsepower in my 3,000-pound hatchback.  Rita had a Camaro RS in the same Medium Quasar Blue Metallic finish as on our featured car, which makes me think hers was a ’92.  By 1990, the RS had become the entry-level Camaro, and from that point through the end of this generation in ’92, the standard mill was a 3.1L V6 with 140 horsepower to power the 3,100 glass-back coupe.  Starting in ’91, the Mustang’s 2.3L four had an uprated 105 horsepower thanks to a revised, eight-plug cylinder head, but my ’88 didn’t have the benefit of those extra fifteen ponies.  My car did have a five-speed manual, which made it somewhat fun to drive.

1992 Chevrolet Camaro RS. West Ridge, Chicago, Illinois. Monday, December 30, 2024.

I’m not sure exactly how or when it started, but the whole Chevy vs. Ford rivalry jokes eventually started between Rita and me.  It didn’t matter that neither of us had the desirable V8s under our hoods and were dealing with just base model cars.  As far as Rita was concerned, her V6 Camaro was in a completely different class than my four-banger Mustang.  I loved my Fox-body with a deep emotional connection that’s hard to put into words.  It was my first major purchase of my adult life.  I kept it waxed, vacuumed, Armor All-ed, etc. to where it looked much newer than it was, even as the same basic car was being still being produced with minor detail changes.  I deadpan-defended my car to Rita, extolling its more European proportions, better gas mileage, and everyday livability relative to her physically larger Camaro with middling performance.

1991 Chevrolet Camaro factory brochure pages, as sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.

About the “European” thing, I’m sure that when the clean-sheet ’79 Mustang had first arrived that it probably did have a decidedly Euro flair about it, inside and out.  I’ve seen pictures of the interior and dashboard of the German Ford Capri, and the gauges have almost the exact same placement as on the third-generation Mustang.  It’s just that by ’88 (and even more so by ’92), most regular vehicles had already adopted many aspects of these same aesthetics and functionality, to where the basic Mustang no longer seemed Euro, but just average and actually a bit dated in many respects.

Sitting in Rita’s blue Camaro felt like being in an actual sports car, albeit a really large one.  There was an appealing, bunker-like quality of sitting low behind that flat, high dashboard as Rita’s passenger.  One thing’s for sure, though: my Mustang was screwed together very tightly, which I couldn’t say for Rita’s Camaro, and hers didn’t even have the compromised rigidity that came as a penalty with t-tops, which were absent from her car.

1992 Chevrolet Camaro RS. West Ridge, Chicago, Illinois. Monday, December 30, 2024.

I don’t recall ever having conceded to Rita that her Camaro RS was the superior vehicle.  Even then, there was no way to kid myself that a forty-horsepower deficit in a Mustang that weighed only slightly less than her Camaro was insignificant.  My Mustang was slow.  What it did have over her Camaro, though, was a flat, usable cargo area either with or without the rear seats folded down, an airy feel to its cockpit, and gas mileage that was pretty darned good for a car like this.  So, between these two cars, which was the better ride for a young adult and college student?  I’m still convinced that even though my Mustang looked a little like a box-on-wheels next to Rita’s Camaro, it was the perfect choice for me.  Was it cooler or as cool as Rita’s Camaro as far as the base-model comparison?  Rita, if you’re reading this, and you might be, I still refuse to say it.

West Ridge, Chicago, Illinois.
Monday, December 30, 2024.

The brochure pages for the ’91 Camaro, sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org, were used since I couldn’t find any from ’92.  Rita’s car was basically the same.