Curbside Musings: 1997 Oldsmobile Achieva SL – Gifted?

1997 Oldsmobile Achieva SL. Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, February 4, 2024.

I attended one of Flint, Michigan’s elementary schools for the academically gifted, starting in the second grade.  Lest anyone take that as a humble-brag, I want to be clear that it’s debatable as to whether or not I was innately scholastically inclined.  I’m plenty smart, creative, and in touch with what I want to say most of the time, but how much of my demonstrable intelligence was natural, and how much was fostered?  Many of us from our old school still get together, decades after childhood, and different theories always come back to the surface for discussion.  I’m still waiting for the book to come out in which a former member of the Flint Board Of Education writes about how our school was a pilot program intended to prove the measurable benefits of smaller class sizes, challenging curriculum, and increased individual attention.

At least two of my friends have spoken of this hypothesis like fact, or like they know a person who knew a guy who revealed some bombshell about how our gifted program came to get funding from the Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, or something like that.  Regardless of how it all happened, the experience of attending our elementary school ended up bonding many of us all the way into middle age by that shared and wholly unique experience.  In addition to advanced in-classroom learning, we did things like dissecting giant owl pellets and assembling and gluing the skeletons inside of them on posterboard.  We built miniature rockets with precision and had to fire them upward in the playground, graded on things like construction, trajectory, and artistry.  We learned about constellations at the local Longway Planetarium.  We learned to dodge giant red, rubber balls that left welts on our developing bodies when we were targeted.  It provided my first experiences with shutter speed and aperture of a camera lens.

1997 Oldsmobile Achieva SL. Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, February 4, 2024.

It was kid-stuff, but elevated, and it gave our parents bragging rights.  “Joe is in the gifted program.”  I got decent grades, but I’m no Einstein.  What’s interesting is that not only were we set apart from kids in the general Flint public school system, but starting in the fifth grade, our classrooms were even further stratified into the “Independent Group”, for self-starters who showed more potential, and the rest of us, promptly named the “Dependent Group” by us “losers”, probably to the chagrin of our teachers.  (Guess which group I was in?)  It’s hilarious to think about now.  When some of us get together for a meal downtown at the White Horse Tavern, I can barely get in two sips of Coke before someone else’s memory of something that happened back then threatens to make it come out of my nostrils.

Maybe the thought process was to get us kids to set our sights so high that the trajectory would land us somewhere above the average in terms of job satisfaction and earning power.  Some former alumni did go on to do broadly, positively impactful things in adulthood: screenwriters, diplomats, educators, politicians, professional singers and entertainers, and artists.  Others of us ended up as insurance underwriters who take pictures and write about cars on a weekly basis.  There’s no shortage of self-deprecating humor among us gifted kids, who use our supposedly high IQs to do menial tasks and scrub our own toilets like the rest of the population.  Seriously, though, that great, old, long-closed elementary school had ingrained in us the idea to be achievers and not to be afraid of success.  That seems to have been the basic idea.

1992 Oldsmobile Achieva print ad, as sourced from the internet.

1992 Oldsmobile Achieva print ad, as sourced from the internet.

Fast-forwarding to my senior year of high school in the early ’90s, I was working at a co-op job at GM’s AC Rochester Division in lieu of a sixth period when the new N-Body compacts were being introduced.  That job provided my first experience with working with spreadsheets.  I was tasked with populating some of them with certain information taken from dot-matrix printouts on green and white striped computer paper.  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got to the section with the new Oldsmobile compact, which led me to fact-check its name with my supervisor.  “Ummm, Keith?  Is this a typo?”  “No, that’s correct.  ‘Achieva’ is the name of the new Calais replacement.”  I just sat there trying not to crack up.  Flint was a majority Black city with a rich history of all kinds of diversity and valuable contributions from everyone.  Naming that car “Achieva”, which sounds like Ebonics, seemed like low-hanging fruit.

GM was probably going after something that sounded high-tech, and “Oldsmobile Achiever” sounds even worse in a “look at me, Mommy!” kind of way.  Weren’t there any other names in the running?  Granted, it might have been called the “Cutlass Achieva” in the era when the once-proud Cutlass name was tacked onto like half of Olds’ product line at one point (Cutlass Calais, Cutlass Ciera, Cutlass Supreme, etc.).  Let’s reestablish that the Calais, the compact that had preceded the Achieva, was a nice-enough little Olds that didn’t set the world on fire.  If you were a GM N-body not named Pontiac Grand Am, you might as well have not existed.  That may sound harsh, but the G/A was one of the few, small, GM passenger cars of that era that had a distinctive personality, whether it was for you or not.

1997 Oldsmobile Achieva SL. Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, February 4, 2024.

The Achieva came along for model year ’92 with a lot of carryover technology, being based to a significant degree on the L-body platform that dated back to spring ’87 with the introduction of the Chevrolet Corsica and Beretta.  It had a 2.3 liter Quad-4 engine with 120 horsepower in single-cam form, or 160 hp with the DOCH unit.  One strength of GM cars of this era was that the models on the same platform offered by its different divisions no longer looked exactly like each other.  I see nothing wrong with this car’s styling and find a lot to like, even if the flat-topped rear wheel-arches aren’t necessarily my favorite.  First year sales of around 80,000 weren’t exceptional, but this was due in part to Achieva’s delayed, January ’92 introduction due to a last-minute styling change on the coupes (rounded rear wheel arches).

1997 Oldsmobile Achieva SL. Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois. Sunday, February 4, 2024.

By ’97, the year of our featured car, the Achieva was in its penultimate year and sold about 52,600 copies, most of them SL sedans (47,600 vs. 5,000 SC coupes).  This example has the smoother, 150-horse 2.4L Quad-4 with twin balance shafts, which was introduced for ’95.  The ’97 Achieva could also be had with a 3.3L V6 with just five more horses.  By ’98, the line had been pared down to just one SL sedan, of which just 26,900 were sold.  It seemed like such a quiet, subdued end to a model which Olds had seemed confident, at least as demonstrated in its advertising, would be a viable competitor to the class benchmarks Honda Accord and Toyota Camry.

The Achieva had held promise that just wasn’t realized (as I’ve done everything I can to delay typing the words “it was an underachieva”).  Total production over seven model years came to between 350,000 and 360,000 cars, depending on the source.  Could it be considered “gifted”?  It wasn’t bad.  It was definitely in the “Dependent Group” as cars go, and clearly not first-tier material in terms of popularity.  Yet, maybe this is why the Achieva still tugs on my heartstrings all these years later.  It didn’t rock the domestic small-car market, but the Achieva appeals to my sense of being lost in a sea of high-achieving kids in the classroom, the Accords and Camrys, and just quietly and competently going about the business to little or no fanfare.

Rogers Park, Chicago, Illinois.
Sunday, February 4, 2024.