There’s an old joke, later made into an internet meme, that goes something like this: “Have you seen my dog? He has brown fur, he’s missing his right ear, blind in one eye and has three legs. He answers to the name of ‘Lucky’.” An underdog if ever there was one. And it’s in that spirit that I share the next installment of a sadly, almost endless list of cars with not-so-good reputations. They’re cars that for reasons neither I, my parents, my children, my wife, my close friends, nor even mere acquaintances can explain—I still want.

1980–82 Ferrari Mondial 8

What it is: The Mondial was the replacement for the Bertone-designed Ferrari (Dino) 308 GT4, a rather underrated, wedge-shaped mid-engine 2+2. The Mondial incorporated some of the design language of the Berlinetta Boxer and the Testarossa along with a pair of semi-usable rear seats. A cabriolet was added later.

What makes it bad: Road & Track asked if this was Ferrari’s Oldsmobile. Ouch. The two-valve, fuel-injected 3.0-liter V-8 was a bit of a dog. With a little over 210-horsepower, the Mondial 8 took an excruciating 9 seconds to reach 60 miles per hour. Mondial 8s were rust-prone and had fuse boxes reminiscent of the junior electrical engineer educational toy that brother bought my kid for his birthday a few years ago. Some people also found them unattractive. I find that assessment harsh, but truth be told, its predecessor, the 308 GT4 has aged better.

Why I want one: Ten years ago, I had a 308 GTS. It was great. Reliable (once I replaced the fuse box with a modern one), and a lot of fun to drive. Was it fast? Not really, but it sounded great, smelled great, and was wonderful to look at. Sadly, today I’d have to settle for a project car for what I paid for my perfect 21,000-mile 308 back then, so a Mondial is kind of it Ferrari-wise, unless I want to launch a raid on my kids’ college funds. I think the key here is to buy a coupe (the only way the two-valve 8 came). In black, they’re actually quite attractive, and there’s nothing like the sound of the little flat-plane crank V-8 and the tactility of a real gated shifter.

1985–89 Merkur XR4Ti

What it is: Ford had one success to its name in importing and selling one of its European sporty cars—the Capri was a sort of mini-Mustang that was hugely popular until exchange rate fluctuations made it less profitable to sell here. By the early 1980s, the exchange rate again favored the U.S. dollar and then-V.P. of Ford Bob Lutz thought it might be a good idea to import an Americanized version of the Ford Sierra, under the banner of “Merkur,” which is German for “Mercury.” Get it? The 2.3-liter turbo four, also found in the Thunderbird Turbo Coupe and SVO Mustang made the XR4Ti a credible E30 BMW competitor, but like every car on this list, there were issues.

What makes it bad: Apparently European Ford quality in the ’80s wasn’t at the top of the priority list and the XR4Ti suffered from electrical problems, overheating, and turbochargers with a short life. Mercury dealers despised them, and with Ford’s then-new 48-month/50,000-mile warranty, they saw tons of them. After 1989, the Merkur signs came down and Ford was done with the XR4Ti and its larger brother the Scorpio. Immediately after warranties expired, Merkurs began the not-so-slow slog into the automotive fossil record.

Why I want one: I love the Merkur’s many quirks like the goofy biplane rear spoiler, and XR4Tis are rare even at RADwood or LeMons events, which is precisely why I want one. Honestly, you could do worse that to put together a collection of Bob Lutz-inspired cars—Everything from a BMW Bavaria, to a Viper and a Pontiac G8. An XR4Ti would fit nicely in the middle, and a perfectly nice one would barely cost five figures.

1980–81 Triumph TR8

What it is:  The Triumph TR7 was supposed to be the car that brought the British sports car out of the paleolithic era of pushrod tractor engines and separate bodies and chassis. And while the story that Harris Mann designed it on the back of a cocktail napkin (after a lot of cocktails) might be apocryphal, it’s totally plausible. The idea behind the TR8 was to make buyers forget about the four-cylinder TR7’s odd looks by offering V-8 noise and performance. The ex-Olds/Buick/Pontiac aluminum 3.5-liter V-8 by Rover just about did the trick.

What makes it bad: The same thing that made every British car of the era bad—lousy workmanship, poor quality components from suppliers that still included the infamous Lucas, and low R&D budgets. While the TR8 was predominantly produced in what was arguably one of Jaguar/Rover/Triumph’s better plants (the Rover factory in Solihull which is still cranking out Land Rovers to this day), the TR7’s reputation soiled the TR8.

Why I want one: What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment, and I happen to love a V-8 stuffed into a small British sports car. Of the three most famous—Shelby Cobra, Sunbeam Tiger and Triumph TR8—only the latter remains affordable. Nice ones can be had in the high-teens to low-20s.

1975–76 Chevrolet Cosworth Vega

What it is: The Cosworth Vega was supposed to be a high-performance version of the compact Vega that had debuted for 1971. Cosworth in the U.K. developed an alloy DOHC cylinder head for the Vega’s four-cylinder, which was mated with Bendix electronic fuel injection. It was very modern, very European.

What makes it bad:  While the Vega finally had a smooth, powerful engine, it still made 110 horsepower instead of the anticipated 140. Then there was the fact that it still wore the maligned Vega badge, and while good handling and balance were always part of the package, indifferent assembly quality and rustproofing were in the Vega’s DNA as well. Oh, and it was also barely cheaper than a Corvette.

Why I want one:  The magazines of the day touted Cosworth Vegas as instant collectibles, and many of the cars were stored, or intentionally kept with very low miles. The idea of owning a genuine Malaise Era time-capsule is more than intriguing. Plus, I’ve always liked the way Vegas look, a bit like miniature Camaros.

1983–89 Isuzu Impulse

What it is:  Isuzu had a surprisingly fruitful relationship with the great Giorgetto Giugiaro of Italdesign, and it stretched back to the 1960s, when Giugiaro styled the lovely Isuzu 117 coupe. That car lasted all the way up until 1981, so because of its longevity and popularity, its successor had to be something special. The car was teased as a nearly production-ready Isuzu “Ace of Clubs” concept car. It went on sale the next year as the Piazza outside of North America, and as the Impulse in the U.S. and Canada.

What made it bad:  Seemingly, the entire budget for the car went to Italdesign. Brakes, chassis and engine were bargain-basement stuff, as under its pretty Italian skin, the Piazza/Impulse was based on the General Motors T-car platform. That’s right, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to call the Impulse a Chevette in an Italian suit. Things did get a bit better later in the car’s run with turbocharging and chassis refinements by Lotus, but few were sold and almost none survive.

Why I want one:  The low survivorship factor makes these cars exceedingly rare, and it’s one of the few opportunities that anyone has to own something that looks like an ’80s concept car. It’s also an opportunity to be king for a day at RADwood, and when Impulses do turn up, they’re almost always cheap.

For the Silo, Rob Sass.