Voyager to the Pacifica: 2017 Chrysler Pacifica vs. 1984 Plymouth Voyager

There was a Ghostbusters movie in 1984, and there's one this year. Game of Thrones is really just Falcon Crest with more dragons and beheadings. The Libertarians didn't stand a chance then and don't now. Just look at these two seven-seat minivans, both driving out of Chrysler's Windsor, Ontario, assembly plant and into the North American zeitgeist. They're completely different vans, and yet exactly the same. It's a mind-blowing paradox.

The old one is Magic Wagon No. 1, the actual preproduction 1984 Plymouth Voyager that Chrysler's then CEO, Lee Iacocca, used at press unveilings, dealer meetings, and general cheerleading sessions to drum up enthusiasm for the new "T115" minivans. Stray badges shoved into a rear cubby indicate that it sometimes also appeared as a Dodge Caravan. There are about 12,000 miles on the clock, and fake wood forests the sides. A lot of corduroy cows died to upholster those seats.

The new one is a 2017 Chrysler Pacifica ^[1], the state of the art in a vehicle category that's notoriously artless. It has command thrones up front, second-row seats that disappear into the floor, third-row seating that drops into a deep well, and hides from real cows to cover them all. If the glass sunroof were any more panoramic it would have to be continued on the next van.

The front-drive minivan was a Hail Mary pass thrown up by a team ready to be shoved out of the league. The K-car's success had given Chrysler just enough freedom to take a big chance on reinventing family transportation. If it worked, the company would pay off its government-guaranteed loans and proceed onward to prosperity under Iacocca's enlightened whip. If the minivan turned out to be a sales turd, well, Chrysler was going bankrupt anyhow. The company couldn't afford the extra paper to write down a Plan B.

Chrysler's timing was perfect. The minivan appeared just as baby boomers hit optimal fertility and their contempt for station wagons peaked. In contrast to the massive acreage of a Country Grand Safari Estate Cruiser, the minivan was adorably dorky; a friendly module that fit in garages, nimbly slalomed through parking lots, and had a big door on the side through which to throw toddlers. It did everything a mom-mobile had to do, but more efficiently and without the crushing wagon shame.

Change is inevitable, though, and the generation that grew up in minivans is now in its own stage of prime progeny creation. And they've largely stigmatized the minivan as the official shuttle between home and Blue Field No. 4 hell. So crossovers rule, even though the minivan has evolved into a vastly capable suburban multi-tool.

Is this a specious comparison? Is it polluted with nostalgia, addled with spurious allusions, and basically absurd? Damn straight. But we couldn't find a first-gen Porsche 911 with which to do that car-magazine cliché thing, comparing the old one against the new one, so we figured this would be just as good. Plus, driving these two back to back proved oddly enlightening, even though we couldn't take the oldster past 45 mph on a loop at Chrysler's Chelsea, Michigan, proving grounds. Of course the new van is better. It's also worse. So?

They grow up so fast.

The Pacifica dwarfs the original minivan. But it's also longer than the long-wheelbase version of the full-size 1984 Dodge Ram Van. And its V-6 makes 152 more horsepower than the Ram Van's optional V-8.

View Photos View Photos ^[2]^[3]