It’s a small car, cheap. Abundant. And utterly forgettable; It has no sporting credentials, it’s not something people dream of or lust after. It’s a car that you see, but you never notice; They’re everywhere, ubiquitous. They comprise corporate fleets of runabouts and transport vehicles for samples and junior management, for field techs and sales forces.
Once these cars have hit their mileage caps, they’ll go to auction, be bought by shady fly-by-night used car dealers, languish on the lot, and then be picked up for cut-rate by parents who want to gift a car for good grades.
Then once something desirable comes up, or it’s wrecked due to the driver texting while driving, or left under a tree while kiddo goes off to college in a town with transit, it’ll get moldy, covered in sap, and turn into an eyesore. A wrecker will come and pick it up, and it’ll go to the scrapyard, to be pressed and dismantled and melted down to live on as new cars.
Nobody will preserve the Accent. Nobody will have an emotional bond to a 1.6 litre GDI mounted to a six speed slushbox. Nobody will pine for the just-not-enough cargo space or the seats that don’t quite fold flat enough.
The Hyundai Accent is a car built to be forgotten and then die in the crusher.