The recent news that the Kia Soul was being discontinued didn’t shock me. I was never exactly a big fan of it. But even though I didn’t love the car, something about that headline stuck with me. 

It was another quirky, odd, undeniably different car being sent off to the chopping block — probably never to be seen again. It felt like another nail in the coffin of automotive creativity.

I’ve always believed the 1980s through the early 2000s were the best years for car design. These were the decades when automakers took risks and weren’t afraid to make something a little weird. 

From boxy wagons to funky compact cars, the road was full of personality. The 50s through 70s had their own golden moments, but the 80s and 90s struck a perfect balance between practical engineering and bold styling.

I personally own a 1991 Volvo 940 Turbo Wagon. When it came out, it was considered boxy and a little odd. Today it stands out even more — because nothing like it is made anymore. 

The sharp edges, big windows and unapologetically rectangular profile make it instantly recognizable. Park it next to almost any modern SUV and the difference is obvious. Cars used to look uniquely different. Now they all look like each other.

That willingness to experiment defined those decades. It wasn’t just Volvo. There were boxy Subarus, oddly shaped Toyotas, funky sports coupes, tiny convertibles, wild concept cars and entire brands like Saturn or Scion that embraced youth-focused weirdness. 

Even the early 2000s had their share of personality. These weren’t always “beautiful” cars in the traditional sense, but they were memorable. You could identify them at a glance — and that mattered. A car didn’t need to be perfect to be beloved.

Of course, some people push back on this nostalgia. They’ll argue that older cars “all looked the same” too — that the 80s were just boxy sedans and wagons or that the 90s had their share of bland compacts. 

And sure, there’s some truth to that. But back then, people really had to cherry-pick to make that point. Even the more “generic” cars had details, proportions or brand cues that made them recognizable. You could tell a Volvo from a Honda or a Ford from a Toyota with just a glance. Today, that sameness isn’t the exception — it’s the rule.

Now that spirit is mostly gone. Nearly every new vehicle is some form of SUV or crossover. It doesn’t matter if it’s made by Ford, Toyota or Hyundai — most share the same rounded, safe,

focus-group-approved silhouette. 

Sedans are vanishing, wagons are basically extinct in the U.S. and coupes are hanging by a thread. Electric Vehicles, which are supposed to represent the “future,” have pushed automakers even further toward uniformity. 

Smooth, rounded, aerodynamic blobs dominate the market because they’re efficient to design and easy to manufacture. Being efficient isn’t the same thing as being interesting.

Tesla might be the clearest example of this shift. Every model looks like a slightly larger or smaller version of the same car. Outside of the Cybertruck — which is ugly in a different way — Tesla’s lineup is a perfect example of the auto industry’s design problem. 

When a single design language not only dominates a brand but inspires copycats across the industry, the world ends up with roads that look like they’ve been copied and pasted. Tesla might be considered innovative by some, but in terms of design, it’s aggressively safe.

Some people might argue that cars are just tools and design doesn’t matter as long as they’re practical and efficient. But cars have always been more than that. They reflect culture. They can represent identity, nostalgia or even rebellion. 

The disappearance of quirky cars isn’t just about aesthetics — it’s about losing personality. It’s about roads filled with identical shapes that don’t make you feel anything. Driving becomes less of an experience and more of a commute.

I’m not naïve. I know regulations, efficiency standards and economics all shape the way cars look today. But I still believe there’s room for creativity. There’s room for cars that stand out the way my boxy old Volvo does. There’s room for designs that don’t look like a slightly stretched version of last year’s SUV.

Cars used to make bold statements. Now they whisper the same thing in unison. The industry may never go back to the wild experimentation of the 80s and 90s, but it doesn’t have to give up on creativity entirely.

The Kia Soul was never everyone’s favorite, but it dared to be weird in a market that’s become afraid of that weirdness. And now, as the Kia Soul disappears, it feels like the auto industry isn’t just losing a model.

It’s losing its Soul.

Whitford can be reached at [email protected].