When Toyota Chairman Hiroshi Okuda proposed raising the price of his company's products to help floundering US automakers, industry insiders didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The idea that inflating Toyota sticker prices would lead US consumers back into GM or Ford showrooms is so ludicrous that Okuda's comment struck many as a malicious joke. Either that or the head of the world's second largest carmaker hasn't driven a Ford, lately. To get a consumer to choose a Ford or GM product over a similarly priced Toyota, the Japanese would have to tack on a couple of grand. At least.

Although Okuda quickly recanted, the brouhaha focused yet more unwanted attention on Ford and GM's lackluster products. It's one thing for your bond status to head for the junk pile, it's another for potential customers to hear that the Japanese feel sorry for you. Of course, from a marketing point of view, Okuda's offer was a masterstroke; potential car buyers now have good reason to believe that Toyotas are underpriced. From an industry point of view, Okuda placed not one but two elephants in the room.

I have no desire to piss off the Koreans, Northern or Southern. For those of you involved in that region's automobile industry, who probably view anything other than a puff piece as an affront to your family's honor, let me say this: the Kia Sportage EX 4WD is a nice SUV. It's nice– in the same sense that attractive women used to call me a "nice guy". In other words, the Sportage is about as sexy as mitosis.

One look at the Sportage proves that you can't reverse engineer style. The exterior incorporates all of the standard SUV design cues: blistered wheels arches, bisected radiator grill, integrated roof rack, blacked-out window surrounds, letterbox exhausts, etc. Like every other occidental pastiche, the whole is less than the sum of its parts. The Sportage is too big here (back end), too small there (rear three-quarter glass), not enough aggression anywhere.

Cars are sexy, techy and cool. These simple facts tend to obscure any objective analysis of their utility. Like the Space Shuttle or my imaginary clerical staff, if it’s sexy, people find a way to justify their love. So it's no wonder that T-TAC's resident pistonhead Robert Farago creased the outside of the envelope when he claimed that cars are the green choice, and labeled public transportation a disgusting aberration fueled by cancer juice and liberal lies.

Cars are sexy, techy and cool. These simple facts tend to obscure any objective analysis of their utility. Like the Space Shuttle or my imaginary clerical staff, if it's sexy, people find a way to justify their love. So it's no wonder that T-TAC's resident pistonhead Robert Farago creased the outside of the envelope when he claimed that cars are the green choice, and labeled public transportation a disgusting aberration fueled by cancer juice and liberal lies.

Not so. Farago's rant relied heavily on a study by Roger Kemp of Lancaster University (UK). Mr. Farago claimed that the study proves that cars are more fuel efficient than trains. Unfortunately, a closer read of Mr. Kemp's study finds that BOTH the train AND the car cited in the study were diesels. The automobile used for comparative purposes was a 1.9L Teutonic miser of a VW, with four passengers on board.

Enzo Ferrari used to sell his customers an engine and throw in the car for free. While Ferrari still reserves the right to sell whatever it wants to whomever it wants without worrying about what anyone else may want, Maranello's mad machines are now at least as dynamically cohesive and ergonomically sound as your average John Deere lawn mower (if infinitely less practical). In fact, the Italian automaker has passed the mantle of "engine first engineering" to GMC. More specifically, to the Sierra 1500HD pickup truck.

Our test Sierra was powered by GM's sublime Vortec 6000. Granted, new millennia power freaks will not find the 6.0-liter engine's 300hp output overly impressive– especially when the horses in question are harnessed to a vehicle weighing 4800 lbs. And yes, GMC slots some bigger, badder units into the Sierra; including a 6.6-liter DURAMAX turbo-diesel with enough torque to pull the Queen Mary into dry dock (640ft.-lbs.). But the Vortec 6000 is a flawless and loveable lump, a V8 from The Old School.

You ever get the feeling that you should be riding on public transportation? Me neither. The only time I'm tempted is when I need to travel long distances– oh wait, airlines still count as private transportation don't they? Right. Let's try that again. The only time I'm tempted is when I need to travel from one city to another city that's more than 300 miles away, but less than 500 miles away. And now that Amtrak has pulled the entire Acela Express fleet offline to repair cracked brakes, well, it's no sale.

Of course, I certainly understand people who use public transportation for commuting. Well, maybe not understand, but at least sympathize. Even in America, Land of the Free, Home of No-Money-Down, not everyone can afford a car. The hassle and expense of parking is also a fearsome disincentive for auto ownership. But what I can't understand, at all, on any level, is why people give credence to the factually flawed logic used by environmentalists to promote public transport.

OnStar's radio ads are powerful stuff. The 30-second documentaries– featuring real life rescue coordination by OnStar staff– jerk more tears than Terms of Endearment and The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood combined. The fact that you can summon the same emergency crew by punching 911 into you cell is neither here nor there. After hearing an OnStar rep soothing a toddler crying "Momma's passed out", you'd gladly get a second mortgage to pay for their emergency coverage.

Considering the ads' impact on OnStar's takeup rate, the General's plan to translate the radio spots into a series of 30-minute TV infomercials makes perfect sense. Provided the producers keep it real (in the best 'based on a true story' TV tradition), the marketing campaign will be a sure-fire hit. You can almost hear new customers choking back the tears as they relay their credit card number to their toll-free friends.

Unbelievable. GM's lost the plot, they're losing the game and now they want to take their ball and go home. After automotive critic Dan Neil ripped apart the new Pontiac G6 GT and called for an executive putsch, The General pulled its $10m adspend out of the LA Times. While you can't begrudge GM's right to place– or not place– its money where it chooses, the decision to pull the plug on the Times displays an unappealing combination of arrogance and petulance. To wit: GM spokesfolk defended their action by saying that the review (and other GM-related coverage) contained 'factual errors and misrepresentations'– without providing any specifics. So there. Nuh.

I love horsepower. I love the feel of it lingering underfoot, ready to explode into neck-snapping, stomach-churning, tire-shredding violence. I love the sound of it: the blend of Fortissississimo bellowing and heavy metal madness. I love the power of it, the ability to make “ordinary” machines look as if God grabbed their rear bumpers and yanked them backwards. Sure, my passion for accelerative overload is infantile, dangerous and about as politically correct as a 1920s minstrel show. But at least it isn’t impractical or expensive. Well, not anymore.

Porsche salesman Kirk Stingle calls it 'tip in'. It's those initial few seconds of acceleration, when a vehicle's engine tries to convince the stationary mass surrounding it that it's time to hit the road, Jack. A surprisingly large number of SUV's tip in like they're racing for pinks. Not so the Volvo XC90 V8. With a 311hp powerplant mated to a six-speed slushbox, the formerly slothful Swede glides off the line with all the grace and strength of an Olympic figure skater starting her routine. Even the Russian judges give it a perfect ten.

The newly-engined Volvo XC90 shows that the Ford subsidiary understands that the ideal 'soft roader' is nothing more than a luxury car on stilts. It must be comfortable enough so that none of its occupants wants to throttle a fellow passenger (always a plus for family car buyers), tall enough to impart a sense of superiority, fast enough to exercise that authority and nimble enough not to roll over and die when you do. Oh yes, and safe. It's got to be safe.

[NOTE: This is the first General Motors Death Watch, originally published on April 3, 2005. It will return to the TTAC archives on Monday.]

When The Donald calls aspiring apprentices into the boardroom to determine which one to fire, I’m always hoping for a miracle. I want him to can ALL of them. My feelings about GM are identical. When GM Vice Chairman Bob Lutz hinted that he’d axe Buick or Pontiac if the divisions didn’t ‘gain traction’, he ignited a debate over which of the General’s lackluster brands deserved death. The answer is, of course, all of them.

Once upon a time there was a luxury car manufacturer in America. The company virtually owned the luxury car business, both at home and abroad. Their cars were the gold standard for expensive cars, and rich and powerful people the world over bought and used them. They easily sold more luxury cars in America than most of their competitors combined. Their reputation for engineering innovation and excellence was unsurpassed. All of the best custom body builders clamored to make special show cars for them, in hopes that they could make it into the sales catalogue this company published every December.

Then came hard times. The stock market bubble popped. Thousands of people lost their jobs. And, the market for luxury cars started to dwindle. To make matters worse, the company's major competitor in America started to build bigger and more luxurious cars, and developed a reputation as a true engineering innovator in their own right.