Less than a half century ago, every carmaker offered at least one two-door automobile. Entry level coupes were often a young married couple's first car. Sportier coupes were a suburban staple. Coupes like the Ford Galaxy and Chrysler New Yorker offered ordinary Joes a chance to own a car with an extra touch of class and panache. And no luxury marque could thrive without a fabulous Coupe de Ville, or equivalent thereof. The coupe's lack of rear seat room, window leaks, and interior noise were considered a small price to pay for high style. Then things got serious…

The convertible was the first to go. Perhaps the move away from ragtops reflected the uneasy tenor of the times: inflationary belt-tightening, divisive foreign policy, Cold War jitters, the Arab Oil embargo, presidential scandal. Maybe Ralph Nader's seminal work "Unsafe at Any Speed" and blood and guts high school Driver's Ed programs got US car buyers thinking about decapitation. In any case, the topless car was suddenly seen as a needless, dangerous extravagance, rather than a bold and fun statement of personal prosperity. From Corvairs to Cadillacs, convertibles disappeared from American highways. Coupes followed thereafter.

When historians analyze GM's collapse, searching for the precise moment when The General jumped the shark, it will be like trying to pinpoint the onset of Alzheimer's. The world's largest automaker has been screwing things up so spectacularly for so long that even a $2b payoff to FIAT for signing the wrong bit of paper seems like a bump on the road to oblivion. What's more, GM's management is still busy making monumental mistakes. The Board of Bystanders' decision not to admit Kirk Kirkorian's proxy into their midst is only the latest and greatest example.

Unfortunately, I don't have any inside info on the failed negotiations between GM's largest private investor and The Powers That Be. I only know that last Tuesday, after GM's Board rebuffed Captain Kirk's nominee Jerry York, the billionaire investor sold 12m GM shares. The move cut his stake from to 9.9 to 7.8 percent and sent GM's stock into freefall (down to an 18-year low). Some financial experts see it a tax dodge. Others look at Kirk's on-again, off-again romance with MGM and predict his return. TTAC's Deep Throat figures this is it: Kirk's outta here. In any event, Kirk has sent both GM's board and the markets a clear message about GM's future, or lack thereof…

For those of you who've just joined us from Wall Street, welcome. We've been waiting for you for a while– long enough to wonder if GM's stock price got lost in hyperspace. I guess you guys needed some kind of sign to find your bearings. Something like Toyota's announcement that they're gonna Avis The General in '06, ending GM's 70-year run as the world's largest automaker. Or Rabid Rick Wagoner's post horse departure barn door closing homily: "I'm not conceding anything to anybody." No matter. Now that you're here, let me tell you a story…

I was scanning Wardsauto.com the other day when I came across a "good news" piece: "Crucial GM Fullsize Truck Program Launches Early". Well, OK, it MIGHT be a good news piece, you know, if The General's SUV cavalry racks-up the sales GM needs to die another day. Obviously, it's a bit of a long shot, what with SUV's being a dead genre guzzling. But hey; it is what it was. Anyway, mid-way through Ms. Priddle's puff piece, a thought occurred to me: is it really a good idea to rush the GMT900 vehicles (Tahoe, Yukon, Escalade, Suburban, Silverado, Sierra, etc.) to market? What if they're not ready?

Jinking through traffic somewhere above the ton, it quickly became apparent that the Lexus IS 350 wasn't the ideal car for the job. The erstwhile sports sedan bumped and jiggled over surface imperfections like a tied-down tunermobile. It rolled through directional transitions like a luxobarge, helming with unacceptable imprecision and unwelcome lean. While the powerplant provided more than enough shove for the work at hand, the IS 350's dynamics drew a definitive line between "doable" and "enjoyable." If further proof were needed that I was in the wrong car at the wrong speed, the BMW M3 keeping pace provided it.

After a few polite lead exchanges, the M3 dropped the hammer and disappeared. I rejected the idea of visiting V-Max. The IS 350's 3.5-liter V6 holsters a surprising percentage of the mighty M3's oomph (at a fraction of the price), but it's no Bimmer beater. More specifically, maxxing-out a 3-Series anything is like gently drifting through the tunnel of love, compared to the baby Lexus' Autobahn of Doom stunt show. What upmarket motorist needs THAT kind of excitement? Indeed, why would anyone suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous ride and handling when any number of similarly priced cars offer a more pleasurable driving experience?

In Ford's latest ads, Mr. Bill touts The Blue Oval as a tireless automotive innovator. In reality, Ford has seldom, if ever, taken the technological lead. The Model T's accomplishments owe more to its production process than any mechanical advance. Later successes– like the original Mustang and the first Explorers– broke new ground in marketing and style, not engineering. And lest we forget, Ford still relies on relatively unsophisticated engines to propel its products, ceding both fuel efficiency and powertrain refinement to their competitors. Fortunately for Ford's new focus, the company is a real leader in at least one key engineering discipline…

According to Rabid Rick Wagoner, terminating his employment would only slow down GM's recovery: 'When you bring in a lot of new people, you bring in a lot of change and people just sort of sit there and try to figure out what to do.' As opposed to what? Keeping the same old people and making no changes so that people can sort of sit there and watch the world's largest automaker go bankrupt? Rick's comment appeared in AutoWeek immediately after Standard & Poor's rating service downgraded GM's credit rating to "B", some five steps below investment grade, with a negative outlook. Clearly, Wagoner is to leadership what penguins are to civil engineering.

Like any clueless corporate alpha, Rabid Rick wants us to believe that everything's under control. Indeed, he's instructed PR flack Gina Proia to tell the world that GM has "an aggressive and well thought-out strategy to turn around our North American business." Apparently, this comprehensive plan comes complete with quantifiable goals, implementation dates and, well, everything Rick's mob needs to save GM from a Valentine's Day Massacre. Only AutoWeek reports that Rabid Rick "prefers to keep it private." In fact, GM's would-be savior "declined to predict whether GM's North American automotive operations could break even next year." [NB: "could" not "would."]

The battle is joined; the safety nannies have scaled the walls of common sense to patrol the courtyard outside the castle keep. How else can you explain Euro-NCAP's (European New Car Assessment Program) pedestrian safety standards for automobiles? Apparently, it isn't enough that modern cars must coddle their occupants in hyperbaric cocoons, girded by all manner of airbags, crumple zones, seatbelt pretensioners and Silicon Valley chipset wizardry. By the look of things, it's now necessary to legislate OUTSIDE the box, to protect hapless bystanders from Death Race destruction.

Europe's new NCAP testing regime rates a car's ability to protect a pedestrian's body upon contact with the front bumper and hood. Eventually, cars that fail the test will not be allowed for sale within the Euro-Zone. It's yet more proof (if proof were needed) that Brussel's non-elected bureaucrats would have their sponsoring nations consider automobiles a curse that must be controlled, a lethal weapon ready to savage any luckless pedestrian who dares place a stray toe beyond the curb.

I'm a bit of a fix-it freak. Don't get me wrong: I'm no great fan of home improvement. I just love tools. I can quite happily while away an hour or so down at the Depot, cruising the aisles, checking out the hammers, screwdrivers, drills, planes, work benches, etc. Needless to say, I can spot a perfect implement at twenty paces. The second it falls to hand, I'm suffused with delight. A well-designed tool's intrinsic excellence rescues me from the foul compromises of daily strife. It soothes and thrills me with its minimalist mix of precision and possibility. It fills me with admiration for the craftsman who made it. It's the same feeling I get from the new Porsche Boxster S.

I freely admit that the new Boxster S doesn't look particularly special. Although Porsche's open-top roadster shares no major sheetmetal with its immediate predecessor, it continues to forfeit sexy to its continental and Japanese competitors. Truth be told, the Boxster has yet to recover from its divergence from the sublime, Speedster-inspired prototype. The latest iteration pins its hopes for aesthetic redemption on newly pumped haunches and a slightly more aggressive stance. It's better, certainly, but the Boxster's overall form continues to reside in push-me/pull-you no-man's land. It still looks like a hairdresser's car.

Forget GM's Toe Tag sale, which failed to extinguish the automaker's low sales idiot light and sealed their reputation as the K Mart of cars. Ignore GM's eternal promise of new and better products. Disregard Rabid Rick's pathetic bleating to the Wall Street Journal that lawsuits, fate and the federal government are responsible for GM's $4.8b black hole. The General's immediate future depends entirely on whether or not the United Auto Workers' (UAW) calls a strike against bankrupt GM parts supplier Delphi.

This January, the UAW's leadership may tell Delphi Prez CallMeSteve Miller to shred his salary and benefit-reducing proposal and flush it down the toilet of his Gulfstream Challenger. Miller will then ask a federal bankruptcy judge to terminate the UAW's contract. The UAW will retaliate with a strike that will starve GM of parts. GM's assembly lines will close. Should the UAW strike last more than a couple of months, The General will burn through its multi-billion dollar cash reserves. The world's largest automaker will be forced to file the world's largest Chapter 11.

Last Thursday, the American Family Association (AFA) reached an agreement with The Ford Motor Company ending their boycott of the automaker's products. The faith-based organization launched their action last May to stop FoMoCo from supporting gay and lesbian groups. Specifically, the AFA demanded that Ford stop all contributions to homosexual social events (e.g. gay pride parades), end all donations to homosexual organizations and cease advertising in all gay-oriented media. Yesterday, Ford confirmed that Jaguar and Land Rover will pull their advertising from gay publications, but refused to discuss any other details of the AFA agreement. One thing is for sure: The Blue Oval caved, Big Style.

Ford's acquiescence to the AFA's religious agenda is a huge mistake. It's lit a fire under the large, wealthy and equally well-organized gay community. Gays and lesbians around the country are sure to respond to Ford's AFA accord with a boycott of their own. If Ford backs down from THAT pressure, the AFA will relaunch their boycott. By choosing a side in the contentious "homosexual lifestyle" issue, Ford is now smack dab in the middle of a Hatfield – McCoy-style conflict that it can't win, on any level, ever.

If a rose by any other name would still smell so sweet, would a Ford Fusion by any other name still be a front-wheel-drive economy car? Lincoln certainly hopes not. It wants its upscale customers to view the new Zephyr as a discrete model, rather than a gussied-up Ford Fusion. Mercury harbors similar hopes/delusions for its Fusion-with-frills, the Milan. Come to think of it, the Fusion is based on the [Ford-owned] Mazda 6, whose price overlaps both the Fusion and the Milan. I suppose the answer to the conundrum posed by the incredible sameness of automotive being depends entirely on the customer's ability to smell a rat.

Fifty or sixty years ago, car buyers were easily fooled by re-badged vehicles. And even if they weren't, it didn't matter. The Big Three bestrode the US car market like a colossus. Even casual pistonheads could name every single car for sale. Auto brands were stronger than superglue. Driving a Ford, Lincoln or Mercury meant something; your car's sheet metal and badge reflected and projected your personal status. Customers who knew that their fancy new Lincoln was actually a Ford in a zoot suit didn't really care– as long as they got a good car that earned appropriate props. Brand loyalty was king.

What's the difference between a rental car and a mass market motor? Not a lot. But this much is true: the new Fusion's headlight switch wouldn't seem out of place on an EASY-BAKE oven. Actually, Ford should be so lucky; Kenner has sold over 16 million cookers since the feminist's least favorite toy debuted in 1963. The probability that the Fusion will deliver similar amounts of EASY-PROFIT depends entirely on the Y factor. Why would anyone buy an automobile that's had any hint of personality professionally removed by a crack squad of cost-conscious engineers? Purchase price? Reliability? You tell me and then we'll both know.

If customers swim into their local Ford dealer's fishbowl to spawn between $17k and $21k on behalf of a new Fusion, they won't be doing so because the sedan's sheet metal haunts their dreams– unless it's a nightmare about being pursued by a giant razor. The Fusion's three-blade front foil is the car's only attempt to make a visual statement; to my eyes it looks as if it's saying "I want to be an Infiniti when I grow up". From any angle other than the front, Ford's family four-door is so generic that the binocular fusion required to scan it hardly seems worth the effort. To be fair, the Fusion's Euro-blanditude obscures its proletarian roots with unrelenting unobjectionality. How great is that?