To review: BMW has banned The Truth About Cars from its press vehicles because of the "tone and tenor" of the website. Specifically, they objected to the fact that we compared the Subaru B9 Tribeca's front grill to a 'flying vagina,' and considered our review of the Lexus IS350 unnecessarily "harsh." I invited you to email your comments on the ban to dave.buchko@bmwna.com and copy TTAC for publication here. On June 12, the new-look [still-free, more on that later] TTAC will have a commentary option. Meanwhile, here's a sample of the correspondence sent to Mr. Buchko's in-box (so to speak):

"I'm a firm believer in the right to free speech, but unfortunately your so-called "new media" has opened the floodgates for anyone with an opinion, a keyboard and a good repertoire of fifth grade put-downs to set themselves up as being a journalist… You have trumpeted your wounded pride with the self-righteous indignation of a newly ass-whipped schoolyard bully, yet you fail to see that you, not BMW, Subaru or any of your other victims, are the true cause of the problem." Dave Scrivener, Motor Week.

Chris Bangle will be remembered as the most influential automobile designer of the early 21st century. All of the hip cars of our times have Bangled butts and complicated interfaces. The BMW 650i convertible is arguably the finest expression of Mr. Bangle's "flame surfacing." Viewed from the front, the vehicle resembles a shark. In grey or dark blue colors, the 650i has a distinctly ominous presence. If you did nothing more than stare at the front end of this car, you'd feel it was $80k well spent. Unfortunately, eventually, you will walk around to the back …

The 650i's back end is the Bimmer's most badly Bangled bit. The chopped roofline of the soft-top narrows to a slit for the rear window, with dorsal fins protruding back from the rear edges. I'm not sure quite what visual impact Bangle's boyz intended, but the design sure makes backing-up or checking for cars on your flanks an exercise in trust in your fellow man. If you raise the 650i's trunk, step back and imagine what the vehicle might have looked like with a more conservative tail line, you get the feeling Chris snatched pretension from the jaws of greatness.

Last week, BMW flackmeister Dave Buchko banned The Truth About Cars from access to BMW and MINI press vehicles. Mr. Buchko wanted to be clear: the company was not responding to TTAC's criticisms of its products. The decision represented "a general concern about the tone and tenor of the site." More specifically, BMW objected to my characterization of the Subaru Tribeca's grill treatment as a flying vagina and our "inappropriately harsh" review of the Lexus IS350. So, BMW doesn't mind us calling the new M5's shifter the world's worst gearbox, but we can't mention female anatomy or wail on their opponent. Are you getting this?

I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to launching a retaliatory campaign based on our right to call it like we see it. You know: 'BMW can't handle The Truth!' But how do you fight a company that cuts you off from its press fleet because its corporate leaders object to the word vagina, and the fact that we preferred their products to their competitors'? Following Mr. Buchko into the rabbit hole, I tried to negotiate a solution to this bizarre situation. During our most recent phone call, I told Mr. Buchko we wouldn't use the words "vagina, penis or testicles" in any future posts and [almost] promised to shower Lexus with love the next time 'round.

General Motors is convinced it can't afford to kill Buick. If it could, it would; but it can't, so it won't. So now what? Clearly, the Lucerne and LaCrosse (improvements though they are) aren't winning a great many brand converts. A radical re-think is in order. It's time to drop any pretense that Buick can possibly appeal to anyone younger than 70, and drink fully from the golden goblet of Metamucil. If GM insists upon keeping the marque on life support, what better way to do so than by wholeheartedly crafting a car designed for buyers close to employing the same?

Remember Maserati's mid-80s offerings? The Biturbo looked hotter than Christie Brinkley in a Ferrari 308, but was awful in every other way a car can be. The boxy yet steroidal Quattroporte was a stunner– whose name still pops-up as an antonym for reliability in Microsoft Word. By 1991, even barge pole-toting Italian car lovers wouldn't touch Maserati's heavy metal. The company's empire collapsed. Twelve years later, Maserati re-entered the US market bearing gifts: a studly, gutsy two-door and then, a swaggering, voluptuous four-door. And?

Maserati's new rides have found a warm welcome amongst wealthy American car collectors. In 1998, Maserati sold 518 cars worldwide. In 2005, the company sold 2114 cars in the US alone. While it would be premature to conclude that these figures indicate that Maserati has slain the mechanical gremlins that chased them off the North American continent, England's What Car magazine recently awarded all three Maserati models three out of five stars for reliability. (Wassup JD?) Equally reassuring (at least theoretically), Maserati now submits every single US car to a final, final inspection. And they're adding another $19m to the brand's expanding quality control program, on top of the $50m they've already spent in the pursuit of perfection.

Why is GM's stock rallying to a six-month high? Delphi's Sword of Damocles still sways above The General's head. Their market share and sales continue sliding towards Hades, with Cerberus waiting to lock the gate behind them. Oh right, I remember. On Wednesday, Merrill Lynch analyst John Murphy upgraded GM's stock to "buy." He made the move in light of the fact that 20k GM employees have decided to take advantage of GM's worker buyout program. So a bunch of rats leave a sinking ship, someone says well done and the crew breaks out the champagne. This thing stinks.

Lest we forget, until February 7th, the Chairman and CEO of Merrill Lynch & Co., Inc. served on General Motors' Board of Bystanders. When Stan O'Neal resigned from GM, the exec cited time constraints and "limits on my ability to act as a GM director because of potential conflicts with matters in which Merrill Lynch is involved." This limitation didn't stop O'Neal's firm from buying 32m shares of FIAT stock for $1b while O'Neal was on GM's Board– immediately after GM wrote off the value of its FIAT stock for $2.1b. Be that as it is, there's clear evidence that Merrill and GM are deep into each other's pockets.

And so it's time to ask Mr. Fisker the obvious question: what's the ugliest car in the world? Although the former Ford design jeffe and current coachbuilder to chronically over-monied car collectors provides the obvious answer, it's nice to know that Pontiac has earned its place in automotive infamy for all time. As for yesterday's question– would you pay $300k for a re-skinned Merc or Bimmer– it's a dead heat. Your email could tip the balance. And it won't cost a dime.

When Bob Lutz launched the new-ish Chevrolet Tahoe, GM's Car Czar claimed the SUV and its platform partners would sell to a core group of customers who need (or at least desperately want) the size, power and towing abilities of a traditional American truck. At the same time, Lutz acknowledged that overall SUV's sales were shrinking. Unfortunately, the press neglected to explore the corollary: GM's ability to maintain SUV profits depends on conquest sales from existing owners. Never mind the Dai-san (Toyota, Honda, Nissan) or the "Crisis" Corporation. There's only one way GM can generate life-sustaining lift from this profit-rich segment: hit the weak man. Ford is Job One.

In fact, GM and Ford are locked in a Detroit Death Match. Both companies' finances are in tatters. Their market shares are shrinking. Layoffs and closings are spreading throughout their respective empires. A Delphi strike threatens to shutter their assembly lines. Impossible pension and health care costs are eating into profits. They pay thousands of workers not to work. The unions can't or won't play ball. There's not enough money to invest in new products. Their dealer networks are bloated. Ailing brands are dragging them down, but they can't afford to cut the deadwood. It's like the old joke about the man fleeing a bear who nearly trips over his companion, who's putting on a pair of running shoes. "Are you crazy?" he yells. "You can't outrun a bear!" "I don't have to outrun the bear," his former friend replies. "I just have to outrun you."

Americans sometimes joke that Canada is the fifty-first state. In some ways, it's true; our landscape is the northern part of the US blown up like Bullwinkle at Macy's parade. The journey from one end of Ontario to the other is roughly equivalent to crossing five US states. If Canadians followed the American rationale– drivers need wafting monster machines to keep their sanity on long treks– there'd be an Escalade in every driveway. Yet Canadian SUV and truck ownership ratios are miniscule compared to that of their southern neighbors. In the main, we opt for more frugal and environmentally-sound transportation. Hang on. There's a lesson in there somewhere…

Canadian car culture– or lack thereof– is one reason our nation doesn't favor inefficient and inappropriate vehicles. We love our cars, but we're not "in love." A Canadian would never write a song like "Route 66;' a paean to the Trans-Canada Highway during a January blizzard would only scare its listeners. Roadside diners are the dens of long-haul truckers, not shrines to the open road celebrated in movies like Thelma and Louise. Don't get me wrong: there are plenty of pistonistas north of the 49th parallel; custom Civics and classic Mustangs abound. But a healthy (if stubborn) kind of pragmatism dominates Canadian car buying. Even sports cars are bought with city potholes and snow in mind.

Once upon a time, wealthy people didn't just pop down to their local Ferrari dealer, pick-up an Enzo and ask for their change in F430's. They commissioned a coachbuilder to add bespoke sheetmetal, fixtures and fittings to a suitable manufacturer's underpinnings. This trend created some wild ass whips, usually ascribed to the builder who provided the greasy bits. Not only is ex-BMW, ex-Ford designer Henrik Fisker determined to resurrect the whole coachbuilding thing, but the man wants name brand recognition. Well, fair enough. But would you buy a reskinned Merc or Bimmer for north of $300k? Answers on an email please. Or wait for part two, tomorrow.

Before these days of endless, shameless bling, V8 sedans of a sporting nature took their job seriously. Flat black trim outsold chrome and wood by a hefty margin. Intrusive electronic nannies, TV screens, time-wasting joysticks and promiscuous style were notable by their absence. Q-ships owners reveled in their car's ability to speak softly and carry a big stick. Fast forward a decade and the sporting sedan's standard bearers have been desecrated; tainted by electronic frippery and morphed into cartoon caricatures of their dignified selves. Even more improbably, the genre's sole survivor was made by the hand of Lincoln.

To see it is to know it. The Lincoln LS Sport's purposeful creases, beefy haunches, short over hangs, and wikkid fast C-pillars seem carefully crafted to win the hearts and minds of Bangle-aversive buyers. The car's hunky proportions and aggressive stance also make a strong case against chop-top chic, and for the design firm of Longer, Lower and Wider. Mind you, the LS' generic taillights and frumpy deck lid are reverse Viagra for anyone under 65. Luckily, squinting HID projectors, 17' chrome wheels and a timeless monotone paint treatment keep the Mitsubishi Diamante references at bay. A new front bumper with a drop-jaw intake, fog lights, and chrome accents lightly spices the plain Jane front fascia.

When Maserati PR offered TTAC a Georgia junket to thrash some of its models on road and track, we checked our policy (full disclosure and we're good to go) and sent the freshly-trained Jonny Lieberman to do the honors. Our man was suitably impressed by the Masers' improved ride and handling. But he saved his ultimate kudos for the Audemars Piguet Millenary MC12 Tourbillon. As well he might, considering the price…

Ever have an extremely likeable acquaintance who drives you nuts with their constant need to flaunt their knowledge of arcane or technical matters? That's the new Mercedes S550. In many ways, on many levels, the big Merc is the world's best sedan: a sublime expression of German automotive engineering excellence. And then the luxobarge starts showing off, convinced that it's smarter than you are when it comes to comfort, information, communication and yes, driving. At that point, a fully-equipped S550 could well be world's most annoying automobile.

Again, let's get this straight: the Mercedes S550 is the best riding and handling four-door sedan money can buy. At the front: a four-link air suspension with antilift control, gas shock absorbers, stabilizer and anti-dive system. At the rear: multilink independent air suspension and antisquat system. On the road: the German luxobarge smothers road imperfections with extreme prejudice, out-Jaguaring Jaguar by a wide margin. Even better, hurling Mercedes' 4376-pound behemoth into a corner is like riding a Maglev train; the S550 leans slightly and then glides through all but the tightest turns. The car's dynamics are virtually indefatigable.

I once read that a person with experience caring for horses knows more about what it meant to be a human in the last thousand years than anyone without. Similarly, anyone who's driven a Model T knows more about what it felt like to be an American in the first half of the 20th Century than anyone who hasn't. History records the Model T as a two-fold blessing: it created the American working class and it put them behind the wheel. Again, the map is not the territory. To fully appreciate the Model T's impact on American psychology, you have to get behind the wheel.

Easier said than done. It takes a slim person to squeeze between the Model T's steering wheel and driver's seat. Most modern operators have to enter from the passenger side and slide over. Once there, only the Model T's helm works like a contemporary car's controls. The Flivver's throttle is on the column. Forward speeds are moderated by an unfamiliar lever and pedal combination. Another foot pedal shifts the car into reverse and doubles as a second brake. Before any of this, drivers of Model T's built before 1926 face the daunting prospect of using the 'Armstrong Starter' or hand crank. A second lever on the column retards the spark timing; which makes the starting procedure a bit easier and safer. (Broken wrists and arms eventually led to the development of the electric starter, and many older cars were retrofitted with the device as soon as they became available.)

TTAC writer Terry Parkhurst suggested I give Mitch Silver of Silver Collector Car Auctions a call. Mitch's mob aren't the biggest of the big, but they've developed a sterling reputation for friendliness, honesty and expertise. Silver's signature event: the Reno-based Hot August Nights. With over 800 pre-'72 cars up for grabs, Mitch counsels buyers to think of car collecting as a hobby (not an investment) and do NOT get in a pissing match.