When Alfred P. Sloan took the reins at General Motors, he had a clear vision of the company’s future: “a car for every purse and purpose."  Sloan’s business model– offer customers a wide range of vehicles across distinct brands and encourage them to move “up” within the portfolio– was wildly successful.  GM soon replaced Ford as US market leader, and never looked back.  Ninety years later, the same structure is in place, but the car market has changed.  And GM’s portfolio is part of the problem, not the solution.    

When you punch the Pontiac Solstice’s go pedal to the floor, you can almost hear that great Les McCann/Eddie Harris tune “Compared to what?”  Normally, the Solstice is compared to the Mazda MX5 or its twin-under-the-skin, the Saturn Sky– which is a bit like comparing Heather Graham to Sarah Michelle Gellar and Salma Hayek.  While it's clear that the GM cars have more visual appeal than the Japanese roadster, looks can be deceiving.  Has GM “made it real,” or is the Solstice just playing a part?   

In a recent comment, Stryker1 raised an excellent point: TTAC seems to have lost a bit of its "edge.”  Upon reflection, I agree.  I’m not one for excuses, but I reckon the loss of an internal organ threw me off my groove.  At the same time, TTAC welcomed a large number of new writers and lost touch with a few familiar voices.  The ad thing’s also jerking my chain.  And the light’s bad in here.  Anyway, I'm fully aware that TTAC will rise of fall depending on its ability to stick to its original remit: kick-ass reviews and take-no-prisoners industry-oriented rants.  Here’s how I’m thinking of playing it…   

Every race day, over a billion people watch Formula One on live TV.  No wonder Mercedes Benz, Honda, Toyota, Renault and Fiat spend hundreds of millions of dollars to race their hi-tech cars at circuits all over the world.  No wonder we’re witnessing a fight for the future direction of F1. In one corner, wearing red, silver, blue and white, are the teams, led by the Grand Prix Manufacturers Association.  In the other corner, wearing dark blue blazers, is the sport’s governing body, the FIA.  The battle comes down to two issues: technology and (surprise) money.  

The sound jolted me from my reverie at a stoplight in a small town just east of San Antonio.  It sounded like a weed whacker farting.  I heard it again.  I looked to my left.  In the lane next to my Z/28 sat a two-door Hyundai Accent with Beavis at the wheel and Butthead riding shotgun.  It had the obligatory coffee can-sized muffler hanging below the rear valence.  Bolted to the deck lid: an erector set-type spoiler that looked like it weighed more than the rest of the car.  Beavis (or maybe it was Butthead) had plastered the fenders and doors with decals of kanji characters and there was a bright red VTEC sticker splayed across the top of the windshield.  It looked as though they had just seen “The Fast and the Furious” and they were out to cop some street creds in their killer kimchee burner.

Tribute bands are a beautiful thing: talented musicians who use their artistic gifts to duplicate other people's creativity and style for stupid easy money.  Toyota’s full-size Tundra pickup is cut from the same cloth.  Much like your favorite KISS wannabes, the big T's truck earns its keep by imitating Detroit’s core competency.  Supposedly, that ain’t enough; US pickup truck buyers are thought to be more brand loyal than Queen fans (if you pardon the reference).  So does the Tundra have what it takes to evoke the masters and rock the house?

You’ll never see one on the cover of a buff book or tuner title. They’re never the subject of motorsports art.  Chip Foose's Overhaulin' crew wouldn’t touch one with a ten foot spanner. But for every pristine vintage roadster, numbers matching cruise night star and drag strip trailer queen, there are millions of "beaters” out there, saving wear and tear on a car owner's pride and joy or just racking-up the miles.  A non-descript econo-box, compact hatchback, sedan, four-cylinder pickup or mini-van, the beater is motoring’s unsung hero.

Cruising into Newport in Maserati's Quattroporte (review to follow), I watched a Mitsubishi Starion drive straight through a stop sign and slam into the side of a BMW 3-Series sedan.  Despite my reputation for unbridled, acid-tongued cynicism, my first thought was the same as yours: is everybody all right?  After ascertaining that the meat wagon wasn't a life or death issue (at least as far as I could tell), and that plenty of gawkers had stopped to gawk, my second thought was less charitable: if I pull over as a witness, how long would it cut into my 24-hour test drive?  And then I saw the Starion driver get out of his relatively unmolested POS and check his front fender for damage and I felt an enormous urge to stop, jump out and clock the guy.  So my question is this: how do we get these stupid bastards off our roads? Better (i.e. not speed-obsessed) enforcement?  Higher driving standards?  How about any driving standards?  I'm not saying anything about the Starion driver's ethnicity, but why are some states giving driving licenses to illegal immigrants who can't speak English?  What the Hell kind of driving test doesn't require enough English literacy to read a warning sign?  Your thoughts?

According to GM, happy days are here again.  Profits are up, costs are down and the company’s turnaround plan is on track.  The automotive media have swallowed The General’s spiel hook, line and sinker.  The financial markets are ready, willing and able to view The General’s second quarter losses through the automaker’s prism of perpetual positivism, sending GM’s stock price to its highest level since last October.  Well folks, it ain’t necessarily so…

Whatever else you can say about the Chevrolet Corvette, it isn’t a halo vehicle. Yes, it beats the Hell out of anything in its class and out bang-for-the-buck’s the big boys. But there’s not a single enthusiast driving around in an Impala SS thinking, "Oh yeah — I got the same AC vents as a 'Vette." In terms of appearance, the Avalanche resembles the Corvette about as much as Paul Giamati looks like Keira Knightley.  Contrast this with the Porsche Carrera GT. Despite the astronomical price gap between the GT and an entry level Boxster, the family face is intact and the underlying product philosophy is identical: speed, handling, fun.  That’s why it’s time for GM to use “America’s Sports Car” as the basis of an entirely new division– with Nissan.

In 1988, Simon Bond published that seminal work, 101 Uses for a Dead Cat.   It pissed off cat lovers, became a best seller, and spawned a number of “101 Uses for (fill in the blank)” books and articles.  Today we’re faced with an even more haunting problem.  The streets are crawling with SUVs driven by rap star wannabees and soccer moms afraid they’ll get bogged down in a mall parking lot somewhere.  It won’t be long before the junkyards are overflowing with the rusting hulks of these once-proud symbols of excess and poseurship.  So the question plaguing mankind today is, “What do you do with a dead SUV?”

When the Toyota Prius first came out, I drove one around West Virginia.  When I pulled into a gas station, the owner sauntered out, all curious-like.  “What’s that?” he demanded.  “I never seen one of them before.”  It’s a hybrid, I explained.  You can run it on either the electric motor or the gas engine, or both of them together.  “They ought to have a switch,” he said. “So you can run it only on electricity.”  So much for my Harvard degree.  The guy was way ahead of me.

All cars should have a V8.  For one thing, the modern eight cylinder engine is inherently balanced; it has completely overlapping power impulses.  In other words, one cylinder fires before the previous cylinder has finished contributing, creating a much smoother power delivery with fewer impulses. That’s why a V8 can use the same drivetrain components as a much smaller four cylinder engine with half the displacement.  There is no need for secondary balance shafts, and no unpleasant vibrations to annoy the passengers and reduce the life of the exhaust system and other accessories.  It’s the smoothest engine configuration money can buy.

Forbes has just released another in their never-ending series of ten-best lists– a feature which stretches credulity, interest and patience. To wit: the latest list trumpets the ten best cars for single people.  Being a perennially unattached person, my index finger only managed to hover over delete. Oh man… "Best Car For Eco-minded Singles: Toyota Prius Sedan." No, really. But one item intrigued me: "Best Car For Boosting Your Sex Life"  Aside from looking like an uncircumcised penis, I can't think of anything even remotely sexy about BMW's M6 Coupe.  But there are some drop-dead gorgeous cars on both the new and used market.  What car(s) do you find sexy?  More to the point (so to speak), can a car get you laid?  And if it can, is it really a good idea to share your precious bodily fluids with a sexual partner who's turned-on by your taste in whips?  

“Back to the Future” is Hollywood fluff, but the movie has its moments.  When Marty McFly takes his 1985 vintage nuclear-powered Delorean to Dr. Emmett Brown’s 1955 alter ego for repairs, “Doc” looks at the car’s complicated electronics and snorts “No wonder it broke down.  It was made in Japan.”  “What are you talking about?” McFly corrects.  “That’s where all the best stuff comes from.”  The throwaway line perfectly illustrates the sea change that's swept the American automobile industry during those crucial 30 years.