You may have noticed that I haven't posted a precast in a couple of days. Truth to tell, TTAC contributor and former Car and Driver editor Stephan Wilkinson knocked the wind out of my sails with an email that asked why in God's name anyone would want to listen to a couple of "car dorks." As someone who's never had trouble getting laid (current status: happily married), I've never really thought of myself as a dork. Strange, sure. Over-educated, definitely. But dorky? I don't think so. At least I didn't think so until Wilkinson sent his email. Now I'm left wondering if my single-minded dedication to all things automotive, and the thousands of hours spent tapping the plastic in my e-garret about same, has rendered me a car nerd. (Webster's on-line dictionary makes no distinction between dork and nerd.) For sure, I know too much about some pretty obscure car-related things. But I console myself that you gentle reader know equally as much, and, in most cases, far more than I in this field. And I celebrate your knowledge. I respect it, admire it and defer to it. So, if I love your passion, I guess I should love mine– no matter how juvenile or "dorky" it sounds. In that spirit, I resume this audio feature. If it grates, so be it. But if you're dorky and you know it, click right here.  

I'm good with names. Meet me at a party. Five hours and seven beers later, I'll cruise up and say, "Hey Benjamin, how goes it?" That’s assuming A) your name is Benjamin and B) you’re interesting. If a person is as dull as Tuesday afternoon C-Span, then the part of my brain that puts faces to names shuts down. I mention this because I had to click over to mazdausa.com to figure out if I’m driving the B4000 or B4400.  Turns out it’s the former. Who knew?

I remember reading about an environmental group that argued for zero population. Not zero population growth, zero people. They figured there was only one way to return nature to its, um, natural state: take humans out of the equation. I don’t recall their plan to achieve this goal, but I don’t think it involved automobiles. After all: no people, no cars, no pollution. Done. California’s tree huggers may not adhere to the same logical extreme, but c’mon, can someone please knock some sense into the state’s eco-warriors before they do something really stupid?

Auto industry analysts have cast their beady eyes on The Blue Oval's third turnaround plan, and they don’t like what they see. Despite the fact that Billy and Alan and Mark have mashed the gas on Ford’s downsizing, there are ominous rumblings that the cuts aren’t deep enough. The assertion is almost as shocking as the cuts themselves. If asking all of your 75k union workers to piss off isn’t enough, if shuttering sixteen plants doesn’t cut the financial mustard, well, is there any end to this death spiral?  Only the obvious one.

The space-oddity known as the Citroen DS was the last successful French executive saloon. Every French grand routier since the “Goddess” has been disappointing to various degrees. Today, even in Paris, one sees more German cars than French (even the taxis). So my expectations for the new Citroen C6 were not high; especially as I’d spent considerable seat time in the segment’s gold standard: the Audi A8. Can the French still parlez voitures luxes?

A couple of continents ago, I owned a coffee table book called “Quintessence.” Each glossy page featured a black and white product portrait: an Oreo cookie, a Steinway baby grand, a Timex watch, Bicycle playing cards, etc. The author posited that these instantly familiar products represent the essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form. The book didn’t contain a quintessential automobile, but I reckon a base Porsche 911 or a Jeep Wrangler would have made the grade. Not a Cayenne or a Compass. And therein lies a tale.

Since Chrysler acquired AMC from Renault in ‘87, the Jeep brand has been the domestic manufacturer’s canary in the coal mine. When Jeep’s done well, Chrysler’s done well. When Jeep’s languished, Chrysler’s tanked. Chrysler’s German masters are not blind to this correlation. Jeep's new corporate parent has shortened product development cycles from decades to six years. And now Doktor Z und ze Boyz are looking to grow DaimlerChrysler by expanding Jeep's model lineup. Does the Compass point the way to a bright future for "America's sports car"?

Limos blow. They're unsightly, often comical beasts that exchange comfort for size (well, length) and offer all the tactile pleasure of a mid-market motel (pleather chairs, paper napkins, five pound champagne glasses, etc.). I've yet to ride in a limo that didn't assault my olfactory organ with a whiff of amonia. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. In fact, I reckon more than a few of you took my opening sentence at face value (so to speak) and pornoed the second. That's limos for you. In fact, if rock stars had never snorted coke and screwed groupies in the back of their limo, you wouldn't have high school boys crowding into them on prom night wishing, hoping, dreaming of doing the same. Nor would observers crane their necks to see what's going on inside these bizarre vehicles or whether or not the person emerging will fall down. I'd rather ride in the back of a comfortable sedan with a fresh newspaper and an old cigar. Home James.  

The idea that Ford and GM will merge or, as they say these days, “form an alliance” is yet another sign that we’re reaching the End of Days, Detroit style. Sorry, haven’t you heard? This morning’s Automotive News quotes proverbial “senior executives” and “sources familiar with the talks” as saying GM contacted Ford shortly after GM investor Kirk Kerkorian invited Nissan to crash The General’s going away party. Or was it the other way around?  Automotive News is wildly, absurdly, irresponsibly vague on the whole story. Suffice it to say, any merger between America’s Number One and Number Two automakers would kill both of them.

Ford’s in trouble. Headlines talks of cuts, cuts and more cuts; and new product that might bring the automaker back from the brink. Meanwhile, mad props are in order for the party responsible for not killing the venerable Lincoln Town Car. This website has long argued that Ford’s failing car business isn’t about new product. It’s about neglecting existing product. Whether or not a resurrected Town Car aids an ailing FoMoCo is an open question, but refraining from reinventing the wheel at every regime change is the short answer.

Last year, F1 commentators were busy lamenting new rule changes that outlawed the 3.0-liter V10 powerplant. After Renault introduced the motor to the sport in 1989 (with Williams), the configuration quickly became the sport’s defacto standard. Then, in the name of safety, the FIA mandated a reduction in engine capacity from 3.0 to 2.4 liters, and reconfiguration to a V8. Pundits saw the move as one more step toward the spec series they all so desperately want to avoid. Ladies and gentlemen, the jury is in.

The American automotive media is just as obsessed with the thrill of the new as the industry itself. Even though websites like this one (OK, not exactly like this one) have transformed two month lead times into two minute lead times, all the buff books still tout the latest hot machine. The industry colludes in this effort, withholding new vehicles from their US press fleets until the car mags hit the stands. Perhaps because we started at the bottom of the press car food chain (and worked our way downwards from there), TTAC isn't fixated on getting ahold of the latest and greatest. In fact, we consider the dearth of established models in the carmakers' press fleets (e.g. Nissan 350Z) a major disappointment that reflects the automakers' limited attention spans. There is a lot to be learned from well-established bread-and-butter vehicles. To wit: Jonny Lieberman is reviewing a Mazda B-Series pickup and Sajeev Mehta's Lincoln Town Car review just crossed the transom. These reviews will tell us more about why Ford is in such dire straits– missed opportunities– than any financial statement or ride in the new Em Kay Ex Lincoln. Of course, as the Brits put it, we wouldn't say no…   

Another day, another turnaround plan. For those of you keeping score, Ford’s “Way Forward 2.0” is actually the third version in four years. In terms of strategy, the new, new plan holds few surprises; FoMoCo is simply super sizing their right-sizing program. On the credit side of the ledger… nothing much. New models still won’t hit the streets anytime soon. But the Street has hit Ford. On “Blue Friday,” Ford’s stock shed nearly 12% or $2b of its value. Investors and pundits alike are finally waking up to the fact that America’s number three automaker is in triage, with the crash cart standing by.

Yes, yes, the next installment of the Ford Death Watch is coming. Who'd a thunk I'd write 90 episodes of the GM Death Watch only to watch Billy's Blue Oval Boys hit the buffers first, and in such spectacular fashion? Maybe I should combine the two DW's and call it Death Race 2006. But then if The General and FoMoCo manage to limp through the year I'd have to change the name, which would fan the flames of the flamers who believe that just because something hasn't happened yet means it won't happen at all. In fact, I have a message for those stalwart loyalists who snigger at my ongoing insistence that The Big Two Point Five's sky is falling. Their sky is falling. And just be grateful I didn't start blogging in 1973, when Detroit's fate was sealed. I'll be here chronicling this story to the bitter end, and beyond. And I won't say I told you so once. On a more positive note, this is a fine Rioja, with tremendous body and a clean finish. Which is what I wish for both GM and Ford. May they rise Phoenix-like from the ashes to make gotta have cars that TTAC can review with our usual candor, passion and sarcastic flippancy; without having to borrow one from a dealer.  

Albert Einstein posited that energy is equal to mass times the speed of light squared. The Mercedes Benz CL65 AMG provides a new definition: energy equals horsepower at the speed of light for squares. Relativity speaking, the big Merc’s top end is significantly less than the cosmic speed limit of 670,616,629.384 mph. Subjectively, that number feels about right. In fact, the CL 65 is Die Grosse Bang on wheels, an automotive event that warps the time space continuum to the point where I swear I wrote this review tomorrow.