According to those renowned postmodern philosophers the Barenaked Ladies, “everything old is new again.”  The maxim certainly applies to the automotive industry. Those of us who put ourselves in Moto-PR harm’s way are constantly bombarded by joyous claims of new and improved technology and the latest justgottahavit features: self-parking cars, adaptive cruise control, heated/cooled cup holders, etc. The truth is, many of the technological advancements we lust after are recycled ideas from days gone by. They may be “improved” but they definitely aren’t “new.” 

As the son of a Holocaust survivor, the Maybach brand gives me the heebie-jeebies. Which is kind of strange. I've got no beef with Mercedes, a brand whose products provided Herr Hitler with his most photogenic platforms. Nor do I get any bad vibes from VW, a company that used Jewish slave labor during WWII. And my favorite brand is Porsche, whose namesake helped run VW when those slave laborers were busy starving to death on VW's behalf. Perhaps that's because so many Jewish people in my community adored Mercedes, BMW's and Volkswagens. If they were willing to let bygone begone… But there's a certain, I dunno, soullessness to Maybach products that creeps me out. While their cars are faultless in design, construction and materials, and the performance is just plain crazy, the Maybach's exterior and cabin possess all the charisma of a nuclear powerplant's containment dome. Which is why I LOVE the fully functional Maybach Exellero concept car. That bad boy is bonkers. And evil. If I owned one I'd have WWSD (What Would Satan Drive) tatooed on my shoulder. I reckon it's best to stay true to your roots, even if they're slightly poisonous. 

Did GM buy a piece of Moller International? The General’s recent TV commercials show its full product range rising off traffic-choked roadways and flying off at tremendous speeds. You can almost hear the Skycar's inventor slapping his thigh and yelling “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!” Of course, that’s not what GM’s talking about. They’re touting their new five-year, 100k mile warranty. Notice I didn’t say “powertrain.” Neither do the ads, which leave viewers with the impression that GM’s products come with five-year, 100k mile bumper-to-bumper protection. Talk about sins of omission…

A friend was riding in the passenger seat of a new Buick Lucerne last month. The driver turned left across an intersection—and was met head-on by a pick-up trying to beat the light. All the big Buick’s safety features worked like a charm. No one in the car was seriously injured. In an initial effort to minimize the accident’s significance, the driver bragged that he’d been through much worse. Personally, I don’t think that’s anything to be proud of. Grateful might be a better reaction.

Whatever you can (or cannot) say about BMW, the company makes some damn fine engines. Jay Shoemaker's review of the 335i hailed their direct injected twin turbo six pot as one of the finest powerplants ever to grace an engine bay, while Bimmer's Euro diesels eliminate any and all possible objections to the technology (smoke, vibration, cold start-up, etc.). No wonder low volume manufacturers of low weight sports cars hanker after powerplants made by the propeller people. The Ascari KZ1 rips through the time – space continuum with the previous gen M5's 4.0-liter BMW V8, Morgan's Aero 8 blurs your vision the X5's 4.4-liter V8, and Wiesmann's products get along rather nicely with either a 3.0-liter inline six or 4.8-liter BMW V8 (fitted to the GT pictured here). But the thing that really makes these cars fly is… design. You could call the Weismann's pastiche of Jaguar C-Type, Austin Healey and God Knows What slightly ungainly, but then I'd have to kill you. Besides, what would you rather have: a Go Like Hell But Look Like Everyone Else CL63 AMG Mercedes tank for $160k-ish or a WTF is That BMW-powered German thingie for the same wedge? The Mercedes obviously, but there are enough patrons of quirk to justify  bringing the German roadster stateside. God bless capitalism.

The history of the domestic automobile industry is a history of mergers and acquisitions. When times are good, the big fish eat the small fish. When times are tough, the big fish go to school. Witness Ford’s SUV-financed spending spree (Jaguar, Land Rover, Aston and Mazda) and the Daimler/Chrysler and Renault/Nissan mergers. At best, the long-term track record for acquisitions has been spotty, and alliances are equally likely to end in tears. So why do automakers persist?

Trollhattensaab.net recently upbraided TTAC for failing to mention their champion amongst a list of station wagon alternatives to SUV’s. According to the Aussie Saab blog, the SportCombi “more than matches its competition on price, performance, specification, utility and safety.” Be that as it may, I wanted to know if Saab’s wagon deserved a place next to Volvo and Mercedes in my list of classic European station wagons. So I grabbed some seat time in an '06 Saab 9-3 Aero SportCombi (a.k.a. 9-3 Aero 5-Door).

As you will hear in today's precast, my first forray into Ferrari ownership brought me face-to-face with the studied indifference that is England's erstwhile service culture. Not only did the dealership treat me with all the contempt of a deranged six-year-old frying worms with a magnifying glass, but they charged me huge, towering heaps of money for the privilege. And gave me a FIAT Panda loaner car. Frequently. In fact, Maranello's mean machine was a constant source of mechanical malfunction and bodywork gone bad (including rust on the flying butresses)– to the point where I started calling myself a Ferrari "visitor" rather than a Ferrari "owner." The moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for. Or is that "the engine mapping program is not the territory"?  

Servicing my Corvette is only marginally more pleasurable than filling out my tax return. First, I stand around the service desk waiting for a bleary-eyed “advisor” to acknowledge my existence. Then the employee asks if I want to wait for my car or… if someone’s picking me up. If I hang fire, I’m confined to a waiting room with all the charm of a correctional facility. If I leave, I have to call to see if the job’s done. When I pick up my ‘Vette, previous experience has taught me to inspect it for familiar desecrations– oily boot marks, additional miles, changed radio stations, etc. Oh, and to make sure the job’s actually been done. Sound familiar?

Every day, VW sales consultants encounter “diesel ups.” (For those unfamiliar with car lot lingo, an “up” is a browsing customer, bound for service by a revolving pool of salesman.) For the last three years, California-based “diesel ups” have been a shortcut to nowhere. Since 2003, the Golden State’s rigid emissions laws have outlawed diesel-powered Vee Dubs. Meanwhile, hybrid owners, cheapskates and other mileage-crazed customers pester commission-hungry staff about TDI’s that get 50 mpg on spent French fry oil. So, after three years of consumer anticipation and wasted ups, CA has finally given the A-OK to a diesel VW: the Touareg TDI. It’s a great landing at the wrong airport.

I suppose I should get myself into a lather about the fact that GM has lured collegiate journalists to Las Vegas for some major junket action. As listeners to this podcast will discover, I just can't get it up, self-righteous indignation-wise. First, my main beef with junkets is non-disclosure (e.g. The Car Connection's report on the new Jeep Wrangler from Zambia arriving without a tip-of-the-hat to DCX PR). Second, there's no blanket ban on junketeering hereabouts. Third, who says college kids can be co-opted so easily? Biz class airline seats, a nice room on The Strip, free booze, a stake at the tables, a spin on Autotainment– Entourage-watching gen Zeta will take it all in their post-modern stride. Besides, when you don't have a job to protect or a family to support, why not bite the hand that feeds? In fact, if one of these college car hacks would like to describe their GM-sponsored Vegas vacation, I'd be delighted to provide the e-space, subject to the usual editing process and length restrictions. Which reminds me: I'm almost ready to announce the next TTAC writing contest. The last one was The Truth About Muscle Cars . The next one will be… watch this space (and no, that's not the title of the essay).  

[NB: A transcript will be available when we find a sponsor.]

Thirty-five million dollars, the keys to the corporate jet and a Detroit McMansion is a pretty good compensation package for any aspiring executive. Obviously, if freshly-minted Ford CEO Alan Mulally reverses The Blue Oval’s declining fortunes, it will be shareholder money well spent. If, however, Mulally turns out to be too little CEO too late, his paycheck and parachute will mark the final chapter in a sad story of Ford family interference and/or mismanagement. So what say you Billy Ford? The “biggest problem facing Ford today is a lack of confidence.”

Chris Bangle’s architecture is still a shock to the system. I still cringe whenever one of the BMW designer’s “flame surfaced” 7 Series hoves into view. I still shake my head when I catch a glimpse of a 5 Series’ mascara headlights. I still avert my eyes when any of his models drive past, for fear of glimpsing the rightfully reviled “Bangle butt.” So I was flabbergasted when I encountered the new 335i coupe in the metal. From its balanced proportions to its elegantly cut creases and demure posterior, it’s a stylishly conservative yet sporty design. Was Mr. Bangle on vacation when The Board of Directors approved this machine?

Once again, the queen of motor sports is in transition. Big, well-funded manufacturer teams– Ferrari, Mercedes, BMW, Renault and (yes) Toyota, etc.– are doing a Reagan: spending their less well-funded opponents into oblivion. To wit: Jordan, Minardi and (yes) Jaguar are no more. This creeping consolidation will certainly fuel the anger of those fans who’ve long claimed that big business is killing F1’s spirit. While it’s sad to see the privateers leave the circus after decades of noble competition, F1’s commercialization is actually good news. It will lead to a more engaging and closer battle between the teams.

According to French philosopher Emile Chartier, “Nothing is more dangerous than an idea when it is the only one you have.” Chartier died in 1951, before les flics started using radar guns and fixed speed cameras to apprehend drivers exceeding the posted limit– regardless of the actual danger these motorists pose to themselves or other road users. Setting aside issues raised by indiscriminate government surveillance, Chartier would have been appalled by the single-minded fervor with which these devices have been applied. If you're looking for the logical extreme of the "speed kills" idee fixe, the UK provides it. Speed cameras are everywhere: real ones, fake ones, digital units, rear-facing, forward-facing, hidden, obvious, thousands of them. What's more camera vans (a.ka. "Talivans") roam the highways and byways, nabbing speeders from highway overpasses, country roads and city streets. The end result? No improvement in road safety and an enormous disaffection between the police and the population they're charged with protecting. Although the English are a generally passive people who hold to the idea that "if you're not doing anything wrong you don't have any reason to worry," there comes a point where enough is enough. Paul Smith of Safe Speed tells the tale.