As the New Year dawns, serious car collectors are about to take Horace Greely’s advice. They’re heading into the Arizona and Nevada deserts for the annual automotive auction feeding frenzy. Barrett-Jackson, Kruse International, RM Auctions, Russo & Steele, Silver Auctions— there’s enough action west of the Mississippi to satisfy the most voracious automotive aficionado. But as Public Enemy advised, don’t believe the hype. While the warm weather bidding frenzy appeals to high rollers, the best opportunities to locate a future heirloom at a bargain basement price usually lie within a 50-mile radius of your front door.

There I was, flying down a German autobahn in a VW Phaeton, bumping up against the car’s electronic limiter. I glanced at the rear view mirror and moved over. A modified M5 streaked by at over 180mph. I say modified because BMW is part of a “gentleman’s agreement” hammered out in the 70’s, when Germany’s Green Party wanted to impose speed limits on de-restricted autobahns. Mercedes, BMW and Audi all agreed to limit their products’ top speed to 155mph. The idea that other countries could build automobiles capable of cresting 250kph somehow escaped everyone’s attention. As, eventually, did the entire issue.

Picture this: you’re a middle-aged, mid-level, middle-management guy in the mid-west. You’ve gone a bit doughy around the middle. You’ve got 2.5 kids and a golden retriever. You got socks for Christmas. It’s been a long time since you handed in your acid-wash denims for wrinkle-resistant Dockers, swapped the Van Halen for Vivaldi, and traded in the Firechicken for a four-door bore. But there’s something strange about today. The (predictably) silver sedan you’re sliding into isn’t all that boring. She’s got dual exhausts, a V6 packed with ponies and check out those taillights… Sweet! You hit the push-button-starter (!) and there’s an underhood growl, just as Wilson Phillips breaks into, “Hold On For One More Day.” Yep, it’s the 2007 Nissan Altima.

We’re sitting in Jeep’s newest Wrangler pointed up a steep hill. Freak December rain has turned the ground into goopy glop. The transmission is in 4-Low, both axles are locked and the front sway-bar has been disconnected. A light tap of the gas slowly but oh-so-steadily begins to motivate our Trail Rated off-roader up the treacherous path. And then… we’re at the top. Huh? Too easy. We circle back down, turn off the lockers, reattach the sway-bar and put the Jeep into two-wheel drive. A moment later we are once again atop the hill. I’m saying it right here: the Wrangler Rubicon is the most capable vehicle ever badged a Jeep.

Writing in his Fastlane Blog, GM Car Czar Bob Lutz recently claimed that proposals to raise Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) standards by four percent per year would “effectively hand the truck and SUV market over to the imports, particularly the Japanese, who have earned years of accumulated credits from their fleets of formerly very small cars." Wrong. First, CAFE credits were never transferable between cars and light trucks. Second, as of ’07, light truck CAFE standards are gone; replaced by target mileage figures based on a vehicle’s footprint. Third, even when there WERE such things as CAFE credits for light trucks, Toyota, Honda and Nissan never used them. Fourth, Bob Lutz is an idiot.

About a decade or so ago, I traveled to BMW's Munich HQ to pick-up a press fleet K100RS. I arrived with a hard shell suitcase, intending to transfer its contents to the motorcycle’s panniers. When a press flack asked about the case, I joked that I was going to bungee it onto the back of the bike. When we returned from lunch, German engineers had attached my suitcase to the butt of Beemer’s “flying brick,” complete with homemade aerodynamic addenda. They’d found an elegant way to accomplish a completely ludicrous task. Porsche Cayenne Turbo S? Same deal. 

The average American car buyer is completely unaware of Ford’s financial troubles. They don’t know Alan Mulally from Bertie Ahern. They don’t know that Ford’s taken out The Mother of All Bank Loans, mortgaging everything up to and including the company logo. They don’t know the automaker’s got three years to avoid annihilation. But the day Toyota overtakes Ford as America’s number two carmaker, the U.S. consumer will get a multi-media wake-up call. The psychological damage will be profound. Not that Ford sees it that way.

Fewer vehicles capture the hearts and imagination of parents and children at this time of year more than Santa’s sleigh. Yet little is known of this iconic ride that makes the rounds every December. In fact, most people know more about Adam West’s valiant crime fighting Batmobile than they do Kris Kringle’s delivery truck. So, at the risk of being blacklisted for naughtiness, I ask in TTAC fashion whether Santa’s immortal sleigh is a timeless classic or an outdated dud.

When dairy cows go dry, farmers have them “freshened” (that’s what bulls are for). Chrysler’s long-time cash cows, its minivans, have gone dry. After an eleven year hiatus, the bulls have been busy. The embattled carmaker will reveal the long overdue “freshening” of their once mighty Dodge Caravan / Chrysler Town and Country models at the Detroit auto show in January. The re-styled ’08 minivans are critical to Chrysler’s profits. Will they restore their fruitful dominance or produce a mere blip on a sales chart with a decidedly downwards trajectory?

My friends frequently tease me about my automotive taste. It’s not my passion for stupidly expensive high-performance sports cars, or my weakness for brash, flash, trash. It’s my ongoing affection for supremely ugly yet practical vehicles that triggers their head-shaking scorn. Dude, you like a minivan? Luckily, I have a ready defense that usually shuts them up. I tell them that when I was a kid, our family car was a Microbus. 

Hunkered down inside the Nissan 350Z Roadster convertible with the top up, you know the way a clam must feel when it looks outside its shell. The top is screwed down like one of those heavy-duty chop jobs on a lead sled of yore. While claustrophobics need not apply, the Z’s powerplant’s guttural moan vibrates through the floorboards and around the metal carcoon in a most sensually satisfying manner. Open the lid and this is what a proper sports car is all about: pure, unadulterated exhilaration.

A few years ago, I found myself comfortably ensconced in the back seat of a German taxicab. I was luxuriating in what I thought was leather (it was MB Tex, the convincing faux hide) when the driver cranked-up the engine. Smoke and stench poured from the Mercedes’ diesel engine. I scoffed– until the driver blew straight through 180kph on the autobahn to Munich. Even from the passenger seat, the torque was more intoxicating than the exhaust wafting in through the window. I was hooked.

Gary Cowger recently sat down with Wards Automotive for a good old kvetch. GM’s group Vice President of Global Manufacturing and Labor Relations complained that news of his employer's financial woes was overshadowing their brilliant new products. Gary blamed excessive media coverage and speculation. “There’s a lot of noise in the system, and that’s because we live in an age of transparency like the world has never seen before… It’s almost too much information out there.” As you might expect from such a staunch defender of bridled free speech, Cowger has taken steps to rectify the situation– at least in-house.

TTAC recently placed Chrysler on suicide watch for the easily correctable fact that vast empty spaces and dealers’ lots are stuffed with Chrysler/Dodge cars, trucks. minivans and SUV's that no one wants to buy. The new Sebring is a far deadlier proposition: a car headed straight for rental car Hell. For a few bills less than our semi-loaded (half cocked?) Sebring tester, you can buy a base Chrysler 300, which, according to Mr. Mehta, has “reinvigorated American car design.” The new Sebring is less invigorating than Vicodin. In fact, I reckon the model only exists because car rental customers are still willin' to take what they get.

I wouldn’t join any union that would have me as a member. And yet the United Autoworker’s Union (UAW) wants me. Yep, UAW Local 1981 represents freelance writers. The pen-pushing Local is part of a growing trend within the UAW. As more and more of their members accept buyouts and early retirements, as the UAW [secretly] realizes that they’ve milked their Detroit cash cow to the point of death, the union is pulling a Studebaker. They’re diversifying out of their core business before their core business goes tango uniform.