In my recent review of the ZAP Xebra  I stuck my neck out and said: "The Xebra probably costs $3k to make. It's certainly not worth much more than that." Turns out I was being (uncharacteristically) conservative. According to newlaunches.com, a four-wheel version of the Xebra is to be sold in India as the Tara Tiny for $2450. A joint venture between India's Tara and China's Aucma, a manufacturer of electric vehicles, will result in the "the world's cheapest car;" undercutting the Tata Nano by a whopping $50. The Xebra sedan is being sold here for up to $16k. BTW, battery life for the Xebra is 4k miles, according to a poll of owners. And how do I know it's the Xebra? That fourth wheel is a good disguise, but I'd recognize that god-awful hard-shell one-piece dashboard anywhere, even half-way around the world.

According to GM Car Czar Bob Lutz, “The electrification of the automobile is inevitable.”  Inevitability also applies to the sun going cold. But with rising gas prices, some of us old timers are getting impatient (having had our youthful appetite whetted by GM’s Electrovair way back in 1966). The Li-ion-powered Tesla Roadster is simultaneously sold out and yet not in production. Dozens of other miraculous EV’s are just a $5k deposit and an infinitely adjustable (and not so inevitable) delivery date away. Meanwhile, down at your local Zap dealer, the banner proclaims: “saving the planet, one vehicle at a time.” And their Xebra is all charged-up and ready to roll.

For me, driving bliss is all about the setting. Give me an empty road, spectacular scenery, good company and the freedom to explore without an itinerary or time constraints, and I’m in Heaven. Sure, a nice set of wheels enhances the pleasure. But if it came down to it, I’d take an inexpensive reliable car and an endless open road over a garage full of under-used toys that never really get off their leash. I knew the basic formula intuitively in my youth.

Forty years ago, Toyota’s invasion of America (and effectively, the world) began in earnest. In 1968, the newly-minted Corolla was sent stateside to do battle with the perennially best selling VW Beetle. Only two short years later, the Corolla was the second-best selling car globally. By 1975, Toyota surpassed Volkswagen as the top import brand. The Corolla has taken all the global production crowns (1.5 million sold in 2007; over 33 million total). It has been the engine powering Toyota’s rise to the world’s largest carmaker. Has the Corolla achieved immortality, or will it eventually lose its way like its spiritual predecessors, the Model T and VW Beetle?

Every forty seconds, another new Corolla rolls off a dealer’s lot. Statistically speaking, it’s piloted by a middle aged woman without a college degree. She could be your house cleaner, mother or receptionist. For forty years, the Corolla has satisfied her with its predictable blend of reliable, economical and durable transportation. These days, old is out, youthful is in. Toyota’s PR professed and ambitious goal for their tenth generation Corolla: “to connect, more than ever, with younger buyers on every level” (Toyota’s italics/underlines). So, has the new Corolla hooked up?

In the comments section below the most recent General Motors Death Watch, natredde asserted that the series' longevity argues against its existence. “Calling it a Death Watch after having the time to write 165 articles is silly… Somehow I think being on GM Death Watch 2752 wouldn’t necessarily add a lot of legitimacy.” As a student of GM history, I’ve been keeping my own private GM Death Watch for decades. It was suspended (at number 2751) when I discovered and joined TTAC. But the challenge of adding legitimacy to number 2752 was simply too great to resist.

“Scion does not recommend towing a trailer… your vehicle was not designed for towing." Welcome to the great American anti-towing conspiracy. Manufacturers of anything less than a big SUV or pick-up are trying to take away our God-given right to tow with our cars. For a guy who’s towed everything from a Radio Flyer wagon behind a pedal-powered John Deere sidewalk tractor, to a three-bedroom house, I feel like I’m being singled out. Of course, there’s a possibility that I’m the cause as well as the target of this jihad. A lot of lawyers do drive the Ventura Freeway, and one of them may well have seen my spectacular stunt with a trailer.

Picture this: Toyota outsells GM and Ford combined. Chrysler is long gone, having sold their factories to a foreign automaker. Meanwhile, GM and Ford import all their products from low-wage countries except for large sedans, whose drooping sales figures are propped-up by fleet sales. Imports fill the top eight spots for retail sales. In the face of massive imports and a strong currency, the Big 3 (Toyota, GM, Ford) informs the feds that they’re considering ceasing all remaining domestic automobile production. Welcome to the Down Under (and out) car market of Australia.

Somewhere west of Ogallala, rocketing across the plains at ninety-six in a sixty-nine Plymouth Fury, a twangy voice lectured us with the old song: “love and marriage, love and marriage, go together like a horse and carriage.” My two female traveling companions and I exchanged glances, laughed and sang along. “…you can’t have one without the other.” In that precious moment, everything crystallized: what it meant to be nineteen in 1972, free as a bird, barreling down the freeway in a powerful American sedan.

The dorsal fin is what put it over the top for me, literally. When I was a tyke of six in Austria, I ogled cars like a fifteen year old with X-ray vision at a cheerleading camp. But the most tataliscous bod my eyes could never get enough of was the Tatra down the street. Its radical aerodynamic form was already twenty years old, but with its dorsal fin, tear-drop shape, rear engine and uncompromising fluid lines, the Tatra positively screamed “futuristic” to me then. Hell, it’s still ahead of the times today.

They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Of course that was NEVER going to apply to me and my nerdy, car-clueless Father. He drove boxy Detroit stripper sedans. I drove VW’s and Peugeots. He’s a world-renowned neurologist– but totally impractical. I never finished high school– but rebuild cars. I grew-up in the time when political pundits pronounced our cultural chasm a “generation gap.” Except ours was more like the Grand Canyon. Or so I thought…

Chrysler’s near-death experience in 1980 had a salutary effect on the company’s culture. Headcount was slashed by over 50 percent. By necessity, the old ways of doing business were consigned to the crusher. “New Chrysler’s” execs, managers, marketers, designers, engineers, union workers and suppliers all had to work together to find creative ways of doing more with less. With Lee Iaccoca at the helm, it was a seminal moment in Chrysler’s history: an opportunity for the once great American car company to thoroughly reinvent itself. 

Suicidal tendencies can be pathological, inevitably recurring. Chrysler’s current self-destructive phase, as chronicled by TTAC, is hardly its first. From its very beginnings, the patient has suffered from symptoms of bi-polar syndrome. Chrysler’s biography is a nothing less than a roller coaster ride of giddy highs punctuated by disastrous crashes and self mutilation.

Santa came early in 1972. My older brother had taken a civilian job on a military base in Greenland. Out of the blue, he gave me his 1963 Corvair. It was my very first set of wheels. Instead of bracing myself for the thousand mile-long hitchhike from Iowa to Baltimore in freezing weather, I was driving home for Christmas in comfort. But there was a catch: Santa had deputized me. I had a present to deliver, and deliver I would, come hell or high snow. 

The prolonged wait for the Chevrolet Volt reminds me uncomfortably of waiting for the Chevrolet Vega to appear. For GM’s sake, the outcome had better be radically different. Because no one single vehicle did more damage to GM then the highly-hyped Vega.