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.

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.

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…   

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.  

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…

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.

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"?  

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.]

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.  

So, BMW develops a flex fuel gas/hydrogen powered vehicle and we're supposed to give them tree-hugging props? I don't think so. I give them far more credit for perfecting and selling the diesel engines in their European sedans; cars that are are clean-running, quiet, efficient and powerful. While pistonheads are generally considered selfish bastards whose love of speed, comfort and style is a luxury our country– indeed the entire world– can no longer afford, I say bollocks to that. There is no reason why this country can't develop its own sources of energy– so we can burn it as we will in our choice of automobile. Anyway, that's my warm-up for my September 11th column on America's national energy policy as it relates to your car or cars. If you have any thoughts on the matter, you can help me out by dropping them here. Meanwhile, enjoy the pre-rant precast. 

FULL TRANSCRIPT (by Frank Williams) AFTER THE JUMP 

It's clear that GM's new powertrain warranty– 5 years, 100k miles– has set TTAC tongues wagging. To get on top of the story, I phoned Philip Reed, Consumer Advice Editor at Edmunds.com. Reed has written a book called Strategies for Smart Car Buyers, which covers the entire car buying process: selling, leasing, buying, used cars, certified cars, the whole schmeer. Reed knows what's what when it comes to warranties and, equally important, their value to both customer and manufacturer. According to Reed, GM's announcement could well be a great landing at the wrong airport.  

It's one of those happy, clappy news days when pistonheads have a surfeit of stories to investigate from the privacy of their cubicle. I sometimes wonder what creates this compulsive fascination with four-wheeled transportation. The standard take on the subject is that the automobile represents freedom. Supposedly, congestion, high gas prices and environmental responsibility have destroyed this traditional romantic association between the car and the proverbial "open road." (Personally, I think National Lampoon's Summer Vacation had a lot to do with it.) But this perceived wisdom fail to realize that the car isn't just about going towards something new and exciting, it's about moving away from stuff that drives you nuts: Mom, Dad, the Boss, Wife/Husband, kids, etc. A large part of TTAC's mission is to help aid this process of escape– if only for ten minutes and three seconds. If you haven't tried this precast thing, go for it. The only thing you have to lose is the stress of not being behind the wheel. 

You may have noticed this website tends to celebrate performance automobiles. While this predilection for dynamic distraction places us within the media mainstream, it doesn’t square with urban car culture. I'm sure you know that car owners who inflict double-dubs on their whips happily sacrifice ride and handling on the altar of, gulp, style. Even so, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve seen the light. Thanks to the Mercedes SL550, I now know middle aged white people can stunt and floss with the best (worst?) of them.