As Motor Trend (MT) and its buff book brethren hemorrhage readers and cash to the Internet, they’ve reacted in the only way they know how: by kow-towing to their advertisers with even greater ardor and even lower journalistic standards (yes, “special advertising section” readers, it is possible). But what really galls is their continued belief that they’re superior to both Internet websites and those who visit them. MT’s first test review of the 2008 Subaru Impreza WRX is a perfect case in point.

”OMGWRXLOL: Subaru's latest rally-bred rocket crash lands on the Internet. We pick up the pieces and set the record straight.” 

The headline capping Edward Loh’s review of the WRX immediately exposes both Motor Trend’s superiority complex and their lack of clue. Here on the “internets,” abbreviations like “OMG” and “LOL” haven’t been used by anyone other than Dateline sex predators since 1998. Needless to say, Loh’s lead takes the ignorant arrogance-shaped ball and runs with it.

“Immediately after subscribers received our May issue– the one with our exclusive first look at the 2008 Subaru Impreza WRX– the cover and story photos lit up Internet forums and blogs around the world. Auto enthusiasts flocked en masse to their favorite sites to weigh in on the new look.”

The scribe is implying that Motor Trend’s WRX coverage scooped the net, and then inspired it to sound-off. Not so, Loh. Australiancaradvice.com had full WRX pics and specs on March 27. Cars.ign.com covered the WRX on April 4, and Autochannel.com posted on April 5. Even if the magazine’s editor or ad manager had “convinced” Subaru to hide the WRX from the world for MT, the idea that a buff book with a two-month lead time still sets the automotive agenda is simply preposterous. 

After quoting Internet posters’ pithiest comments (without paying freelance fees), Loh condescends to set the record straight.

“Amidst the knee-jerk reactionaries were a few cooler heads willing to wait out the hype until they drove the car before rendering final judgment. What a novel idea.”

Keep in mind that the vast majority of the Internet comments slated the WRX for its looks (which are, let’s face it, hideous). After vilifying any such conjecture, Loh immediately concedes that “WRXs have never been lookers,” and attempts to reframe the debate while displaying his [supposed] Internet savvy.

“They've always been drivers, and whether you're sprinting across town or around a mountain pass, the new 2008 WRX should make you LOL. Why? Because under the controversial new sheetmetal is much the same WRX you know and love.”

Well exactly. While the WRX’ competitors have moved on, offering more horsepower and plenty of dynamic fluidity, the “new” Legacy-based WRX offers only two important differences from its predecessor: the horsepower and torque arrive 500rpm earlier and the car gets five percent better fuel economy. And that’s what pissed-off the “forum trolls” [sic].

In this disappointment they are not alone. Even the traditionally gentle mainstream publications have trashed the new WRX. Automobile concluded “we’re not convinced: since when should a Subaru look and drive like a Toyota – and an ugly one at that?” Edmunds’ Inside Line summarized a pile of bad news: “Engine runs out of steam early; soft suspension with lots of body roll; sleepy styling.” Car and Driver: We suspect [the “WRX faithful”] will transfer their affections to the STI or other brands.”

Even though Loh admits that the new WRX turns in identical acceleration and slalom times as the old car, he’s determined to prove the Internet arrivistes are wrong. Or, if you prefer, fellate Subaru by praising handling-oriented changes that don’t actually improve the car's handling. Oh and…

“Gone are the stark silver plastics and restrictive rear legroom; occupants are now treated to more room in every direction, richly textured surfaces, and seats redesigned to support the entire back. Getting in and out is easier, too; the rear doors now open wider by one full stop and close with a satisfying thunk.”     

Again, Mr. Loh’s doesn’t understand that the Subie-loving Internet denizens aren’t interested in surface textures or thunking doors; they wanted better looks, more bang-for-the-buck and major handling advances.

Mr. Loh’s cheery assessment of the 2008 WRX finally ends with– get this– an olive branch. 

“What's the take-home message for the forum trolls? Give it a chance. With all the content Subaru has managed to cram under its controversial skin, the new WRX should have you laughing out loud.”

We take home a different message. Consumers are expressing themselves in huge numbers on the Internet. Their perspective is just as valid as the “pros.” In fact more so; it’s their money that keeps carmakers afloat. Or not. Meanwhile, so long as the mainstream press perches on its pedestal, it won’t be able to see everyone else sawing away at the base down below.

[Read MT's WRX review here.] 

Press cars are specially selected, carefully prepared and meticulously maintained. Why wouldn’t they be? You can hardly expect a manufacturer to pluck a car from the assembly line and trust their model’s reputation to the vagaries of quality control– even though the car’s less likely to receive a harsh critique than a seventh grade production of The Wizard of Oz. To their credit, the manufacturers eventually “let go;” surrendering specially selected, carefully prepared new vehicles to the buff books’ long-term fleets. When things go wrong, as they do, the result betrays the tension between payola and editorial credibility. 

In the August 20 issue of Autoweek, Mac Morrison provides an update on the mag’s long-term 2007 Jaguar XK-R drop top. “IT’S SO FINE, IT’S SUNSHINE” dismisses any thoughts that the mag’s Jag might have some of those pesky reliability issues that have dogged the brand since, um, ever. The strapline pours on the feel good: “Jaguar’s XK-R is a universal favorite" (also all caps, but it hurts my ears).

“Opinions on our new Jaguar in its first three months with us are nearly unanimous, with each driving experience a carbon copy of those preceding it. And those experiences are good."

Morrison’s paean to pussycat perfection begins with that most revealing of collective possessive pronouns: “our.” From the fourth word, the author signals objectivity’s defenestration; as the Zen saying goes, that which you own owns you. Of course, the $97,875 XK-R in question ($92,500 plus $5,375-worth of Autoweek selected options) doesn’t really belong to Mr. Morrison or Autoweek. But the responsibility to maintain more than a modicum of editorial independence does.

Anyway, describing the staff’s reaction to maximum Jagitude as “nearly unanimous” is like saying that Parindsehole Hiltohanchie is “virtually clean and sober;” we instantly want to know about those exceptions. No wonder Morrison feels compelled to calm us down and call it good.

“The exhaust gurgle sounds genuinely like an agitated cat on full alert. If that strikes you as a cliché, then you’ve never heard an XK-R on wide-open throttle. The taut yet comfortable suspension compresses and rebounds fluidly through corners as the gearbox cracks off perfect downshifts with a flick of the paddle. Passengers absorb it all from the confines of a cockpit born for long, top-down, sunset cruises.”

Although a cliché is a cliché because it’s true, you get the picture: it’s a fantastic automobile. Well, fair enough. But none of this adds much to J.P. Vettraino’s original review. What we want to know– still– is how the blown cat has held up to long term scrutiny.

After three paragraphs of passionate reverence, including the reassurance that “not one driver voiced disappointment with the overall experience,” Morrison finally gets down to business. 

The scribe slates the XK-R’s touch screen for its user-antagonism, condemns the trunk-mounted antenna’s aesthetics as “ridiculous on a $98,000 car," slates it for its sloth-like retraction and blames the tardiness for a $500 post-car wash repair bill. And then, the real money shot…

“Our XK-R also exhibited some strange electronic (ahem) glitches. Once it would not detect the key. Another time, the backup sensors went beserk for no apparent reason, while one editor claimed multiple warning lights illuminated and disappeared just as mysteriously. Yet another driver experienced cruise-control failure. None of the problems repeated and the car spent no days out of service.”

It’s a damning indictment of Jaguar’s quality control, wrapped in (ahem) qualifiers and obvious backpedaling (the editor “claimed” idiot light malfunction). Nevertheless, it was said, and Morrison ends the update with a justifiable blend of boosterism and foreboding.

“We certainly do not question the enthusiasm that exists for Jaguar’s latest. Here’s hoping the next nine months provide no significant reason to do so.”

We certainly do question the need for AutoWeek, Car and Driver, Motor Trend, etc. to run manufacturer-sponsored long term fleets, the lack of full disclosure and the unanswered question of whether or not the dealers who service the vehicles know that they’re doing so on behalf of a motoring journalist.

Obviously, readers want to know the real world livability and reliability of new-to-market cars, and how they’re treated down at the dealership when things go awry. But that information is best provided by real world drivers driving honest-to-God production vehicles. In fact, AutoWeek does just that in an excellent regular feature sampling owners’ comments. So what’s the point of the long-term fleet?

No matter how you answer that question, a larger one looms: what effect does such an expensive freebie have on a publication’s editorial integrity? There’s an implied quid pro quo: don’t be too harsh on our products and your multi-thousand dollar ticket on the new car gravy train is assured. It’s an ethically unjustifiable extravagance.

There. I’ve said it. The cat is out of the bag.

This website has been skeptical of Tesla Motors’ claims for their lithium-ion-powered Roadster since day one. While some readers think we’ve “had it in” for the California-based car company, rest assured TTAC is an equal opportunity muckraker. Anyway, yesterday, when Martin Eberhard revealed that he’d relinquished Tesla's top job, we held fire to avoid accusations of smug satisfaction. But Eberhard’s email to Tesla customers piqued our interest. As Tesla has yet to deliver a single customer car, by thy words thy shall be known.

Eberhard begins his e-sayonara by expressing his personal pleasure at helming Tesla for the last four years. He then outlines the management shuffle: “This week I move from the CEO position to become President of Technology, and I remain on Tesla’s board of directors. In my new job, I will focus on the final details of the Roadster and on advancing Tesla’s leadership in our core technology. I will also be able to spend more time with you, our customers.”

Ah, those pesky “final details.” Presumably the new Technology Prez (a title missing from any other automaker’s personnel files) will be focusing on the electro-mechanical minutiae that have prevented Tesla from meeting its first two deadlines for customer deliveries. Eberhard’s claim that he’ll be advancing his company’s “leadership in our core technology” is classic Tesla: asserting technological leadership— not competence, leadership— without showing the goods. 

Meanwhile, Eberhard’s promise to “spend more time” with his customers is more than slightly perplexing. Spend more time with them doing what? There are no demo cars. Again, given the delays, I’m thinking Martin’s about to become Tesla’s Hand-Holder General.

Next up: Eberhard's explanation for why he was shunted from the top slot. “We at Tesla need leadership with that same kind of passion and talent for operations – passion that will secure Tesla’s future as the next major automobile company. I initiated an intense CEO search some time ago, but the board and I have yet to find the right person to fill this role – even as Tesla continues to grow and its operational needs become paramount.”

Eberhard is saying two things here. First, his move was planned a long time ago, and, therefore, does not represent any kind of management crisis at Tesla. Second, modestly enough, Tesla can’t find anyone with his passion and talent to run “operations.” Judge for yourself, but this journalist does not find either of these claims remotely plausible.

Common sense suggests that the timing of the transition, hot on the heels of yet another delay in Roadster deliveries, indicates that someone with money lost faith in Eberhard’s ability to git ‘er done. Hubris aside, there are plenty of current and ex-auto industry execs who could handle Tesla’s operational needs. And the appointment of an interim CEO after “some time” tells us that either the choice was actually made in haste, or there is ongoing conflict in the boardroom. 

Now, about those deliveries…

“We are still planning to start production of the Roadster by the end of next month and deliver the first cars to customers this fall. We have a good chance of meeting this goal, but to be fully transparent, I want you to know that while it is within our reach, it is not yet fully within our grasp.”

That is one major piece of sophistry, or, if you prefer, a textbook example of weasel words. Eberhard’s insistence on seasonal deadlines– rather than dates– has got to worry those [erstwhile] customers who’ve signed checks to Tesla. By the same token, a “good chance” is not a statistically relevant term. But both qualifiers pale next to the obfuscatory majesty of Eberhard’s metaphor.

If something’s within your reach but evades your gasp, uh, what does that mean? You could get it to in theory but you can’t in practice? How very reassuring. The addition of the words “yet” and “fully” is what takes this Zen koan to the next level. Jeff, Murray, Anthony and Greg should enjoy so much wiggle room.

Eberhard eventually gets down to brass tacks, identifying Roadster crash testing and durability as the remaining stumbling blocks. Oh, about that crash testing, “there is always the chance that something unpredictable occurs… in which case we would incur a delay to address the issues.” And regarding reliability, “The results of this testing are critical to the schedule.” But if there are testing-related delays, “I will let you know.”

Even if everything goes according to plan, Eberhard says Tesla’s looking to produce one– count it one– car per week; you know, until they get the bugs out. 

Eberhard concludes by promising that “the end is in sight.” But not within view.

[Link to email via Jalopnik here .] 

Aside from ad revenue, why would a car magazine want to position itself as a cheering section for General Motors? Well exactly. Car and Driver’s September review of the “new” Cadillac CTS is such a blatant example of boosterism it puts the "sub" in "subsidy." This will come as no surprise to regular readers who’ve watched the buff book slowly sink into a glossy ghetto of pistonhead prostitution. Even so, I feel compelled to use C&D’s CTS review as a re-launching pad for Between the Lines, so that TTAC readers understand what this website stands for. Or, more precisely, against.

By its very title, “Second Wind” pronounces the CTS refreshed, re-energized and ready to take on the transplants (which have been slaughtering it in the sales charts). According to the all-caps strapline, the model also represents a new dawn for General Motors.

“CADILLAC IMPROVES ITS ENTRY-LEVEL CAR AND PROVES IN THE PROCESS THAT THE FRONT OFFICE HAS UNDERGONE A REDESIGN, TOO.”

“Amazingly, each new product coming down the GM pipeline these days seems to signal that the once-defining beancounter bureaucracy has finally been replaced by a genuine desire to create top-notch products. And this latest CTS is the most comprehensively integrated vehicle we’ve seen yet.”

Not so amazingly, Dave Vanderwerp’s opening salvo fails to consider the “new” Chevrolet Aveo, a car so afflicted with beancounteritis it began life as a budgeting exercise. Anyway, one can immediately sense the author’s discomfort with the task ahead. The appearance of the word “seems” before an otherwise bold declaration of a product-led GM renaissance indicates a tension between editorial integrity and complete horseshit.

To wit: what the Hell is a “comprehensively integrated vehicle?” Do the newish CTS’ parts– suspension, engine, brakes, etc.– form a coherent whole, in a BMW 3-Series sort of way? Or does it mean all the parts fit?

Vanderwerp spends the next three ‘graphs contradicting the "new GM" thesis. He reveals that GM insurance regulations prohibited CTS lead development engineer Rob Kotrak from driving the car during its Nürburgring workouts. “What was that about a bureaucracy?” Vanderwerp demands of himself. Good question.

Literary self-flagellation aside, we get our first critical assessment. Blasting around the Green Hell, the CTS was "planted and predictable and never did anything unexpected.” Like what? Ascend above the asphalt like the cars in the TV ad? NOT overheat? The mind boggles.

Vanderwerp then lauds the CTS’ aesthetic perfection: “There’s no bad view of the new car…” Fair enough, but the author quickly hints that the CTS’ looks “might” have to be enough for buyers contemplating C&D’s favorite ‘Ringmeister.

“The redesigned CTS still might not stand a chance to be as responsive as the smaller and much lighter– by about 400 pounds– BMW 335i, but our favorite sports sedan has nothing on the Caddy’s aggressive looks.”

Apparently, there’s trouble down at the mill. After praising the CTS’ new 304hp V6 for its smoothness, “enthusiasm” between 4000 and 7000rpm, and ability to “run” with a Mercedes C350 and BMW 328i, Vanderwerp points out the new, portlier CTS is only a tenth of a second quicker through the quarter mile than the full-size Cadillac STS.

Hang on; why are we talking about tenths of seconds anyway? I mean, it’s a small Caddy, not a BMW. Who gives a damn?

Cadillac, as evidenced by the fact that GM’s PR flacks gave Vanderwerp a CTS equipped with the FE3 sports package; including super-sticky summer tires and revised dampers. Surely anyone looking for performance from the CTS would opt for the V-Series derivative. And every other CTS rides on more compliant all-season rubber. So… what are we talking about here?

From this point on, we’re talking about excuses and weasel words. Every criticism of the CTS arrives via a pulled punch or an ameliorative aside.

“The upgraded rack-and-pinion steering is linear and now offers more feedback, although its weighting is on the light side of perfection.” The manual “isn’t nearly as fluid as those from BMW” but the new “well-behaved six-speed automatic… will likely be the more popular choice anyway.” “Comfortable seats with surprising thigh and upper back support… will likely please the masses, but during exuberant driving, we wished for more lateral support.” 

The CTS’ cabin earns Vanderwerp’s full, unadulterated admiration. THIS is where the aforementioned coherence resides: “Possibly the most dramatic improvement to the CTS is the upscale and coherently flowing interior, complete with classy materials and top-notch fit and finish.” Maybe so, but the author’s conclusion is a lot less credible.

“But with more style, power and features, we think the new CTS– and the new GM, for that matter– is destined to be even more of a winner.”

Yes, well, neither car nor company could be any LESS of a winner, could they? Or could they? One thing's for sure: the answer to that question will not be found in Car and Driver.

[Full C&D CTS review here .]