Ron Bloom is a Harvard MBA grad, investment banker and former advisor to the U.S. Steel workers. He’s also the head of the Presidential Task Force on Automobiles, now that Steve Rattner is busy defending his investment firm against bribery charges. Over the weekend, the Obama administration added Manufacturing Czar to Car Czar in Ron Bloom’s portfolio of power. “Bloom is to work with government departments including Commerce, Treasury, Energy and Labor to develop new initiatives affecting the manufacturing sector. The White House said Obama is committed to partnering with the private sector to spur innovation, invest in the skills of American workers, and help manufacturers prosper in global markets by promoting exports.” In other words, after nationalizing GM, Obama’s mob are now looking to screw up all the other parts of America’s manufacturing base. A quick joke . . .

As GM headed for oblivion, the executives shielded themselves from responsibility by blaming everyone else. The contention that the American automaker was on the cusp of recovery (again, still)—only to be waylaid by the entirely-out-of-its-control global economic meltdown—was only the final excuse for their epic mismanagement. Before that, GM had an entire litany of alibis for their slide into Chapter 11. Number one on the “it wazzunt me” hit list: Washington.

The carmaker bitched and moaned that it was being strangled by Washington’s safety regulations, fuel economy mandates, health care policy (take our legacy costs, please!) and foreign policy (plagued as it wasn’t by Japanese currency manipulation and import restrictions). But when it was time to face the music, GM’s suits leaped into Uncle Sam’s loving embrace, glad to become America’s first nationalized automaker.

See, now that’s funny.

Only not really. In truth, companies like GM—and there are more than a few of them—love federal regulations. They happily pass the cost of meeting governmental diktat directly to the consumer. Or, better yet, they get the government to pay for the cost of meeting government regulations. Case in point: Section 136 of the Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007. This greenwashed piece of pork directs the Department of Energy (DOE) to hand out $25 billion worth of no- to low-interest 25-year loans to automakers to retool factories to build cars that satisfy new federal corporate average fuel economy (CAFE) regulations.

Note the hidden dynamic: the federal regs provide an enormous barrier of entry to smaller car companies, who can’t afford to pay for meeting the regs, pass on the costs to their customers or lobby Congress for their share of the pie.

What smaller car companies, you ask? Well, exactly. Electric sports car maker Tesla Motors is the exception that proves the rule: a Silicon Valley start-up that managed to secure itself a $465 million mega-suckle on Uncle Sam’s teat. Otherwise, brash automotive independents are a thing of the past. They’re consigned to the industry’s early history, when federal regulations (and related subsidies and tax credits) were notable by their absence.

The counter to the “Uncle Sam killed the creative cluster” contention: if the feds hadn’t stepped in, automobiles would still be gas-guzzling, toxin-belching, rickety baby killers. The government HAD to sort out the chaos of competition for the public good.

But is that true? If so, why did it take Tesla to finally spur GM’s [previous] Car Czar Bob Lutz into action on the EV front? More to the point, do we really believe that car makers would have failed to provide seat belts, crumple zones, air bags, clean-running engines, etc. if Uncle Sam hadn’t spent huge amounts of time and money twisting their arms?

I know the idea that the carmakers would have done the right thing anyway—simply to remain competitive—runs against the commonly held belief that big companies are fundamentally amoral (i.e. “Capitalism: A Love Story”). As a former GM Death Watcher, I’ll admit that there’s more than a little truth to that assertion. But how did these big companies get to have such a stranglehold on the marketplace in the first place?

Again, you have to look at the role of government regulation and oversight in creating the monolithic manufacturers—before Uncle Sam decided they had to be dragooned into saving lives and protecting the planet and other social goals.

Whether you’re talking about making things or providing health care, President Obama’s “public private partnership” is not new, nor will it do anything to help the American economy get back on its feet. American history is littered with examples of the negative effects of excessive government control of/interference with the private sector. In this I refer you to Jonas Goldberg’s rambling rant, Liberal Fascism. And point my finger at GM.

By promoting Bloom to “fix” America’s manufacturing base, the Obama administration would have us believe that his main man has already “fixed” GM. At best, you could say the jury is still out. At worst, you could mention the fact that GM is a headless, nationalized chicken, running around in a vain, mindless attempt to avoid an inexorable fate brought on by its taxpayer-provided protection from accountability. Or, if you will, it’s a zombie.

To let Ron Bloom loose on other parts of our industrial sector, to encourage him to impose the government’s will upon large companies, is madness; regardless of how willing these large companies are to accept government assistance. The intervention ignores Ronald Reagan’s warning that the most dangerous words in the English language are “We’re from the government and we’re here to help.” Or the message behind that message: that America’s true economic strength lies in its free markets, engendered, fostered and protected by a lack of government interference.

Meanwhile, the Germans are pressuring the Americans to convince GM to let the Russians (fronted by the Canadians) buy GM’s German-financed Opel division. Maybe Big Ron should go sort that shit out. Or not.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beholders have beheld the new Honda Crosstour and found it not beautiful. Ugly, in fact. Ten years ago, this condem-nation wouldn’t have been a problem for the vehicle’s manufacturer. At worst, a few aesthetically-offended members of the automotive press would have nibbled the hand that feeds, gently alluding to the vehicle’s “challenging” exterior. Otherwise, the illusion that the Honda Crosstour isn’t a Gorgon-on-wheels would have been maintained—at least until “disappointing” sales proved the point. Those days are gone. These days, Honda’s decision to green light an ugly automobile has unleashed a major PR debacle. Welcome to the Internet, fellas. I did warn you.

True story. Once upon a time, I wrote that the Subaru B9 Tribeca was ugly. More specifically, I called the Subie SUV’s front end a “flying vagina.” Excrement and rotary air moving device collided. Subaru had me fired from my job as car reviewer for the San Francisco Chronicle. The anti-TTAC backlash was fast and furious. BMW, Chrysler, Subaru, Toyota, GM—every single mainstream carmaker in the United States took TTAC off their press car list. Including Honda.

HoMoCo tried to dress up their contribution to the ban as a sudden realization that TTAC was too small for press car consideration. I didn’t argue the point. Why bother? We were small. But I told the PR flack in question that he was missing the point. The game was changing. Thanks to the Internet, the Japanese carmaker couldn’t hide from the truth about their cars. You know, eventually.

I figured GM’s bankruptcy would be the beginning of the end for decades of journalistic bribery and collusion. When the largest and most monolithic of the American automakers went down, the industry would realize they had to face the truth about their products, or face extinction. While I didn’t expect the chastened car companies to embrace their protagonist, I thought the post-GM C11 automakers would at least begin to see the value of a website that left no holds barred.

At that point, perhaps, carmakers might reach out to us and engage our writers and commentators in something roughly akin to a conversation. An open, honest and frank exchange of views about their vehicles’ shortcomings, leading to better products and customer relations. I predicted that the first car company to fully embrace Internet openness would have an enormous competitive advantage.

Here’s what I didn’t understand: TTAC was part of the problem. Yes, we host a not inconsiderable 1.1 million unique visitors per month. But we’re still an elitist outfit. Not to coin a phrase, we report, you decide. Old school. Or, more accurately, outdated.

The Crosstour controversy proves that the power of the truth has leapfrogged gatekeepers—both old and new—and landed on the keyboards of individual enthusiasts. To wit: a TTAC writer didn’t force Honda’s hand in the matter of its ugly ass CUV. Everyone did. Honda’s Facebook page was the medium. “The Crosstour is ugly” was the message.

And now that the message is out there, Honda can’t deal. Their efforts to do so, via their “Message to Fans,” misunderstands the fundamentally no-bullshit nature of Internet “debate.” By doing so, Honda only makes things worse.

Hi, Facebook fans. We’re listening, and we want to address a few things you’ve been talking about over the past few days. The photos: Arguably, the two studio photos we posted didn’t give you enough detail, nor were they the best to showcase the vehicle. There are more photos on the way. Maybe it’s like a bad yearbook photo or something, and we think the new photos will clear things up. It’s not the European wagon: We’ve seen a lot of comments about the desire for a wagon, but this is neither a wagon nor designed for wagon buyers. We think the Euro wagon is a cool vehicle, too, and we appreciate the feedback… but a version of that wasn’t our intention here. That’s another segment worthy of our consideration, but the Accord Crosstour, built on the larger, Accord platform, is meant to give you the best of two worlds – the versatility of an SUV with the sportiness of a car. Many of you don’t like the styling: It may not be for everyone. Our research suggests that the styling does test well among people shopping for a crossover.

Arguably? “A bad yearbook photo?” “Clear things up?” Honda’s rip-post is defensive, evasive, obfuscatory, condescending. Moreover, it shows that the automaker is so far out of the cultural loop they don’t realize that the phrase the “best of two worlds” evokes the deeply uncool Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus paradigm. And “We’re listening” brings to mind blowhard fictional shrink Frasier Crane. Taken as a whole, it’s hard to imagine Honda drafting a worse reply to their “fans” that doesn’t include the words FOAD.

More to the point, Honda fails to understand that the Internet wins. The web has revealed that their would-be emperor is buck naked and unattractive; rendering their previous product design and research worthless. And there’s nothing Honda can do to change this perception amongst the automotive opinion shapers. Because it’s not perception. It’s reality.

Honda can’t fix ugly. Unless, of course, they do. Honda could spend tens of millions of dollars to rectify this now-obvious mistake. Lest we forget, despite Subaru’s vicious anti-TTAC smear campaign, the car company quickly modified the Tribeca’s flying vagina front end into a Chrysler Pacifica-esque snout. Will Honda follow suit and change the Crosstour?

In some ways, it doesn’t matter. The autoblogosphere has forced Honda to face the truth about their car. For those of us who love cars—not forgetting that hatred is love turned upside down—the fact that Honda may be shamed into returning to product excellence is a truly wondrous thing.

It turns out that Gil Scott-Heron was right: the revolution will not be televised. It’s on Facebook.

Victor Muller stands about six foot four, with dashing gray hair and glasses. He exudes the energy of a kid after five bags of Pop Rocks. Why shouldn’t he? Muller’s the co-founder of Spyker, one of the sexiest car companies to hit the scene since Lamborghini launched the Miura. Never mind that many collectors consider Spyker’s first gen cars beautifully crafted automobiles with all the chassis rigidity of a tin can. Spyker is the very definition of a boutique automaker, including the fact that they haven’t show a profit for nine years. If you want old school supercar exclusivity, Muller’s your man.

We met-up with Muller at the Spyker “booth” erected on Pebble Beach’s tent row. The stand was the first you’d encounter on an uphill walk from the Lodge—or the last one coming from the parking lot. Spyker parked four cars out front for test drives. The brand also showcased their race car and his latest model (on the stand). There was plenty of action in and around the cars, even though (because?) the booth area was roped off.  While I waited for our interview in the lounge area, Victor finished meetings, caught up with old friends and posed for picture. And then it was our turn.

MCM: How many cars have you manufactured to date?

Muller: We have sold 250. Cars numbered 251, 252 and 253 are out front.

MCM: Give me the helicopter view . . . why this company?

Victor: I was collecting Aston Martins, Ferraris and other sports cars (and still do). I felt there was a need for an exclusive car with old world craftsmanship, like they used to build. This type of car is represented in our five brand pillars: heritage, design, craftsmanship, performance and exclusivity. These are the five core elements that constitute the Spyker brand. The exclusive and the hand-built elements are very important when you compare to the mass-produced sports cars.

MCM: I was just at an interview with Henrik Fisker as he spoke about the Karma. Your thoughts?

Muller: I have tremendous respect for Henrik and what he is doing. He is a fantastic designer and pioneer in building hybrid electric cars.

MCM: What’s your view on Fisker’s manufacturing techniques; farming everything out while only having the overhead of a design, engineering and marketing organization in the U.S.? In a sense, you are both building something exclusive from scratch. Although Henrik plans on 15,000 units.

Muller: Everything is cyclical in manufacturing. This is a trend that I think we are seeing (he motions widely with his arm up and down). Right now we are seeing companies look to the outside to get manufacturing accomplished. But when you are tied to companies outside of your control, you are subjected to their unions and other demand that can impact your production. We will see this change and manufacturing will be brought in-house again to help maintain control.

MCM: You currently get your engine and suspension from outside sources. Are you giving-up control?

Muller: It would be impossible for us to engineer our own engines. The costs are tremendous to build the tooling for such a low volume of cars. The suspension comes from Lotus. They are the experts in handling and the recognized leader. We could not do a better job. The hand-crafted body panels are supplied by both Coventry Prototype Panels from the U.K. and Karmann from Germany. The chassis of the C8 is built from extruded box sections and folded sheet. We would like to take more of the body construction in house. That is our goal for the future.

MCM: Henrik Fisker says “they are an American car company.”

Muller: But they build their cars in Finland.

MCM: My point exactly.

[Victor gives a slight roll-the-eyes as we both chuckle a bit.]

MCM: Are you profitable? How are you financed?

Muller: No, we are not profitable. We are a public company listed on Amsterdam Exchanges with four major shareholders. About 25% of the stock is in the hands of government owned Abu Dhabi investment company Mubadala (which also has 5% of Ferrari). One is Vladimir Antonov, a new shareholder who came in at the end of last year. He’s a Russian banker who is very committed to the company and a keen car collector and financial investor. He has 30% of the stock. Another investment company, Gemini, has 10% and I also have 10%. So collectively, the major shareholders account for 75% of the company’s ownership. The rest is in free float.

MCM: When do expect to be profitable?

Victor: Sometime within the next next year, in 2010 or 2011.

MCM: What can we expect from Spyker in the future? Are you interested in hybrid technology?

Muller: We don’t believe that there will be the infrastructure to support electric cars for some time. What is going to happen if you want to drive through the desert? You are limited by a need to charge the vehicle. We have no plans to move from our current fuel based engines. We do plan to expand the line and are going to be launching an SUV, the D8 Peking-to-Paris . . .

You know, one of the things we are most excited about is our 5th place finish at the 24 Hours de LeMans this year. We finish ahead of all Porsches in our GT2 class. This is great achievement for us and we are really excited about it.

MCM: Congratulations on the fiinish.  Thank you for your time.

[read more of Paul’s work at motorcarmarket.com]

TTAC Commentator dastanley writes:

My 2006 Corolla CE is what it is – it gets me where I’m going with no muss, no fuss, no excitement, no drama, no fun. But hey, it runs.

Problem is, every time I do a road trip in the thing, my ass hurts. The driver’s cloth seat feels like wood. Should I go to Walmart and buy the aftermarket cushions, etc. or does anyone have a recommendation for good comfortable aftermarket replacement seats? Or get another car?

Read More >

This is a tale from my youth, a very confusing period of my life, including the habit of drinking myself into a drunken stupor just for the fun of it, reckless driving of Jack Baruthian proportions, and generally excessive wanton behavior. In short, a day in the life of an average college kid, knee-deep in a period of Sturm-und-Drang. I was young, I was stupid and I had a death wish none of this world. I usually spent more time at the local café than in school, and I was out partying five days a week. I was twenty years old, I went to college, I had an apartment of my own, and I was the proud owner of a car, minus the driving license.

The car was a family hand-me-down, a Volvo P210 Station Wagon, of the 1968 vintage. It had remained in the family for some twenty years (eventually replaced as the family truckster by a certified pre-owned Toyota Hiace van). I was handed the keys on my eighteenth birthday, though the car usually stayed at the family residence. Again, I didn’t have the license to drive it. However, I took some artistic liberty in the use of the car, usually with the excuse that some friends of mine had a driving license. And on those occasions it was proudly parked outside my apartment. None the better for resisting temptations. I couldn’t help myself but to take it for a ride now and then, usually at night.

One night, I was playing games on my Commodore 64 (yes, it was that long ago) when I heard someone knocking at my door. It was my two friends Peter and Paul (names changed to protect the innocent). They asked me If I wasn’t perhaps in the mood for some partying? “Yes, well, of course,” I said. “And who’s gonna be there?” “Well, there’s you,” they replied, “and then the two of us.” “Sure,” I said, “why not.”

Paul wanted to party-crash his parents’ house out in the country. That meant we had to take my Volvo for a ride. Said and done, we arrived at his parents’ house some half an hour later.

It was a big and very flat house with overhanging roofs, built in the bungalow style. It was meant to be some fancy up-scale variant, with lots of white marble and tables of brass and smoked glass. Its moment had come and gone in 1983.

After a couple of hours of ransacking his father’s liquor cabinet, proving a point in a discussion I can’t remember (neither the discussion nor the point), Paul decided to fetch a cross-bow his uncle had in storage at his family’s other place. It seemed like a great idea. On our way out, we took Paul’s parent’s car, a late 70s euro-spec Ford Granada Station Wagon. I have never driven my parents’ car while intoxicated; Paul smiled in a smirky fashion. And we should have known better.

It was two o’clock in the middle of the night. There was no car in sight on the dark back roads of the Swedish countryside. Paul was up front, I was riding shotgun, and Peter was sitting in the back, right behind me.

Not long after we got started, we were lost. Paul decided to turn the car around. While backing the car into an exit, he missed it by several meters, and backed right into a ditch. It took us some time to get the car back up on the road again. If only we’d quit then . . .

Ten minutes later, we were driving on an avenue, with trees on both sides. The last time I looked at the speedometer, we were traveling in excess of 180 kilometers per hour. Suddenly, the avenue of trees made way for some open fields, the pavement made way for a gravel road, and a sharp turn to the right was advancing at an alarming speed. Paul cleared the turn to the right, but he lost control of the car. It made a violent return skid to the left, only to see the car exit the road to the field on the right.

There was a downward inclination of about a meter or so down to the ground,. The car hit a tree, two times, due to it being sideways and inclined. First the car hit the tree with the front left, then it bounced and hit the tree once again, on the left side. The tree made a man-sized indentation—on the side where no one was sitting.

After a moment of silence, we asked ourselves if we were okay. And we were, pretty much. Paul was in shock. Peter had a couple of broken ribs. I somehow managed to be completely unharmed, save a couple of minor scratches.  The big tire jack, formerly placed in the open back, was fifty meters away from the car, out on the field. Had it hit us on our heads on its way out, I wouldn’t have been here telling you this.

Paul, who always had been slightly criminally bent, started meddling the locks with a screwdriver, so it would look like the car had been stolen. And then we began our way back to the house, on foot. An hour later, we arrived back at Paul’s parents’ house. It was four o’clock in the morning, and we were almighty bruised and tired.

Paul immediately woke up his kid brother, who had been at the house all the time, sleeping and unknowing that we had been there before. Paul’s strategy was for us to swiftly move back to my place, making it look like we had never been there at all, with his kid brother as a witness of the non-existent events that had just taken place.

An hour or so later, we were back at my place in town. Kennedy-like, we immediately went to sleep. I crashed on my bed, the sofas were occupied, and the kid brother made use of the spare mattress in my tiny one room apartment.

Nine o’clock sharp, there was a loud knock on the door. I went up and opened the door. “This is the Police,” they said, “are you Mr. So-and-so?” “Yes,” I answered. “Good. We have orders to escort you out of town. Apparently, you have failed to show up at your military training, which was due this morning, and we will see to it that you get there.” “All right,” I said, “let me fetch my contact lenses, and we’ll be on our way.”

While the police waited, I’m sure they had a look around in the room, and I’m equally sure that all my friends were now widely awake, but hiding under their blankets. As I hadn’t cleaned in a very long time, the room was very untidy. Empty wine bottles lying around, records out of their sleeves, someone had puked in the kitchen sink, and there were fresh cigarette marks all over the carpet. It looked like we had partied like there was no tomorrow.

In the ride out of town, one of the plainclothes men asked me who it was in my apartment. “Oh, it was Mr. Paul and Peter so-and-so,” I said. “Yes, well, I thought I’d recognized them,” he replied. “We had a party last night,” I said. “Yes, we could see that,” he retorted dryly. And the rest of the ride they were silent.

As I had failed to show up for my military training five times in a row, in two years time of not making up my mind, I didn’t have to do the usual physical routine or intelligence tests, but had to go straight to the line to see the psychiatrist. I was very thankful for that, as my entire body ached, some tremendously.

After waiting for an hour, I was let into this room with this very nice lady, who looked at my papers and then looked at me and then looked at my papers again. “I can see that you don’t want to do this year in the military,” she smiled, “but what reason should we come up with?” I took that as my cue to tell her the long and tedious story of my life, exaggerating all the points that would make me unfit for my military duty. She slapped me on the wrist and let me go, with the written conclusion that I was “too individually minded to fit in the collective whole of the army.” I was handed my one and only daily wage from the military, some 38 Swedish kronor or about five dollars.

The young cadet in the counter smirked and called me a simulating SOB. I had left my wallet back home, but luckily for me, the bus fair home was 32 kronor. On the way back, I got myself contemplating and tried to grasp the absurdity of life. Back home, on the kitchen counter, there was a gift-wrapped bottle of Gordon’s London Dry Gin and a note from Paul’s girlfriend, thanking me for insisting that all in the car should wear seat belts. I laughed with the most uncanny laughter I’ve ever heard, went straight to my bed and slept for fifteen hours.

Never again.

It’s been a while since I’ve written a General Motors Zombie Watch. Time keeps on slipping, slipping . . . into the future. Only when you’re dead, there is no future. You’re dead. Oh, I know: New GM’s got new plans for new cars with new advertising that will win new (old?) customers. And the new Board of Directors’ Chairman Ed Whitacre is busy threatening to fire New GM’s old (new?) execs if they don’t get their shit together. But they haven’t, as their farrago of product plans and the botched launch of the new Buick LaCrosse prove. In fact, the current crop of GM suits will be fired. And?

And nothing. As I’ve said before, Uncle Sam kept CEO Fritz Henderson and the GM Lifers on center stage for one reason: to throw them off when taxpayer tomatoes start hitting RenCen’s windows. Which will be soon after GM’s third quarter financials hit the press. When it becomes abundantly clear that GM will burn through ALL of its taxpayer loot within two years. Or less.

Politicians from both sides of the aisle (though one more than the other) will proclaim that something must be done! And something will: the management that should have been shit-canned when GM was nationalized—actually long before, but that’s another story—will be shit-canned. The feds will press an entirely theoretical reset button.

New suits will take over. The fact that the auto industry is on a three to five-year cycle, the fact that New GM’s new brooms face dust devils the size of Montana, the fact that any genuine GM turnaround would take a decade and over $100 billion in addition funds, will be lost in the shuffle.

Never mind. The corporate cull will achieve its intended goal: it will unleash the puppies of prognostication. The media will be abuzz with speculation about the new new new new new new new New GM, for another financial quarter. Maybe two. Possibly three. Meanwhile, the feds will continue readying the GM pig for its IPO, lipstick and all.

You want to talk about a perception gap? The Obama administration’s Presidential Task Force on Automobiles is trying to widen the gap between the perceived value of General Motors and the actual retail price of the government’s automotive showcase. Mark my words: the feds ain’t done propping-up the unproppable. They’ll shovel more and more money at GM, dressing-up the nationalized automaker for the Great Pre-Mid-Term Election Sale.

Lest we forget, GM is counting on—as in factoring into their current balance sheet—a $10.3 billion loan from the Department of Energy’s Advanced Technology Vehicles Manufacturing loan program. It’s the same money previously denied the American automaker. You may remember that GM was deemed non-viable by someone figured out that 1 minus 120 billion is something less than one. Guess what’s changed.

Nothing much. While GM has shed a mountain of debt, restructured its labor contracts, dumped dealers, paid lip service to cultural change, and found another sucker to foot the bills (thank you, America!), it’s still taking in less money than it spends. And we all know how that picture ends.

Before the closing credits, we’ve got to sit through a chase scene between Chevy’s plug-in electric/gas hybrid Volt and the Toyota Prius.

There’s no way GM can catch ToMoCo’s four-wheeled planet cooler. Even if GM can get the Volt to work, they can’t sell it for anything even close to the Prius’ $22,000 price tag. Unless . . . Unless . . . Government Motors does it anyway and takes the hit.

Of course, a “hit” is not a good thing for a company that wants to offer shares to the general public. So . . . how about we subsidize the shit out of the car so that it appears as if the car is somewhat profitable-ish? Or, at the very least, take the costs off GM’s books?

The federal government has already cash-injected the battery makers developing the Volt’s power supply, to the tune of $100 million plus. Your elected representatives are going to use your taxes to subsidize the plant making the car [see: DOE loans above]. And the car itself (via a $7,500 tax credit). Not to mention signing over $62 billion to a company that can’t even set a timeline for the Volt’s potential profitability.

Before a hundred or so hand-built Volts hit Chevy showrooms, the feds will re-up the battery research grants and find some other eco-friendly way of “helping” the halo car that the Presidential Task Force on Automobiles rejected as delusional, pre-nationalization.

Yes, there is that. It can’t be said enough: the feds own GM. The GM zombie has no will of its own; it’s controlled by its political taskmasters. When the truth about its [most recent] parlous finances are revealed, GM will become far more than a failed automaker turned undead manufacturer. It will become a political liability. If you think GM shareholders were slow to abandon ship, you’re right. If you think the Obama administration will be slow about jettisoning its GM-shaped political baggage, you’re wrong.

But first, GM CEO Fritz Henderson and his motley crew will be packed off in their golden lifeboat, so that the illusion of change can be re-energized. Like any good magic trick, the “GM will pay back it federal loans” routine depends on a suspension of disbelief. As Tufts University supporter P.T. Barnum said, you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.

When the IPO time rolls around, real investors (as opposed to taxpayers dragooned into paying for GM’s nationalization) will not want to own GM stock. Why would they? So the government will have to subsidize THAT boondoggle as well. In other words, papers will be shuffled once again, the taxpayer will still be on the hook, and GM will continue wandering through the wilderness.

One way or another, sooner or later, what’s left of GM will fall into the hands of its rivals. A few names will be all that’s left of what was once the world’s largest automaker, and the world’s most profitable company. But make no mistake: this is less of a transition than it seems. GM is already dead.

kbb.com presents a top ten automotive list that is to PR what plastic worms are to bass: completely contrived and intermittently irresistible. “Ten Great Cars for 10 Different Jobs” is about vague and non-threatening a compendium as I’ve ever encountered in this genre. And you can’t fault them for adding the word “Different” “Ten Great Cars for the Same Damn Job” just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Oh look! There’s a Ford F-150! Quel surprise! Only this is the Raptor version for bounty hunters who don’t find their man inside a bar or roach-infested apartment, and want to tear the miscreant into pieces and eat him, presumably. “The kbb.com list is sure to provide thought-provoking transportation options for those in various lines of work.” Me, I’m only in one line of work: automotive truth telling. Well, that and comedy. And you’re in this with me, you bastards. So make the jump for five more ideas for career-appropriate whips. Correct us if we’re wrong. (As if.) As always, we welcome your suggestions.

Coke dealer – Don’t think downmarket; the mostly Bolivian-sourced drug is repackaged for the financially-challenged and sold as something called “crack” (much to the chagrin of the Irish, but then heteros lost the word gay so there you go). Eddy reckons a de-badged, “murdered-out” BMW M3 is the answer to a question neither of us get asked, ever. Fo shizzle. It’s low-key, yet capable of outrunning anything save police radio. I’m good with the keeping it on the down-low approach. I’m thinking a Toyota Corolla XRS. They’re completely invisible, yet the extra performance. . . just kidding. Alternatively, candycaine providers could help society by driving a scissor-doored Chrysler 300C with a Bentley-esque mesh grill and one of those in-car LED displays with a crawl proclaiming “A R E S T M E I A M A C O K E D E E L E R.”

Antique Dealer – Once upon a time, Volvo station wagons were specifically designed by antique dealers, for antique dealers. Members of this profession are not dumb; they know that buying an estate from the dead-brand-walking Swedish brand today would be like paying top dollar for cracked Fiestaware. Eddy says Subaru Outback, but admits that everyone in his Portland locale drives a Subaru Outback—pot dealers, soccer moms, purveyors of Russian Samovars, everyone. (Biggest car joke in Oregon: “meet me at (X). I’m in the green Outback.”) I’ve always wondered why latter day Lovejoys don’t drive something delightfully old and quirky, like a 1957 Pontiac Safari Transcontinental. Probably because they want to get where they’re going the same day that they start going there, and don’t want die in a five-mile-per-hour shunt. So the Subie it is.

Accountant – Like a good pencil pushing number cruncher, you gotta think outside the law. I mean, box. An accountant who drives a Ferrari 430 Spider (as one of kid’s classmate’s father does) is telling the world that they’re successful at helping successful people become successful by helping them avoid paying, uh, you know. Better yet, an accountant who drive the world’s most expensive Italian toy (aside from a high maintenance mistress) says “I’m bulletproof baby. See this Ferrari IRS? Yeah I’m rich. Go on audit me, you bastards. I dare you.” Eddy says slap a company logo on that bad boy, and all the expensive maintenance is a write-off.

Tween Star – So easy to go for the Mercedes SL63 AMG. But the uber-SL’s throttle is way too twitchy for a teen tween queen, without or without an elevated blood alcohol level—as Lindsay Lohan has shown us time and time again. Yes, it’s the safest fuck-off-and-die-mobile money can buy, but is that really the message our highly-esteemed role models want to send to today’s Bratz? And here at TTAC we never, ever do anything nice (well, except for our positive post of the day and Eddy’s screwed that up more than once). Eddy can see Miley Cyrus in a Pepto-Pink LaCrosse; “thanks to a deal signed to attract younger buyers to the Buick brand.” But then they do have exceptional marijuana where Eddy lives [see: above]. Me, I’m with Hayden: Mercedes GL. I know she’s like totally old now, but the GL’s just like an SL only the logo’s WAY bigger and you can take your entourage and stuff and you can see the pop-o-Nazis from MILES away.

President of the United States – Lest we forget, The Commander-in-Chief commands General Motors. So the Prez can commandeer his pick from the entire range of GM models across the company’s eight brands. Oops! Four. No, wait, it IS eight. Hang on; we can’t include Opel, Vauxhall, Holden and Daewoo because American politicians MUST DRIVE AN AMERICAN CAR. Still, that still leaves, what 32 separate models, depending on what you call separate. Anyway, Eddy says Chevrolet Aveo. But he’s just being an asshole. I reckon The Leader of the Free World should drive a Chrysler 300C. Because it’s a free country and he’s free to drive whatever he wants and he’s a man who isn’t afraid to do so no matter how strenuously the green wing of his party protests or how cravenly PC his advisers may be. Oh wait . . .

Paul West of Mahoning Automotive Design is a tenacious guy. While most merely rolled their eyes at Cadillac’s front-drive “XTS” flagship plans, West wasn’t going to take Cadillac’s flailing sitting down. With Mahoning, D&D Classics and some promising industrial design students, he mocked-up an SRX-based study for a potential Cadillac flagship. “We did our best with the prototype,” he says “but only Cadillac can do the idea full justice.” It takes balls for a few upstarts from Ohio to show a major luxury brand how it should be preparing a flagship, and West knows it. But Cadillac’s inability to develop a true flagship gives West’s study a significance that is more than just skin-deep. It’s a provocative, gutsy way to shake up the thinking at Cadillac. And if nothing else it’s provided plenty of food for thought. [West’s complete powerpoint proposal can be found in the gallery below]

TTAC: What attracted you to the idea of designing a Cadillac flagship sedan?

Paul West: While at Ford I pushed pretty hard for an update to the traditional sedan. The idea was for a car with more comfort, utility and value. And compelling road presence. The problem I ran into was that in this industry everyone has an opinion but few have data to back it up. The idea generated lots of interest but ultimately I couldn’t get the execs to bite. So I made the decision to do it independently and get real consumer feedback. Limited finances meant a vehicle mod rather than an all-new ground-up design but luckily the SRX was available. It had good proportions particularly from the B-pillar forward, and an added significance in that I felt it could help Cadillac leverage the precedent they set with the fabulous Gen 2 CTS. My vision was basically for a taller, larger version of the CTS with extra utility. It would sell alongside CTS and negate the need for the DTS (and XTS), the new SRX and possibly even the Escalade/EXT. And it would allow Cadillac to stick with the RWD commitment it made a number of years ago. Once I completed the prototype, exhibited it at this year’s Cleveland Auto Show and gathered ten days’ worth of mostly positive feedback, I realized that if designed properly the vehicle could legitimately carry the flag for Cadillac—especially in the absence of an ultra exclusive vehicle such as a production version of the Sixteen concept.

TTAC: What should a Cadillac flagship be? What’s at stake in the design of a new flagship for Cadillac?

Paul West: Cadillac’s history is in comfortable, luxurious travel for 4 to 6 passengers. Through the years the brand ran the gamut from sporting to spacious but at its best, Cadillac always showcased innovative, predictive engineering and classy, extroverted styling with elegant flowing proportion. A Cadillac flagship of today should possess all those elements too, and the good news is that they have the tools and talent to create it. Art & Science is one of the strongest design languages in the business and CTS is an example of its proper application. What’s missing is the big brother, the one you take cross-country. The one that makes everyone’s jaw drop when you pull up.

Today I think Cadillac is in a conundrum. The traditional multi-passenger American vehicle is caught in a four-way tug-of-war between roomy mundane FWD sedan, high tech Euro performance sedan, imposing thirsty SUV and humble practical crossover. If you lump Escalade and EXT together and exclude STS and SLS, both of which are probably on their way out, Cadillac fields one vehicle in each category. The problem is that because the customer base for each is so discrete, the distance between each so great, that owners wishing to upgrade have nowhere to go. For example, the CTS owner looking for more room, comfort and utility may look elsewhere if he wants to continue driving a high-performance styling statement. Escalade and EXT owners may leave to get the visually substantial vehicle they demand but with improved efficiency and handling. Competitive alternatives abound for the upcoming SRX, most of which are just as practical, some of which are more exciting. And DTS owners are nearing their last vehicle purchase and want the familiar sedan but would appreciate a taller package that they don’t have to fall into or hoist their bad back out of. If Cadillac doesn’t provide all these folks with a reason to stay, they’ll lose them.

While brand retention is an important factor, even more important is Cadillac’s credibility in offering the market a consistent and compelling set of ideals and in making good on their claim to be an innovative leader. Their recent abandonment of RWD in two of their vehicles is an example of the wavering they need to avoid. I think they wavered because the STS and original SRX failed in their missions, which was unfortunate because the problem with those cars wasn’t the platform, it was the unwanted top hats they carried. The market didn’t need and couldn’t support another expensive performance sedan nor did it want a 7-passenger CUV with almost nonexistent 3rd row seating. What my prototype and photo-altered images try to demonstrate is a top hat that lots of people will want. Really, passionately, emotionally want. Something that leverages the design and performance ideals laid down by the award-winning Gen 2 CTS, reduces the vehicles in the showroom to a number that is financially supportable, generates higher net volumes and profits, gives each of Cadillac’s four customer groups a place to go and a place to stay, and speaks to the industry’s future rather than its past. For those automotive planners who espouse market fragmentation, this proposal shouts the opposite by collapsing the industry’s decades-long entropy build-up into a single product that delivers a higher level of customer value. This wouldn’t be the first time the industry has experienced such an event and likely won’t be the last.  In a later question I discuss a similar paring down event that began in the late 1930s and from which came the modern sedan.  Who initiated it?  Cadillac.

TTAC: Why did you base your prototype on the SRX? Interior packaging? Performance? Styling?

Paul West: The SRX had classic long hood and short deck proportions and was the most car-like CUV out there, aligning with my vision for a sophisticated super sedan rather than a 3-box truck.  It also had a good interior package and offered a pretty cool ride from the vantage point of the driver’s seat.  Critically, it had a C-pillar and rear door window frame of sufficiently fast rake that I thought I could avoid a costly redesign of the rear door’s frames, glass, seals and rain channels, and the roof and side air bags.  It also permitted Vistaroof, which looks impressive from inside the car.

TTAC: What do you think of GM’s decision to go with a stretched FWD platform for the planned XTS flagship?

Paul West: I assume they chose the platform for fairly straightforward reasons:  DTS owners, who are larger in number than STS owners, wanted the traction and security of front wheel drive, the platform was less expensive than GM’s global RWD platform and came with a comprehensive set of low-cost commodities, the Two-Mode HEV fit, the interior room promised best-in-class dimensions, Cadillac had available plant capacity and… GM ran out of time debating and had to make a decision!  Assuming Cadillac opted out of a taller package to avoid the fuel economy hit, the only unknown is whether they widened the track and flared the fenders.  Cadillac dealers told me this was very appealing to Gen 2 CTS customers.  That car appears to have borrowed the STS suspension.  The XTS likely required a costly redesign.

I mentioned FWD in Question 2 but think it’s important to get into the details a little more.  There are many designers in Detroit who are frustrated that they haven’t been given the best platform upon which to design a winning product.  In this regard, Cadillac may end up being a victim of its own success because GM did give their designers the correct platform, and the designers made the Gen 2 CTS so damn good that even Cadillac has been challenged to live up to it.  But such a stroke of brilliance should be harnessed, not run away from.  I think Cadillac needs to recognize that there is a difference between design language and styling.  The Art & Science design language as manifested in the Gen 2 CTS is much more than diamond-faceted surfaces, jeweled lighting and a signature grill.  It embodies the CTS’s RWD proportions and promise of performance.  I haven’t seen the XTS but must assume they nailed it with styling, but spectacular styling alone does not make a spectacular car.  Look at the new SRX.  When Cadillac applied Art & Science to that FWD platform, with its cab-forward greenhouse and long front overhang, and made it a crossover wagon of all things, they reduced their award winning design language to mere styling.  Shallow, almost gimmicky styling.  I heard this consistently, if articulated in varying words, from hundreds of Cleveland show-goers who had just seen the 2010 SRX exhibit.  I have no doubt that Engineering met the program’s attribute targets but the car’s shape simply does not telegraph anything inspirational.  Cadillac might be able to get away with a wagon body on a RWD platform as with the new CTS, because the long hood still communicates performance.  They also might be able to get away with a crossover sedan on a FWD platform as with the MKT image that I provided for this article, because the height still communicates presence.

But a tall wagon on a FWD platform is pushing their luck too far.  Will the XTS be any better?  I have my doubts and believe my proposal would attract most of the XTS and SRX buyers Cadillac is looking for, some Escalade/EXT buyers not in need of a tow vehicle, and a whole lot of new buyers.

If Cadillac were to conclude this pared down strategy insufficient for dealer volume or in attracting younger buyers, I would caution against a smaller RWD platform because it might prove expensive to build and overly cramped inside.  Nor would I put a new top hot on an existing FWD platform for reasons already stated.  There might be an opening for a transverse mid-front engine, a transverse rear engine or a pure electric powertrain, with 3-passenger seating described in my comments about the Chevrolet Spark later in this article.  Beyond that, there is potential for a premium personal mobility vehicle, probably electric, of similar scope to BMW’s Project i.  Think of it as a companion accessory to Cadillac’s main line-up, like the Viking microwave that matches the company’s big ovens in color and badging but deviates completely in size, shape, technology and intended use.  The bottom line is that if Cadillac wants the gold they need to roll up their sleeves and dig for it, and the flagship that I am suggesting is just the first in a series of bold steps needed to get out in front of the competition.

TTAC: Talk about the challenges and limitations of mocking up a Cadillac flagship concept independently, without GM’s support.

Paul West: We did our best with the prototype and in the presentation I tried to clean it up with photo alterations, but only Cadillac can do the idea full justice.  GM’s resources would have allowed it to be vetted in terms of design, engineering, dimensions, interior package and manufacturability.  Interestingly, one of the people who saw my car said he saw something similar at a Cadillac design clinic a few years ago.  I can’t speak to what Cadillac presented or the feedback they received, but I can say that the feedback on my prototype from people who saw it up close was extremely positive, at times even ecstatic.  That’s pretty good testimony to the underlying idea particularly since, although the prototype’s craftsmanship was fabulous and the dual trunk/hatch worked as planned, none of us involved in the project were happy with the car’s formal roofline, upright C-pillar, high decklid, raised suspension and small wheels.

Although there were challenges creating an LLC and driving the project forward, there was also a positive side.  Doing the build independently allowed us to set up a lean, fast moving skunk works operation. We leveraged the industry’s parts bin and invented only the must-haves that didn’t exist.  The people at D & D Classic were amazing.  There did it all – fabrication, design, CAD, clay modeling, engineering, paint – and were professional, knowledgeable and excellent problem solvers.  It’s easy to see why people trust them to restore vintage Duesenbergs, Ferraris and the like.  An added benefit was that they regularly hire co-op students from U. of Cincinnati’s Industrial Design School.  The students were well-schooled in automotive design and exceptionally talented, and I’d hire them instantly if I were an OEM.

One added note about the build experience.  The shop was 3 hours south of Detroit, my place of residence.  I’d come down every 3-4 weeks for a day or two, we’d move the project along and D & D would continue in my absence. I gotta tell you, what with the beautiful classic cars everywhere, the smell of clay in the air, the hammers banging and Zeppelin cranking, it was pure heaven.  OEMs of late have been denying too many employees the true car design experience.  That’s a shame.  Car nuts come to this industry to make cars, not data charts, org charts, bar charts, process charts and cover-your-ass charts, and certainly not to be treated like nameless, faceless numbers that eventually get deleted with a keystroke.  There has to be a better way.

TTAC: Talk about the low-cost electric AWD proposal mentioned in your presentation.

Paul West: Mechanical AWD systems add cost, weight and internal friction that reduce fuel economy and most of the time are just there for the ride.  Some AWD sedan and crossover buyers see the feature as an added level of performance or a necessity for the occasional off-road jaunt, but most just want to get up their snowy driveway or out of a wet intersection.  For roughly the cost of a mechanical AWD system, electric AWD gives a RWD platform all-wheel traction when customers need it most, and captures energy at every braking event.  It’s a win-win that OEMs can get real revenue for.  The key is to keep the cost down by downsizing the electric motors (one per wheel, mounted inboard), the battery or ultracaps and the voltage level.  The last spec permits less expensive inverter technology.  One of the reasons you don’t see the system is, I suspect, that it flies against an HEV engineer’s inclination to maximize fuel economy.  With this system an engineer has to find happiness in a 2 mpg improvement over a standard RWD system and be content in helping the customer avoid a 2 mpg hit.  What OEM wouldn’t take a 4 mpg net improvement with profit margins maintained?

TTAC: Your proposal mentions avoiding mainstream “traditional sedan” segments for the Cadillac flagship, but also for potential Chevy variants. Why?

Paul West: Wow, that’s a completely different ball game.  Talking about Chevy requires a different language.  Permit me to switch gears and have a little fun by laying it out the way a coach would if his team were down 3 touchdowns with a quarter to play…

“Malibu!  Comeeer!!!” “Yes, Coach.”  “You’re get’n manhandled up and down the field, boy.  What’s with that namby pamby FWD stuff?  “I was just trying to be like Camry, sir.” “Camry!  If you want to be like him, go to the other side of the field and join THEIR team.  On this side if you’re gonna carry 5 people, FWD is for sissies, and most of the sissies already love Camry, got it? “Yes, sir.” Now look kid, I know you tried hard and it ain’t entirely your fault.  I need to have a word with the boys in the front office.  In the meantime, take your pads off and have a seat.” “Yes, sir.”

“Camaro!  Comeeer!!!” “Yes, Coach.” “You’re a real hot shot out there, flying off the lots like you’ve been.  Nice job.  Take a look at this kid, team.  He knows what revs up Americans!  Good pep, a long hood, big wheels, coke bottle shape and ROAD PRESENCE.” “Thank you, Coach.” “Shut up.”

“Global RWD Platform!  Comeeer!!!” “Yes, Coach.” “I need you to play a different position.  You need to carry 5 people and swallow all their gear, look like a car but stand tall and tough, and you need cleats that will get you through the mud, got it?  Caddy’s flagship will show you the new plays, Camaro will help you bulk up and work on your smile.”  “Yes, sir.”

“Spark!  Spark!!! Where is that little pip squeak?”  “I’m over here, Coach.” “Sorry, kid, didn’t see you.  Well comeeer boy!!!” “Yes, sir.” “Look kid, you’re the linchpin to this whole plan.  Since Global RWD is going to be sucking down a bit more gas than Malibu – ‘HEY GLOBAL, NOT TOO MUCH MORE, RIGHT?!!! ‘Right, Coach’ – right, well the thing is, I need an offset on fuel, the customer needs to travel for pennies and the country needs to wean itself off the bottle.  Now I know the boys in the front office pegged you as the one to pull in the stingies, the greenies and the emaciated college kids with no money, but I need you to carry the ball five times more often than the volume call they gave you, OK?  “Yes, sir.” Good. Now what I need you to do is take Jane and Joe Commuter to work every day, drop off the little one at day care and hit the grocery store on the way home, got it?” “Got it, sir.” “Now stand back, let’s take a look at you.  Mmm . . . you’re too tall, your cowl’s too high and your tires are too small.  Go see Camaro when we get done.”  “Yes, sir.” Now open up the door, let’s take a look inside.  Aaaaaahhhh!!!  No wonder you get the emaciated ones!  Look, kid, you can’t carry four people like the linebackers over there, it’s gonna make your driver cramped and miserable, and if he’s miserable you’ll sit on the dealer’s lot.  You wanna be a bench warmer?  “No, sir.” Neither do I and neither does your country.  Here’s what I want you to do:  get rid of that front passenger seat, nobody ever sits there anyway.  Scoot your driver’s seat inboard and make it wider.  Put the child’s seat in the right rear where nothing’s in front of it.  Now, where’s your storage?  “I don’t execute that play too well, sir.” “Well you’re gonna have to if you want the Commuters to love you every day!  Get a big wide console in there, make it go all the way to the right, and run the exhaust under it.  Your gonna need to carry breakfast, lunch and dinner up top and the lady’s purse in a pull-out drawer below, got it?  “I think so, sir.” “Go See Corsa, I worked with him on this play in training camp.  And don’t worry, kid, you’re gonna be alright.”

TTAC: Your proposal has many similarities to the upcoming BMW GT and Acura ZDX.  What do you think of those products and the prospects for this new type of vehicle?

Paul West: I applaud BMW and Honda for reading between the lines and discerning what’s really going on in the consumer’s head.  What they are attempting is historic.  I do wonder if BMW’s dual-action liftback has a large enough throat opening when the smaller decklid is used, and am concerned that the awkward 2-box fastback styling and poor rear visibility of both vehicles might stunt the growth of the new segment.  On this last point there’s a relevant historic automotive milestone that I believe offers an important lesson.  Prior to the early 1930s, with the exception of a few expensive customs all 4-door passenger cars were of the “2-box” variety with no defined, integrated trunk.  Throughout the 1930s manufacturers began increasing the rear overhang and integrating a trunk in the form of rear “bustle” that gave a “2-1/2 box” appearance.  Then all of a sudden, the mold was cracked and the modern 3-box sedan was born.  The sledgehammer was the 1938 Cadillac Sixty Special.  It was lower and wider than most cars of the time, had close-coupled front/rear seating and, at last, a big trunk.  Although it was priced higher than Cadillac’s traditional touring sedan, which the company continued to produce, it sold extremely well.   GM, confident in its success, followed up with C-body torpedo sedans in 1940 and the rest is history.  A key lesson from that history, apart from Cadillac’s proving that innovation and styling leadership tend to make a brand embarrassingly rich, is that it confirmed the aesthetic appeal in the eyes of the consumer of the 3-box’s visually balanced profile.  When I look at the new 2-box BMW and Acura vehicles I see an opportunity not fully realized.

One additional factor worth mentioning is vehicle height. In this, both new products succeed.  I spend a lot of time at classic car shows and have a special passion for the heavy iron of the 1930s. Standing next to a 70-inch high Packard with a hood almost as long as a B-car tends to leave a person awestruck. Although my prototype looks awkward in pictures and from 20 feet away, when people stand next to it they feel its presence. That’s what a tall 3-box sedan with a long hood can do, and it’s a truism almost as old as the industry itself. Cadillac has a big opportunity here. I hope they give the voices outside GM a chance to be heard.

Ted M. writes:

I have a 2005 Dodge Magnum RT with about 60,000 miles. Recently, I’ve heard a rattle or persistent clunk that sounds like its coming from the rear passenger side. I cleaned my car out to make sure there were no errant projectiles rolling around, but it still persists. Then I began to notice that it usually happened when I was turning left and accelerating up hill at the same time. I don’t hear it at speed on the freeway, or even turning left on a level or downhill grade.  Every once in a while I hear it over violent bumps in the road, but not always. I’m taking it to the shop in a week or so, but I’d like to hear from you and the Best and Brightest about what it could be and what I should have them check.

Read More >

Longtime TTAC Commentator KeepAustinWeird writes:

Hi Sajeev, I’ve got a 2000 SAAB Viggen with 113K miles. Recently, I’ve noticed that after I’ve been driving the car for about 20 minutes and the car is good and warmed up, the motor totally bogs until I can get to 3,000 RPM, at which point the car takes off. This is particularly annoying (unsafe) pulling away from full stop, where I either have to gun the motor or crawl thru 1st and part of 2nd before the RPMs rise enough for the boost to kick in. Wondering if this is a MAF (which I’ve cleaned) issue, a drive by wire sensor issue, or a dying turbo issue?

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On September 1, the Collier Collection of Naples, Florida, brought to Lime Rock its 1939 Mercedes-Benz W 154 Grand Prix car. (Yes, Collier’s is a collection, not a museum. Don’t bother looking for a website; visitors by invitation only.) The word from Lime Rock’s PR person: this would be the first time the engine had ever been started on a racetrack in 69 years and 363 days, having last run in anger at a minor street race in Yugoslavia on September 3, 1939, two days after the start of World War II. Two ringers from Stuttgart had been sent to Connecticut to help with this historic ignition, as had the British restorer who’d rebuilt the engine. The Collier guys also planned to run the car on the track briefly, which, it was said, would also be a 70-year first.

Legend has it that this car, the last of the 15 W 154s built, was one of two found in 1945 in Austria by the steamrollering Soviets, who put them on a train to be shipped back to Russia. The cars got as far as Romania, where the troops running the train traded them for liquor, food, local goods and probably a few cute Romanian girls.

I missed that phrase “on a racetrack” in my quick reading of the invitation to attend, so I hustled up in my nearly-as-ancient 911 to see and hear what I figured would be something as momentous as being present at the opening of King Tut’s tomb. Would it start? Would it grenade? Would they need a spritz of snowblower ether to bring it to life?

Well, it was fun but not quite as historic as I’d expected. Turns out the car had actually raced several times well after World War II, the last time in a hillclimb where it wrecked. And when the engine started with a brain-melting bark on the second turn of the crankshaft, it immediately became obvious that Mister W 154 had been run, after an extensive rebuild, plenty long enough to jet and tune its V12’s supercharged carburetors. Just not “on a racetrack.”

While dozens of us crowded around, snapped pictures and generally got in the way, plugs were pulled, a crystal-meth lab’s worth of fuel was poured, the engine was spun to build oil pressure, plugs were replaced (without a torque wrench in sight, by the way; these guys have calibrated wrists). A friend who was with me laughed and said, “I have to go through this every time I start my ’40 Fleet biplane, but nobody’s ever around.”

Came the big moment and instantly the air was filled with unbearable noise and the smell of a model-airplane meet. Emissions? You betcha: little did the tiny village of Lakeville, Connecticut, know that it had briefly become an EPA Superfund site. The engine burns a blend of methyl alcohol, nitrobenzene, acetone and sulphuric ether that would probably burn through concrete.

After five minutes of WHAP . . . WHAP . . . WHAP . . WHAP back and forth to 4,000 rpm (to keep the hot start-up plugs clear), the entire car was gently smoking as restorative paint melted here and there, asbestos wrapping burned off the two tailpipes and glycol began to bubble into the tray under the car.

In go the cold plugs, from a gray wooden box on a cradle fitted to the curve of the car’s cowling and lettered “von Brauchitsch,” who drove it at Belgrade that September day in 1939, starting on the pole and finishing second to Nuvolari in an Auto Union Type D.

The car is pushed to the end of the pit lane while a dozen well-heeled Lime Rock Park Club members wait impatiently for their turn at the track. One of them, trim in his tailored shorts and Ralph Lauren shirt, in an accent that we used to call Locust Valley lockjaw, had earlier asked me, “Are you here for the track day?” I told him, “No, I am a writer, waiting for the Mercedes.” “Yes, I figured,” he said as he eyed my stock Levi’s.

The W 154 did a few racketing but careful laps on its cold, skinny tires, the Mercedes Classic Center factory driver obviously well aware of the I’m-guessing $20 million value of the car. If you want to see this Silver Arrow do it again, go to the 27th Annual Lime Rock Park Vintage Festival this Labor Day weekend. It’ll be there. Bring earplugs. Or watch the video here.

Tear the highly practical metal roof off of one the most boring big American sedans like a 1963 Olds Dynamic 88, and suddenly it becomes the key ingredient of an intensely romantic scenario: a hot summer day, a full-size ragtop, a beautiful woman to share it with, and the open road. What could be better? It’s got to be one of the top “relive the youthful automotive memories/dreams” recipes for guys my age or so. Except in my case, it’s a nightmare. Read More >

C.T. from AutoZone (yes, that AutoZone) writes:

Dear Piston Slap, I drive a 2002 Audi A4 1.8T with the CVT. It has 75,000 miles on it, and has been properly maintained. I am experiencing a vibration under these conditions:’

-Only after at least 10 minutes of driving…never cold

-Only between 70-80 mph

-Only when accelerating

-The same no matter how much throttle I give it

-I cannot feel it in the steering wheel

-It feels like it is coming from the axle/drive shaft area

-Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all

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TTAC Commentator Golden2husky writes:

I have a Piston Slap question for you. Does anybody out there in the main office (or any of the B&B perhaps) recall “Shell of the Future” gasoline. I grew up on Long Island, New York and in the early ’70s Shell introduced a gasoline called “Shell of the Future” which was just unleaded gas. This fuel was dispensed from a baby blue pump and was sold a few years before the national roll-out of lead free gas. My dad tried a couple of tanks of it, but the car detonated due to a too low octane rating, or so he said. I asked him just recently and he clearly recalls it. Nobody else seems to recall this product. I have Googled and Binged this to no avail. So, am I living a dream?’

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Thanks to Uncle Sam’s Cash for Clunkers program, even the weakest of America’s mainstream automakers will live to die another day. Meanwhile, the so-called “mass luxury” brands are hurtin’ for certain. The falling tide of the global economic meltdown has left Audi, BMW, Cadillac, Lexus and Mercedes stranded, flopping around on the metaphorical beach, gasping for the oxygen of financial lubricity. It’s hard to feel sorry for any of them. The upmarket marques marked the last ten years or so by chasing volume sales with “entry level” models that cheapened and weakened their brands. Is it any surprise that the very customers that fueled their expansive profits have abandoned them in droves, as badge snobbery has kept pace with financial security (or lack thereof)? In other words, the fact that these “luxury” brands are “suddenly” in worse trouble than everyone else is their own damn fault.

Yesterday, the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) highlighted the fact that American luxury car sales fell “almost 21% last year — double the decline in overall car sales — and continue to slide this year.” It’s a bit odd that: tagging the tanking trend with last year’s annual stat and declaring that, in general, sales still suck. A snapshot of the last seven months via Automotive News shows that luxury car sales have gone from bad to hideous—keeping in mind (as we must) that the numbers are relative to last year’s fall from grace.

So far, Audi’s sales are down 18.9 percent. BMW’s are off by 27.6 percent. Cadillac clocks-in with a 45.4 percent tumble. Lexus is 41.9 percent off of last year’s pace. And Mercedes’ cha-chingery dropped by 33.6 percent.

And what of margins? It’s no secret that moving even this ever-declining number of units has required radical price reductions. “Take it or leave it” has become “make me an offer and I won’t refuse” (e.g., my kid’s doc got $25K off a brand new Audi S4). While new car inventories don’t appear disastrously high, turnover has slowed to a trickle. Meanwhile, pre-unloved 2010 models are heading for palatial, tumbleweed-strewn showrooms.

Bottom line: luxury car prices are about as firm about as a bowl of Jello in a Turkish steam bath. And the difference between MSRP and actual money tendered is coming out of the manufacturers’ hides.

Mass luxury automakers have painted themselves into a coroner [sic]. By expanding their model range into the mainstream, they’ve become addicted to volume. Their entire business model—from manufacturing through to the size of their dealer network—depends on moving a large amount of metal. But buyers at the lower, larger end of the spectrum are the first to abandon luxury makes when money’s too tight to mention. Ipso facto.

So what’s a luxury automaker to do? According to the WSJ, “Car companies aren’t taking chances. Some are preparing smaller, cheaper versions of their high-end nameplates. Others are tweaking their messages, emphasizing ‘sustainability’ and fuel economy in a market segment that for years competed on who had the highest horsepower and richest leather.” Yeah, that’s the ticket. When sales crater, accelerate the move downmarket, or sacrifice decades of upscale branding on the altar PC fashion.

To wit: Cadillac still swears it’s going to introduce a sub-CTS model called the ATS. Lexus is pushing ahead with plans to offer a luxury compact based on the hybrid Prius. Despite generating just 335 A3 sales in July, Audi’s introducing a diesel variant, reflecting the German brand’s re-branding as makers of oil import-reducing diesels.

Along the same lines, BMW’s US website leads off with a $4500 “Eco-Credit” (discount?) for their drug-on-the-market 3-Series and X-Series oil burners. “Responsibility” may have “never been so exhilarating,” but with three out of the five videos emphasizing fuel economy, the change in Bimmer’s brand emphasis is obvious. Meanwhile, Mercedes has introduced the sub-ML GLK.

There is an alternative: retrench. Reinvigorate the ailing luxury car brand by returning it to the stratosphere. Pare the number of models, adhere to the core brand promise and build a limited number of best-in-class vehicles. Earn a price premium through excellence and exclusivity, and charge the consumer full whack for the privilege of owning same.

It’s the slowest, most expensive, most painful, least likely, most difficult and most dangerous option. But it would work.

The economy will recover, eventually. Car buyers will be back. Some day, again, still, they’ll be an excellent market for exclusive automobiles. The best cars, the most desirable cars, will generate fabulous margins. Meanwhile, someone should remind these misguided automakers that Lincoln and Jaguar already died for their sins.

I know: BMW was down market before it went up market. Mercedes builds taxis in Europe. Audi’s already moving in the right direction. Lexus didn’t get where it is today by ignoring the value-for-money equation. And Cadillac doesn’t have a clue, really. But all of these brands lost their halo/mojo in the headlong pursuit of profit. They must either begin the long trek back to genuine brand cachet or continue their inexorable slide into mundane mass market mediocrity and correspondingly slim margins.

The thing of it is, as we’ve pointed out before the economy went south, these luxury brands should have never dallied down market in the first place. If they’d stayed small and tightly focused, they could have hunkered down and weathered the storm, ready for the recovery. As it is, there’s no guarantee that any of them will emerge from the current downturn with their brand untainted by the stench of massive discounts and how-low-can-you-go financing. And when it comes to the long term future of any luxury product, branding isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.