From candy corn to Lincoln Continentals, Craigslist is the ultimate Turkish bazaar. It's an almost universally accessible free market for millions of folks who once paid (and paid) for the ‘privilege’ of selling their stuff. From a pistonhead perspective, Craigslist seems to be a great place to buy and sell automobiles. Even a brief scan shows that the site offers a vehicle for every type of appliance seeker, enthusiast and hobbyist. I’ve been using Craigslist as my site du jour for nearly three years. During that time, I’ve sold more than a hundred vehicles through the service. But I'm a pro, and I’m here to warn you that there's a dark side to the deal.

While Craigslist offers free, instant access to an enormous quantity of listings and potential buyers, car buyers and sellers get very little information about the vehicle involved. Vehicle Identification (VIN) numbers, ownership histories and other critical details regarding the car’s true condition (i.e. collisions, insurance claims, outstanding debt) are few and far between. You can imagine what happens next…

I’ve seen cars from commercial auctions with salvage and rebuilt titles advertised on Craigslist with nary a mention of these “issues.” And that’s not the half of it. I’ve heard numerous tales of car dealers stuck with lemons using Craigslist to make lemonade, sticking their poison fruit on someone else’s plate. And these are just the pros. We’ll never know how many less than scrupulous private sellers have hidden potentially lethal problems or grievously misrepresented their rides.

Craigslist– like any website encouraging “real world” interaction– also has the potential to connect buyers or sellers with deviants, thieves and thugs. Scam artists bent on identity theft can use Craigslist contact to solicit credit card information from all-too-gullible buyers. Fake car buyers can show-up for a test drive, convince buyers to let them take a solo test drive, and disappear. But wait; there’s worse…

Way back in July ‘06, the San Francisco Gate newspaper reported that several Craigslist advertisers were held up at gunpoint by criminals posing as buyers and sellers. “In April, two men in Boston who responded to an ad for a used 1995 Honda Civic were robbed of their money,” the paper reports. “The suspect directed the men behind a house to look at the car, and then pulled a gun and forced the victims to the ground before fleeing, according to Boston police.”

Obviously, printed classifieds also offer (offered?) criminals a chance to find their marks. But just as the web makes commercial transactions vastly more efficient, Craigslist has made it easier for dangerous and devious criminals to identify, lure and victimize their targets.

Crime thrives in the dark. Returning to the actual transaction, the scrupulous seller who provides full disclosure on Craigslist is no more likely to find favor than the unscrupulous scammer whose car title is as genuine as a thirty-three dollar bill. Once a Craigslist user buys a vehicle, it’s theirs and that’s that. A dishonest seller can easily continue with their deceptive and dishonest practices, under a different name if necessary.

Craigslist does not attack abuse. Click on the New York City site’s “personal safety tips” and you’re assured that the “incidence of violent crime has been extremely low.” One of five bullet pointed tips advises you to “trust your instincts.”

Click on “avoid scams” and the site advises you to “DEAL LOCALLY WITH FOLKS YOU CAN MEET IN PERSON – follow this one simple rule and you will avoid 99% of the scam attempts on Craigslist.” And if that one simple rule doesn’t save you from fraud, they refer you to the Federal Trade Commission, the Internet Crime Complaint Center or your local police’s “non emergency number.” 

The real answer to this question is on eBay. Not only does eBay have a Global Law Enforcement Operations Team that actively pursues fraudsters, but they also provide buyers with a feedback mechanism to check the seller’s reputation. Sellers must provide a vehicle’s VIN number, which links to a downloadable AutoCheck report ($7.99). eBay also automatically protects buyers of qualified passenger vehicles against certain types of fraud (e.g. it’s a stolen car, unrevealed damage above $1k or a vehicle simply never gets delivered), up to $20k. 

All of which means that scam artists have a harder time slipping through eBay’s net, and if they do, the car buyer has financial or criminal redress.

Since I first used Craigslist, the site has gone from being a quality-focused website to the electronic equivalent of the Wild West. The days when this electronic bazaar was a well kept secret used by overwhelmingly decent and (how can I say this nicely) intelligent users are long gone. The truth is that anyone who uses Craigslist instead of eBay now does so at their own peril, which is far greater than most people realize.  

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

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

Necessity was the mother of all platform sharing. Introduced in ’81, Chrysler’s “K” cars offered seemingly endless variations on the same mechanical theme: Plymouth Reliant, Dodge Aires, 400 and 600; Chrysler LeBaron, Town and Country and Executive; and on and on and on. By the time the K stopped being special, Chrysler had produced nearly 40 variants.

It worked. With lowered overheads, interchangeable parts and Iacocca’s salesmanship, Chrysler was soon back in black. 

After paying back Uncle Sam, Chrysler’s accumulating cash cache began to take its toll, allowing the automaker to slip back into kicking back. Even worse, the money burned a hole in Lido’s pocket. A suicidal spending spree ensued.

Like other successful CEOs, Iaccoca coveted a Gulfstream jet. Unfortunately, he liked it so much he bought the company. In an ill-advised aping of GM’s purchase of Hughes and EDS, Chrysler decided to diversify. In 1987, Chrysler bought the floundering American Motors Corporation (AMC). Lido correctly saw AMC’s Jeep brand as the crown jewel. During the ensuing SUV boom, Jeep made Iaccoca into a genius.

The 1990 recession caught Chrysler flat-footed (once again). The company shot its cash wad on acquisitions instead of investing in competitive new cars and building a rainy day fund. Gulfstream was quickly jettisoned. Newly-installed President “Maximum Bob” Lutz refocused the company’s energies on new product development. Lido finally relented to the board’s increasingly adamant urgings to retire.

In the nineties, Chrysler experienced its final manic high. Having slashed the costs of new car development through the use of integrated development teams to 2.8 percent of revenue (GM: eight percent), a slew of new cars spewed forth: the Viper (’92), LH full sized sedans (’93), New Yorker/LHS (’94), compact Neon (’94), Ram pickups (’94), mid size Cirrus/Stratus (’95) and all-new mini-vans (’96).

By 1997, the new product barrage pushed Chrysler’s market share to 23 percent (shockingly close to GM’s current market share). Chrysler was hailed as the model for the American automobile industry's incipient revival.

Affable, mild-mannered Chrysler Chairman Robert Eaton saw towering clouds on the horizon. In a 1997 speech, Eaton described a “perfect storm” involving global over-production. Eaton’s cowardly solution: sell Chrysler to Daimler and walk away with nearly $100m in his pocket.

In all likelihood, Eaton knew that Chrysler’s manic success was built on a weak foundation. In [what’s become] classic American style, Chrysler's flood of hastily-spun new products was far from perfect. In an echo of Chrysler’s 1957 fiasco, quality problems were rife. Rubber-band transmissions, blown Neon head gaskets, ever-cheapening interiors and a general prioritization of flash over substance were the all-too prevalent ingredients of the “New, New Chrysler”. The “model for the revitalization of the US car industry” was not a robust formula with which to take on the Asians.

Rather than disappoint investors (and spoil his own stock options) by plowing profits and dividends into improving product quality, Eaton made it someone else's problem. If Daimler had done its homework and checked the corporation’s medical records, they would have known that Chrysler crashes like clockwork every six to ten years. In fact, the acquisition by Daimler only accentuated Chrysler’s all-too-soon next crash, because of the clash of cultures and Eaton’s increasingly disengaged leadership (seller’s remorse?).

Daimler paid $38b just before the inevitable collapse, and sent Dr. Z to minister to the sickly patient. But the German executive administered the usual prescription of happy pills: slash costs, cheapen the goods and rush out some new product (Chrysler 300). The result was a classic dead cat bounce: a $1.7b dollar profit in 2005, followed by an endless sea of red ink.

The perfect storm that Eaton had tried to detour gathered strength. Instead of addressing Chrysler’s underlying pathology, the shot-gun wedding only exacerbated the disease. In every category, Chrysler was attacked by competitors, and its products were inevitably found wanting. No wonder Daimler practically paid Cerberus to take the ailing automaker off its hands.

Chrysler has had nine major crashes. “Doc” Nardelli is desperately trying to find a pulse, hoping there’s a tenth life left in the once proud company. But it’s looking more and more like he’s got a corpse on his hands. At least it came with a signed organ donor card.

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

Chrysler’s birth and euphoric immediate success is unparalleled in automotive history. Walter P. Chrysler had a brilliant career in the early automobile business, turning several ailing manufacturers into successes. By 1919, he’d earned $10m ($130m in today’s money) from three year’s work transforming Buick into GM’s early powerhouse.

In 1924, whilst running Maxwell, Chrysler launched his eponymous line. The cars sported a perfect blend of advanced engineering and style. It was a home run that catapulted Chrysler to number four out of a crowded field of 49 domestic manufacturers. The subsequent launches of low-price Plymouth and upper-mid priced DeSoto, and the purchase of mid-priced Dodge, firmly established Chrysler as a charter member of the Big Three.

Chrysler’s first crisis came in 1934, with the failure of the advanced Airflow. The model adopted the latest aerodynamic principles. The company also repositioned the engine and body further forward on the frame (foreshadowing “cab-forward”), delivering major advances in comfort, quietness and handling. While similarly avant-garde vehicles found favor in Europe, the Airflow’s startlingly blunt “waterfall” front end styling was too radical for America’s more conservative taste.

The American car buyer's wholesale rejection of the Airflow taught Chrysler (and GM and Ford) a painful lasting lesson: avoid the risks of extreme innovation. The fiasco helped shape Detroit’s enduring elevation of popular style over genuine innovation.

Chrysler revived, and made enormous profits during the WWII era. But the development of the critical all-new 1949 models was haunted by Chrysler’s lingering Airflow insecurities. Whereas GM and Ford confidently introduced longer and lower models designed to knock the socks off of exuberant post-was buyers, Chrysler President P. T. Keller insisted on tall, boxy and boring cars– specifically designed so that a man’s fedora wouldn’t be knocked off upon entering.

In that post-war buyer’s frenzy, Keller’s stolid tanks sold well enough– initially. By the early fifties, Americans were in the mood for more: horsepower, automatics, power steering and brakes, style and flash. Unlike Chevy and Ford, Plymouth offered none of those; the market punished it unmercifully. In 1954, Plymouth was kicked out of its long-established number three spot by Buick, and dropped to number five behind Pontiac. The mood pendulum had swung too far; it was due for an (over) correction.

Chrysler hired designer Virgil Exner to inject vitality into the company’s products. The 1955’s were an improvement. The radical 1957’s were set to be the great leap forward (“suddenly it’s 1960!”). But in the rush to revolutionize, the dramatically finned ‘57’s suffered from atrocious build quality. Water and dust leaks were notorious.  Upholstery split. Springs came up through seats. And the cars started rusting on the dealer lots.

The flashy new product sold, but word spread quickly. Plymouth’s 1958 sales plunged by no less than 41 percent. Despite a rep for engineering prowess, Chrysler would have to dodge a reputation for spotty build quality from then on, deserved or not.

Chrysler nursed itself to health once more, only to be deeply wounded by a staggeringly idiotic act of self-mutilation.

In 1960, Chrysler president William Newberg heard a rumor at a cocktail party that Chevrolet was working on a dramatically smaller 1962 model (the compact Chevy II). In a colossal blunder, Newburg assumed this downsizing rumor referred to ALL the full-sized Chevrolets. Newberg immediately killed development of Chrysler’s best-selling full-size 1962 Plymouths and Dodges, and initiated a crash program for substantially smaller replacements.

In what some historians consider a calculated act of revenge for this folly, chief stylist Exner responded by creating bizarrely-styled 1962 Dodges and Plymouths. When these ugly, truncated cars were first shown to dealers at a convention, they created an uproar. Twenty dealers cancelled their franchises on the spot. Plymouth crashed to ninth place, while GM picked up the pieces, swelling its market share to an all-time peak of 52 percent.

Newberg was shown the door. Chrysler hastily restyled the ‘63’s, and went on to enjoy a relatively long spell of good health. From the mid-sixties through 1974 the company thrived, in part thanks to its successful performance image. But with a portfolio [literally] heavy with large rear wheel-drive cars, lacking the foresight, will (and capital) to invest in new efficient compacts, Chrysler was flattened by the one-two punch of the energy crises.

By 1979, the Pentastar was back on the critical list, saved from bankruptcy by taxpayer funded life-support in the form of a $1.5 billion bail-out package of government guaranteed loans.

It’s been 20 years since automakers filed the first patents for adaptive automatic transmissions. These “intelligent” cog swappers promised all the bespoke speed and efficiency of an English butler. And yet, time and time again, I get into a new vehicle, put my foot down and find myself saying “You just can’t get good help anymore.” The Subaru Legacy, Mercedes C350, Honda Accord and Dodge Grand Caravan all came equipped with gearboxes displaying advanced signs of mechanical ADD. Are these devices slow learners or just too damn smart for your own good?

According to the playbook, an adaptive automatic transmission studies your driving behavior and then adjusts its workings to deliver “suitable” throttle response and “appropriate” shift points. To achieve this feat, there are as many modus operandi as there are manufacturers’ eagle-eyed patent departments. Needless to say, the modern adaptive gearbox relies entirely on sensors and computer controls. 

In Subaru’s case, a Transmission Control Module sits at the heart of their four speed adaptive autobox. Sensors tell the ECU (Electronic Control Unit) when the car’s going uphill, downhill or around a corner. The black box directs gear changes according to event-specific algorithms designed to make those experiences “better.” Selecting Sport mode calls-up a different internal 'map' or program which allows higher engine speeds during acceleration, and delivers more responsive downshifts when the guy in front of you doesn’t slide over to the right. 

On a recent test drive, the Subaru system performed like a minor league ball player. It wanted to do a good job; it just wasn’t ready. I asked Subaru how long it takes one of their intelligent transmissions to get smart. They told me the ECU learns constantly, adjusting continuously. In other words, the boffins couldn’t give me a deadline, in terms miles or time, when their ECU should be in sync with its master.  

Granted, that’s a tough question. If you scoot out onto the highway and drive 65mph for a day, how much data does the computer really have to get on with? The flip side is worse. A car sitting on the dealer’s lot gets driven in two-mile sprints at irregular intervals, with drivers as different as Lindseys Graham and Lohan. And then there’s the dreaded “Multiple Driver Syndrome” (MDS). That’s where vastly different driving styles scramble the car’s brain, creating a mean mean. 

Just how much difference all this fuzzy logic programming makes is, well, fuzzy. There’s only one way to get a proper fix on an adaptive transmission’s [theoretical] advantages: a computer-controlled rolling road test simulating various driving styles, with and without the algorithms. None of the manufacturers contacted for this article could provide any such test results, or any hard stats on the adaptive transmission's relative efficiency in general. Words like “better” and “improved” were as good as it got.

Truth be told, the adaptive transmission’s effect on driving dynamics may not be all that much of a blessing. On paper, the new Mercedes C-Class’ seven-speed cog swapper– a trickle down technology from the mighty S-Class– should be a wondrous thing to drive. With seven gear settings and the computer’s ability to skip a couple cogs going up or down, a C-Class pilot should be able to blaze out in glory and snuff some serious momentum without setting the car’s brakes afire. In the seat, the C-Class’ adaptive transmission is nowhere near as much fun as you thought it was going to be. 

That said, Mercedes asserts that their transmission’s control unit may take a couple thousand miles to “get used to” its driver’s throttle and brake inputs. If you share the car, it will average out the drivers’ approaches. If you don’t like the outcome, if the aforementioned MDS sets in, “Dave” will reset “HAL” at no charge (as Mercedes does for cars heading into the pre-loved lot).

Therein lies the conundrum of modern automatics. By definition, they’re not going to be as good on a test drive as they are over the long haul. In that sense, it’s easy to see why new car salesmen rarely make a big deal of adaptive transmissions; “Trust me sir, it gets better over time…”

Though a little explanation might go a long way. The general public is generally appreciative of genuine advancements in automotive technology, and people have been dealing with break-in periods since, oh, 1906. Mercedes claims their adaptive transmission increases drivetrain longevity and reliability. It’s not the sexiest of selling points, but it would make it a little easier to endure a few weeks of dim-witted gear changes.

Anyway, we’re stuck with these gizmos. “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change,” Charles Darwin wrote.  Frustrating though they are, adaptive transmissions will thrive and evolve– unless something better renders them obsolete. 

Visit any parts store and you’ll see rows of products that claim to clean wheels. Just spray and rinse! After buying, spraying and rinsing, you end up with half clean wheels that beg you to take out the scrub brush and clean them the old fashioned way. And here’s the really horrible bit: OCD pistonheads keep after the “cleanliness is next to godliness” spray-’n-wash wheel-cleaning Holy Grail until their garages are littered—OK, carefully arranged—with half empty bottles of wheel cleaner. So, is there a genuine no-brush wheel cleaning solution?

No, and for good reason. Any liquid powerful enough to remove all the grease and grime from your wheels without a brush would eat through the wheel’s clear coating or painted surface and leave you with a cancerous catastrophe. However, after years of searching, I’ve found a product that works better than most at cleaning wheels with minimal post-application intervention.

I’m talking about Poorboy’s Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner. As you can see, the company takes its brand seriously. The formula is sold in a simple spray bottle with a cheap, glued-on paper label featuring Poorboy’s riff on Monopoly’s Mr. Moneybags. The 24-ounce bottle runs $9.95 at your local auto parts store. You can also purchase a quart bottle online for $15.95, or a gallon jug for $39.95. Since the wheel cleaner requires almost as much spraying as the side of a good-sized house, I recommend you go for the gallon.

Simply spray Poorboy’s Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner the on cold wheels. And then spray some more. And a bit more. And then, more. Keep spraying until your wheels are better coated than a Shake ’n Bake chicken breast. Wait a few minutes for the symptoms of carpal tunnel syndrome to subside and then rinse the wheels with a hose. A jet sprayer is ideal, as the pressure will thoroughly wash off the cleaner and the dirt.

Then . . . more spraying! I recommend wiping the wheels with a stiff brush, and then using a needle shaped brush, cleaning the area between the wheels and the lug nuts.  One more spray and rinse and voilà! Your wheels are clean. But remember: don’t let the spray sit on wheels for more than a few minutes. This is some serious shit.

Poorboy’s Spray & Rinse Cleaner Wheel Cleaner is an acid-based product. So some basic, common sense precautions are required. Always spray downwind and use protective eyewear. I know it looks dorky, but if a sudden gust catches the product as you spritz, you may be temped to re-enact the final act of Oedipus Rex. (Been there, done that.) The good news: the human eye is the fastest healing part of the human body.

Another warning: the product should not be used on uncoated wheels. In undiluted form, the cleaner is plenty strong enough to damage an unpainted finish. Poorboy’s recommends diluting Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner by 50 percent and spot-testing to see if the solution works like alien goo on your cherished rims. Diluting the cleaner is also recommended if you’re a frequent (not to say obsessive) cleaner, both to protect the wheels and save cold, hard cash.

When I use Poorboy’s wheel cleaner, I also spray the liquid liberally on the inside of the wheel and onto the brake calipers. This helps keep the inside [somewhat] clean, and keeps the calipers looking presentable. However, if you’ve painted your own calipers, just say no. By the same token, the Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner may eventually eat through your car’s paint. So I’d definitely avoid over-spraying onto ANY painted surface, especially small areas of the body where the clear coat has chipped away, leaving thin painted or even bare metal surfaces.

I also recommend a thorough wash with water on the inside of the wheel, so that none of the cleaner sits on the brake pads or other brake parts. Overspray onto tires seems to have no affect, but Poorboy’s Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner is not and should not be used as a tire cleaner.

Since brushing is necessary (despite the company’s claim), I recommend a good quality short hair synthetic brush. Some detailers swear by boar’s hair wheel brushes, which are considered safer on wheels than the synthetic equivalent. However, they cost five times the price, and, in my experience, they don’t make much of a difference. Just avoid aggressive rubbing and have a little patience and you’ll avoid scratching your wheels.

Overall, Poorboy’s Spray & Rinse Wheel Cleaner is an excellent product that comes as close as you can get to a true spray and rinse product. Once your wheels are cleaned, a simple regimen of weekly sprays will keep them looking good, avoiding the dirt, grease and grime build-up that’s harder to remove over time.

Should this be a TTAC-approved product?

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There is only one reason to brave Detroit in January: The North American International Auto Show (NAIAS). And that justification only applies if you’re a born rivet counter with Bear Grylls' endurance and the Detroit News' unslakeable thirst for corporate Kool-Aid. Even then, why not forgag it, cuddle-up with your DSL in the warmth and Dilbert-decorated comfort of your own cubicle, surf the net and let the pros brave the BS on your behalf? Why not indeed? Me, I'm one of those pros, incognito.

When I read that the Detroit Auto Dealers Association’s credential committee denied TTAC press passes to NAIAS without explanation, I had to laugh. Despite all those fancy schmancy acronyms, the Motown mid-winter hoe-down is still infused with a small town ethos. No surprise there. The event traces it roots back to 1907 when local dealers needed a gimmick to stimulate sales during the winter doldrums. A few cars, a sheltered beer garden and Bob’s your uncle.

As Motown became the center of the automotive universe, the Detroit Auto Show became The Mother of All Automotive Bacchanalia. Think Las Vegas without the warmth, gambling, buffet or go-go girls; with parkas. Even though the car industry has gone global, and The Big 2.8’s U.S. market share has fallen below the half way mark, the show's owners cling to the myth that Cobo Hall is the industry’s locus. And they want it to remain the automotive equivalent of the Moonie's love-bombing.

And yet, with a little behind-the-scenes machinations, old show meets new media on the dark side of town. RF has tapped William C. Montgomery and Sajeev Mehta to leave Lone Star for Wolverine on your behalf. They’ll boldly challenge the spin that has never been challenged before. They’ll snap photos, email them to RF and Frank Williams, and phone in their reports.

I’ll be there too, undercover, submitting puddle of consciousness posts as and when the mescaline— I mean spirit moves me. God knows there’s enough hallucinatory fodder for my fevered fascination. Chrysler, for example, has a genuine talent for the surreal. They once shot a concept car out of a cannon. They drove a Jeep through a [simulated] plate glass window. Rumor has it that Chrysler will introduce the 2009 Dodge Ram at this year’s show with a cattle stampede down Woodward Ave.– to match the action at the open bar. 

Of course, all three TTAC scribes will endure the speeches teleprompted by and for various car company executives. The suits will tell the gathered, bought and paid-for media throng how wonderful their new products are, and how well they're doing in their segment of the market. The press will eat it up with all the unquestioning obsequiousness of an evil henchmen.

It should be interesting to see if NAIAS has lost its mojo. This year, Porsche’s skipping the show, claiming they don’t sell enough cars in the Detroit market to justify the expense. Detroit. Yeah. Right. That's why five Chinese motor vehicle manufacturers will be displaying their latest creations at the show. 

Less suspensefully (if that’s possible), I want to see how green is their valley. Most manufacturers are highlighting their efforts in preserving, protecting and promoting ecology and our environment. I’m steeling myself for a pod of hybrids, electric, bio-diesel, ethanol, chicken fat and compressed air vehicles.  

Just in case GM was in danger of presenting a coherent message, The General will introduce their 2009 Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 in the midst of fresh servings of Volt-a-cola. Nice piece, supercharged, around 620hp, carbon fiber roof and front fenders and with a cost just north of $100k. You know how people yell “Freebird!” in the middle of incongruous concerts, sports and academic events? When you hear “GTR!” in the middle of 'Vette presentation, it wazzunt me.

Nor did I have anything to do with the North American [excluding Mexico and Canada] Car and Truck of the Year Awards, whose 50 judges covet (and receive) every carefully-prepared and meticulously maintained vehicle made by every automakers selling cars in the U.S. For a week. And accept all expenses paid junkets without the slightest hesitation. Without once letting these perks influence with their final selection. Can't wait. 

But I will. As much as I’d like to gather snarky quotes form the army of unionized workers charged with the task of creating Cobo’s Potemkin Village, it would serve little purpose. As Oz counseled Dorothy, I pay no attention to the men behind the curtain. Of course, when they step out front, they should expect to see TTAC's little red dot bouncing around on their chest.     

“It would have helped to have a little bit of sunshine.” What a strange statement. Not “General Motors is prepared to weather the economic downturn ahead.” More like “Darn it! Just when we got our new picnic blanket spread out, it’s started to rain!” But then GM CEO Rick Wagoner is a GM lifer, a Harvard-trained beancounter, a man whose self-effacement hides a genuine lack of leadership. “We look forward to the sunny days,” Wagoner continues. “But realistically we can’t plan on it for next year.” So what IS GM’s plan?

Rick Wagoner took GM's helm on May 1, 2003. Despite an arterial spray of red ink, the former CFO refused to set a timetable for a titanic turnaround. In fact, from that day to this, Wagoner has never publicly declared ANY hard targets for returning GM's North American operations to profitability. Not sales per dealer. Or profit per vehicle. Or total turnover. Or market share. Or, God forbid, profit. Nothing.

GM is a public company, with tens of thousands of shareholders and workers. Why haven't these "stakeholders" held Rick Wagoner's feet to the fire and demanded a quantifiable turnaround plan? We need only look at Carlos Ghosn’s Nissan revival to understand the importance of clearly defined targets in a crisis. We need only look at GM to understand what happens when a Board of Bystanders allows upper management to drown out all opposition by playing "Crisis? What crisis?" at full volume.

For one thing, if you don’t have quantifiable goals, you don’t have accountability. Internally, this leads to bad decisions which lead to… more bad decisions. Incompetent managers fail upwards. The same people who brought over the Pontiac GTO from Australia are bringing over the Pontiac G8. The same marketing mavens who counseled potential Saturn buyers to “Rethink American” now counsel them to “Rethink,” while their own status remains quo. In GM’s land of the blind, the no-eyed man is king.

Externally, the lack of accountability frees Wagoner’s mob to justify GM's declining fortunes without a single mea culpa. Over the years, they’ve dismissed “bad news” as politics (unfair currency exchange), inherited burdens (union health care), economic factors beyond their control (housing market downturn, rising gas prices), and the sad but temporary result of their brilliant master plan (reducing incentives and fleet sales). The bad news continues. As do the excuses.

GM's favorite "excuse" is actually simple misdirection. Again and again, Wagoner and Co. point at “The Next Big Thing” and predict "sunny days" ahead. In consideration of GM's $2.1b annual ad budget and their own ignorance, the mainstream press propagates this "bright shiny object" spin– and ignores the mediocrity blighting all of GM's eight U.S. resident brands and the vast majority of its 51 product portfolio.

The media’s willingness to give GM a pass on hard targets, to simply buy into GM’s “pay no attention to that market share loss behind the curtain” ploy, never ceases to amaze me. The Associated Press’ interview with Wagoner is a perfect example; it lays out the CEO's “strategy” without any serious inspection. 

“Wagoner said ‘the deal’ topped the reasons people bought a GM vehicle in 2004. Now, thanks to stylish new models like the Cadillac CTS sedan and Buick Enclave crossover, the company says exterior styling tops the list, followed by value for the money. ‘I don't want to mess with that. I want to keep building on that,’ he said.”

Huh? Smack dab in the middle of GM’s Toe Tag Christmas sale, just when the company is loading massive incentives on its products and advertising nothing BUT the deal, Wagoner says his customers are now buying GM vehicles based on style rather than price. Where’s the supporting data for that assertion? Even if we accept this as some kind of cunning plan, what does it mean for GM's future?

Forget it. Style isn't GM’s new secret weapon. GM’s chronic Attention Deficiency Disorder– enabled by a leader who refuses to draw a line in the sand and take responsibility for his company's sinking fortunes–  tells us that the automaker will be off chasing the next Next Big Thing just as soon as sales and/or hype over the Enclave/CTS/Malibu subsides.

The truth is, without real leadership, without a CEO with a clear and clearly expressed sense of direction and urgency, GM doesn’t stand a chance. For those of you who think Wagoner has sufficient situational awareness and decisiveness to get the job done, I leave you with his response to a question about the impact of new federal fuel standards.

"I do think the challenge is really twofold. It's not just, 'Can you get the technology?', but 'What happens if people don't want to buy it? That is the question mark that concerns me, but we'll have plenty of time to play that out."

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

"Are we bankrupt? Technically, no. Operationally, yes. The only thing that keeps us from going into bankruptcy is the $10 billion investors entrusted us with." Another milestone: Chrysler CEO Bob Nardelli used the “b word’ in public. What’s more, Boot ‘em Bob told the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) that he’s on a leash so short he can feel the hot breath of his Cerberusian owners tickling his neck hairs. Why’s that then? Because all Hell's about to break loose.

More specifically, Chrysler is about to follow GM and Ford’s lead and break loose anything that isn’t nailed down and sell it. This forthcoming “Staving Off Bankruptcy” sale should come as no surprise; this fall, Nardelli announced his intention to flog bits of the biz just after Christmas. His “operationally bankrupt” shocker is PR hyperbole, preparing Chrysler's camp followers for the divestiture to follow. 

Saying that, Nardelli's “backs up against the wall” spin is a double bluff; or, if you prefer, the truth. Chrysler really is “operationally bankrupt.” Have a look at their new product plans. What product plans? Well, exactly.

While $10b is a lot of money for you and me, that’s the amount of cash GM needs just to keep the lights on. Ten billion bucks ain't enough money for Chrysler to make the long-term investment in the new product designs and technology it needs to compete for the American car buyer’s customer AND keep the company going. Period.

So what? That was never the plan. Chrysler’s new owners didn't have any intentions of investing their hard-earned money in the bottomless pit known as a product-lead turnaround. Whether or not Cerberus planned to keep the Chrysler dealer network as a kind of K-Mart store front for outsourced products, Cerberus' purchase was all about stripping and flipping. 

That’s why the smartest guys in the room installed Nardelli, who’s about as much of a car guy as I am a numismatist. The Home Depot despot was charged with cutting costs and stabilizing the company until such time as it could be sold; which was to be sooner, rather than later.

Unfortunately, the private equity boys knew sweet FA about cars. They failed to realize that Chrysler’s German owners had left behind a mortally wounded automaker. Perhaps the incoming execs were dazzled by the new minivan and upcoming Ram, or the company’s total turnover. But they didn't understand that carmaking is a consumer-driven– not cost driven– business; an enterprise whose survival depends entirely on brand strength and an endless stream of class-leading products.

Cerberus never imagined that Chrysler would get this bad this fast– because they didn’t know cars. Nor did they clock the fact that the overall U.S. new car market was headed dramatically south. Cuts or no cuts, bad intelligence and bad timing have destroyed any possibility of stabilization in Auburn Hills.

Needless to say, none of this does anything more than accelerate Cerberus’ original time lines. Nardelli will continue to wield his axe even as he begins the inevitable process of dissolution. To that end, the Chrysler CEO told the WSJ that “the company will move very aggressively to dispose of about $1b in land, old plants and other assets, even if it has to sell them below book value.” 

Don’t be fooled by the implications of that list. The only thing Chrysler has to sell that’s worth a damn are its MOPAR parts operation, its production facilities and the Jeep name. The “book value” of these “assets” is a Hell of a lot less now than it was when Cerberus bought them, and falling. Given the dizzying pace of vehicle production technology, unless the Chinese, Indians or Canadians (Magna) want to buy Chrysler’s U.S. production facilities, they're worthless.

Where does that leave Chrysler? Nowhere. Ten billion dollars isn’t enough to do anything more than pretty-up their current products’ dreadful interiors ("260 line item improvements") and help the automaker hold on for another year or so– albeit cutting every step of the way in the face of diminishing market share. Meanwhile and in any case, Chrysler will either sell itself to someone “below book value,” or its private equity masters will throw in the towel and file for Chapter 11.

If we had any doubts before, Nardelli’s "operational bankruptcy" remark leaves no doubt that Cerberus is prepared to cauterize its Chrysler wound and use Chapter 11 to amputate the automaker from its portfolio. Cerberus will hive off Chrysler Financial, take their tax write-off and call it a day. And consign one of America's greatest automakers to the scrap heap of history.

Say the name Hartge or Alpina to a BMW fan and you’ll get instant nods of understanding and respect. While Dinan doesn’t get the pistonhead props afforded these German uber-tuners, they’re rightfully considered America’s foremost BMW tuner. Steve Dinan’s mob has been modifying BMW cars since 1979. His Morgan Hill California-based company offers upgrades for Bimmer engines, suspensions, brakes and wheels. Like the Germans, Dinan also sells “Signature Vehicles” and creates special Factory Works programs. We concern ourselves here with an ECU upgrade and a cold air intake. 

Until the introduction of the sublime twin-turbo 335i, BMW prided itself on the fact that it relied on naturally aspirated engines to reach vaunted performance levels. Increasing performance of turbo-charged engines by modifying their Electronic Control Units (ECU) can lead to fairly dramatic performance upgrades on the order of fifty plus horsepower and foot pounds of torque. I tested Dinan’s ECU upgrade on a naturally aspirated inline six to see if similar gains could be found.

As stated in my previous review of the APR ECU upgrade for an Audi A4, ECU tuning is a difficult task. A tuner must examine thousands of lines of code to find areas where changes in parameters can add to performance. They also have to balance potential gains against potential engine damage.

BMW rates the 3.2-liter inline six in my '00 M Roadster at 240 horsepower. In its original state, the engine is relatively detuned; the same engine with variable timing and separate throttle bodies (as sold in Europe) produces over 300hp. This should mean lots of head room for Dinan to wring-out some extra power– without fear of dreaded engine “issues.”

The Dinan software is sold in various stages, partially tied to other Dinan products. I tested the Stage II software with the Dinan Cold Air Intake (CAI). In addition to increasing horsepower and torque, the software has two additional benefits. First, it removes the 155mph speed limiter, which is only in place to honor a German car manufacturers “gentleman’s agreement” between Audi, VW, Mercedes and BMW (originally made to forestall autobahn limits mooted by the Green Party). Second, the rather low redline limiter is lifted from 7000 to 7400 rpm.

Dealer installation is required; the software is transferred via an installer’s computer directly to the Bimmer via the BMW’s data port. (The leading competitor is the Conforti Shark Injector, which is user-installed via the OBD-II port, saving a trip to the dealer.)

The Cold Air Intake system can be fitted by both friends and foe (dealer). The CAI replaces the [allegedly] more restrictive factory air box with a long carbon fiber tube and a large cone-shaped air filter. In theory, moving the air intake away from engine heat improves performance. In practice, cold air simply allows the engine to produce more power. Unfortunately, many systems that advertise gains do so without merit, and car websites are rife with claims that CAI systems actually decrease horsepower. 

Dinan’s website claims that their CAI system adds 12 hp and 11 lb-ft of torque. They also claim a gain of 10 hp and 10 ft.-lbs. of torque for their software. However, they caveat the CAI claims by stating that “a Stage 2 version of Dinan's Engine Software is available for optimum performance from the High Flow Cold Air Intake System as well.”  Take it from a lawyer: it isn’t clear if Dinan’s claiming a combined gain or a cumulative gain for the two systems.

Measuring engine improvements requires both objective dyno-based tests and a subjective seat of the pants test. I went to a local BMW tuner, Road 'n Race. to check my installation's gains on their Mustang dynometer. Dynos measure wheel horsepower, not the crank horsepower manufacturers advertise. Therefore a correction factor must be applied. Also, the two most common dynos produce different results and are not directly comparable. To measure current performance of the M Roadster, I used a 17.5 percent correction factor. 

On my best run, the car produced 208 peak hp, or 244 hp. That's four more than factory. Torque was up five foot-lbs over stock. While a large fan was used to simulate air movement, some power is lost compared to real road driving.

On the open road, the car felt slightly faster than stock, with better pedal feel during acceleration. These improvements were, at best, slight. The redline limiter was definitely raised, but since peak power is produced earlier, the benefit was limited. 

The Dinan CAI sells for $649.00 and the Stage II software is $299.00. Add in a dealer charge for installation and you’re looking at over a grand for a very small gain. Therefore, except for bragging rights the Dinan name entails, I would not recommend this upgrade, though the CAI does look good in the Bimmer’s engine bay.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas; at least in Dearborn. Ford has reinstated merit raises for their white collar workers. Bonuses for its blue collared brigade are under consideration. Ford’s global manufacturing guru Joe Heinrichs figures “it’s important to reward people for doing the right thing.” Which is… three straight quarters of besting Wall Street’s paltry projections and slowing the Way Fordward’s cash burn. With the long anticipated sale of Jaguar and Land Rover only days away, it would seem that Mulally’s machine is running smoothly. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

No question: FoMoCo’s financial outlook is festively plump compared to last year’s lump of coal. That’s mainly due to the fact that Alan Mulally’s minions have slashed and burned their way through the Blue Oval’s bloated bureaucracy. After paying off the United Auto Workers, they’ve taken an axe to Ford’s chronic overproduction, shuttering plants, eliminating shifts and generally cleaning house.

Bottom line: the Blue Oval’s downsized their cash burn from an estimated $17b per year, down to a measly $12b to $14b per year.

To celebrate this turn of events (i.e. better balance their books and lighten a debt load that makes Paraguay look flush), Ford recently spawned 62m more shares of common stock. And the stock found buyers too, thanks to the ongoing belief that you (and by that I mean Ford) CAN cut your way to prosperity. Why all Ford has to do to turn its ass around is… right-size the company to the point where production meets demand!

Only demand for Ford products shows no signs of recovery. The truth is, Ford’s “product lead” turnaround is still stuck in neutral. Indeed, the Blue Oval Boyz market share continues to erode. Reviewing their latest internal report card, Ford’s number crunchers cringed when even their employer failed to meet its modest market share projections: 13 percent. Currently (through November) Ford reps just 12.4 percent of the North American pie, and the slice is getting smaller by the day.

Not surprisingly, fingers were pointed outside the Glass House, at FBOC (Factors Beyond our Control). The usual suspects were all present and accounted for: the “faster than expected” market shift from SUVs and trucks to small cars and crossovers; the rise in fuel prices and the fall in the economy as a result of the sub-prime mortgage crisis. Absent, of course, was any acknowledgement that, at this point, they should know better.

Ford simply ignored the North American customer. As analysts (and TTAC) have pointed out on numerous occasions, FoMoCo’s mélange of motorized product is truck heavy. Currently, the Ford brand offers customers six car models and nine trucks. Mercury’s ratio is better at 4:3 (cars to trucks). Lincoln, FoMoCo’s luxury marque, is more vulnerable, with only two car platforms and three trucks.

With the demise of the Panther platform (Crown Victoria, Mercury Marquis, Lincoln Town Car), three car models will disappear from the Ford roster, resulting in an even heavier truck-based portfolio. The Ford Focus is FoMoCo’s smallest model, its only American economy car. The 2007 TTAC Ten Worst nominee’s moving slightly more units than the vine-withered model it replaced. The automaker’s next next big thing, the Ford Flex, is just that: another big “thing.”

Bottom line: through November, FoMoCo’s car sales are already down over 24 percent from last year. So even the few Ford passenger cars available aren’t winning over consumers.

Auto analysts Robert Barry (Goldman, Sachs & Co) and Rod Lache (Deutsche Bank Securities Inc.) both reckon Ford’s decade long decline is nowhere near done. Not unlike Toyota, Honda and Nissan, Barry realizes that “demand growth will be greatest for smaller cars” and that without them, Ford’s market share is simply “unsustainable.”

Worse, Barry also contends that Ford’s current production-related savings are fleeting at best.  Because of increasing regulatory demands (i.e. new Corporate Average Fuel Economy standards), Ford will need to spend more on each and every vehicle produced. In his analysis Barry figures the new UAW contract will save Ford about $4b in “structural cost reductions.” The automaker will need that money, and then some, to the tune of $11.9b, just to keep up.

The Detroit News reports that Ford Americas President, Mark Fields expects the 2007 US light vehicle market to hit its lowest mark in about a decade (16.4m units). Fields also expects that number to fall further next year, to around 15.3m units. Figuring 12.5 percent market share, that means Ford will move around 1,912,500 units. 

Of course this all depends on an economy that, the Federal Reserve figures, is poised to continue to weaken. “Modest” Mark said Ford is “planning conservatively.” They’ll “look at things on a month-to-month basis” and “take appropriate actions if things go worse than expected.”

Bottom line: Happy New Year!

Three pedals for two feet. A wheel and a shift knob for two hands– that are supposed to be on the helm at all times. The manual transmission doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it? Never mind. For its increasingly marginalized adherents, the manual transmission makes driving a pleasure. Unfortunately, carmakers are deleting the manual option from many U.S.-spec cars. As you’d expect from “ultimate driving machine” fabricators, BMW offers a manual in all of its vehicles save the 7-Series, including the once SMG-only M5s and M6s. These manual-equipped Bimmers sport ZF-sourced six-speed transmissions crowned by a leather shift knob. 

In my experience, the BMW manual lever provides slightly long throws– which I believe is a conscience engineering decision to slow shifts down slightly to reduce stress on the clutch and the engine.  However, for aggressive and experienced self shifters, the longer throws merely slow down the driving experience. One common solution: replace the factory set-up with a short shift kit. In terms of driver snicking satisfaction, it’s an extremely effective solution. But there ARE drawbacks.

The short shift kit replaces several parts of the shift system, including the shift lever and the selector rod. Installation can be difficult. On some cars, installation comes from under the car, not through the top, requiring a mechanical lift. As stated above, adding a short shifter can also stress a car’s transmission; potential warranty issues may arise. Therefore on a newer car, especially a leased vehicle, a short shift kit is not the best choice.

Another alternative: change the balance of the shift lever by increasing the mass of the shift knob. The BMW factory knob weighs in at six ounces and provides a comfortable, stylish touch. On M models, the shift knob is even illuminated with a weak reddish glow, lighting the shift pattern on the knob’s top surface.

To see if extra mass would improve shifting, I tested the Whalen Shift Machine, produced by a one product company. The Whalen came to my attention thanks to word of “word” in a variety of BMW related web sites, where users raved how great the knob was in actual use.

The Whalen Shift Machine weighs-in at eighteen ounces. For the math challenged, that’s three times the weight of the factory knob. The Whalen Knob also sits approximately one inch lower than the factory-fitted device, which slightly shortens the length of the shift lever.

Installation is a two step process. Step one: remove the old knob. Step two: install new knob. Not so easy, Mr. Bond. Removing the old BMW knob is a little tricky, as it requires substantial torque to pull the factory knob off the shift lever. At the risk of conforming to lawyerly stereotypes, I suggest recruiting that neighbor who lets his dog poop in your yard as a spotter. When the knob comes off, you can “accidentally” pop him in the face. (And then call my office.)

Once you [somehow] manage to remove the old knob, installing the Whalen knob is a breeze. Simply lift the collar under the knob and twist until the center spline of the shift lever lines up with the bar on the inside of the knob. Once lined up, release the collar and the Whalen knob clicks into place.

The Whalen knob is a round ball made of stainless steel. It’s available in three styles: brushed, polished or bead blasted. Whalen also offers custom engraving, allowing users to design their own knob top engraving. [Note: M car, skull’s head, no.] Discretion being the better part of street cred, I purchased the standard polished knob. 

Driving with the Whalen knob installed on my M Roadster changed the shift dynamic dramatically. Shifts were much crisper; gear changes felt quicker and more direct. OK, it’s could be mostly psychological, but who cares? The feeling created was close to the feel of an actual short shift kit, with more precise and weightier throws.

After installing the Whalen, I noticed some rattling from the collar. I removed the knob and placed black electric tape on the lever where the collar meets the lever. Sorted.

The Whalen is not without its compromises. I found the knob’s shape, a round ball, less comfortable than the longer factory knob. Although my mitts are average-sized, ham-handed drivers may also find the knob too small.  Finally, and this is no small matter for drivers from Miami or Maine, extreme weather will make the knob extremely cold or hot to the touch. 

None of these drawbacks outweigh the sensual benefits of driving with a Whalen shift knob. At over 130 clams, the Whalen isn’t cheap, but for the BMW (or MINI) driver who understands the visceral appeal of a manual transmission, the Whalen is a terrific, no hassle upgrade.

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

Beginning in 1968, three years before the star-crossed Vega finally landed, GM cranked up a huge publicity campaign for its coming “import killer,” code named XP-887. Every month in Popular Science, I read of the miraculous XP-887, accompanied by spy sketches. This huge PR build-up was unprecedented. Previously, new cars were kept under wraps as long as possible. GM was raising the expectations of the whole nation.

The Vega became a cause of national interest: if Americans could beat the Russians to the moon, GM could damn well beat back the imports.

Kinda like the new Chevy Volt.

When I finally saw photos, I began to salivate. The Vega was as cute as a button: those sparkly bright eyes, that Ferrariesque egg-crate grille, the sleek lines on the fastback coupe and that adorable little wagon. Never mind that the Vega was essentially a baby Camaro, with a low roofline that made it cramped and impractical.

Not unlike the Volt’s squished roof.

My enthusiasm inspired a friend to become a Vega beta-tester. Since the baby Chevy’s prices were rather lofty, he settled for a base two-door sedan. When he showed up with it, I experienced my first GM cold shower; actually, it was more like being waterboarded.

At a time when the imports were only selling fully equipped models, the base Vega made a pole-dancing stripper look dressed for church. Unlike the proto-bling Vegas in the ads, his car had no exterior trim, ill-fitting taxi-cab rubber flooring and grim wall-to-wall hard plastic. There wasn’t even a door on the glove box. I had never seen anything like it before because nobody had built an interior like this before.

The Vega forced GM to confront a cruel fact that it still hasn’t solved: it doesn’t know how to manufacture small cars profitably. Originally intended to compete head-on with the imports, higher production costs forced GM to price the Vega some 10 percent higher. They intended to justify that premium with an extra-well-equipped small car. But in a last-ditch effort in the losing battle with profitability, they made the ad-friendly “custom” interior and exterior pieces optional.

Kinda like GM’s plan to sell the Volt without a battery.

We opened the Vega’s hood and started the engine. An auditory form of CIA-approved torture ensued. Not only did the strangely shaped long-stroke engine “look like it had come off a 1920’s farm tractor” (John DeLorean), it sounded and shook like one too. As fond as I am of old Farmalls, this was nothing like my high school buddy’s zippy and smooth Datsun 510 engine.

And what did GM’s moon-shot program offer in the transmission department? The two-speed Powerglide first saw the light of day in 1949. It felt like half of the engine’s 80 horsepower were somehow lost in translation to the rear wheels.

Unfortunately, the standard three-speed stick was just as much a throwback to the fifties, and had such widely-spaced ratios that Car & Driver said it “feels more like a six-speed with first, third and fifth gears missing.” The fact that the Vega handled well (on glass-smooth pavement) only made the power-train that much more frustrating.

But hope springs eternal. Right from the beginning, Chevy was talking up a performance version being developed with Cosworth. They promised a 180hp Vega was “just around the corner.” When the Cosworth Vega arrived four years later, it had all of 120hp, accelerated from zero to 60mph in nine seconds, and cost twice as much as a regular Vega. Not surprisingly, only 3500 were sold. 

My friend went on to endure a number of the Vega engine’s pathological suicidal tendencies: carburetor fires, overheating, distorted blocks, oil consumption. When terminal rust set in after three years, he dumped it for peanuts and bought a Toyota.

Why was the Vega so flawed? It wasn’t actually developed by Chevrolet at all, who might (possibly) have had a (slightly) better idea of what import buyers wanted. GM gave the XP-887 job to a lofty corporate engineering group, and forced the flawed finished product on a reluctant John DeLorean, then President of Chevrolet. On his engineers’ first drive in a prototype, the whole front of the car literally fell off after eight miles.

Chevrolet had already developed a conventional small-car engine, but the GM corporate engineers knew better, and risked all on the world’s first aluminum block without steel cylinder liners.

Kinda like the Volt’s lithium-ion batteries.

But I’ve put my worries aside; companies learn from their mistakes, and lightning never strikes twice in the same place, right?

Ours is a global economy. Like water cascading downhill, carmaking naturally flows to those countries providing the optimal combination of exchange rates, natural resources, transportation infrastructure and, of course, inexpensive labor. As a result, the U.S. auto industry now stuffs its cars with Chinese parts and assembles them in South Korea, Mexico, Brussels, Australia and more. While pundits bemoan outsourcing’s effect on America’s blue collar jobs, this internationalization exacts a hidden toll near and dear to pistonheads’ hearts: it erases product personality.

Once upon a time, cars had national personalities. American cars were comfy. German cars were robust. Japanese cars were inexpensive (reliability came later). Swedish cars were safe. British cars were a pleasure to drive. Nowadays, everyone does everything. An American car must be robust, comfortable, inexpensive, safe and a pleasure to drive. As must a German, Japanese, Swedish and British car. That’s great as far as it goes; but it doesn’t go far enough.

In their feverish desire to meet regulatory standards and internationalize production– to create a “global car” that appeals to everyone everywhere– manufacturers have eliminated their vehicles’ culturally-derived quirks. In fact, today’s cars feel as though they’ve gone through an automotive spell checker, making sure that the car has been completely cleansed of error. The result: tremendous overall quality bereft of genuinely distinctive character.

More specifically, GM owns (part or whole) thirteen automakers spread throughout the U.S., Korea, Australia, Sweden, England and Germany. As The General rushes towards epic cross-border cross-fertilization, shuffling cars like a Las Vegas dealer, we can already see the loss of national character. Saabilac? Caddibu? Holdeniac? GM’s willingness to ignore regional character is quickly draining any remaining life from their once vibrant portfolio of car brands. 

To see the failure of the “global car” logic, consider Saturn. Justin Berkowitz’ review of the Saturn Astra praises its German-ness (e.g. handling, hatch configuration). Fair enough. But what happened to Saturn’s Tennessee roots? Where’s the straight-shooting all-American ethos that informed both the product and its dealers? Gone. And with it, Saturn as a coherent, indeed appealing automotive brand. Just like Saab. And Volvo.

Call me a recidivist, but I reckon a Saab is/was/should be a Swedish hatch– not a German-built sedan or modified American SUV. By the same token, a Volvo is/was/should be a sturdy sedan or wagon– not an inherently dangerous, frivolous convertible. Sure, you could dismiss these objections as senseless carping born of pistonhead preconceptions. But I view our brotherhood as an early warning system. Enthusiasts everywhere are signaling that something important is getting lost in translation, and we’re not wrong.  

On the mainstream side, it’s become increasingly clear to observers both inside and outside Toyota that their rapid expansion of American production has eroded vehicle quality. To protect their brand, ToMoCo is launching various initiatives AND quietly scaling-back plans to expand U.S. production. Not to diss American workers, it’s a sure sign that the Japanese automaker “gets it;” they understand importance of location, location, location. Or, if you prefer, culture, culture, culture.

In this, they are not alone.

Volkswagen has recently learned the perils of international outsourcing– and the importance of national character– the hard way. After years of producing truly dreadful North American-bound Golfs in Brazil, VW finally realized that protecting the model’s rep mandated moving production back to its ancestral home. The reborn GTI looks, feels and drives like a “proper” German car. It’s been rewarded with a well-deserved spike in U.S. sales, and a welcome return to street credibility.  

Vee Dub’s decision has paid off in all aspects… except financially. Industry analysts report that they’re losing money on their award winner, an inevitable result of exchange rates and financially onerous German labor contracts. Still, which is better: building a singular, world-class product domestically that forces you to address your cost basis at home, or building a meh car abroad that offers the chances of greater profits but doesn’t deliver them and, worse, eventually destroys the brand?

Of course, this raises another question: for a car to embody its national character, does it have to be owned by a local corporation? Maybe. On one hand, BMW’s MINI and VW’s Bentley say no. On the other, Daimler’s Chrysler and Ford’s Jaguar say Hell yes. The key differential: top management must be slaves to the brand, and recognize that the brand is deeply, profoundly, fundamentally national in origin.

When it comes to car design and quality, all but the most blinkered beancounter can see that ignoring the importance of national history and culture leads to machines devoid of personality. And in the current hypercompetitive car market, REAL personality is vital to any automotive brand’s long-term success. In this case, those who do not learn from history are condemned not to repeat it, and, inevitably, suffer the consequences.