Ad agencies evaluate the effectiveness of their artistry using a "recall score." The metric measures how well consumers remember a brand and/or product within 24 hours of having seen its advert. A high recall score means the commercial hot-wired the product into the consumers' minds. A low score means the sponsor wasted their money. Although I watch quite a bit of TV, this semi-professional pistonhead can't recall more than a handful of car ads. So much for carmakers getting their money's worth.

One ad that managed to stick in my mental craw: GM's $150m campaign for Chevy's new "now you see, now you can't buy it" Malibu. The ads show a computer-generated facsimile of the ‘Bu zooming around intimidating Camrys and generally showing off its sleek new lines. At first I wondered if the ad agency also couldn't get their hands on one, hence the computer animation. Then I wondered where they spent the remaining $149,975,000.

But at least the Malibu is in production. Another ad GM's running shows an ethnically blended troop of kids with their ears against a Volt, listening to it hum. The hip young spokesman tells them it's "the extended-range electric car powered by the miracle of the advanced lithium-ion battery pack." And hey! "They expect they'll get up to 40 miles without a drop of gas." The kids gasp their appreciation like they're about to snort Pixies Sticks.  "I've heard the future and it hums" the actor exclaims. The obligatory voice-over intones "Chevy- from gas-friendly to gas free. That's an American revolution."

What they don't bother to say, except in small print flashed momentarily at the bottom of the screen, is that you can't have get one– no matter how badly you want it. They also neglect to mention that the production model- whenever it arrives- will look nothing like the sexy beast whispering God knows what into kids' ears (where's Steve King when you need him?). Or that once you go past that claimed 40-mile range you're burning petrochemicals to recharge the batteries. Or that currently the only "gas free" model Chevy offers is a large diesel-powered pickup truck. 

The manufacturers all seem Hell bent on saving us from our own tailpipe pollution (i.e. alleviating globally-warmed guilt). From Accords driving through tunnels lined with images of nature at its best to Subarus coexisting with Bambi, carmakers want you to believe that it's OK to buy their car; Mother Nature won't mind a bit if you do. 

The most blatant example of eco-misdirection is from Toyota. They show a Prius made of twigs and leaves raising spontaneously from the muck of a bog only to return to it, convincing us (they hope) that their eco-mobile is one with nature. Just don't think about what's required to manufacture or dispose of those battery packs crammed within. Or the fuel oil burned to ship the cars here from Japan. 

The award for the strangest eco-mercial shows a group of hit men trying to take each other out with water pistols, super shooters and water balloons. The message? "What if we could replace something harmful with water?" You guessed it: it's an ad for Honda's yet-to-be-released limited production Clarity hydrogen fuel cell car. 

So hit men won't kill each other with water balloons (is there a hit man jobs bank?) and we won't kill each other with the Clarity because all it produces is water instead of that yucky greenhouse gas. Of course, we're not supposed to think about how much energy is used to make that hydrogen or what the by-products of that process might be. Or the fact that water vapor is a greenhouse gas. I'm beginning to think Norway had the right idea by banning car ads that extol the a car's benefit to the environment.

Meanwhile, trucks. Big. Macho Trucks. Ford, Chevy, Toyota, Nissan and Dodge all have the toughest truck. They're all the biggest, haul the most, tow the most, last the longest and offer "class leading" fuel economy. By implication, anyone who doesn't buy theirs is a weenie. And they practically take a sledgehammer to their truck to prove… some weird sado-masochistic point.

The Tundra ad best reflects this chorus of "any abuse you can take I can take more" pre-school of thought. The Texas Toyota hauls a trailer up and then down an iron teeter-totter poised over a cliff (I think) in a landscape that would give Mad Max the heebie-jeebies. What's the point? If you're ever performing truck tricks at a post-apocalyptic party, the Tundra's the way to go. 

And that's it. That's all I got. Except this: a new study of auto advertising found that Japanese auto manufacturers reached 22 percent more audience than U.S. automakers and 27 percent more than European manufacturers. Considering the car ads in question, it's clear that the entire auto industry's reach exceeds its grasp. 

We here at TTAC spend a good part of our time trying to discern a car’s subjective worth. But the free market provides the final judgment. And when it comes time to rate an automobile manufacturer’s overall vitality, resale value is the way to go. Foresight, engineering and design all figure into what someone is willing to pay after the new car smell fades, when there’s a couple of Cheerios in the seat rails. Forget professional pundits and industry analysts; residual values are the ultimate arbiter of a carmaker’s strength. And guess what? Volkswagen is America’s most valued carmaker.

Taken collectively, Volkswagen’s U.S. lineup holds 48 percent of its value after five years. BMW, Honda and Acura are close behind, each with around 45 percent retained value. While only the VW Eos won its individual category, the Rabbit and Jetta both manage to retain greater than 50 percent of their value after five years. VW’s models placed high enough in all of their classes to earn the top spot.

This startling stat arrives via Kelly Blue Book (KBB), who just published their predicted resale values rankings for the 2008 model year. A fluke?  A statistical anomaly?

Well, KBB’s methodology does help VW. Only automotive brands with four or more models for sale in the U.S. are included, and all of those vehicles must cost under $60k. Still, Honda and Toyota have no trouble playing by those rules; they’re this year’s runners-up. And, the findings are not that different from KBB’s competitors in the value ranking business.

Automotive Lease Guide (ALG) has been tracking values and selling their knowledge to banks, leasing companies and the automotive industry for more than 37 years. ALG announced their Residual Value Awards in October. Here Volkswagen placed third, behind Honda and Toyota respectively. Another excellent showing. Of course, they also have a methodology which aids VW's cause.

This year's ALG awards are based on 2008 model year vehicles, just like Kelly’s, but comprising only a three-year history. (This is the sixth year ALG has included a brand award.) The envelopes are sealed after a careful study of segment competition, historical vehicle performance and industry trends. The trick here is the split.

ALG differentiates between standard and luxury vehicles. In fact, ALG produces a whole second list. So VW didn’t have to compete with Infiniti, Lexus and BMW (to name a few). ALG also excludes marques with fewer than four models. So that put MINI and Scion out of the brand running– which is significant given that MINI scooped the compact category. (Both brands are also excluded from KBB’s list.)

Volkswagens may have found some advantages within the rules, but it doesn’t detract from the validity of their ranking. KBB and ALG produce similar results at the top of both their lists, and at the base. KBB relegates Suzuki, Kia, GMC, Mercury, Dodge, Chrysler and Ford to the bottom of the worst performers for regular old vehicles. ALG’s methodology differed, but the names remained the same. And as for luxury cars, Cadillac, Jaguar, Lincoln, Saab and Volvo all fell below average in both ALG and Kelly’s final reckoning.

There’s a truckload of reasons why a carmaker might find itself parked at the bottom of these residuals lists. Unreliable vehicles, poor image, bad service, a wavering corporate future; each carmaker suffers its own particular frustration combo plate. Volkswagen has hardly been immune from these missteps. But with the Phaeton’s fade to black and a pruning of the pricier Passats, the people’s car has inched back into customers’ good graces. No to put too fine a point on it, most Volkswagen’s are what buyers want them to be.

Volksie has also paid attention to the laws of supply and demand. VW is fairly strict with pricing and, more importantly, doesn’t dump an undo number of cars on North American lots. They build what the market will bear, avoiding huge Rabbits warrens in rental fleets waiting to nibble up space on used car lots. Price and supply find a natural equilibrium that results in relatively high resale values.

Volkswagen won only one of its categories, as divvied by ALG. The Eos took best sporty car (a suspicious sounding group). As in decathlons, it seems that being the best at any one thing is not as important as being solid overall. That might be the wider lesson worth learning.

Taken car by car, VW is nearly never number one. Taken as a whole, VW is doing a great job generating value. That type of continuous performance seems to engender a consistent level of trust in the market place. Volkswagen might not be making the biggest bang with any one car, but playing together they’re getting it done.

Rail all you like against Volkswagen’s reliability and the brand’s piss-poor dealer service. But the market has spoken.

Money, like energy, is never lost. As the U.S. new car market heads down a hidey hole– chased by high gas prices, a cooling housing market and a sluggish economy– the used car business is booming. That’s because Ditech’s right: people are smart. OK, well, they’re not stupid enough to repeat expensive mistakes. In the last five years or so, tens of millions of American got burned by buying a new car. They’re mad as Hell and they’re not buying new anymore.  

“There were approximately 43m potential new-car buyers in 2007,” CNW Research’s Art Spinella reveals. “That's the lowest level in years, which has typically been in the 51 to 53m range." An increasingly large percentage of these new car disparu are buying used. In 2003, 11.6 percent of American car buyers replaced a vehicle purchased new with a used car. This year, it’s 17 percent– and rising.

Why wouldn’t it? Depreciation has kneecapped millions of [former] new car buyers. Although Detroit has sworn off fleet sales (the surest way ever invented to hammer the residual values of a retail model) and promised an end to new car sales incentives (the second best way to strip money from existing owners), in the first case, the damage has been done, and in the second, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over. And it ain’t over. 

The post-Katrina SUV exodus strangling Detroit’s profits is an on-going situation. Hundreds of thousands of truck owners [still] want to dump their shiny gas hog for a more parsimonious vehicle. Unfortunately, everyone wants to do the same thing. Being upside down, backwards and SOL has eliminated or lowered both their purchasing power and their desire to get stuck (i.e. buy) in another new car. 

The fantastic proliferation of models and the end of the traditional “model year change” has also led consumers towards used cars. With so many cars, trucks, SUVs and minivans from so many different brands, it’s hard for the neighbors to tell (or care) that you’re driving an “old” car. Even more importantly, the traditional used car downside has been virtually eliminated. The average car’s durability and reliability has made the words “Why would I want to buy someone else’s problems?” only slightly more relevant as “Remember the Maine!”

Just as the country’s brand patterns have gone bi-polar (split between domestic and transplant), there’s an increasingly large and rigid divide between new and used car buyers. Again, the latter is gaining ground at the expense of the former. CNW reports that the percentage of car shoppers looking for one- to four-year-old models doubled; from 2003's 16 percent to this year's 32.4 percent. The coming economic downturn will only accelerate the trend.

There’s not much hope that these used car buyers will return to the new car market anytime soon. That’s bad news for carmakers already throttling back on production. But here’s the weird thing: local used car dealers are also suffering; the so-called “independents” sold 3m used cars in October, vs. 4.5m in September. 

Private sellers are also losing out. "A year ago, casual sales [a.k.a. private sellers] were responsible for 38 percent of used-retail sales,” Spinella reveals. “November, however, is tracking at barely 33.4 percent.” Spinella attributes the decline to cash-strapped owners looking to dealers for a quick and easy way out of their vehicle. Besides, there’s a new kid in town, ready to hoover-up any clean-looking used car it can find.

Franchised dealers are the big winners in all this. Perhaps it’s a case of “the lesser of three evils,” but used car customers are happier buying their pre-owned transportation from a nationally branded dealer than a corner car lot or a friend of a friend (who knows a guy). The recent and dramatic proliferation of manufacturers’ Certified Pre-Owned (CPO) programs reflects their snowballing success in the marketplace. Aside from Jeep Wrangler sales, Chrysler’s CPO program is one of the few profit engines for their entire business.

Clearly, manufacturers must quickly take account of the used car boom and re-examine their business plan. American carmakers (in particular) built their empires on a class-based theory of planned obsolescence. They depended on status-seeking new car customers buying an endless succession of bright shiny objects. These days, new cars compete with used cars as well as other new cars. Any manufacturer who doesn't promote pre-owned examples of its product line faces an enormous and growing competitive disadvantage. 

In that sense, the new used car reality also requires a new attitude. Carmakers must learn to view the used car buyer as one of their own, rather than "sloppy seconds." They must use direct, positive, relevant and ongoing consumer contact to keep used car buyers within the fold. Woe betides the carmaker who continues to view owners of used cars bearing their brand as second class citizens; the company that masters America’s used car buyers wins.

Stop the presses! GM has a hit! Well, at least a hit with the media. In fact, the mainstream automotive press loves the new Chevrolet Malibu so much they’re ready, willing and able to tell the world that this is it! The product-led turnaround that GM’s quintessential non-car guy, CEO Rick Wagoner, predicted seven years ago. Arriving as it does immediately after GM’s new two-tier labor contract with United Auto Workers, the new ‘Bu seems the literal embodiment of a corner turned. But is it? Is the new Chevy a harbinger of a new dawn for the beleaguered America automaker? 

The new Chevrolet Malibu is hardly Detroit’s first “world beater” since the transplants transplanted stateside. Some of these automobiles never deserved this appellation (e.g. the old GM J-cars)– and proved the point in the commercial marketplace. Others fully deserved the plaudits. Even as its market share erosion began in earnest, The Big 2.8 has produced some genuinely remarkable, class-leading cars. So, what happened to them?

Cast your mind back to the turn of the millennium. What was the “wonder car” from Detroit that year? That’s right: the new Ford Focus. It was Car of the Year on two continents. It was an American-built small car that Americans actually wanted. And yet here it is, just seven years later: a finalist for TTAC’s Automotive Hall of Shame; an awkward-looking car that’s so uncompetitive in its class that even FoMoCo considers it little more than “place holder” for a future replacement.

Recalls were the first sign that the best of the best wasn’t so good. While the Focus never approached Vega-levels of self-destruction and lacked the “massive single flaw” of the Pinto, the Focus was recalled 14 times (steering, structure, suspension, etc.) in 2000, and another 10 times the following year. However much they liked their hatchback, the recalls had a damping effect on actual and potential customers’ enthusiasm.

All those warranty claims sliced the Focus’ thin profit margins. Rather than significantly renew or refresh the car’s mechanical components to keep pace with (never mind outpace) its inexorably improving competition, Ford “de-contented” (i.e. cheapened) the [American] Focus and used low price to keep its competitive hopes alive. Marketing support simply disappeared, as FoMoCo moved onto the Next Big Thing. Ironically, a lack of focus transformed a Car of the Year into a TTAC Ten Worst finalist.

Ford is hardly the first automaker to fail to maintain new model momentum. Volkswagen’s entire history post (original) Beetle is the same story writ large. Chrysler also has a long, sad history of slowing but surely extricating defeat from the jaws of victory.  

It is hard to explain the Neon’s impact when it first hit the market in 1994. It was good looking, well-sized and American-made. The combination of the spiraling Yen and special bare-bones construction gave the Dodge Neon a solid price advantage. The ever-paranoid Japanese media even dubbed the Neon “the Japanese car killer.”

Flash forward 13 years and the Neon is toast, while the Corolla and Civic are still here, still selling in vast quantities.  

While the Neon had some early mechanical issues, they were not Focus bad. The Neon’s troubles arrived later, as the model aged. Thanks to beancounting, the car’s mechanicals weren’t built to last. The Neon morphed from “new car” to “heap” after just a few years. As a result, resale value dived low and stayed there. The difference in depreciation confirmed the fact that Toyota and Honda were selling their cars on “value” not “price."

Believe it or not, this came as something of a shock to Toyonda; their management had no idea of their own strength. The men who designed the Neon literally paved the transplants’ way to prosperity. As for the former “killer,” the Neon received only one half-hearted update. By the time it vanished, most of the kids who got stuck with one had no idea how revolutionary the car had once been.

What does this mean for our friend the Malibu?  First, it’s far too early to declare victory. The slow rollout brings hope that Malibu’s quality will be kept high. But no one will know what’s what until real volume hits the streets. Even then, it will take a couple of years to see if the ‘Bu’s bits are built to last— a key quality for success in this segment.

And after THAT, there remains the nagging suspicion that GM, a company with well over 100 models spread over eight brands, will repeat its history of neglect, aggressive corner cutting and itinerant marketing. 

For those of you who say of course GM’s learned its lesson, two questions. What has been done to fix the Saturn Aura’s less than stellar gearbox? And when was the last time you saw an ad for the car? Well exactly.   

Whenever General Motors announces a hot, sexy sports car that’s supposed to dethrone BMW, a little piece of me dies. That’s the part of me that grew-up watching Smoky and The Bandit (over and over), yearning for my very own Trans Am adorned with a giant, screaming chicken. Nowadays, it seems everyone in The General’s army is allowed to have a bona-fide sports car except, ironically, their sports division. That ain’t right.

Let’s face it: the last few decades haven’t been kind to Pontiac fans. We’ve suffered through a roll call of automotive abortions: the listless Pontiac Firefly, the dishonestly named Pontiac Trans Sport, the justifiably maligned Aztek and Pontiac designers’ obsession with ungodly plastic body kit (its poster child being the jello-mobile known as the Grand Am). And the hits keep not happening.

With the recent announcement of a turbo-charged Chevrolet Cobalt SS, and the possibility of the SS moniker being applied to Corvette ZR1 and HHR-wagon, all hope for a Pontiac revival is now dead-– at least for me. For those of us who are counting, General Motors has missed five opportunities to re-invigorate Pontiac in the last five years.

This torturous prolongation of Pontiac’s imminent death began with the Solstice concept. Oddly enough, GM actually decided to badge the roadster as a Pontiac, rather than, say, a Hummer or a Buick. Having experienced the recent products of The General’s car-birthing process on countless visits to Avis rent-a-car, I can only attribute this brilliant decision to blind luck. Regardless, I was elated that, perhaps, the General was finally getting serious about their erstwhile excitement division. 

The Solstice was so gorgeous it was hard to believe it shares its DNA with anything other than the Chevrolet Corvette. Unlike the Corvette, the Solstice was born a work in progress: crude chassis, irritating ragtop mechanism, scary handling, and a useless trunk. In fact, the Solstice was outclassed by the Mazda Miata in every important metric save power and looks. Not to belabor the point, but looks and power are perhaps the least important attributes of a small, cheap roadster. Further dilution occurred when the Solstice was given a saturnine cousin.

Next came news that GM was developing a car on the Nürburgring. Terrific, thought I, a big brother to the Solstice! Unfortunately, that car turned out to be the Cadillac CTS. I have no doubts that the Caddy is a terrific value (once incentives are factored in, obviously) blessed with genuine grunt and pistonhead poise. Still, the question remains and must be posed: “What the Hell is Cadillac doing testing a car on the Nürburgring?”

GM then decided to import the aesthetically bland Holden Monaro from Australia and perform am utterly lazy re-badging that harkened back to the days of the Chevrolet Chevette and Pontiac T1000/Acadian. American muscle cars should adhere to what I call the “Schwarzenegger Principle.” Arnie didn’t grow muscles and depilitate his delts with the intention of buttoning his shirt. In automotive terms, muscle cars should never pack ridiculous amounts of displacement while looking like a suppository. The GTO, unfortunately, looked right at home beside the Pontiac Grand Prix. In other words, it was dead on arrival.

And still I kept the faith– until GM announced it was developing a world-wide, world-class world-heavyweight-title rear-wheel drive platform. Finally! Visions of a modern GTO or Firebird danced in my head. Then, Rick Wagoner pulled the veil on the all new… Chevrolet Camaro.

If it had all ended there, with GM throwing up its hands and admitting “We suck at brand management,” the story’d be over. Instead, the General chose to tease us with a rebadged Aussie import. GM Car Czar Maximum Bob Lutz announced this possible, hyper-likely, in-development, BMW-destroying, Hyundai-undercutting, CAFE-endangered GTO for 2010.

Yeah, right. We may be oxymorons, but Pontiac cognoscenti have heard that tune before– and we know it always manages to end-up off-key. We shall see what we shall see. 

Meanwhile and anyway, my bridge too far arrived when GM tossed the lion’s share of its racing budget at Cadillac and Chevrolet. Though Chevrolet is historically entrenched in NASCAR and endurance racing, the introduction of a competitive Cadillac CTS made me hurl. The “standard of the world” does not belong on a race track any more than it belongs on the Green Hell. Imagine how ridiculous a Rolls Royce Phantom would look with a racing spoiler. Pontiac, with its storied past in Trans Am racing, should have campaigned its G8.

For now, the upcoming Cobalt Turbo SS is the non-Vette buying, GM-supporter’s only new “performance” car. The new ‘Balt is just another promising machine destined not to darken a Pontiac showroom. This time, I won’t be waiting. If Pontiac can be boiled down to a bad roadster, a re-badged Toyota, a re-badged Holden and re-badged Chevy SUV, it’s time to move on.

The Canadian dollar is back. After a thirty-year slump, the “loonie” is now staring eye-to-eye at the American greenback. The strong Canadian economy, the worldwide thirst for oil, and George Bush using The Fed as a money tree have all converged to push the Canadian dollar skyward. The meteoric rise of the dollar has given Canadians incredible arbitrage opportunities with American products; especially cars. The Canadian car industry ain’t pleased– and for good reason.

In 2006, Canadians imported 112k new and used vehicles from their neighbors to the south. That stat represents over 50 percent growth in US imports over the last two years. The crux of the problem: many retail prices in Canada are based on an exchange rate more appropriate for the Clinton era. To wit: Buying a Nissan 350Z Coupé in the United States will cost you $29,000. A similarly optioned car in Canada will cost – wait for this – $51,000.

Now, converting the US price of $29k at a rate of about 1.06 yields $30,740. Throw in $2k for shipping (you can drive it up yourself on a temp plate), $1800 in import duties (which you don’t pay on any vehicle assembled in the NAFTA zone), $5,200 in taxes (assuming Quebec and Ontario’s rates) and you’ve pocketed a cool CA$13k by buying your new Z stateside.

The downside, of course, is that Nissan, like most manufacturers, doesn’t honor warranties in any country other than the country of purchase. One notable exception (of course): Toyota. The Japanese automaker honors warranties all across North America. It’s good for the whole family, too: Lexus, Scion, Toyota and the newest addition, Subaru, are all included. Still, if you’re not expecting 13 grand’s worth of warranty repairs on a reliable car like the 350Z, the deal is hotter than a dancing bobcat with its ass on fire.

The other problem is red tape. In order to get a US-spec vehicle on the road in Canada, it must first be admissible for import. The government has printed a list of such vehicles on http://www.riv.ca. Conspicuous by their inadmissibility are the Pontiac GTO and the Mistubishi Lancer Evolution IX, which have failed Canadian bumper and emissions tests. Export papers need to be filed at U.S. customs, and import papers at Canadian customs, including a manufacturer’s letter stating that no outstanding recalls apply to the vehicle in question.

Once imported, a vehicle has to be converted to display kilometer-based readings, and have daytime running lights installed. Finally, the vehicle must be inspected and (possibly) emissions tested before it can be registered in a province of Canada. Other annoyances may apply. For example, if the vehicle comes from a state with lax tint and modification laws, you might end up needing to make cosmetic adjustments as well.

The fact that new cars start so much lower on the MRSP ladder in the U.S. also has ramifications in the used market. A 2005 Honda Accord EX-L with 14k miles will fetch about US$18k stateside. The same car will cost $23,400 in Canada. Converting 18-grand to Canadian and applying taxes will give us a car that costs $21,050. The best part? Since the Accord is assembled in Ohio, it’s a NAFTA car! On savings of $2,350, the day trip to upstate New York pays for itself. Even greater savings can be had on big-time depreciators like the Cadillac CTS-V or the Porsche 911 Turbo.

I picked the 350Z scenario because it’s a more extreme example of manufacturers being too greedily lethargic to adjust their Canadian pricing. Driving.ca recently quoted an average difference to be about $5,800 across international lines in one of its articles. The difference is still important enough to encourage a steady, increasingly large parade of vehicles across the border.

The government of Canada is hemming and hawing about ways to protect Canadian dealers while in some ways paying lip service to NAFTA. For their part,  manufacturers are now threatening U.S. dealers with a loss of franchise if they continue selling to Canadians. Meanwhile, the market is busy reacting predictably. For those too lazy to go through all the hoops, vast arrays of brokers and importers have put out a shingle and are waiting for your business.

Eventually, something will break. Either the manufacturers will adjust Canadian pricing, outright ban the sale of cars in the United States to non-residents or the Canadian government will impose an automotive tariff.

The medium-term outlook for the U.S. dollar is particularly bearish. Therefore, there is no reason to expect an abatement of any kind in Canadian imports. It’s a strange role reversal for many Americans, to think their country has become Canada’s automotive outlet mall. Quite soon, Canadians will be making fun of that “funny, two-tone money,” too.

GM’s decline began fifty years ago, when the domestic automaker failed to repel import sales with competitive products. GM’s rear-engined air-cooled Corvair provided the template: technically advanced, but too expensive to provide profit. A string of over-ambitious and ultimately doomed imports fighters followed: aluminum-engined Vega, the Wankel, X-Body FWD, Olds Diesel V8, Cadillac V8-6-4 and EV-1. Now, when it can least afford a costly mistake, GM is launching a blitz of four different hybrid systems in a desperate attempt to counter Toyota’s successful Hybrid Synergy Drive (HSD). Is GM’s Volt the Corvair reincarnated?

Toyota’s ascendancy has been well documented: the tortoise approach to continuously improved products, processes and technologies. The Prius was born in the early nineties when oil was $15 a barrel. Initially subsidized by Toyota, the Prius is now a profitable product. And Toyota continues to relentlessly wring-out the costs of HSD; the Japanese automaker expects its hybrids to have the same (high) profit margins as its conventional cars by 2010.

Instead of figuring out how to make its (conventional) small cars profitably, GM has opened the floodgates to hybrid development. In fall ’06, Saturn introduced the belt-assist (BAS) or “mild hybrid” Saturn Vue. While GM’s BAS system allowed the domestic automaker to crow that it was, finally, in the hybrid business, sales are… unknown. [GM is the only automaker that doesn’t to break out hybrid sales numbers.]  

The two-mode hybrid system set to be introduced on the Chevrolet Tahoe and GMC Yukon is classic GM: a technically ambitious product that costs too much money. GM has publicly stated that the two-mode costs the company $10k. Try amortizing that with three dollar gas; it just doesn’t pan out. No surprise that development partners Daimler and BMW are quietly walking away from the two-mode in favor of their own cheaper partial-hybrid systems. Even using six bucks a gallon gas, Europeans can’t justify the extra investment.

GM will sell a few thousand hybrid Tahoes and Suburbans to politicians, celebrities and the like, so they can ride in their behemoths “guilt free.” Meanwhile, GM is rushing their new light-truck diesel to market. The oil burner’s a better and cheaper choice for the real world conditions in which pickups and SUV’s operate (highway mileage improvement of the hybrid Tahoe is all of 2 mpg). And just who’s going to buy a Chevrolet Malibu with a $10k two-mode hybrid system?

Now, “plug-in hybrids” have replaced the fuel cell as the eco-darling concept du jour. GM has no fewer than two such systems in development. A plug-in version of the Vue could well end up costing $45k ($6 to $10k on top of the $10k cost of the two-mode system).

And then there’s the Volt. According to GM’s Bob Lutz, “Five years from now there will be one technology leader in the world, and it will be GM.” That boast has a familiar ring to it. And even if it turns out to be true, it will be a hollow (i.e. unprofitable) victory.

GM is sending its series-hybrid Volt to a showdown at the ECO corral against the parallel-hybrid Prius. With its projected 40 miles plug-in range and on-board generator, the Volt sounds impressive. But the Gen3 Prius due out in 2010 (like the Volt?), may well equal and even eclipse the Volt’s efficiency.

The Volt’s weakness– intrinsic drive train inefficiencies– show up as soon as its battery range is exhausted. While GM projects 50mpg during “charge sustaining operation” operation, that’s a misleading claim. The batteries will need to be charged by the generator– as well as keeping the car moving. Like all electric vehicles, the Volt will do best in shorter-range city driving.

The Prius’ HSD drive feeds the output of its gas engine directly to the wheels at higher speeds. It’s an intrinsically more efficient solution than using a generator to send power to an electric motor via the batteries. And Gen3 Prius will easily meet or exceed the Volt’s 50mpg continuous-use projection; Toyota projects a 15 to 20 percent improvement over the Prius’ current 46mpg EPA rating. Gen3 Prius will also have expanded electric-only range, as well as an optional plug-in range extender, approaching the Volt’s electric-only range.

GM will milk all the publicity it can get from the Volt. Hard-core eco-poseurs will buy in. After spending a billion dollars developing the Volt, they’re looking to sell some 60k annually at $30k apiece.  GM is anxious about that price, and is already floating the idea of renting the battery pack separately from the car (negating any actual savings from plug-in electric energy) to try to blunt the impact (“We’ll sell you a Volt for $20k, battery not included”).  

Meanwhile, Toyota will be selling 150k similarly-efficient Prii for a mere $20k, and making a tidy profit doing so. 

I recently found myself in London working on a large project for an even larger corporation. I took particular interest in the Ford models plying British roads. In contrast to America’s Blue Oval offerings, these Euro-Fords looked clean, modern and, above all, right-sized. And then, bombing around London in a Ford Mondeo estate (station wagon), the chariot’s gentle diesel clatter brought sudden clarity. If Ford hopes to preserve America’s mildewed Mercury brand, Euro-Fords are the way to go.

Well, maybe not THAT Ford. My last gen Mondeo hire car made an avocado-hued dinette look modern. That said, the little estate’s lack of style was no match for its undeniable substance. Respect to interior materials that wouldn’t seem out of place in a “proper” VW and the Duratorq’s prodigious oil-burning grunt. And despite CUV-levels of space, the Mondeo’s suspension means you’ll never utter the phrase “car-like handling” again.

But wait, there’s more! Gazing over London’s M4 gridlock brought mass awareness of the Blue Oval kind. The Ford Galaxy MPV, the spawn of a Honda Odyssey and a personal trainer, is everywhere. You can’t sneeze without hitting a Ford Transit, the workhorse of an entire nation. And then there’s the big shock: the Euro-spec Focus is even better than Google tells you. 

To reiterate: the Focus is not just easy on the eyes; it brings tears to them. And that’s just the base model. The Focus ST makes any red-blooded Yank lust for this Englishman in New York. And everyone from urban youth to the middle-aged stealth wealth-set are spotted (or not) in a Focus.

And yet, America gets no love. This despite [what I sense to be] pent-up demand for something (anything?) from The Blue Oval Boyz with unique style, innovative engineering, fuel-efficient dimensions and sporting dynamics. So bring this Euro-stuff over, rebadge it Mercury, get Jill Wagner to wear something suitably slinky and growl at the new car and call it good. No, call it great.

In theory, Saturnalian Euro-transplantation is a slam dunk for a Ford brand without any discernible identity– or future. In practice, there are plenty of excellent reasons why it hasn’t happened. 

For one thing, the weak US dollar makes a mockery of any Ford exec stupid (brave?) enough to suggest UK to US Ford exports. A UK buyer can pick-up a new Ford Mondeo “Edge” with a 2.0-liter engine for around ₤16k. At today’s exchange rate, that’s $32,253.18. Add on another $5k or so for federalization and transportation, and you’re looking at a US sticker price that’s nearasdammit $40k.

A US buyer can pick-up a loaded BMW 325i for the same wedge. By the same token, you’d have a very hard time indeed spending that much money on a Lincoln MKZ. I mean, the Mondeo may be a better car than a tarted-up Ford Fusion, but inserting it into Mercury’s lineup at that price point would play merry Hell with what remains of Ford’s brand delineations.

Anyway, the United Auto Workers (UAW) would never let it happen. A financial agreement this side of Bretton Woods would be required to keep the UAW’s finger off the supply chain’s big red button. Fresh from their GM strike, methinks union leaders aren't about to turn to Ford CEO Alan Mulally and say “Bring in some European Fords for Mercury? Sure! Whatever it takes Al, whatever it takes.”

Even if Ford could surmount these hurdles, history tells us that any such technology transfer is doomed to failure. Witness the hot/cold reaction to the Cougar hatchback-transplant and its Mercury Mistake Mystique cousin. Or the sunk-without-a-trace new-wave Merkurs. While pistonheads like your author may love clean-looking, tight-handling European Fords, there’s no guarantee anyone else will.

So, basically, the law of supply and demand says it ain’t gonna happen. But the spirit of the law says that Ford can, should and will capitalize on its excellence abroad to revive its moribund market at home. And despite all the critics who’ve written-off Mercury, it’s not impossible to surmise that the brand could benefit from Alan Mulally’s ongoing realization that product excellence doesn’t live here anymore. 

Ford’s sale of Jaguar will free Lincoln to reach higher [than rebadging Fords]. This opens a big space between everyman Ford and upscale Lincoln. In fact, it’s Mercury’s old stomping ground: affordable style. What’s to stop Mercury from capitalizing on Ford’s Euro-style and Euro-excellence by building “world” cars in, dare I say it, Mexico with, dare I say it, grace and pace?

The hypothetical Euro-Mercury brand could have the best of everything: a highly-rated dealer network (that’s Lincoln-Mercury), products that go toe-to-toe with anything in their class and a brand name (formerly) known for selling upscale iron that most anyone can afford. Get it done and it won’t be long before Jill Wagner is the most forgettable part of Mercury.

Cadillac is something of a comeback kid. The first time the brand was on the ropes, its divisional president interrupted a GM board meeting with a winning proposal: sell Caddies to America’s burgeoning black population. In the ‘90’s, America’s African-American community once again rescued the struggling brand; their passion for a rebadged Yukon infused the ailing automaker with fresh marketing momentum and a pile of cash. Now that the Escalade’s a bomb instead of da bomb, and Caddy’s passenger cars can’t cut the transplanted and/or imported mustard, Cadillac has a new plan. I call it The Beginning of the End. 

Of course that’s not strictly true. Caddy’s been on a downward slope since the aforementioned Depression-era board meeting. While catering to America’s neglected African-American population saved Cadillac from oblivion, it moved the marque drastically down market. Caddy used the same “get out of jail by cheapening the product” card in the ‘70’s. And here we go again, with a new, even lower-priced Caddy. But first, the good news: Cadillac’s killing the DTS.

The DTS is a fat, ugly, front-wheel-drive pile of crap. The model only appeals to people old enough to remember when Cadillac was the Cadillac of cars– and never drove an imported automobile. The DTS is not nearly as good as the cheaper CTS, which is now a lot better than before and almost as large as the DTS. Although GM's erstwhile luxury division [somehow] sold 33,386 DTS year-to-date, and they only cost GM $1.99 a pop, the DTS was always destined to follow its owners into the grave. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And now the bad news: Cadillac is also dumping the STS. On one hand, yes, of course. STS sales have been playing a game of “how low can you go” since ever (13,156 sales year-to-date). Robert Farago’s review of the model left little doubt that the current STS lacks that certain… anything to make it a suitable alternative to a European or Japanese luxobarge. But that doesn't mean GM should spike the STS and walk. It means they should make the right-sized (i.e. big) STS better.

They could start by upgrading the powertrain. The STS’ V6 stumps-up 302 horsepower, which helps it keeps up with the Lexi of this world– and nothing more. Caddy should make the optional 320 horsepower Northstar V8 standard. Power junkies could still opt for the STS-V's 469 horsepower supercharged Northstar engine. What about mileage? What about it? If a Caddy doesn’t have enough torque to luxuriate down the road, it might as well be/is a gussied-up Buick (i.e. a DTS).

More to the point, a Cadillac should make drivers and passengers feel like millionaires sipping Moet at the Ritz. The STS makes its passengers feel like alcoholics sharing a nip bottle of generic whiskey in a Holiday Inn Express. If Cadillac’s CTS can get a superb interior upgrade, why not the STS? Even without some seriously sharp sheetmetal changes– or better yet with some better creases– a truly sumptuous STS would make the model a viable choice for those who value style above all.

Instead, GM’s decided to build a new $40k to $50k DTS/STS replacement. While engineers and marketers love a clean sheet and a fresh start, the costs of engineering a brand new STS equivalent would be FAR better spent upgrading the STS. The STS doesn’t need class-leading fuel economy or Nürburgring-fettled handling or 500hp (although…). It needs one thing sur tout: pizzazz.  

While it might sound like I’m suggesting Caddy craft some spizzarkle on the cheap, I’m not. Above all, a Caddy must offer high class spizzarkle. And that’s why the decision to offer an “entry level” Caddy (below the CTS) will kill the brand faster than chugging Clorox. Even if the new pocket Caddy is a peach, even if it matches the German and Japanese low-end models, it’s an unconscionable miscalculation. Do Caddy’s keepers really fail to understand that “small” is to Cadillac what “slow” is to Porsche? Have they forgotten the multi-decade mess initiated by the execrable Cimarron? 

I don’t even want to talk about the forthcoming, hecho-en-Mexico Cadillac CUV. More than any other new model, the wannabe X3 shows that Caddy follows (not leads) competitors into market segments– regardless of the impact on the brand’s image or profits.

Despite the hoopla, the European-styled and tuned CTS was not the most successful Cadillac model in recent times. It was the Escalade SUV. But of course it was. The ‘Sclade is immense and intimidating. It’s expensive ($55k just to get in the door). It’s dripping in chrome. It has a pronounceable name and a gargantuan engine with prodigious thrust that says “Rich people don’t care about the price of gas.” Despite its shortcomings, the Escalade is the only “real” Cadillac left. And I reckon it'll be the last.

About 20 years ago, my wife and I visited Japan on behalf of a travel magazine. We explored the area around rural Kyushu, Japan’s Polish joke. Back then, Japanese travel was still a little adventuresome. And it was hard to scope out Japanese customs in these hinterlands. After a couple of mornings at Japanese inns, we realized that we were the only guests who didn’t breakfast in our bathrobes (kimonos). The next day we came down naked as Britney under our bathrobes. For reasons I never discerned, everybody else was dressed in suits. Lamborghini must have felt the same way at the Frankfurt Auto Show. 

You may have noticed that Germany’s international exposition of automotive excellence is now greener than Kermit the Frog. Mercedes is showing a 1.8-liter four in a luxocar. There’s electricity in the air waiting for a new generation of plug-ins. The Japanese have every form of hybrid imaginable. Even Porsche, while girding itself for a fight against new, more stringent EU CO2 legislation, is hyping hybrid Cayennes. And Lamborghini shows up with a nine-mpg supercar.

The Reventón is a 12-cylinder, 650-hp supercar named after a bull famous for goring Felix Guzman to death. (I could have sworn I’ve seen Guzman in The Sopranos, but the “real” Reventón shanked Guzman in 1943.) Worse, Lamborghini has the stones to price the Reventón at a cool one million euros (that’s $1.4m to you and me). I mean, what was the marketing meeting like?

“So what should we charge for this pig?  After all, it may be the world’s last stupidcar…”

“How about billion euros?”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, a billion.”

“Did you hear the one about the guy who told George Bush that 185 Brazilians died in a plane crash? Bush says, ‘Remind me again, how many is a brazilian?’”

“Okay, very funny, but a billion is a little high. How about we make it a million?"

“Done.”

Appealing straight to the collector market, Lamborghini announced that it will only make 20 Reventóns– which makes the German-owned Italian model the stupid-rich version of the Indy pace-car limited edition of a Malibu.  

An hour and a half ago, $450k was the price of admission to the ultra-exclusive 200mph+ supercar club (e.g. Porsche Carrera GT, Mercedes McLaren). The equally German-owned Bugatti Veyron changed that in a hurry. At least Audi’s other supercar has as many turbochargers as it has wheels, boasts the production car world’s only four-digit horsepower number and you have to change into your land-speed-record tires every time you want to show off (and clean underwear afterward). 

The Reventón has less horsepower than a Saleen and acceleration and top speed identical to a Murcielago LP640. Which reminds me: all you suckers who bought a Murcielago at full whack– who probably paid $600 for your iPhone– are now driving the car Lamborghini refers to as “the base model.” The good news (for someone) is that the new Reventón costs four times as much as Lambo’s base model (or 3500 times as much as an iPhone).

And you get a G-meter. “The G-Force-Meter is completely new,” trumpets Lamborghini’s press material, sounding a bit like the Soviets’ claim to have invented the telephone. “This display shows the dynamic drive forces, longitudinal acceleration during acceleration and braking as well as transversal acceleration around bends…. A similar instrument can be found in airplanes.”

Well, yes, but it didn’t costs me a million euros to install one in my aerobatic Falco; more like a couple hun.

Everything about the Reventón is, like the accelerometer, described in the greatest possible number of words, as though each one is worth 50,000 euros. “The instrument on the left of the speedometer associates the number of revolutions in the form of a luminous column with a display of the selected gear.” The designers’ “love for detail is beautifully illustrated by the fuel tank lid [Italian for gas cap]: a small mechanical work of art, achieved by milling a solid aluminum block.” Incredible! The miracle of milling!

“Another technical innovation is found in the rear light LEDs. Because of high temperature in the rear low part of the car, special heatproof LEDs are used for the indicator and hazard lights, stoplights and rear lights with a triple arrow optical effect.” Isn’t it amazing what a million euros will buy you? High-quality LEDs (there’s $150 right there) plus UPS-truck turn signals. I love this stuff.

What you’re really getting for your brazillion euros: an IP utilizing TFT-display tech “just like in modern airplanes (and some high-end laptops).” So here we [may] have 20 people dumb enough to pay $1.4m for a Lambo, driving around staring at their in-living-color instrument clusters. Or not. After all, who would actually drive one of these things? You could end up like Felix Guzman. 

Ladies' Home Journal, Parenting, Better Homes & Gardens, In Style, Cookie Magazine, Cooking Light, Domino, Health, Home, Nick Jr. Magazine, Pregnancy, Self, Working Mother and Babytalk. In case you were thinking Mr. Karesh's review of the new all-new Dodge Caravan indicated that Chrysler is targeting its Man-Van at a male demographic, those are the mags that will feature ads for the people mover. And yet, this Sunday, right in the heart of NFL TV time, The Dodge Boys are running ads showing Man-Van family bonding (with Dad at the helm) to entice "young families" into their Caravan of love. Is Dodge having problems with its sexuality? Perhaps. Remember the brouhaha about the Dodge Caliber, the fairy and the [alleged] fairy? Another clue: at the same time it's rolling out it's Man-Van, Dodge is introducing their new tagline. They're trading "Grab Your Package And Drive a Muy Macho Dodge You Horny Bastard" (or something like that) to the deeply androgynous "Grab Life." Yes, and then what?

Bad branding was one of the prominent themes of TTAC’s 2006 Ten Worst Automobiles Today (TWAT) awards. No fewer than four vehicles on the list were derided for their corrosive effect on their brand. Ahead of our ’07 rundown (so to speak), RF has thrown a spear at Lexus’ decision to launch a performance-oriented F-Series sub-brand. The publisher claims a hot shit Lexus derivative is bad branding on wheels. So will a Lexus’ F-Series eventually find a place in TTAC’s Hall of Shame, or is it simply a case of line extension done right? 

Some thinkers claim that brand identification is a survival instinct. “Don’t eat the yellow frogs-– you’ll die” has become “Drive a Trabant and you won’t make it to work and your family will starve to death.” In that sense, branding is a learned response that’s passed down through the generations. “Like my pa and his pa before him, I am a Chevy man. Son, urinate on that Tundra.” Taking it a step further, branding can help an individual pass on his or her genes. “Yeah, but he drives a Super Bee!”  

Ultimately, branding is so strong because humans need it. The human body, especially the brain, tends toward efficiency. It’s much more efficient to remember a single brand icon– which represents impressions of quality, value and prestige– than keeping track of the thousands of variables that constitute a car. Some might call this intellectual laziness. I disagree. Analyzing every jot of information from the world around us is immobilizing. Utilizing well-developed brand constructs is a frequently reliable shortcut that allows us to think and act quickly.

People get grouchy when companies mess with well-established brand constructs because it disrupts the efficiency of our thinking. We rebel when Ford produces a pickup under the Lincoln moniker because it screws with our notion that Lincoln should make big cushy luxury cars.  Brand confusion results when a product is marketed that’s so different from our on-board expectations that it defies logical accommodation. The abominable LT forces us to rethink our inner definition of what “Lincoln” means.

If car buying were coldly logical, everyone would be driving the equivalent of a fleet car. Halo cars work because they strengthen emotional bonds that people develop for vibrant brands. People tend to cheer for the success of brands they love the same way they root for their favorite sports team. They feel vindicated when their team wins and are disgusted when they lose.

Is a “Chevy guy” more likely to buy a Monte Carlo just because Chevy makes the Corvette? Absolutely!  Okay, not the Monte Carlo. But they are more likely to stay within the Chevy family if they can’t afford the Vette because they are more likely to believe that the same engineering goodness that goes into the 505hp LS7 engine somehow blessed the lump of iron under their own car’s hood.

But Lexus is a brand without automotive quintessence. It lacks history. Its styling cues hail from images associated with other automaker’s cars.  An open cockpit wood-spoked Lexus never raced over grassy lanes through the English countryside.  JFK never rode in the back of a Lexus. No revered designers named Enzo or Ferry ever worked for Lexus creating disruptive technology innovations that fundamentally redefined what a car is.

Lexus’ place in the mind of buyers is dependent on its archetype: Mercedes. Lexus is the sensible alternative to German luxury cars for one-third less money, with Toyota reliability. By itself, Lexus doesn’t exist in terms of definitive automotive performance or ride characteristics. So the company can safely extend its line following successful Teutonic templates– as long as it adheres to price point and reliability expectations.

By producing sportier cars, Toyota’s premium brand isn’t experimenting with a F-atal F-oray downmarket. The highway is littered with the bones of companies that made this mistake (Cadillac, Jaguar and even Mercedes). Neither is the circle-L making a play up market into exotic car pricing. Volkswagen illustrated the F-olly of that thinking. While I have not seen pricing on the F-Series, I expect is will be a F-raction of AMG; somewhere safely in the realm of one-half to two-thirds of the price of Stuttgart’s monster-engined luxobarges.

The first generation Lexus SC touring coupe has served as a performance-oriented placeholder in my mind for what kind of car the Lexus brand represents. There is no danger or dishonor in upping the performance level on this or any other Lexus-branded machine, provided it maintains the core values that brought Lexus the success it so richly deserves.

An F-optioned Lexus will be just that: an option. It will not confuse or distract or disappoint the brand’s “core” followers if only because they won’t buy it. In short, the exceptional Supra failed as a Toyota. I welcome its reincarnation as a Lexus.

Carmakers spend millions of dollars on producing concept cars for the Frankfurt Auto Show et. al. But what is a concept car? Is it something a car company is going to do, wants to do, or might one day do? Yes. There are three main categories: teasers (cars that will eventually hit the market in castrated form), styling exercises (masturbatory, image-building efforts that showcase a carmaker's abilities) and science fiction (the shape of things not to come). Needless to say, teasers first.

Ford's Verve may be a tease, but it sure left me feeling satisfied. The model’s lean proportions and aggressive stance are four-wheeled foreplay, while the detailing shows a masterful grasp of sex appeal. Check out those flush aluminum window frames and the interior lighting straight from a high-class mobile phone. I’m sure we’ll see elements of the Verve on the forthcoming Fiesta and Ka, hopefully without birthing a bastard. Cigarette?

Speaking of teases, it seem like the “new” Chevy Camaro has been playing peek-a-boo since John F. Kennedy told Berliners he was a jelly donut. Although the convertible version shown in Frankfurt is fresh, there’s a fine line between a permanent tease and a damn bore. Transformer? I’m done with her. In contrast, Honda's Accord Tourer Concept is practically a done deal, set for introduction in 2008. It is a super-clean design that wanders over the aesthetic border into sterility– not unlike generic-Japanese cars of the 1990s.

BMW thinks its ready-for-’08 X6 is a "completely new kind of car." Ja, it’s part sports car, part SUV. The official description sounds like the beginning a bad joke, but people who don't know what kind of car they want (except that they want a BMW) will take it seriously enough to keep the factory humming. Unlike the majority of this century’s Bangled Bimmers, the X6 isn’t ugly. But I couldn’t find anything particularly likeable in this escapee from Dr. Moreau's island.

Mitsubishi’s Concept-cX showcar may be equally conflicted, but the execution is pretty darn good for an undead company. The cX has Scion’s typography and lots of Mitsubishi styling cues, such as the Lancer's shark's mouth. It’s also slathered in “Green Plastic;” a polymer made from bamboo stolen from hungry pandas. Anyway, the cX certainly improves on the Suzuki SX-4 which inspired it.

VW salesmen pining for the word “Up!” get their own car. Its slab sides and unimaginative design evoke the spirit [sic] of the existing Polo. It reminds me of Ulla in "The Producers,” who likes to "tidyy oop!" apartments (if only because I’m easily distracted). Sadly, the Up! is no four-wheeled Uma Thurman. With its rear-engine design, it probably won't drive as well, either.

The contrast to Toyota's iQ Concept couldn't be larger (smaller?). Toyota’s iQ is about the size of a Smart (go figure), looks more modern, seats three adults and one sprog (or four Oompa-Loompas) and shares crucial design clues with the Auris and Yaris.   

Fellow columnist Jay Shoemaker is right: the Mercedes F-700 is a hit (and no, it doesn't use hydrogen fuel cell technology). Whether or not the DiesOtto engine (1.8-liter, 258hp) ever comes to fruition, the next, or next-to-next S-Class Mercedes, looks stunning. There's some HR Giger evilness to it, which is a good idea for a plutocrat's car. Inside, there’s none of the present S-class' grandfatherly design clues.

The detailing of the cross-town rival BMW’s CS concept is difficult in parts. Do we really want scalloped arches above the rear wheels? It does look appropriately long and swoopy though. If the replacement for the current 7-Series looks likes this, then we won't bitch (as much).

Another pleasantly evil design for 2012: the Nissan Mixim. It dark, geometric style is all about the Vader. Which is exactly the way a small car should look: easy on the Chihuahua, heavy on the Death Star. The Mixim boasts three-abreast seating, a wraparound video screen and lots of origami detailing.

The Koreans are on a [pletzel] roll, and they have the concepts to prove it. The Kia Kee [first image] copies some elements of the Audi Awwwww– I mean, R8. But it’s a good idea of a sports car for 2010. And the Hyundai iBlue is a good (if blurry) vision of a one-box people-carrier of the future: large yet approachable.

Yes, the future is one-box– at least that’s what science fiction movies have been saying for the past 15 years. And thus, GM/Opel's Flextreme (take THAT Ford Flex and Mr. Funkmaster) provides the usual Sci-Fi elements: opposite-opening doors, low sills, flexible seating. We've seen it all before, but it looks pretty good when executed this well. One question, though: will all cars in the future have Segways coming out of their butts?

If you’re a gearhead monitoring the international media, you’d be forgiven for thinking the Frankfurt Auto Show was run by and for Friends of the Earth. Low-emission Mercedes! Low-consumption VWs! Hydrogen Kias! Ethanol Saabs! Non-existent plug-in hybrids! A casual visitor to this event might wonder if he’d gone to the wrong show. Why is it that all the interesting new cars premiering in Frankfurt are non-green? Why do people crowd around sexy new cars such as the 1-Series BMW, while nobody (save the press) gather ‘round the various not-quite-developed Mueslimobiles? 

Frankfurt’s eco-mania a sign of the times I suppose, when it’s not enough to do well; you have to be seen to be doing good. Well good for them. As for me and my fellow pistonheads, we’re more interested in the more exciting not-so-very-PC fare: sexy new sheetmetal concepts and machines ready to leave donut marks on any road paved with good intentions.

Let's start with the car that thousands of North Americans Bimmer fans are lusting for: the BMW 1-Series Coupe. I had to touch base with my inner pedant to think of any niggles… Since when is the two-door sedan version of a hatchback called a Coupe? Why does a small sports car have to have electric seats, electric sunroof, electric everything? Surely there’s a better play: make it all manual and charge the snot out of Bimmer’s long-suffering optionistas. Otherwise, the 1 could be The One: Neo– I mean, Bangle’s best.

The new Audi A4 is another sure-fire hit. Ingolstadt’s once entry-level model oozes sophistication in an entirely A5 kinda way. The exterior has grown more elegant and substantial. The car's new architecture, with the engine moved back for better handling and a shorter snout, promises a better drive. If it works as well as it looks, then I predict a runaway success.

Audi interiors still set the bar. Anyone coveting a Cadillac CTS’ cabin should have seen the envious looks non-Audi executives were giving the cabin as they stood in line to sit inside.

I can't predict such success for the new Jaguar XF. Sure, it looks OK. As a relative to the new, long and wide Ford Mondeo, it has a nice stance. But is it special enough to put Jaguar back on its pedestal? If it drives better than  the competition, then we will say congrats to Jag, and good riddance to retro styling. Otherwise, thumbs down.

Speaking of Mondeo-related, I liked the new Mazda6. The design is suffused with Lexus-like elements, but it’s so anonymous that it’s almost invisible. (Did I say “but?” Perhaps I should have said “and.”) Nobody really seemed to care about the poor thing. There it sat. Unappreciated. Unloved. Under-admired. Ready to kick ass in the marketplace.

The new Cadillac BLS Station Wagon would probably be happy to be anonymous. Does anybody have the foggiest idea of what GM is thinking with this thing? I'll be ****** if I do, but let’s speculate.

First stage: uh, let's do a small Cadillac and sell it in Europe– no harm in that, right? If that doesn’t work, we can also not sell it in Mexico and South Africa. Second stage: Nobody is buying the BaconLettuceSalami, so let's slip a FIAT diesel up front. Chapter three: the BuLlShit is still a flop, so let's try a station wagon. Jeez, what's next, a BLSamino pickup truck just for our friends at Jalopnik? This is a car that nobody asked for, or ever will.

Moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, I was curious to check out the new Fiat 500. They’re advertising it with the slogan "You Are, We Car.” No; it’s not one of those bi-lingual in-flight magazine translations. It’s supposed to be enigmatically cute. I wanted to feed– I mean like the 500, but the We Car’s inside is cramped and gimmicky and the whole thing is not even as nouveau retro as the old New Beetle.

And that is about it. Yes there is a Mini Clubman, which is about as exciting as a mini club sandwich. And Mercedes served-up a C-Class Station Wagon, which has enough carrying capacity to transport a decade’s worth of C-Class Station Wagon brochures. VW’s got a mini-SUV for those who STILL don’t get it, and a pleasant Skoda station wagon for those who do.

Next up: concept cars. Guess how many are green themed?

For the last few years, the American public has embraced Toyota's products as clean, durable and efficient. Exhibit A: the demure Camry, which has maintained its position as America’s favorite automobile. Exhibit also A: the Hybrid Synergy Driven Prius; the poster child for environmentally and foreign policy-conscious consumers. No surprise, then, that Toyota's been held up as America's responsible automaker, the one who doesn't bitch and moan about federal regulations, but just puts its head down and does the right thing. And makes money doing it! And then Toyota released the new Tundra.

The new Tundra is big and brash, with tremendous attention to detail and an [available] stonking great V8 engine. In the first quarter of 2007, Toyota spent over $100m telling Americans that the transplanted Japanese automakers had built a proper, full-sized, all-American truck– deep in the heart of Texas (no less). What they didn’t mention: the most popular version gets a combined EPA average of 15 miles to the gallon.

Perhaps that’s because, at the same time, ToMoCo ran a national TV campaign advertising the fact that its Hybrid Synergy Drive is now available in the Camry. Talk about cognitive dissonance. And when you're done, consider Toyota’s dirty [not so] little secrets: the FJ Cruiser, Sequoia and Land Cruiser. 

According to the EPA, the 4WD FJ Cruiser gets 17 mpg city and 21 mpg on the highway. While GM gets slated for building big thirsty trucks, the FJ's city mileage is only slightly better than Chevrolet’s entry into the “compact” SUV segment, the Trailblazer. Ye Olde Trailblazer gets 15 mpg city in 4WD trim, and it ties the FJ for highway efficiency.

The current Toyota Sequoia is another big ass gas-guzzler. The mondo-sized SUV travels just 15 miles per gallon of gas in the city, and squeezes out a mere 18 mpg on the interstate (4WD Limited). Sequoia’s older, full-size brother, the Land Cruiser, gets a shocking 13 city, 17 highway mpg (4WD). Compare this to the GMC Yukon 4WD, which has a bigger engine, tows more, weighs more and still manages 15 mpg city/21 mpg highway. 

In 2008, both the Sequoia and Land Cruiser will be replaced with bigger, better behemoths, powered by Toyota’s new 5.7 liter V8. (The new Sequoia is built on the Tundra platform.)  The size of the new Sequoia and Land Cruiser and the mileage of its mighty mill have some execs within ToMoCo shaking their heads.

Don Esmond, Senior VP of Automotive Operations at Toyota Motor Sales USA said, “I worry about the Sequoia being too big and not having enough fuel economy more than I do the Tundra… there are a lot of choices besides an SUV for hauling your kids to soccer practice." 

Releasing two new bigger full-sized SUVs into a declining market, into a world of three dollars a gallon gas, is a serious miscalculation on Toyota’s part. Granted, the profit on one Land Cruiser is probably greater than the margin on five Prii, but how many Land Cruisers can Toyota sell, and at what cost? 

How many potential Prius buyers will be turned off by Toyota ads pushing the new Sequoia and Land Cruiser? While the Prius currently owns the hybrid mindspace, Honda, GM, Ford, etc. are not standing around waiting for people to find their new, improved gas – electric models. In fact, Honda’s recent TV ads, touting their status as makers of “America’s most fuel efficient fleet of cars,” were specifically (and effectively) designed to steal the moral high ground from Toyota.

While you could argue that Toyota allowed itself to be painted as a friend of the Earth, rather than actively campaigning for eco-sainthood, the ultimate effect could also backfire in the SUV category. How many SUV owners are going to trade in their Suburbans for full-sized SUVs made by the green company that makes Suburban owners feel guilty for owning a Suburban, instead of a Prius?

In other words, Toyota’s vastly disparate products put their marketing efforts between a rock and a green place. If they promote the Prius and other small cars on the basis of their fuel efficiency, they risk being exposed as hypocrites (done) and alienating buyers of large SUVs and pickups. If they promote their large SUVs and pickups, they look even more morally ambiguous and risk alienating buyers of small cars.

All of which place Toyota at a crossroads. As a full-line automaker, ToMoCo’s U.S. products have been defined by their low price and class-leading reliability. The Prius was a game changer, wrenching their corporate image into another category AND emphasizing their lineups’ frugality (originally an off-shoot of price, i.e. cheap to own). Now, they must either embrace the new reality and change their product mix or do nothing and suffer the consequences.