I grew up in a working-class town where “Buy American” ranked just above “Go to church.” Chrysler cured me of my automotive illusions. One day, the engine fell out of my first new car, a ’79 Plymouth Horizon. At 30k miles. The local dealer, the zone office, and then the factory solemnly informed me that my 12/12 warranty was over, so Up Mine. And yet I have family and friends who’ve kept the faith to this day. As The Big 2.8’s fuselage prepares for its final meeting with terra firma, I know it’s wrong to snigger at Detroit’s woes. But I’m laughing to keep from crying.

I’ve got a friend who’s more cerebral than most pickup-truck patriots. He was looking to buy a cute-ute for his bride. I talked up the bulletproof Honda CR-V (then made in Japan), but he opted for a Ford Escape. He didn’t deny my point: the CR-V was by far the better-built vehicle of the two. He just didn’t care.

“To me, it’s the social contract,” he explained. “Joe lives here and he builds cars. I buy Joe’s stuff, Joe buys my stuff, and we both make a decent living.

“This Japanese quality you worship so much doesn’t require any great genius. I lived and worked in Japan for years. We’re talking about people who obsess so much over little details that they work 90 hour weeks opening and closing a door 10,000 times to make sure it never breaks.”

“But isn’t that the American way?” I countered. “Hard work, competition, all that? Aren’t they winning fair and square?” Without hesitation he replied, “I suppose, but would you wanna live that way? Is it so important that our body panels have smaller gaps?”

He understood that our system is based on rewarding excellence, not subsidizing mediocrity. But he also understood the looks his neighbors gave “foreign” cars.

Once upon a time, I bought a new ’92 Maxima. Today, the Max’s body remains tight, the handling responsive. As I navigate the cratered streets of a formerly thriving industrial area, a space that now looks like an “after” portrait of Beirut, I know I’ll hang onto it. I’ll have to– now that the decay of our industrial base has eroded the median national income so badly that my service employer’s clients are ruthlessly squeezing our revenues. Fortunately, my car has plenty of life left in it. But does my country?

Never mind what my Maxima tells you about the Japan mindset and work ethic. What does the failure of American cars to step up to the plate tell you about America? It tells me that we should be indignant. That we should be angry at the men who stole our automotive heritage.

I’m angry at every smug, myopic, greedy Detroit executive and Harvard MBA prof who helped destroy one of the — if not the — world’s best run businesses. I’m angry at all the suits that grabbed for immediate profit, or couldn’t take a risk, or had no vision beyond counting beans, or were just flat-out stupid.

These idiots didn’t just take down their own companies. They’ve grievously wounded their whole country and its future. Why do all these misbegotten car execs-– the so-called leaders who feathered their nests and packed their parachutes while destroying the chicken that laid their golden eggs-– get to enjoy everything our country has to offer while ruining it for hundreds of thousands of working men and women? “Buy American,” they said. No question what was in it for them.

But what if we had? For many of us who dodged that bullet, the prospect is almost unthinkable. Buy that crap? With my money? As mediocre as Detroit iron is today, it was unspeakably worse before the pressure of foreign competition. Can we imagine ourselves still floating off the road on porpoising, rusting, cheesily filigreed 19-foot Impalas? And yet the question still nags me, mute yet immutable. Though we’d have had infinitely crummier automobiles today, would we have had a healthier society?

Whatever. Stick a fork in it. It’s all over bar the shouting.

I recently read an article that said as the Chinese and Indian automobile industries overtake America’s, car design will be inclined more and more to these developing nations’ needs. This makes perfect sense; I doubt we’d like it much if today’s car designers still catered to British tastes.

But it's a bilious irony nonetheless. Our single-minded insistence on buying the best automotive consumer goods available helped lead us to a point where our automotive selections may be limited by our choices. And history suggests we've only begun paying the price. Cheap-labor countries are perfectly capable of handling every stage in the creation of the products we all buy and use.

So this is how it ends. Mahindra and Chery sweep in, while Cerberus and Nardelli pick at our industry's carcass on its way out. I feel just smarmy enough to smirk at the authors of this Armageddon – and just guilty enough to wonder about my role in it.

In a video interview with Porfolio.com, Sir Nick Scheele explains how he turned Jaguar around. Well, not exactly; after all, he didn't. But the British brand’s former CEO did, as claimed, help raise Jaguar’s American JD Power quality rankings from second-to-last to first. In that regard, Sir Nick reveals that Jag’s ascension up the quality league tables hit the wall in ‘94. The breakthrough: after two years at the helm, Scheele realized Jag’s assembly line workers knew more about build quality than the suits. Scheele empowered the guys on the factory floor, left, ran Ford of Europe for a bit, collected a gigantic pension (and a peerage) and called it good. And now Sir Nick wants Jaguar back. Nooooooo.

I’m sure Ripplewood Holdings turned to Saint Sir Nicholas to assist them in their bid for Land Rover and Jaguar because the private equity group figured [correctly] that building cars is a fiendishly complex business. Best to hire someone who knows how to make a car roll off an assembly line– even if he didn’t do so at a profit (a failure for which the affable peer surely has a plausible explanation). In this they are only partially correct– the wrong part. 

As Scheele’s Portfolio-assisted self-deification indicates, his lordship [still] has no idea what drives an automobile manufacturer to fame and fortune. To give credit where credit’s due, Scheele’s epiphany– his rejection of his class-bound cultural upbringing– brought him very, very close to the truth. Yes, every single employee working for a car company must be united in a common goal, and their input respected and (where appropriate) acted upon. But that goal is not quality. Or design. Or price. It’s the brand.

A tightly focused car brand is the plan, the vision, the way forward, the way out, the way back. It tells the company what kind of cars to make. It tells the marketing people how to sell them. It tells consumers why they should buy them. The brand defines the company, from the janitor to the CEO. Jaguar: pace and grace. What more do you need to know? This: without a strong brand, an automaker can’t pull together the hundreds of thousands of strands needed to form a coherent, inherently attractive car.  

As what’s left of the American auto industry plays a multi-billion dollar game of musical chairs, not one of The Big 2.8’s CEOs has offered any indication to which tune they're moving. Less metaphorically, of branding, we’ve heard sweet FA. 

“Boot’em Bob” Nardelli has not defined Chrysler, Dodge or Jeep automobiles. Alan “$25m will do nicely for my first year thanks” Mulally hasn’t told the world what a Ford, Mercury or Lincoln is or will be– other than badge engineered versions of transplant-a-like. Rabid Rick Wagoner has not stuck a flag in the ground for any of the company’s eight— count ‘em eight— brands.

Instead, all the Big 2.8’s CEOs have fixed the media’s attention on back office issues: cost cutting, incentives, fleet sales, asset sales, personnel changes, union negotiations, foreign expansion, international platform sharing, yada, yada, yada. While there’s no denying that decisions in these areas are critical to their companies’ hopes of turnaround/survival, Detroit’s CEOs are neglecting the one decision that informs all the others: what do their brands stand for?

If the Dodge brand stretches from a cheapo Caliber to a mega-SUV, how can Nardelli's mob decide what to put in/leave out of a Challenger ? Is it any wonder Cadillac's building a sub-CTS when the brand operates with two-thirds of a strap line ("Life, Liberty and the Pursuit")? Now that the Ford Taurus is "America's safest full size car" and Volvo's on the auction block, is safety the new Ford brand? 

Of course, this lack of rigidly defined automotive branding is not just Detroit’s problem. Mercedes and BMW have stretched their brands beyond breaking point (the day of reckoning lies ahead). Even ToMoCo shows worrying signs of diminished brand coherence, as it builds cars that rely on something other than quality for sales (e.g. new xB). Even Porsche, the once tightly focused “fiercely independent” sports car company, seems Hell bent on destroying their brand equity. An SUV and four-door sedan? Great machines. Lousy branding.

There are still a few car brands keeping it real, such as Ferrari and Hyundai. Product excellence and a healthy bank balances indicate that the guys at the very top and the bottom of the market “get it.” As for Jaguar, there’s potential. Although Maserati's invading the pace and grace mindspace, at least the Germans and Japanese are staggering around elsewhere. But fans of the British brand (such as it is) can only hope Jaguar stays out of Scheele’s hands. Jag's savior– indeed the men at the helm of the The Big 2.8– must be ready, willing and able to be a slave to the brand. Nothing more, nothing less.

[See Scheele's spiel here.]

TTAC has not been shy about its scepticism regarding the owner satisfaction and quality surveys produced by JD Power, and the commercial links to the industry that they monitor. We have also pointed out that Consumer Reports' "secret sauce" (i.e. their analytical formulae) have certain limitations. Until now, we've overlooked another source of auto manufacturers' braggin' rights: the Intellichoice awards. While you'll hear Intellichoice mentioned in the same breath as JD Power in more than a few automotive advertisements, Intellichoice's awards don't get nearly the same scrutiny. It's time to correct this oversight.

Intellichoice offers awards in five broad categories: Motorist Choice, Best Deals of the Month, Best Overall Value, Smartchoice (with six subcategories) and Best Certified Pre-Owned Programs. They subdivide each of these categories by vehicle type, e.g. car, crossover, near luxury and convertible. Many of these categories are subdivided even further. I counted no less than 240 permutations, and I could have missed a few.

If that wasn't confusing enough, cars jump from class to class depending on the award. The Toyota Yaris was named "Best Overall Value – Subcompact Class." But when it comes to the "Low Ownership Costs" award, the Yaris lives in the "Compact" category. The Chevrolet HHR is the "Small Wagon" winner for "Low Maintenance Costs" but "Compact Crossover SUV" winner in the "Motorist Choice Awards." For the same award, the Lexus IS is the "Aspirational Luxury Car" but it's in the "Near Luxury Class" as the "Best Overall Value of the Year."

Intellichoice also categorizes certain cars differently from everyone else. Did you know that the Nissan Altima is a "Premium Mid-Size Car" and the Porsche Boxster is a "Luxury Convertible"?  Apparently, the Honda Accord is a "Compact" ("Lowest Maintenance Cost") and the Lexus SC 430 is a "Premium Sports Car"– except when it's a "Luxury Convertible" ("Lowest Repair Costs").

Another mystery: why do certain vehicles receive awards when the exact same model with a different body style (i.e. coupe vs. sedan) doesn't make the grade?  Intellichoice names the aforementioned Toyota Yaris named "Best Value – Subcompact Class" is only the hatchback model; the four-door wasn't included. Several pickup truck awards were given to the crew cab and extended cab models while the standard cabs stood on the sidelines.

After looking at Intellichoice's wide selection of seemingly arbitrary accolades, you can't help but feel that the gongs fall into the same category as kindergarten sports awards. Both processes seem aimed at preserving the delicate self esteem of a bunch of five-year-olds. Last year, almost every company that sells a car or truck in the U.S. received at least one Intellichoice award. Even floundering Isuzu was awarded "Lowest Maintenance Cost" in the "Small Pickup" category. 

This "something for everyone" mindset extends to a few of this website's Ten Worst Automobiles Today (TWAT) winners. The dead van walking Chevy Uplander won "Best Overall Value" in the "Cargo Van" category. It's almost-as-bad corporate cousin, the Buick Rendezvous, won an Intellichoice award for "Lowest Maintenance Costs" in the "Midsize Crossover" class. And the TWAT-worthy Aveo5 won in the "Subcompact Class" of the same category. 

It's obvious that a lot of awards given out by various magazines and newspapers are influenced (if not totally driven) by the pursuit of the almighty advertising dollar.  But even though there are links to get free quotes on vehicles, and links to finance and insurance companies, Intellichoice's website doesn't offer any direct links to automakers' sites or car ads. There's no indication of any outside influences that would entice the organization to devise such convoluted awards and then hand them out like candy.

That is, until you realize Intellichoice.com is owned by Primedia, the same company that brings us Motor Trend and Automobile magazines. While each of these magazines has their own (dubious) annual awards for a variety of vehicles, neither of them approach Intellichoice in number or complexity of awards. But both of them enjoy plenty of lucrative automobile manufacturer advertising revenue. These same manufacturers also drop big bucks for advertisements in other Primedia's other magazines.

Running a web site as timely and data rich as Intellichoice is an expensive business. Not to belabor the point, but the money to run their site comes from Primedia, which gets the majority of its revenue from advertisements. You don't bite the hand that's feeding you. Intellichoice has to keep Primedia's advertising clients happy. And if that means coming up with a few hundred awards to give out (some on a monthly basis), then so be it. 

And there's the fundamental problem. Just as an award for "Most Improved Left-Handed Pattycake Player" only resonates with the recipient's mother, the awards handed out by Intellichoice mean nothing to anyone but the manufacturers. Considering the low profile of most of these awards, you have to wonder if they mean anything at all.

There comes a time in many a life when an individual must prove to the world they are no longer the student, they have become the master. The transition usually arrives on the field of battle, whether it’s a real battlefield, competitive sports, academia, entertainment or business. In the case of Toyota, their moment of ascension arrived when their products outsold General Motors’ in the first quarter of 2007. Toyota bested The General by a score of 2,348,000 to 2,260,000. Toyota is the new numero uno. But it still has much to learn, if it is to avoid following its old, corpulent mentor's footsteps off the high tower of greatness.

Before Toyota became the heavy weight sumo champion of the world, their corporate samurai wanted to be just like Ford, and then GM. After all, the Americans in general, and General Motors in specific, were the automotive industry. The General dominated the world’s largest automotive market– to the point where the U.S. federal government tried to break up the behemoth by hiving-off Chevrolet. Its products were spread throughout the world, capturing customers in every corner of the globe.

Toyota came to America as representing (for many) a former military aggressor, the enemy. Starting with the Toyopet, they peddled funny little cars that were the subject of scorn, derision and dismissal. Undaunted, Toyota refined its products and process (which allowed for faster model changes). Toyota’s tighter panel gaps, better engines and conservative design helped it establish a beachhead. But it was reliability that set them apart and secured their success.

Enthusiasts may label Toyota’s products “soulless appliances,” but the automaker’s mass appeal lies in this anodyne dependability. While GM, Ford and Chrysler concentrated on style and power, Toyota focused its energies on quality and, thus, reliability. The focus catapulted them to the top.

Flash forward to 2006. Toyota was ranked fourth in JD Power and Associates’ Initial Quality Study (IQS), with only 106 problems per 100 vehicles. Lexus has historically been the number one brand according to JD and the gang. In 2007, just as Toyota sold more cars than everybody else, the company initial quality ranking dropped from fourth to seventh, behind such historically horrid brands as Jaguar and Lincoln. Lexus was knocked from its perch at the top of the IQS mountain by Porsche.

What of the newest addition to the ToMoCo household? Scion has never cracked the IQS top 10. In fact, in 2004, a year after the brand was introduced into the U.S., Scion was ranked thirty-fourth, one slot above Porsche. As stated, Porsche turned it around. So why hasn’t Toyota taken care of the newest addition to his family? 

Scion is a spooky echo of GM’s Saturn. Both brands birthed when their corporate motherships were flush with cash. Both brands were heralded as changing how consumers would buy vehicles, with fresh vehicle design, friendly dealers and no haggle pricing.

Saturn has lost is its way, but what about Scion?  For a few years, all seemed to be going well, much like Satrun's early days. Scion released cool, unconventional, entry-level vehicles that were highly customizable. Then came the first redesigns.

Gone are the cheeky, interesting shapes of the first-generation xA and xB. In their place: blander, fatter vehicles that seem tailored to an older generation. As TTAC’s Paul Niedermeyer reported, Toyota seems to have learned some not-so-good tricks from GM, managing to ignore and dilute a successful brand’s direction with lazy, “bigger is better” design. 

In Scion, ToMoCo also seems to have unlearned one of its better tricks: maintaining model names. Toyota has one of the most loyal consumer bases in the automotive industry (again, due to its rep for build quality). Keeping the same core model names has played a large part in generating and directing this brand loyalty, as most Toyotaphiles simply trade in their old Camrys or Corollas for completely new ones. 

Scion has dropped the xA moniker in favor of its all new replacement, the xD. Ignoring the fact that the American psyche is all about getting an "A" (when was the last time you were rewarded for bringing home a D?), Toyota has hampered consumer loyalty to the xA and Scion by dumping a decent model and its moniker for an inferior bloatmobile.

Toyota says its taken dramatic steps to sort out its quality issues. As it’s what they do best, we should see some movement soon. But the company is just beginning to learn that doing just one thing better than anyone else puts you in a vulnerable position. The competition can catch up. Unless they learn the lessons of their vanquished enemies, they will be condemned to repeat them. It looks as if that process is already in motion.

The love of all things Jeep ranks high in the automotive pantheon of passion. Porschephiles, ‘Vettistas, Hemiheads, Scuderia– they ain’t got nothin’ on Jeepaholia (Hi, my name is Brad and I love Jeeps.) Jeep devotees are a hardy breed, born to be wild. Other than domestic and commuter runs, they ALWAYS take the road untraveled; sneering at mud, chuckling at chuckholes, belly laughing at boulders. Hummers, Land Cruisers, 4Runners and other four wheel-drive pretenders to the throne are equally capable in certain situations, but they lack Jeep’s visceral appeal. So what is it about the brand that keeps the faithful faithful?

It’s in the genes. When Willys and Ford produced the first Jeeps for the military in WWII, the go-anywhere, do-anything vehicles earned millions of soldiers’ unlimited respect. Some 600k Jeeps proved their worth in the harshest possible environments, from Malaysia’s steamiest jungles to Norway's frozen wastes.  When American G.I.s returned stateside, more than a few had developed a taste for those tough little trucks with the Go-Devil engines. An iconic brand was born.

Jeep purists will tell you that the only “real” Jeep is a CJ. Don’t believe them. Today’s Wrangler is every bit as trail-capable as the CJs of yore, and it sits at the brand’s heart. By the same token, pay no heed to those who suggest that anything other a Wrangler is not a “real” Jeep. While Jeep DNA says outdoors like an Armani suit says espresso bar, Jeeps have not always been trail-ready. In its storied past, Jeep has made pickups, sedans, proto-SUVs and station wagons. Ever since hostilities ceased, the company has stretched the brand’s original remit like Turkish taffy.  

In that not-so-great tradition, Jeep’s current brain trust have recently moved the brand away from its mud-spattered proletarian roots. Given that the public thinks Jeep = Off Road, it’s amazing that Jeep’s Detroit masters have felt so free to swim against a powerful, profitable and powerfully profitable current. 

In 1992, the suits torpedoed the Jeep Comanche, a utilitarian little pickup truck that kept the brand in touch with its working class pedigree. Meanwhile, they gave the bloated Commander the green light. While the Commander was probably a focus group knockout (what do you guys think about a Jeep with a third row?), the realization of this marketing “dream” was too slow and thirsty for urban work, too uncomfortable to comply with the Geneva Convention, and too ugly for Medusa.

Jeep’s handlers also killed the original Cherokee and replaced it with the Liberty, answering a question no one asked. Saying that, the U.S. market responded positively; the Jeep Liberty hit the “cute ute” sweet spot, luring many women into the Jeep fold. (The four-door Wrangler is an attempt to woo back disenfranchised Cherokee fanboys back into the fold.) 

Jeep Inc. then launched the twin brand-engineered demon spawn of the Dodge Caliber. The Patriot and the Compass were a hit and miss affair (literally). While the Patriot reeks of Jeepness, the Compass does not. The Powers That Be also passed on the Rescue concept (a Wrangler-on-steroids over a RAM 2500 frame/drivetrain) and the Gladiator (the long-anticipated Comanche replacement).

The Wrangler-based Gladiator was a slam dunk. The pickup would have reconnected Jeep with its working class base and given Chrysler/Jeep dealers a nice little truck to sell. Even better, the Gladiator would have seven-slotted into the underserved small pickup niche, where the outdated Ford Ranger reigns supreme.

As a brand, even Jeep’s wins cause angst. The four-door Wrangler is a huge hit– which the company can’t produce quickly enough to meet demand. Things are so backed-up in Mopar-land that Jeep has stopped taking orders for ’07 Wranglers, and won’t begin accepting deposits for ’08s until summer’s end. Jeep seriously misjudged demand for both the four-door models and both flavors of the Rubicon. Oops.

Surveying the brand’s recent track record, it’s clear Jeep still represents a “back to basics” meme which resonates deeply and uniquely with a large segment of the car buying populace. Fans of the brand understand– and expect– a Jeep to be a simple, uncluttered and dependable machine with a can-do spirit. Granted, the bar on “simple and uncluttered” has been raised a bit since Willys’ glory days, and dependable no longer means you can fix it yourself on the fly, but the Jeep brand still stands for something authentically American.

Not to put too fine a point on it, Wranglers are to SUVs what minimalism is to art, and what Stickley is to furniture. To remain an iconic brand, Jeep must keep their eye on the ball, and that ball is clearly marked “Trail-Rated.” Jeep’s new owners should rid themselves of the Bloatmobile (Commander) and the Tonka-Toy (Compass) and build the brand around respectfully extending the real icon – the Jeep Wrangler. Now that, anyone can understand.

Cell phones cooler than cars? No way! Way. CNW Marketing Research recently reported that thirty-two percent of today’s 16 to 29-year-olds view Apple’s new cell phone as the hot ticket to campus stardom. Only twenty percent made the same claim for a car. In fact, the survey found that any kid fortunate enough to lift an iPhone to his or her ear was guaranteed a seventy percent popularity rating. If we accept that the iPhone is the King of cool, what does Apple know that has the U.S. automobile industry doesn’t, that allows a nerdy little electronic device to trump the [formerly] ultimate symbol of adult independence?

Apple works to a relatively simple recipe: combine incredibly appealing form with reliable, user-friendly function. As Apple’s former vice president of advanced technology put it, “Attractive things work better. When you wash and wax your car, it drives better, doesn’t it? Or at least it feels like it does.” Warm fuzzies are high on Don Norman’s list of priorities, as he explained in his tome Emotional Design. “Positive emotions are critical to learning, curiosity and creative thought.”  

Reflecting this ethos, Apple sweats the small stuff. In 1983, the company adopted a design language with its own “coherent visual vocabulary” to insure continuity across its products. Today, Apple devotes at least 15 percent of its hardware development process to conceptualizing the look, shape, size and feel of a new product. Most companies– in most fields– do not.

The majority of the domestic automobile industry spends precious little time coordinating / obsessing about the look and feel of the entire product (not just the sheetmetal). And that’s just wrong. Although many enthusiasts dismiss mass market motors as “appliances,” all drivers and passengers interact intimately (now, now) with their transportation. And just like computerized gizmos, a car’s design has a huge impact on our mood.

When Toyota launched Lexus, auto aficionados heard tales of ToMoCo engineers sweating minute details, from the placement and feel of the switchgear; to the tone, pitch and volume of the exhaust note; to the suspension’s rebound rate. By contrast, most domestic interior during the late ’80’s were an afterthought– as were exteriors, exhaust systems and handling dynamics.

To a greater or lesser extent, Toyota, Honda, Nissan, Audi and VW have also created handsome, aesthetically coherent products for the mass market. With rare exceptions, Detroit still doesn’t get it. You need only look at the interior of the Chevrolet Corvette to wonder why Lord, why?

Norman also revealed that Apple’s product evaluation process requires a marketing plan, engineering specifications and a user experience document.  “Marketing is what people want,” Mark Rolston, senior vice president of creative at Frog Design, adds: “Engineering is what we can do; user experience is ‘Here’s how people like to do things.’”

A coherent evaluation procedure does not guarantee great products. Apple’s product development system was in place during those bleak years when Steve Jobs was in exile. Without Jobs’ presence to steer the ship, Apple’s design-by-committee free-for-all created severely compromised products. 

Jobs– whom Norman describes as a “dictator with taste”– restored discipline in the development cycle. Once the concept of the final product crystallized, no deviation was permitted. Period.

How many times have car manufacturers paraded around delicious cutting-edge design concepts at auto shows– only to deliver ridiculously compromised copies in production? Well exactly. Clearly, Detroit lacks the commanders and command structure needed to fully realize its designer’s visions.

“The hardest part of design,” writes Norman “is keeping features out.” Rolston underlines the point: “[Apple] is just as smart about what they don’t do. Great products can be made more beautiful by omitting things.” The iPod, for example, has fewer features than its competitors, but its minimalist elegance makes it a success.

In the automotive arena, feature overload is rampant. In Jay Shoemaker’s recent critique of the Porsche Cayenne Turbo, the TTAC scribe was dismayed by the 39 buttons crowding around the navigation screen on the center console. For the love of the fish, it’s an SUV, not the Space Shuttle!  Without a navigation officer, how’s a pilot supposed to operate the nav system while negotiating his way through traffic?

To recapture hearts and minds, automakers need to design elegant vehicles that don’t try to be all things to all people. They need to produce simple, well-engineered cars with tastefully uncomplicated driver interfaces, free from distracting superfluous accessories.

The alternative is unthinkable. Imagine a modern day American Graffiti.  Bad boy Bob Falfa (Harrison Ford) sends innocent young Carol (Mackenzie Phillips) into ecstatic delirium each time he whips out his iPhone. While intimidating rival John Milner, Falfa says, “Hey you're s'posed to be the fastest thing in the Valley man, but that can't be your iPhone. It must be your mama's iPhone! I'm sorta' embarrassed to be this close to ya!”

General Motors is a trash talker. The automaker brags about future show-stoppers, unveils concept vehicles with a sly wink (knowing full well they're stuck in development Hell) and offers press hacks "preview" drives of half-baked green machines. No GM brand has been more abused by these dishonest "you just wait" promises than Buick. The 2004 Velite was a glimpse of an alternate universe, where Buick made perfect sense. And as far back as 2003, board-certified spin specialist Bob Lutz was busy proclaiming that Buick will be "an American Lexus." As if.

That said, last year, with minimal fanfare, General Motors introduced a brand new model: the Buick Park Avenue. The badge-engineered Aussie (nee Holden Statesman) is a full-sized rear wheel-drive sedan boasting the kind of understated elegance– both inside and out– capable of resurrecting the ailing marque's appeal. In China. 

America didn't get it. (Literally.) Buick's U.S. aficionados couldn't understand why America's favorite military dictatorship received the brand's potential savior, while the States got a milquetoast sedan whose name means masturbation in Quebecois. Slapping the "Super" moniker on Buick's front wheel-drive sedans did nothing- as in zilch- to appease the faithful. Buick's beat-up bolsterers lit-up their corner of the Internet, venting their electronic ire at the missed opportunity. 

Understandably, John McElroy over at Autoline Detroit wanted to quiz Bob Lutz about Buick building better cars in The People's Republic. In May, GM's Car Czar agreed to tackle the issue– provided Autoline didn't air the relevant segment on TV. The news op could, however, put video of Maximum Bob's reply on their website. 

Hang on. Never mind the fact that "one of the deans of the Detroit automotive press corp" [sic] agreed to censor himself at GM's behest. Consider GM's logic. The automaker attempted to minimize the spread of Lutz's response to an internet-disseminated controversy by restricting it to the internet. 

Anyway, Lutz blamed that the Statesman misstep on Buick's beleaguered dealers. Back around the time Lutz had been playing the dozens with Lexus, his minions had previewed Lucerne and Holden Statesman prototypes to American Buick [Pontiac, GMC] dealers. According to Maximum Bob, the car floggers said they didn't need two models. They picked the Lucerne to grace their showrooms.

It's hard to understand why General Motors left the fate of the entire Buick brand in the hands of its dealers. Buick dealers don't really have customers. How does a car dealer grasp the desires of potential buyers that have never darkened their doorways?  

Answer: you don't. Buick's sharp-end sharpies opted for what was clearly the worse of the two cars: a front-wheel drive H-body sedan riding on a platform dating back to the year Geraldo Rivera opened Al Capone's secret vault (1986). Twenty-one years later, and these not-entirely-prescient Buick dealerships are selling, on average, six cars a month. Not six Lucernes. Six Buicks. 

Normally, GM in general and Bob Lutz in particular sweep these sorts of decisions under the red-ink stained rug (GTO?) and tout The Next Big Thing. For reasons known only to Maximum Bob and his handlers (i.e. his ego and super ego), Lutz felt compelled to address the question again, via a video on GM's Fastlane Blog. So, Bob's people asked Bob, why is China selling a better looking Buick luxury car than the U.S.?

"I don't think they are," Maximum Bob insisted, confusing prevarication with fact. "They simply are the first market to get the new Buick Park Avenue, which they will actually assemble in China. And that vehicle, or a variant of it, is always a possibility for Buick [USA] in the future." 

Translation: "The critics are wrong! And even if they are right, we were also right, just a bit… premature. Cautious. Sensible. You'll see! Maybe."  Bob's answer may not set new standards for this master of ill-informed, shoot-from-the-hip and sort it all out later (or just forget it) analysis, but it's not for lack of trying. Meanwhile, the Buick brand is spinning off into oblivion.

Or not. No discussion of Buick's Lexian aspirations would be complete without mentioning the new Enclave. The brand's sales may be down 30.4 percent from last June, but their crossover is gaining traction. May's aforementioned six cars per dealer per month average represents a two car per dealer improvement on their previous stat. As GM ramps-up Enclave production, Buick dealers may soon stagger into double digits.

But the broader question remains: is the vehicle pitched against the RX350 Bob Lutz' "American Lexus?"

Perhaps. But there is an important corporate disparity that overshadows any model vs. model comparison. Toyota doesn't compete with itself. GM does (Buick Enclave vs. GMC Acadia vs. Saturn Outlook vs. Chevrolet playertobenamedlater). As Buick's Chinese debacle proves, whenever you compete with yourself, you lose.

Even though automotive advertising is fleeing print for the Internet, national TV ads are still an automaker’s most important showcase– and they know it. From GM’s levitating HHR’s to Jill Wagner’s Mercurial presence, car ads remain big budget productions from start to finish. Automobile manufacturers spend more time, effort and money (per second) to create your average 30-second car commercial than the networks spend to make an entire 30-minute sitcom. So why are viewers subjected to local dealer ads – touting the same products – that look like they cost a buck ninety-five?

Start with this: there are three kinds of car ads: manufacturer, zone (dealer association) and local dealer.

Automobile manufacturers’ ads sell the vehicle’s features or promote the brand under which the product shelters. Carmakers spend upwards of a million dollars a pop to produce these all-singing, all-dancing car ads. And then they shell-out ten times as much (or more) to pay for the air time to run these magna opera – usually in heavy rotation to achieve maximum impact. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re a class act.

Zone ads are produced by manufacturers’ ad agencies for various regional car dealer groups. These less expensive, more generic video ads feature loads of manufacturer-provided “B-roll:” beauty-shot footage of generic vehicles wending their way down country roads, plowing through pristine snow, etc..

The ad agencies add an announcer’s mellifluous (or graveled) tones and a regional “tag,” as in “See the new Ram-tough pickup now at your West Texas Dodge Dealer!” 

In comparison to manufacture and zone ads, local car dealer TV spots are complete rubbish. And why wouldn’t they be? The average car dealer spends around $300 per spot in production costs. The price includes on-air talent (if any), video production, royalty-free background music and post-production video editing.

Car dealers feeling flush can buy “donuts:” professionally-produced ads branded with the local dealer’s logo and voiceovers, ready for dealer-specific price/item info inserted into the center of the spot. Sadly, smaller markets seldom eat— I mean, see donuts. They cost a lot more than the sales manager yelling “Our prices are INSANE!”

The average dealer ad reflects the average dealer’s manic depressive/schizophrenic mentality. Sales up? Happy days are here again! Sales down? Where’s my axe? And when times are really bad, advertising is the first part of the marketing matrix to feel the heat. Don’t blame uninspired products, bloated inventories, sleazy sales reps and bad biz practices. Our ads suck.

Most hard-pressed dealers resort to low-ball video production and then SCREAM at their viewers. Since the competition is in the same boat, doing the same thing, most dealers decide that the only way to cut through the noise is to… SCREAM LOUDER. 

Of course, local dealer ads could be different. The economics of television production aside, it’s entirely possible to produce dealer commercials that entertain, inform and persuade without sounding like a come-on for a Monster Truck Jam. The trick: brand the dealership.

Why do you buy a vehicle from one dealer over another? Most people usually answer either “price” or “service.” Marketing folk will tell you that these earnest answers are entirely misleading. Customers buy from people they trust to deliver the best price or service. In other words, dealers ads need to build “relationships” with their customers.

Now I don’t mean that kind of touchy-feely, California-eque crap you see on Oprah. Again, we’re talking trust. Trust makes customers come back time and time again, and even better, refer their friends.

Obviously, building trust takes a lot more than good TV ads (good products and honest transactions can’t hurt). But ads that sell the dealership – not the deal – are an important piece of the puzzle.

Car dealers need to decide what makes them unique in their marketplace. Great service department? Knowledgeable sales reps? Good location? Deep inventory? Focus on that and get the word out.

Forget price. Most customers would pay a premium for better-informed sales reps/honest treatment/higher-quality service. True, this “speak softly and carry a big rep” approach runs counter to the dealers’ alpha-dog aggression. But it works.

At the same time, you have to wonder why carmakers are willing to let hysterical car dealers and their manic marketing men undermine the corporate mothership’s carefully cultivated brand and product image.

While U.S. franchise law prevents manufacturer meddling at the local level, surely it’s time for the manufacturers to take a more proactive approach. They should provide tele-visual support to car dealers to send the right message about their products and services to viewers/customers.

Will dealers ever make this “Bold Move”? I doubt it. The temptation to scream is too tempting. So until they do, thousands of potential customers will keep their thumbs on that well-worn Tivo’s skip button.

One day, an admirer asked Herr Doktor Sigmund Freud if his favorite tobacco product was a phallic symbol. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” Freud reportedly replied. By the same token, when Porsche North America announced that they’d turned their back on the Detroit auto show because it’s a waste of money, the German automaker turned their back on the Detroit auto show because it’s a waste of money.

The obviousness– and obvious importance– of Porsche’s withdrawal from the North American International Auto Show (NAIAS) was lost on America’s mainstream automotive press. Detroit’s journalistic Janus (the Detroit Free Press and the Detroit News) concentrated on the effect of Porsche’s pull-out on their home town show vis-à-vis the competition: LA, New York, Chicago, Tokyo, etc. 

“Detroit auto show digs in to defend its perch” the Detroit News headline announced. Quoting an unnamed New York Times blogger, the article was quick to put the diss in disinformation: "So Porsche is, in effect, telling the Detroit show: Despite your name, we don't consider you 'America's auto show.' To us, you're local — with only local appeal.”

Needless to say, this loosely attributed analysis became the official media line, complete with sales figures revealing Detroit's paucity of Porsches. The reporting left readers with the impression that Germany’s sports car maker was discounting the importance of the spiritual home of American automaking ‘cause the locals weren’t buying enough Porkers. Schwein!

Yes, well, in the press release announcing their Motown-missing maneuver, Porsche’s marketing Veep went out of his way to kiss Detroit’s ass mollify Renaissance City supporters (motto: “Speramus Meliora" or "We hope for better things”). David Pryor also spelled out the company’s exact reasoning.

“As a media showcase for new products, the Detroit Auto Show is clearly the premier international auto show in North America," Pryor proclaimed. “Still, as Porsche strives to seek new, more personal ways to directly reach out and communicate to its potential customer base, we need to look beyond the traditional consumer auto show — even ones that are highly renowned in the industry."

In other words, Porsche isn’t dumping Detroit. It’s retrenching on auto shows in general. And why wouldn’t they? There’s simply no getting around the fact that if you calculate the direct return on investment– the marketing bang-for-the-buck– auto shows are a hideous waste of time, effort and money.

Porsche ain’t saying, but their NAIAS no-show will probably save the company over a million dollars. And that’s without calculating the costs of interrupting Porsche’s ongoing projects to sequester their A-team in Cobo’s dark labyrinth. Or the psychological toll exacted on the execs by the epic glad-handing.

But the real story is, again, exactly what David Pryor said it was: the world’s most profitable automaker (on a per unit basis) has recognized that there are better ways to “communicate” with the only really important element of the entire marketing equation: the people who help Porsche pay the bills.

That said, our friends at the sharp end tell us they’ve haven't heard word of any “new” or “more personal” marketing programs. As far as they know, other than a significant increase in Porsche’s print ads (promoting Cayman and Cayenne lease deals), the company isn’t using the auto show budget to launch a radical marketing campaign. Ah, but will they?

Even in the absence of any specific initiative, one can speculate that Porsche has realized that automotive marketing has undergone a paradigm shift; that “high touch” and highly-targeted electronic contact are the way forward. There's certainly evidence of an evolution.

For example, the next fourteen classes at the Porsche Driving Experience at Barber Motorsports Park in Alabama are sold out. Porsche’s added new “Women’s-only” instruction and corporate classes that can accommodate up to 100 fast-moving movers and shakers. At the same time, the Porsche Travel Club is offering a new “Camp4 Colorado” package in Vail, where owners and potential customers hoon in the snow hone their winter driving skills in 911 C4 and Cayenne variants.

As for the electronic side, well, here’s hoping. In truth, no automaker has fully grasped the cyber-nettle. As a Porsche Boxster S owner, I’ve been contacted about my car, potential upgrades, lifestyle items, car club membership, the aforementioned courses and my friends’ driving habits exactly, oh, never. Before purchasing the vehicle, I engaged in precisely no “personal" communications with the company.

Surely, THIS is where all those auto show billions SHOULD be going: using the Internet to establish direct, relevant and ongoing contact with potential automotive buyers and existing owners, and then bringing these contacts into direct and intimate contact with the product. Until someone seizes that opportunity, companies withdrawing their money from auto shows to spend on traditional marketing will be close, but no cigar.

Now that Ford has put the remainder of its Premier Automotive Group (PAG) on eBay, it's time to evaluate the soon-to-jettisoned divisions' prospects. As "going concerns," Land Rover and Jaguar are like a cartoon character who just ran off a cliff; the only thing that keeps them from plunging into oblivion is [momentary] ignorance that they're about to plunge into oblivion. Business wise, Volvo is the Daffy Duck of the group: a major star that somehow graduated to the role of successful sidekick. As brands, well, that's a different matter. Or, as it turns out, not.    

From a branding perspective, Land Rover is an unmitigated disaster. No surprise there; the brands' products have earned their manufacturer a worldwide reputation for bad engineering and poor reliability. A brand can only get so far playing the snob card. An off-roader that's destined to leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere (or the Neiman Marcus parking lot) is a less coherent brand proposition than a $250 McDonald's Happy Meal.

Sad but true: Land Rover's imperious off-roaders are only marginally more reliable than a love-struck teenager. In 2005, Land Rover was third to last in JD Powers' Initial Quality Survey. In the following year, Land Rover fell to last place– and then stayed there for '07. Engine power problems, exploding gearboxes, inaccurate fuel gauges, electronic gremlins– Landies live at the bottom of every automotive reliability survey conducted in the last six years.

The implications are clear. Given the depth and severity of these self-inflicted wounds, Land Rover's resurrection would require at least a decade of flawless [re]engineering and manufacture, and an epic warranty.

Why bother? SUV's are a dead genre guzzling. Land Rover's barely double digit mpg mules are both dead AND damned. And the competition's kicking Land Rover's arse in mud plugging (Jeep, FJ), price and reliability (from Hyundai to Toyota), fuel efficiency (you name it), and on-road performance (Porsche, BMW, Infiniti). There is nowhere for this go-anywhere brand to go– save the dumpster.

Jaguar. As The Bonzo Dog Doh-Dah Band would say, dear dear dear oh dear dear dear oh dear dear oh dear no. While Ford gets maximum props for banishing most of the most egregious mechanical gremlins bedeviling Jaguar, Dearborn's darlings have all-but-destroyed the British automaker's mission critical cachet.

It's bizarre. Sir William Lyons left clear instructions for his brand: pace and grace. Under Ford's stewardship, Jaguar has fashioned a lineup of vehicles that can only watch their German equivalents disappear into the horizon, whose sheetmetal displays less grace than a meth-crazed mosh pit dancer. A Ford Taurus nose on an XK? Puh-lease.

Much has been made of Jag's ruinous move down-market. But the success of BMW's, Audi's and Mercedes' entry level machines proves that Jag screwed-up in X-ecution, not concept. The X-Type was an under-engineered mini-me version of the XJ sedan, which was an aluminum-skinned clone of the previous XJ, which was an "homage" to the XJ that preceded the model it replaced. You can't make this shit up.

Ostensibly, Jaguar could return to Sir Billy's formula. Unfortunately, Jag's non-Teutonic competitors have filled the pace and grace mindspace. Maserati and a resurgent Alpha have nailed it. More importantly, Lexus' L-Finesse style has given their products something very much resembling sex appeal. Equally disheartening, Jag's last shot, the new XF, only gets it half right: it's pace without grace. Nope, Jag's day is done.

And so to Volvo, the sensible Swede that sells safety. Despite Ford-sponsored attempts to add speed (racing station wagons?) and sex appeal (convertibles?) to the brand, Volvo remains a fundamentally boring proposition: the automotive equivalent of nurse's shoes. Well, there are a lot of people out there all looking for the world's most comfortable shoes, and plenty of people who'll buy a safe boring car over a less safe boring car.

Volvo's safety shtick has such a powerful hold on the public imagination that the automaker could arrive unfashionably late to America's jam-packed SUV party tendering a woefully underpowered model- and STILL clean house. Seventeen years after Chrysler launched the Town and Country, a properly constructed Volvo minivan would perform the same feat.

As Volvo customers don't expect frequent model updates, a new owner could take their time to improve the marque's models' reliability. And there's no reason why Volvo couldn't or shouldn't move down market, to become a full-line manufacturer of dull, safety-oriented automobiles. Anyway, the fact that Volvo is the only member of PAG banking bucks tells you all we need to know about the brand's strength.

In sum, it's no wonder buyers eyeing-up Jaguar and Land Rover are [allegedly] insisting on some sort of Volvo bundling deal; Volvo is the only PAG brand with any life left in it. In fact, there's so much life left in the brand Ford should consider keeping it and selling off Mercury (as if) or Lincoln instead. 

So Ford runs an ad campaign pitting an all wheel-drive Fusion against a front wheel-drive Toyota Camry and Honda Accord. An invited group of customers scores the Fusion tops in styling, handling, performance and “fun to drive.” Emboldened by Ford’s “dare to compare” strategy, Saturn decides to launch a “Side-by-Side-by-Side Test Drive.” Dealers are instructed to offer customers some seat time in the Aura, Camry and Accord. It’s gutsy! It’s feisty! It’s ridiculous.

First of all, these comparo campaigns are a major mitzvah for Toyota and Honda. As far as public perception is concerned, if Ford and Saturn are working their butts off to prove that their mid-sized sedans are as good as (i.e. better than) the Camry and Accord, then the Camry and Accord must be pretty damn good. These “hey what about us?” ads seal the transplants’ rep as market leaders.

That’s not good. The vast majority of customers are driven by a desire for safety; to buy the product or service that carries the least risk. In their mind, that’s always going to be the market leader. Ask Apple or any other company that’s tried to dethrone the top product in its field: product excellence loses out to massive market share every time.

In fact, the only way to knock a dominant product off its perch is… to knock the dominant product off its perch. In other words, saying your Fusion or Aura is better than a Camry or Accord ain’t gonna cut it— even if they are better. Your only chance of stealing market share from the top dog is to remove the consumers’ feelings of safety. Not to put too fine a point on it, Ford and Saturn have to convince car buyers the Camcord sucks.

Only it doesn’t. Which means this comparo stuff is the marketing equivalent of pissin' in the wind.

Lest we forget, The Big Three used to own the U.S. auto industry. Toyota, Honda, Nissan, VW, Mercedes and BMW came in with better products. So what? The domestic market was Detroit’s to lose. And lose it they did. A few decades of crap products and even worse service literally handed the American car market to the transplants. If GM, Ford and Chrysler didn’t suck in their own right, the transplants would still be nibbling at the margins.

And speaking of automakers that ripped out their consumers’ hearts (and wallets) and stomped on them until their formerly loyal customers RAN to the competition, what are the chances your average consumer is going to trust a Saturn salesman to provide a valid test of an Aura versus a Camry and Accord?

I know, I know: Saturn are the shiny, happy plastic people (well, they used to be plastic). No haggle. Honest as the day is long. But people HATE car dealers; they trust them about as far as they can teleport them (if only).

So, Saturn dude, you’re going to let me drive an identically equipped Aura, Camry and Accord? Uh, no.

According to Saturn’s website, customers can compare an Aura XE with preferred package, a Camry LE and an Accord Special Edition. The list prices are close enough for rock and roll, but just like Ford’s all wheel-drive versus front wheel-drive comparo, we’re looking at an apples vs. pears test: V6 power and optional 17" wheels (Aura) vs. two four-cylinder powerplants with standard 16" wheels (Camry and Accord).

Hmm. Would a customer looking at a frugal four cylinder Camry (21/30 mpg) or Accord (21/31mpg) really cross-shop a four-speed slushbox-equipped V6 Aura (18/28 mpg)? Conversely, would a customer looking for a smooth running V6 really consider a V6 Aura over a six cylinder Camry or Accord just to save a few thousand at the time of purchase (which depreciation would sort out later)? 

Anyway, who can be bothered? It seems self-evident that only the most anal car shopper has the time or inclination to take three test drives in a row– and these are the sort of people who will probably prefer the Camry and Accord for their superior refinement, fit and finish and resale value. 

Even before the Saturn’s side-by-side-by-side goes seriously sideways, Chevy’s making noises about bringing a Camry into their dealerships this fall for a Malibu vs. Camry shootout. Why not the Accord?  It may have something to do with the fact that they’d rather have the new Malibu face the mid-cycle Camry rather than the brand spanking new Accord. 

Detroit would have you believe that these promotions reflect a new, combative spirit. You can almost hear “We’re not gonna take it” echoing off the empty showroom walls. But if you look closely, it’s all just a bit of down market deviousness. TTAC will deploy its test driving team and report back. Watch this space.

The Toyota Prius hybrid has been the high-mileage low-emissions darling of the chattering classes and their Hollywood pals for some time. Now, suddenly, sales have shot up, and it seems that the Prius is about to become a mainstream motor. While the little eco-warrior that could still doesn't account for a significant fraction of Ford F-150 sales, the question remains: is the Prius' recent sales surge a fluke?

In May '06, Toyota's North American operations sold 8103 Prii. That summer, the hybrid sedan's sales spiked in tandem with rising gas prices. In July and August, dealers sold over 11k units per month. In September, sales dropped back down to 10,492.

For the next four months, Prius sales retreated to the eights and nines. In truth, these fluctuations were minor variations on a basic trend: the Toyota Prius had flat-lined.  

In February, Toyota took action. They rolled-out a raft of special deals. New York customers could lease a Prius for as little as $219 a month. In Michigan, Ohio and Kentucky, shoppers could finance the hybrid for 3.9 percent for 36 months.

ToMoCo also gambled that the increased incentives would yield sales. They ramped up production in Japan and eliminated dealer backlog.

The afterburners were lit.

In February, the Prius beat its previous year's high water mark by 1050 units (12,227 vs. 11,177). In March sales took off. Some 19,156 Prii found new owners, up 6929 units from the previous month's total.

In April, Toyota seized the day. They launched their first national ad campaign for the Prius and offered $600 to $2k cash back on specific option packages. The result: 13,056 units. In May, the Prius finally achieved low earth orbit: 24,009 sales.

To put these numbers into context, consider the fate of the Toyota Highlander Hybrid. In both relative and absolute terms, the gas-electric soft-roader has done– and continues to do– nothing. This year's sales have yet to top the results achieved last April and May (3768 and 3755).

By the same token, last July and August, the Toyota Camry hybrid's sales peaked at 5023 (in lockstep with the Prius' fortunes). And then… niente. Although the Camry hybrid also experienced a record-setting surge in May (5144), it was nothing to write home about.

The Ford Escape hybrid peaked last April, at 3039. It's been downhill from there. January was a representative low point, accounting for just 1039 units. In May– just as the Prius hit its attention-getting 24k+ mark– Ford struggled to offload 2680 Escape Hybrids.

The Honda Civic hybrids' sales parallel the Escape hybrid's fate. The gas-electric Civic has yet to beat its April '06 peak of 3087 units. As for the the soon-to-be-discontinued Honda Accord Hybrid, the model never sold more than 783 units per month.

The easy analysis: rising gas prices and lowered sticker prices released a wave of pent-up demand for Toyota's gas-electric model. While there's more than a modicum of truth to that conclusion, it's also clear the Prius' recent success wasn't a case of a rising tide lifting all hybrid-powered boats.

In retrospect, it's obvious that the Prius' achievement is a branding-related success. When gas prices spiked, America's fuel efficiency-challenged drivers didn't want "a" hybrid; they wanted "the" hybrid. On the downside, this may mean that some of the Prius' sales gains were fashion-related. 

Many of May's $20k-ish Prii may also have been purchased as a third car for a two-car family. If it's a large chunk of the total, that could bode badly for the gas-electric automobile's longer term prospects; there are only so many families wealthy enough to park a spare gas guzzler on their driveway. 

That said, it's unlikely that the Prius is about to fall back into its previous sales torpor. For one thing, the model has passed a crucial price/image-related tipping point. For another, Toyota has learned a valuable lesson: even a PC "halo car" isn't immune from the market-driven price calculations affecting its other models.

In other words, anything will sell at the right price. No matter how hot the demand for the new, even more fuel efficient Prius, there's no way Toyota's going to under-produce and over-price Prius v3. Look for the sales surge to continue.

Japanese society is known for its rigid social stratification. Depending on the listener’s relative status, there are four ways to say “this is a book." Individuals within this system are well aware that anyone who moves upwards from their "natural" place in the pecking order risks ridicule, jealousy and attack. Hence the ancient Japanese proverb: “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." Automotively- speaking, Toyota is the tall nail these days, and boy, is it getting hammered.

Earlier this year, Toyota passed General Motors as the world’s largest automaker. Last month, Toyota’s U.S. operations ended Ford’s 76-year reign as America’s second biggest automaker. If you’re wondering why Toyota hasn’t celebrated these accomplishments with a bit of good old American swagger, see paragraph one. The Japanese carmaker knows it’s in the crosshairs. For now, the company figures that silence is the better part of valor. 

The problem is simple: Toyota’s reputation exceeds them. The automaker is famous for building vehicles that never break, rust, fail or fall apart. Automobiles that are so well-built they’ve stood the old ‘70’s idea that “made in Japan” means cheap on its head. Toyota’s reliability rep is so strong that a disgruntled aircraft owner recently evoked the company’s mythical mechanical prowess on an internet forum: “I want Toyota to make a single engine piston [airplane].” 

For some time, domestic supporters have been trying to tell American consumers to stop drinking the Toyota Kool Aid. Citing independent surveys, they claim The Big 2.8 have narrowed the quality gap to the point where it’s statistically meaningless, making the discrepancy a matter of [misinformed] perception. More to the point, they say the Japanese company is no stranger to product delays and recalls, and mechanical issues. Which is true.

While Toyota’s design, parts and production process remains second to none, carmaking is such a vastly complex business, and Toyota such a vast enterprise, that mistakes are inevitable. No carmaker– or car– is perfect. Toyota’s recent problems with the new Tundra pickup’s defective camshafts illustrate the simple fact that shit happens– especially when you’re building a new product in a new factory using new suppliers.

Still, there’s no question that Toyota’s rapid expansion in the North American market is giving the company growing pains– or should I say, continuing to challenge the storied Toyota Production System. Ironically enough, Toyota is suffering from a perception gap. Their quality problems are not significantly worse than before, but the company’s newly assumed tall poppy status makes them seem so. Simply put, people are paying attention.

Well, the media is, as witnessed by the relatively prominent play given the Tundra screw-up. That said, it would take at least a decade of crap Toyota products and bullet-proof Detroit metal to reverse the curse. And no matter what The Big 2.8 do or don’t do, Toyota is not about to let its products suffer from endless rounds of mechanical mishaps and expensive recalls.

Toyota is taking radical action to sort out its North American quality woes. The company is currently retraining ALL of its North American assembly workers. This “back to basics” course is designed to identify and correct defective working practices and highlight the need for increased front line vigilance. At the same time, Toyota is devolving decision-making powers and back office support from its Erlanger, Kentucky headquarters to regional centers in California and Texas.

Anyone who thinks Toyota will ease-up on its commitment to product quality, brand integrity and customer satisfaction is delusional. The automaker is nowhere near the peak of its global or national ambitions, and they know exactly what they have to do to get there. And make no mistake: Toyota’s current production problems are NOT a reflection of corporate hubris. They're a direct result of their desire to keep a low profile. To avoid the hammer.

How’s this for an inconvenient truth: building vehicles abroad would be the easiest way for Toyota to assure product quality and increase profits. They refrain from doing so for political reasons. The Japanese automaker knows that their top dog status makes them the logical scapegoat for failing American automakers. Planting factories on U.S. soil at least partially protects them from the slings and arrows of outraged patriots.

Speaking to Automotive news, management guru Jim Womack went further. The co-author of a seminal book on Toyota’s lean, mean production machine claims that the American political landscape makes it difficult for Toyota to be Toyota.

"The short-term rate of expansion in the States is not being driven by long-term judgment about what is truly best for the business as a business," Womack said. "Rather, it's being driven by an assessment of what is necessary for the company due to short-term politics.

“Toyota is terrified that it will be blamed for the collapse of Ford and the potential collapse of Chrysler, followed by GM."

If you were wondering how such a successful automaker could have such a paranoid corporate culture, it's best to think of Toyota's psychology as the reverse of Abraham "hierarchy of needs" Maslow's aphorism. When you're a nail, everything looks like a hammer.

Once upon a time, American stage magicians would assume Indian-sounding names, don turbans and claim to have mastered the mysteries of the Indian subcontinent. Automaker Mahindra & Mahindra (M&M) looks set to revive the country’s rep for astonishing feats. While industry pundits are busy anticipating Chinese automotive exports, M&M are about to sell their products stateside, preparing to enter America’s value-for-money, entry-level market. Will it be magic or a massacre?

Ironically enough, the brothers Mahindra got their start by adapting an American product to the Indian market. After WWII, they set up their namesake company to franchise Willys Jeep production for India’s surface-challenged roads.

Mahindra & Mahindra eventually dropped their American partner, built their own SUV and expanded into light duty trucks, three-wheelers and pickups. The company now operates eight Indian production facilities, 49 sales offices and 780 dealers.

Last year, the Indian conglomerate– including telecoms, financial services and property development– banked roughly $39b in revenues. (For comparison, BMW’s revenues for the same period were around $64b.) In recognition of their size, solidity and importance to the Indian economy, Mahindra & Mahindra is set to replace motorcycle maker Hero Honda Motors on the Bombay stock market’s 30-stock sensitive index (a.k.a. Sensex) in July.  

M&M may be a force to be reckoned with in India, but Automotive News ranks them number 34 on their list of global vehicle makers. All in, Mahindra produces fewer vehicles per year than Ford [still] sells F-150s. No wonder many auto analysts have discounted the Indian tiger’s chances of successfully cracking the world’s largest automotive market– especially when weighed against the aspirations of the Chinese dragon.

Yes but– China’s joint partnerships remain focused on the epic struggle for market share within their friendly neighborhood military dictatorship. Meanwhile, M&M is gearing-up for international expansion.

Earlier this year, Mahindra joined forces with Renault / Nissan to build India’s largest automotive production facility. The Indo – French operation is a flexible factory, looking to produce 50k vehicles this year. M&M claim the plant has sufficient capacity to increase throughput to 400k vehicles per year.  

Two weeks ago, the automaking duo released a local version of Renault’s “world car.” It’s unclear how the Logan DLE 1.5-liter dci will fare against the almost identically powered industry leader, the Ford Fiesta 1.4-liter Duratorque ZXI. But the 547,064 IDR ($13,476) Logan undercuts the popular Ford by around 90k IDR ($2217). In a country with a $979 annual per capita income, that’s a compelling difference. 

The cut-price Logan may well join Mahindra and Mahindra’s Scorpio as another value-priced product doing battle outside its home market.

Five years ago, Mahindra began selling their diesel and petrol-powered SUV to Malaysia, South Africa, Russia, Italy, France, Spain, Portugal and Western Europe (where it’s known as the Goa). Sales and reviews have been strong; the vehicle is now in its second generation, complete with a Lotus-tuned suspension. M&M believe the Scorpio and its derivatives are ready to fulfil their American ambitions.

The Indian carmaker is no stranger to the U.S. market. After severing an eight-year franchise agreement with International Harvester in 1971, Mahindra and Mahindra began building their own line of tractors. In 1994, M&M started selling farm machinery in the United States.

With US assembly facilities in Tomball, Texas and Calhoun, Georgia (and a third site under construction), the company estimates it will sell 10k tractors this year. And M&M is no cheapo tractor builder. In 2003, their U.S. ops received the Deming Application Prize for Total Quality Management; the only tractor company to achieve this honor.

To sell their automotive products stateside, Mahindra turned to Global Vehicles. The Georgia-based company is notorious for trying– and failing– to import the Romanian-built Cross Lander. Global v2 says they’ve sold 160 Mahindra dealerships for $125k apiece. They’re looking to add another 340 M&M dealers by the end of this year, with sales starting in early to mid ’08.

Last month, 500 potential M&M dealers gathered in Atlanta to see the Indian automaker’s five-model U.S. line up: a two-door pickup, two four-door trucks and two five-door SUVs. 

Mahindra’s expected to price these products in the low 20’s. Their SUV will butt heads with Hyundai’s Tuscon ($17k – $22k) and Kia’s Sportage ($16k – $22k). Unless the Indian machines bring a raft of standard features and a matching warranty to the party, it’ll be an uphill battle. M&M’s small pickup will encounter far less resistance, as American and Japanese automakers have neglected and/or abandoned the segment.

M&M’s secret weapon: diesels. All five US products will offer an optional diesel engine. Renault’s oil burners are some of one of the best in the biz: torquey, smooth and frugal. If Mahindra found a way to make their diesel powerplants U.S.-compliant, their products will find a ready audience, and establish a beachhead in the world’s most competitive automotive market. Now THAT would be some trick.

During one of my first job interviews, the HR guy threw me a curve ball. How do you define quality? The question stopped me cold. I’d just read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, in which the main character went insane trying to answer that same question. I don’t remember what I said, but thus began a long-term intellectual exploration. I know this website has tried to define this seemingly nebulous term many times, but here’s what I’ve been thinking.

In software engineering, ISO 9126 defines quality according to six characteristics: functionality, reliability, usability, efficiency, maintainability and portability. Domestic automakers use similar design, performance and longevity parameters to bible stack swear they’re building quality products (these days).

And yet American consumers ain’t buyin’ it (literally). They continue to believe that The Big 2.8 have lower quality automobiles than foreign or transplanted product. The domestics dismiss the apparent discrepancy as a “perception gap.”

Clearly, there is a semantic disconnect. Part of the problem: when it comes to cars, there are hundred of ways to measure “quality.” Is quality determined by materials, acoustics, ergonomics, design, dynamics, reliability or some combination of these and other factors? In what order? Without a specific definition, quality becomes a meaningless term. For example…

My 1988 VW Scirocco 16V had a splendid black leather interior, drove beautifully and consumed transmissions and Pirellis on a regular basis. I also owned a 1995 Ford Escort GT. It never broke down, the seats were living hell and the car drove like a Maytag washer. Both of these car had similar performance characteristics (horsepower, acceleration, grip).

The Volkswagen offered a superior driver-machine connection and curb appeal, with limited reliability and expensive repair costs. The Ford was dynamically inferior, but reliable and cheap to maintain. They were both high quality; they were both low quality.

And what of relative (does it beat the competition) and absolute quality (does it get the job done)? In other words, automotive quality is both subjective AND individual. What, exactly, do you want the vehicle to do? Can you tolerate breakdowns? What are your specific requirements for things such as cost, fuel efficiency, seating capacity and performance? What about the feel of the leather or the amount of steering feedback?

The Biz school def of quality may be our best guide. They define quality as a product or service’s ability to satisfy its customer’s desires. Using this formula, relative satisfaction determines relative quality. If a car “delights” the customer (a nauseating MBA term for sure), it’s considered a “higher quality” vehicle than one that just gets on with the business of meeting expectations.

Most automakers miss the overarching implications of this definition. They obsess over vehicular reliability– the numbers of defects and cycles until failure– because they believe (rightly) that customers find the maintenance process an unpleasant experience. Any subsequent loss of transportation and cash results in a dramatic loss of customer satisfaction, thus lowering perceived quality.

It’s generally acknowledged that the world’s largest carmaker keeps its customers happy by building the most reliable cars. And the automotive media’s fascination with quantifiable comparisons certainly fans the flames of this objective data OCD. But preventing pain is not as important as creating happiness, and again, happiness is the key to automotive quality.

My Escort-owning experience proved (at least to me) that subjective happiness is a better measure of perceived quality than a lack of pain. A car may not break down once during an owner’s tenure (the automaker’s Holy Grail), but an owner may still consider it a POS after five years.

And yes, you CAN engineer-in happiness. Depending on the consumer’s predilections, an exterior that delights them throughout their ownership experience is as important a measure of quality as a reliable engine. 

By the same token, after-sale service is an extremely important determinant of an automobile’s perceived quality. A given Lexus may break down more than a given Cadillac, but a bad (or just ugly-looking) dealership can easily instantly obviate the Caddy’s (theoretical) mechanical advantage.

It’s seems bizarre that carmakers leave overall customer happiness to the vagaries of profit-oriented dealers, mechanics, service stations and other third parties of the automotive service industry. But they do.

You could even say that automakers relentless pursuit of quality is headed in the wrong direction. Instead of obsessing over the hunk of metal and plastic on the floor, they should be looking at the amount of customer happiness. And not just at day one, but at day 3,650 and beyond.

Manufacturers seeking to produce quality cars should commit themselves to delighting customers throughout the entire ownership experience, at every single point of contact: dealership, internet, everywhere. Trying to quantify quality may be enough to drive anyone crazy, but focusing on customer happiness will keep a car company– any car company– in business.