I recently attended the Los Angeles Auto Show. Other than 30-inch custom wheels, the sheer desolation at the Mercury stand was the most amazing sight of the day. A forty- something couple ambled about the premises studiously avoiding the half-dozen or so Mercury “product specialists” looking for something to do before lunch. The revamped Mariner and Mariner Hybrid spun on their turntables, revealing their inescapable Fordness to an ocean of deserted carpeting. I couldn't help but conclude that the brand is doomed.

I remember the Oldsmobile stand in the years leading up to its ignominious demise. Even in its lame duck form it had a couple dozen visitors milling around. And unlike Mercury, there was very little chatter within the industry suggesting that Oldsmobile’s extinction was imminent. Olds was an Indy 500 and IRL championship-winning engine supplier. According to those “in the know,” GM was about to reinvent the brand to capitalize on its racing rep. Oldsmobile was going to become the premium American import alternative– the orbit [once and again] occupied by Saturn.

In contrast, today’s Mercury has no motorsports involvement and sells a range of fractionally ritzier but still blander-than-John-Kerry- eating-vanilla-ice-cream Fords with waterfall grilles. Even employing a drop-dead gorgeous spokesperson like Jill Wagner, the fact remains that Mercury’s product line remains an armada of badge engineered mediocrity.

So how should Ford CEO Alan Mulally and his posse fix this situation— other than pulling the plug and let the dealer lawsuits fall where they may? Step one: axe the Milan. As the Brits say, the Milan falls between two stools. Any customers willing to pay a premium to drive a frillier Ford Fusion will make the jump to the automotive artist formerly known as Zephyr. Although you couldn’t ask for a better platform from which to badge engineer (just ask Mazda), that way oblivion lies.

Mercury should also kill the Mariner (Escape), Montego (Five Hundred) and Monterey (don’t ask). To quote the Brits again, the first thing you do when you’re in a hole is to stop digging. Badge engineering is killing– has killed Mercury. To reinvent itself, Mercury must take one giant step away from Ford and decide what it wants to represent.

Step two, Mercury should replace the Milan with a federalized, waterfall grilled version of the head-turning Euro-spec Ford Mondeo. Yes, this same scheme did a face-plant in the form of the late, unlamented Mystique. But a Mercury version of the new “kinetic” Mondeo would go a long way towards restoring some semblance of street cred for the amorphous brand– especially if Dearborn includes the five-door and wagon versions. (Multiple bonus points for a high-po “Cyclone” version.)

Step three: import the Euro-spec Focus. The Euro Focus is a full generation ahead of the current vine-rotted model barely sold in the U.S. The domestic version should be rechristened a nuevo Mercury Comet. By adding this “premium compact” to their NorAm portfolio, Mercury could present a viable domestic alternative to the BMW MINIs and Audi A3s mopping-up the high-end of the small car market.

Step four: bring over the Ford S-Max. Other than the fact that the S-Max is an award-winning minivan (a genre Ford recently abandoned), this “MPV’s” chief advantage is that it looks like nothing else in Ford’s domestic lineup. When you’re trying to re-build a brand without a visual identity, you have a unique opportunity to deploy completely new models without worrying about the effects of new design language. Moribund Mercury needs a completely unique vehicle. The S-Max is it. 

If all of this sounds a bit familiar to armchair Iacoccas, that’s because GM’s is now using its “import fighter” Saturn brand to sell, uh, imports. Although Saturn’s weak-selling Aura suggests that re-badging Euro-derived vehicles doesn’t guarantee success, Mercury could pull it off, under one condition: no other Ford brand is allowed to share the European swag. Repeat after me: badge engineering blows. Besides, importing cars ain’t cheap. The allegedly upmarket Mercury brand can charge the premium required to maintain profitability. [How Saturn expect to make a profit on a European-built Astra is something of a mystery.] 

Alan Mulally has decided that Ford’s future depends on international parts and platform sharing. If The Blue Oval’s Thirty Million Dollar Man can get his guys to use these platforms to create highly individual models suitable to each brand’s specific DNA, the global strategy could work. Meanwhile, Big Al needs a way to reenergize Mercury right now, cheap. This is it. If the Divine Mr. M maintains the status quo– letting Mercury stand for nothing more than a babe and a badge– by the time the new models arrive, there’ll be no one left who's interested in them.

When dairy cows go dry, farmers have them “freshened” (that’s what bulls are for). Chrysler’s long-time cash cows, its minivans, have gone dry. After an eleven year hiatus, the bulls have been busy. The embattled carmaker will reveal the long overdue “freshening” of their once mighty Dodge Caravan / Chrysler Town and Country models at the Detroit auto show in January. The re-styled ’08 minivans are critical to Chrysler’s profits. Will they restore their fruitful dominance or produce a mere blip on a sales chart with a decidedly downwards trajectory?

Although there's considerable debate on this point, Chrysler is generally credited with inventing the modern minivan. The minivan certainly reinvented Chrysler. After flirting with oblivion, the original Caravan and Voyager pumped billions into Chrysler's coffers in the mid ‘80’s through the '90’s. The minivan was such a successful suburban schlepper that it created its own demographic: the soccer Mom. The product’s popularity peaked at 1.6m units in 2000, when Chrysler owned some 45% of the market.

At last count, U.S. minivans sales have fallen below the one million mark. Sales of the once mighty Dodge/Chrysler twins have tumbled from a height of 650k annual units, to today’s estimated 400k units. Even worse, DCX’ door sliders are struggling to keep their slice of the diminishing pie. The models’ combined market share has fallen below 39%. Given the number of DCX minivans’ that find their way into rental fleets, their retail market share is probably closer to 35%.

Obviously enough, DCX’ minivan-related profits have taken a major hit. The company hasn’t been able to fully utilize both its Windsor, Ontario and St. Louis, Missouri minivan plants for quite some time. Even so, there's a minivan glut on dealers' lots and empty spaces (bank on it). The discrepency between ongoing supply and falling demand has meant massive incentives at the sharp end; trimming yet more profit from the products’ increasingly thin margins. Rather than fight for a slice of the diminishing pie, Ford and GM have in-sinkerated the minivan entries and cooked-up new entries for the so-called crossover market.

Most analysts are pessimistic about the minivan’s future. Many claim baby boomers are all boomed-out; they’re now looking for comfort rather than space. Meanwhile, soft roaders and crossover utility vehicles (CUVs)– some of which now come with third row seating– are encroaching deep into minivanland. Others aren’t so gloomy. They maintain that the genre’s family-friendly combination of safety, practicality and frugality is fundamentally sound. They say the right minivan could shake-off the Mom-mobile image and reinvigorate the entire niche.

Chrysler’s minivan situation is deeply reminiscent of the Ford Taurus, which fell from the top of U.S. passenger car sales when long product cycles, poor reliability, ageing technology and boring styling allowed the Toyota Camry and Honda Accord to dominated passenger car sales. Although Chrysler’s minivans ruled the domestic market for years, that dominance didn’t include a bullet-proof rep. Their minivans have a dubious mechanical legacy, including a self-destructing Ultradrive transmission and disastrous early ABS. With Mercedes behind them– at least in theory– Chrysler may have a fighting chance. If Chrysler builds a minivan that's only slightly better than their last effort, if they don't leapfrog the competition, they're screwed.

Chrysler’s new minivan must face down the Honda and Toyota, both of which produced minivans that came from nowhere to slowly and inexorably carve out about 34% of the market. At the same time, Chrysler’s '08 faces new competition from the Kia Sedona, and its Hyundai twin the Entourage. Both models are scooping up budget-minded buyers left high and dry by Ford and GM’s withdrawal from the market.    

Spy pics of the DCX new minivan show another big, bland, boring box. The rumor mill suggests that Chrysler’s new minivans will be blessed with styling influences from the 300C. If so, it’s a calculated risk. As GM found out the hard way with its “dust-buster” Lumina MPV, minivan buyers generally favor conservative styling.  They tend to look for practical qualities like reliability, build and interior quality, reputation, resale value, etc. Stow and Go or no, these are not qualities generally associated with today’s Chrysler/Dodge. Chrysler projects sales between 430k to 480k annually.

DCX will do well to maintain current minivan volumes. In fact, in category after category, Chrysler is looking ever more vulnerable. The Pacifica is toast, the 300C/Charger may have seen their best days, the Sebring will flop and the Challenger will share a pie with the Camaro and Mustang. Chrysler’s drying minivan teat is genuine cause for concern. It’s time to face facts: thanks to the transplant's persistence, there are no more cash cows.

In the late 70s, Dutch traffic planner Hans Monderman experienced the kind of insight that gets people sent to an asylum. ”Let’s eliminate all traffic signals and signs and remove the divisions between the road and sidewalk where cars and people interact. There will be fewer accidents and traffic flow will improve.” Monderman’s approach seemed completely radical: roads that seem dangerous are safer than roads that seem safe. The concept was a smack in the face of convention.

Accepted traffic planning methods date back to 1929, to Radburn, New Jersey. The residential area was launched as ”The Motor Town of the Future.” It was, in effect, a study in near total human/traffic non-interaction. The reasoning was obvious: cars are big, fast and hard; people are slow, soft and fragile. Segregate the two and people can walk safely and cars can move quickly from A to B. The result became a model for road planners in all developed nations and a blueprint for the world.

The system had an unintended consequence: endless stop-and-go. Where drivers and pedestrians [eventually and inevitably] interact, they both face countless interruptions to their natural flow. They have to stop. Monderman’s counter theory: go slower to move faster. To help road users go with the flow, Monderman recommended bringing cars and people into greater proximity– without signs or signals. Monderman argued that human contact through the windshield creates a self-regulating and efficient traffic flow, as users negotiate with one another for right of way.

Monderman’s ideas were met with near biblical outrage. The Dutchman persisted, until the Netherlands gave him permission to test his theories. In several Dutch towns, engineers ripped out signs and signals, flattened sidewalks and created radical new road-flow patterns. The result: a statistically verified reduction in accidents and fatalities. Monderman’s success with ”human contact flow” has lead to changes in roadways throughout the European Union and the U.S.

An American named Walter Kulash added to the growing ”liveable traffic” (r)evolution. The Senior Traffic Engineer at the Orlando community-planning firm of Glatting Jackson Kercher Anglin Lopez Rinehart Inc. saw that outdated planning had created islands of inactivity in both suburbia and urbia. At night, downtown areas are abandoned. During the day, outlying residential districts are desolate. People spend a lot of time driving from one to the other, usually negotiating traffic snarls.

Kulash believes in creating more efficient habitats, by manipulating street geometry and introducing mixed use of space. Working with planners intent on transforming West Palm Beach from a dead end darkworld to a 24-hour address, Kulash helped create a liveable town out of what used to be shops and parking spaces. Developers have seen property values increase three and four-fold after Kulash’ interventions. His traffic-calming and urban design methods are helping create numerous ”liveable traffic spaces” across North America, where people work, live, shop, play AND drive.

Monderman’s flow generation and Kulash’ traffic calming principles could trigger a shift in automotive tastes. Transportation analysts estimate that the average U.S. vehicle travels roughly 30 miles a day. Encouraged by the ”New Urbanism” planning scene, drivers may finally abandon the idea that their cars must be capable of transcontinental transportation, and shift to lower speed plug-in hybrids and electric vehicles. Rising gas prices and increasing environmental/political consciousness will only accelerate the transition.

A year ago, I asked Walter Kulash’s opinion about a car platform bound for the U.S. Kulash said that the new car fit within his critical ”effective turn-radii” requirement; it would be able to get around the new townscape with ease. In other words, Kulash is creating roads where big cars are as out of place as a sumo wrestler in a ballet troupe.

To conform to American tastes, these vehicles would have to be small on the outside, yet feel big on the inside. The Nissan Versa understands the equation. But the genre needs a premium player to overcome the stigma of ”small = cheap.” In that regard, the long-delayed SMART car is the one to watch. Originally planned as an EV city runner, the Smart cars now sip gasoline. Don’t be surprised to see the platform get new drivetrains as DCX reaches for profit opportunity.

The rise of car sharing companies like Flexcar and Zipcar also show that a growing percentage of drivers are willing to abandon the gratification of ownership for the ease and economy of more practical personal transportation. Where these companies are going, the majors should follow. American carmakers would be wise to adjust their future products to match this merging of urban and suburban environments.

The Big Two Point Five should build products that exploit the new, more people-friendly asphalt paths through our streetscapes. By catering to the switch from gas-guzzling land yachts to economical, environmentally-friendly runabouts, Detroit may discover the economic reinvention it so dearly needs.   

When the new[ish] Chevrolet Tahoe SUV was released, reporters asked GM Car Czar Bob Lutz whether rising gas prices would discourage SUV buyers from jumping into The General’s gas-guzzling truck. ”Rich people don’t care about gas prices,” Lutz remarked. Yes well, it’s time for Maximum Bob to take a class in Remedial Marketing. It’s a five minute course that starts with the Bell Curve. 

Place potential car buyers along an axis showing unit price and you’ll get a big Bell Curve shaped hump in the middle. If you want to be the world’s largest manufacturer of automobiles– defined as the company that sells the largest number of cars per year– it really doesn’t matter what rich people think. There’s no way they can generate enough profits to make your nut. You have to play the law of averages.

The Big Three fell off the curve at the end of the ’80’s when they began chasing [imagined] high-margin niches filled with wealthy people. The more high-priced, high margin trucks and SUV’s GM, Ford and Chrysler sold, the less they cared about the millions of financially challenged customers who helped create their companies.

In this they were not alone. Even VW (Peoples’ Wagon!) neglected smaller cars in favor of big and expensive platforms. VW quality nosedived as the smart eggs within their organization set about building Phaetons, Touaregs and a limited edition ultracar, the Bugatti Veyron. Today they’re all fighting to claw their way back to the mean– before it’s too late.

Probably suspecting a trick (you’re ceding us the mass market?), Toyota and Honda took a good close look at the Car Customer Bell Curve and arrived at a very different conclusion. They asked: ”What if we offer affordable cars to the people right smack in the middle of the graph? A car range with just a touch better features, quality and service than similar servings from the domestics?” Rocket science!

We’re looking at two strategies here. Toyota: build affordable transportation for the masses at a quality level that slightly exceeds expectations relative to price. GM et al: build oversized, under-engineered and fuel inefficient cars for people who don’t care about money while palming off sub-standard cars on mainstream customers. Is it any wonder that the truck-crazed domestic manufacturers lost mission critical market share to the transplants? Lutz and his cohorts failed to recognize that the vast majority of potential customers were simply looking for affordable quality transportation.

Having taken their eyes off the chart, The Big Two Point Five are now paying the price. While they sent their best resources into an imagined land of promised gold, the transplants stuck to looking squarely at the needs of mainstream of car buyers. This focus also helped them gaze into the future. They asked themselves a question Detroit didn’t even consider: ”How do we keep our cars affordable as fuel costs and environmental pressures increase?”

Here’s Bob Lutz on the same topic back in 2003: ”It just doesn’t make environmental or economic sense to try to put an expensive dual-power train system into less expensive cars which already get good mileage.” Clearly, Maximum Bob’s take on good mileage is different from a Prius owner’s.  Lutz belief that gas would go back under $2 a gallon certainly didn’t help his ability to gauge GM’s ”new” target market. And then GM was forced to cough up gas rebates for Lutz’ hulks, covering the spread in gas prices over $1.99 to the tune of $1000. These days, Bob’s a hybrid convert– who’s short on product.

To get back into the real game, the domestics will have to party back in The Land of Averages– provided they want to remain on the list of the world’s top five automobile manufacturers (the last time I looked it was still a priority). In this effort, there are no shortcuts.

In Ford’s case, success will require an immediate  return to the reason behind Henry’s decision to create a Model-T assembly line: to build a ”reasonably priced, reliable and efficient car” that’s ”easy to operate, maintain and handle.” Hey; that sounds a lot like how people describe Toyota’s products today.

Mounting a convincing return to the essential mass market is going to be a lot harder than simply inventing imagined premium niches (I’m looking at you Chevrolet SSR). The domestics will have to make their cars both relevant and affordable in an age where everyone, including the supposedly oblivious rich, have woken up to the true cost of energy. An age where the competition is creative, well-funded and focused. But GM et al can only make a start if they stop applying yesterday’s problems to tomorrow’s solutions.

So, the lesson for today: you can’t please most of the people most of the time if you don’t even try.

Historically speaking, Chrysler’s desire to keep pace with Ford and GM has kept the company perched on the brink of disaster. In his magnificent Motown expose “The Reckoning,” author David Halberstam devotes a couple of chapters to the "Crisis Corporation's" perennial woes. Halberstam describes the corrosive effects of the automaker’s sales bank, where vehicles were built, registered as sold and held in vast lots– until reality caught up with book-keeping. The practice was eventually abandoned. As you’ve just read, it’s baaaaack.

The idea of the “sales bank” is logical– in theory. Instead of constantly slowing and speeding production to meet varying demand, factories work at full capacity year-round. Any unsold cars are “banked” in storage lots until demand picks up. This supposedly eliminates carmakers two largest headaches: the need to run near full capacity (to maintain low unit costs) and the cyclical market. What made the bank deadly in practice: overstated sales projections. “Banking” just made things worse.

The problem with “holding” the cars– beyond the storage cost and resulting deterioration– was the way the practice warped Chrysler’s relations with its dealers. With a huge pool of cars to choose from, there was little incentive for dealers to place ordinary orders from the factory. Instead, they’d simply pick up their sales inventory when the manufacturer’s lots got too full– at fire sale prices. Unfortunately, selling worn vehicles did little to increase demand for cars, which led to more “banking.”

Lee Iaccoca killed the Chrysler’s sales bank shortly after he assumed power, helping shape Chrysler’s comeback. The new sales bank has been going on for about a year, under the not-so-watchful eye of Chrysler Group Prez and CEO Dieter Zetsche. While both Ford and GM have bitten the bullet– making major production cuts and jettisoning workers to [try to] match production to the reduced demand– Chrysler has continued running their factories and “banking” the excess.

There is a reason for Chrysler’s sales bank “renaissance.” Under present contracts, United Auto Workers (UAW) members are paid virtually the same whether they are working or not. Back in the ‘70’, they would have simply collected unemployment. What hasn’t changed: all the reasons the bank was a bad idea. In fact, the problem's gotten worse.

This time, Chrysler dealers aren’t cherry-picking for bargains. Current dealer inventories for The Big Two Point Five have been stuck at almost 100 days for months– when half that amount is seen as dangerously excessive. DCX has been stuffing “money in the trunk” on old and new vehicles, and the dealers aren’t even sniffing the bait. There are now TWO bloated inventories that need reducing: Chrysler’s AND its dealers’.

Demand for these vehicles is unlikely to increase anytime soon. The natural market cap for the 300/Magnum/Charger seems to have been reached (the initial rush is over). The Sebring etc. are being replaced (as soon as they can get the dealers to take some). Minivans and trucks have been DCX’s profit centers for decades, but the minivans have been feeling new pressure from Hyundai/Kia in the economy market (Toyota and Honda have already skimmed most of the cream).

As for the trucks and SUVs, the future isn’t rosy. The Durango gets Suburban-level mileage with sub-Tahoe utility, and it just got a posh sibling that made an Aspen of itself. Being number three (and oldest) in the pickup market is like wearing a bulls-eye to a shootout. In short, DCX is likely to continue to lose market share in the near future.

If the sales bank is such a huge mistake– all the problems of fleet sales without any of the revenue– why does Chrysler persist? One theory making the rounds: Chrysler’s German masters are loathe to admit that their hand-picked team can out-screw-up the Americans– at least until the evidence becomes impossible to ignore (instead of merely visible from low Earth orbit). Another theory: the current regime believes their own hype. The sun will come out tomorrow, the sales bank will dry up, new products will erase the memory of the old, and all will be well. 

The third and most intruiging suggestion is that the jobs bank is a not-so-secret stash of vehicles which allows Chrysler to play hardball with the United Auto Workers (UAW) in the run-up to '07 contract talks. This theory posits that when the UAW refused to grant the automaker the same [meager] health care givebacks it blessed upon Generous Motors– "pattern bargaining" up but not down– Chrysler began churning out product in preparation for a UAW strike.

If true, if The Dark Lords of DCX tell Big Ron's bluster boys to go sing, Chrysler would have half a year’s worth of product to keep dealers happy. Problem is, that’s not enough. Besides, when something looks like either a cunning conspiracy or simple stupidity, it’s usually stupidity. But wouldn't it be funny if a combination of stupidity and luck ended-up saving Chrysler's bacon?

"Arguably in every parameter that you can look at, the Toyota Production System is the finest product system in the world for designing and manufacturing products. They make products that people want and they do it with less resources and less time than anybody in the world. They're a magical machine." Not my words, but those of Alan Mulally, now charged with pulling a carmaker out of the swamp marshes of Fordor. Like Alan, I admire Toyota’s manufacturing processes, quality control and after-sales. But I also know their weakness…

First, to those of you who are tired of hearing what a great company Toyota is, Toyota is the world’s foremost manufacturer. Bar none. Other manufacturers must study, learn, apply and improve. That’s the only way they’ll build the war chest they need to fight back from a position of strength. Until they do, they’ll be playing a hopeless game of catch-up.

Back to Alan for a moment. Every day a 737 pumps out of the hangar at Boeing, and after a 35 minute flight it’s in revenue service. Of course, they told Mulally it couldn’t be done – ”You can’t build planes the same way you build cars!” Yes you can, and doesn’t Airbus wish they were? This was Mulally’s gift to Boeing, and in a strange game of hopscotch it could become Toyota’s gift to Ford channeled through a disciple. Bill Ford only wishes he’d thought of it sooner.

Reaching parity with Toyota– and adding a few bells and whistles of their own– is the best Ford can hope for. It’s a long shot, as ToMoCo isn’t standing still. But Mulally is a self-professed disciple of The Way and if Ford’s resources don’t run out first, he’s the man who can give it the best shot. Who would you rather have making the effort: Wagoner and Lutz in their constant states of denial, or someone who’s actually hit the bullseye already?

Mulally is already applying his knowledge to the task at hand. For example, he knows that Ford must align itself more closely with its suppliers’ best interest. FoMoCo’s suppliers are wobbling with fatigue, having been squeezed dry by their overlords. They’re so fed up they’ve started to squeeze back, exploiting the weakness of the rulers up at the Castle. Hopefully both sides will see the light before they force one another off the field of battle. Ford’s already seeking a more constructive relationship with its key suppliers, so don’t think Mr. Mulally is simply holding Thursday chat sessions.

Mulally’s also begun realigning his forces in the field, making the various divisions understand they’re answerable to High Command and that the brandmash has got to stop. That’s going to be the tough one. There are hundreds of stakeholders who will be resisting any transfer of power back to the corporate mothership. I suspect this is why Mulally insisted on being co-director along with Bill Ford. A fly on the wall would have heard this: ”I’ll do it, but only if you’re willing to rain hell on the holdouts that will be fighting my changes. You and me Bill, we’re in this together.”

Assuming Mulally can get Ford’s ducks in a row, it’s time to reveal Toyota’s weakness: a legacy. They don’t have one.

Where do Toyota owners go to proudly display their classic Toyotas to other owners? Right, nowhere. What comes to mind when you think of Toyota’s history? Nothing. Yes, 25 million Camrys sold is fantastic. But Toyota is not a brand builder. They’re blandbuilders. They’re not building dream machines. Instead, they are experts at playing the law of averages to their consumers’ satisfaction.

Without a legacy you’re not building brands, you’re building cars, you’re providing transportation. Toyota is aware of this. That’s why it’s in F1 and NASCAR. That’s why they’re pushing the envelope on alternative drive-trains, and spending without limit on Lexus. And that’s why they put the brakes on building more Scions – sensing an opportunity to harness brand cachet. They are wising up. Toyota is trying to build a legacy before their opponents notice their weakness. While we wonder whether there’s a future to GM and Ford (a pity given their past achievements), there is no past in Toyota, only a future that’s going to be better than average.

If Ford (or any of the domestics) want to take on Toyota, they’ve got to show what brand spirit is all about. Ford and GM have some choice morsels in their history, ready to be added to the mix. Of course, to do that Ford and its cohorts need to get rid of their spreadsheet ”car makers” and tune their brandlines for an exhilirating roll of the dice. Which is the topic of my next column.

Imagine an alternate reality where General Motors operates state-of-the-art factories with flexible manufacturing systems allowing production of vehicles with different platforms on the same production line. Where they operate with a lean manufacturing philosophy that encompasses purchasing, logistics, manufacturing, sales and quality management. Where they use non-union labor to keep costs down and profits up, avoiding the legacy costs unions bring to the table.  Where sales are up more than thirty percent. Huān yíng guāng lín to China.

In 1997, GM entered a 50-50 joint venture with Shanghai Automotive Industry Corp. (SAIC) to form Shanghai General Motors (SGM) Co. Ltd. At the time, it was the largest single foreign investment in China in decades; many analysts considered it a high-risk undertaking. They’ve since been proven wrong, as the partnership continues to prosper. Currently, SGM produces 29 products under five main brands: Chevrolet, Buick, Cadillac, Saab and Opel. Additionally, they manufacture and sell ACDelco parts and Wuling minivans and pickups. 

SGM also operates China's first automotive engineering and design joint venture: the Pan Asia Technical Automotive Center (PATAC). PATAC handles all the vehicle design, development and testing for SGM and their domestic joint ventures. It has more than 1100 salaried employees, many of whom have masters and/or doctorate degrees. Their emission testing facility is one of 11 certified by the Chinese EPA and can test to European or American standards (including California’s stringent super-low emission standards).

GM has invested billions of dollars in their booming Chinese operation. If anyone has any lingering doubts about GM’s commitment to this market, the American automaker has just announced their plans to mass produce hybrid cars in China by 2008. While they’ve eschewed hybrid cars in the US (focusing instead on pickups and the Saturn Vue), the company’s PR flacks state "the GM Hybrid System is flexible and cost effective and is ideal for high volume global applications, which include its introduction in China in 2008."  So far, The General hasn’t indicated any plans to expand its hybrid market in the US. But few industry observers would be surprised to see hybrid powertrains– or even complete hybrid-powered cars– coming through customs shortly after their Chinese debut.

So what does GM get in return for their investment?  They have access to what is arguably the fastest growing automobile market in the world; sales jumped 36.7% in the first three quarters of this year. GM’s leadership is acutely aware their Shanghai goose is producing dozens of golden eggs, and they’re doing everything they can to keep it healthy. During a visit to Shanghai earlier this month, Rick Wagner stated, "we are willing to invest ahead of demand here because we are very bullish that demand is going to keep growing here."

All is not sunshine and rainbows, though. SAIC is using the expertise and experience gained from their joint ventures to launch their own premium brand, Roewe, at this month’s Beijing Auto Show. Their first offering, the Roewe 750E, is based on the Rover 75 sedan. They will market it as a premium brand in direct competition with Cadillacs, Saabs and top line Buicks.  SAIC plans to launch 30 new models under the Roewe brand between 2006 and 2011, and hopes to produce 120K Roewe cars in 2007. 

Where does this leave GM? It’s too early to tell. Under Chinese law, foreign automakers have to be in a joint venture agreement with a domestic company. That means GM can’t sever their ties with SAIC– unless it hooks-up with another Chinese manufacturer. SAIC says it has gleaned "rich experience and resources in every field" from its work with GM. GM says it “understands" SAIC’s "desire for further growth" and is confident "SAIC recognizes that the success of both companies in the China market is closely linked to the success of our joint ventures." Industry analyst Michael Dunne states, "the Chinese formed joint ventures for one purpose: to learn how to do it themselves one day. That day is here."

In the short term, GM will feel very little impact from SAIC’s decision. Cadillac is one of the top brands in China, on par with (or maybe even more desirable than) Mercedes. Buick has been on the Chinese market for almost 10 years. Both marques have solid reputations as prestige brands, so it may take Roewe a while to catch up.  GM seems to have the inertia they’ll need to survive in the Chinese market.

However they can’t drop their guard. They have to keep up with market trends and keep manufacturing costs in check. And whatever else they do, they must avoid the brand dilution that plagues them in other markets. Hopefully, GM’s China connection will provide the capital it needs for a corporate turnaround.  In fact, the future of GM’s North American operations may depend on it.

On our way through the dark, the Toyota people prepared me for my room’s view. ”It’s Close to Mount Fuji,” they said. ”And your room is facing the mountain.” I got up at the first hint of light, walked to the window and realized I was at the very foot of Mount Fuji. The rising sun turned the snow at the summit a sparkling pink. A pair of huge Bonzai styled trees outside the window had clearly been posed with thought against the background. It was December 2003 and I was set to drive the Lexus prototype hybrid SUV.

Two years earlier, Toyota bought the Mount Fuji International Speedway to test their Formula 1 platforms. My hosts were taking me to the track to put the new 400h through its paces on what was fast becoming hallowed ground. Once we’d passed through the gate into the main reception, I was sternly instructed to leave my camera behind, sign various papers and promise to keep everything I learned top secret. I checked all the right boxes, made all the right noises and did my damndest to hide my growing excitement behind an unsuitably Western veil of eagerness.

I’ve been on a variety of tracks over the years, but this was the first course that was photoshopped to perfection. Everything was exactly as it should be. The Macadam surface was pristine, without a single hole, pit or bump marring the glassine surface. (I swear someone must have vacuumed the track that morning.) The tall Cypress trees lining the speedway looked as if they had been copy-pasted into place– each as tall as the one next to it, all the same shape and planted with 1/16 of an inch tolerance from the next.

As we walked into pit lane, there it was: a champagne colored Lexus SUV, soon to be called 400h. The model sat next to a Prius and a number of other premium cars I’m still not supposed to mention. They were there to provide benchmarks. The test car looked like … an RX330. Still, the secrecy made the hybrid seem as exotic as an experimental jet on the flight line, gassed-up and ready to go.  

When I got behind the wheel, I immediately proceeded to disobey the detailed instructions. Standing starts, braking from top speed with wheels screaming, snap turning at speed to test the VDM; I took the gas – electric SUV through its paces and then some. The 400h was no race car, but the stepless push delivered by the planetary gears all the way from zero to top speed was a surprise.

Let me confess right here: I almost crashed the prototype. I went up on a bank and pushed it as fast as it would go, came out of the first curve and stayed up, realizing almost too late that the top lane didn’t run into the next curve; it was blocked with a boom. I just managed to switch lanes, the boom and supporting metal blocks flashing by on my right. The Japanese were too nice to show their displeasure when I returned to the pit. They did suggest I might want to stay at the lower level next time around, given that this was their only running prototype. 

That evening, back at the lodge, I shared a couple of beers with the project’s chief engineer. Osamu Sadakata was gregarious and proud as a king. I asked what inspired his work with the 400h’s VDM traction control system, which uses its three engines ingeniously. ”We were thinking you should feel you are on downhill skis, at the top of the world’s toughest Black Diamond rated run. And you just plant your poles, push off and go, fastfast!” He winked, took a swig from his bottle, and delivered the punchline: ”Knowing that whatever you do, you’ll never fall, you’ll just have the time of your life.”

Mr. Sadakata must be a brilliant taskmaster. He’s also a lucky man. Dr. Toyoda is determined to make Lexus the number one brand in premium automobiles. That means letting his engineers get the resources they need. Just developing the algorithms for the sophisticated energy management must have cost a moonshot. And they were relentless in their ambitions for the launch of their unique SUV. I couldn’t help thinking of my run-ins with GM-honchos while trying to assist Saab with its international marketing. No matter what we suggested we were told to get with the program, stop nagging about Saabishness and just ”move the metal.”

Mr. Sadakata moved my soul with his anecdote about what inspired him. His car also gave me a dose of mystic religion, because I understood what it meant: Toyota would stop at nothing. And this car company wasn’t moving metal, it was building engineers’ dreams. 

Last Friday, JWT invited me to the Big Apple to discuss their Bold Moves internet documentary series. The ad agency wanted to interview "one of Ford’s fiercest critics" about their client’s decision to “pull back the curtain” on their turnaround efforts. Although JWT was only paying my expenses, I was inspired to make the journey by Mark Fields’ parting words in the opening episode: “the American people love the truth.” This is perfectly true and completely beside the point. The question is, does Ford love the truth?

I knew the answer to that question even before I boarded the Acela Express. Back in June, the automaker commissioned me to write about the wisdom (or lack thereof) of the Bold Moves campaign. My no-holds-barred rant wasn’t a hit. I rewrote a few bits at their behest, but dug in my heels on the article’s main thrust: Ford’s campaign sucked because their products aren’t bold. Nor should they be. “The average Ford buyer hankers after a bold vehicle about as much as they crave purple hair extensions.” The piece never appeared.

As I walked through JWT’s white offices– lifted directly from the set of Woody Allen’s Sleeper– I surmised that my hosts had asked me down as part of a carefully coordinated effort to show how “real” they were, because, of course, “real” is all the rage these days. Yes but… the interview came with damage control as standard. JWT was free to use whatever digitized bits best suited its corporate purposes or, again, ditch the whole deal.

As soon as our chat commenced, I discovered that “transparency” was the name of JWT’s game. My bright eyed and tie-less adtagonist wanted to know if I– or anyone else– gave Ford props for letting JWT’s camera crew record, edit and post a “warts and all” look behind the scenes of the automaker’s recent struggles. The ad guy didn’t seem to care when I said nobody other than industry wonks and advertising execs was interested Ford’s bold new blog. He remained unperturbed when I declared that JWT's films had about as much edge as a beach ball, Ford employees were more concerned about losing their jobs than faux cinema verite and that The Blue Oval is doomed. Like I said: editing.

Later, as I watched the sun set over Connecticut, I concluded that Ford and JWT just don’t get it. Using the internet as an alternative channel for corporate PR– no matter how “hard hitting”– isn’t a bold move. It’s the same old you-know-what in a different wrapper. In our Brave New e-World, interactvity is all. The only two-way section of the Bold Moves site– “Ford responds”– is a limp joke. An anonymous Ford rep– no name, title or email– answers a selected question. Surfers post their reactions. Then… nothing. It's a total disconnect between consumer passion and Ford reaction, a sop to electronic intercourse that highlights the automaker's ignorance, arrogance and intransigence.  

But it wasn’t until today that I realized how badly JWT and their Dearborn paymasters are fooling themselves. In Car and Driver’s letters section, Bud Green from Garland, Texas took C&D to task for describing a 4.9-liter Mustang when no such vehicle existed. “Hey, Bud,” the Ed responded. “you might want to review the trunkload of stories we’ve written about the “5.0” Mustang over its long run. The engine had a displacement of 4942cc.” The editor’s time shifted, mean-spirited, self-congratulatory response perfectly illustrates the old media’s gestalt, and the ethos of the automakers that help subsidize their efforts.

Car mags and carmakers simply don’t (or won’t) realize that the paradigm has shifted. The days when the high priests of automotive manufacturing and their journalistic acolytes could make products and pronouncements without concerning themselves with the opinions of people outside the industry (save an occasional interest in which vehicles or magazines consumers buy) are gone. The new model is an wired organization sans frontieres: a commercial enterprise with an instant, endless feedback loop between company and consumer that ultimately obliterates the difference between the two. Carmakers willing to make this leap– to surrender intellectual power to their customers– will thrive. 

The Bold Moves website demonstrates Ford's unwillingness to embrace the new template. It's nothing more than traditional top down corporate culture transposed into a new medium. If the guardians of "Crazy Henry's" legacy really wanted to be bold, they'd create a multiplicity of websites covering every aspect of their business: design, marketing, engineering, distribution, sales, etc. They'd configure these sub-sites to allow a frank, open and meaningful conversation with the outside world, including suppliers, dealers, mechanics, owners and potential consumers. Anything less is an enormous waste of time, money and credibility.

Every industry craves a hit, whether it’s a bestseller, a summer blockbuster or 300k crossovers off a Canadian assembly line. It is, however, only one way to make a buck. According to “The Long Tail: Why the Future of Business Is Selling Less of More,” consumers are quickly evolving beyond cookie-cutter mass consumption. In fact, a careful reading of Wired editor Chris Anderson’s tome indicates that the days when a single vehicle could “save” a company may be long gone. Automakers who want to survive must now chase the tail of the dragon.

Anderson defines The Long Tail as a curve on a graph that looks like an old Hot Wheels ramp; the orange kind clamped with a purple vice high on a kitchen table. The tall end represents a few instances of big numbers; the swooping tail represents many instances of small numbers. To illustrate its power, Anderson’s book applies this curve to several industries. Netflix, for example, will send out thousands of copies of a movie the week it’s released. It will also send out tens of thousands of copies of other movies. They may have only one request for that movie that week.

The single requests aren’t as obvious a source of large profits, but experience shows that all these individual orders can conglomerate into a sum that’s greater than the box office boffo “headline” numbers. In Anderson’s words, "Our culture and economy are increasingly shifting away from a focus on a relatively small number of hits (mainstream products and markets) at the head of the demand curve and moving toward a huge number of niches in the tail.”

In other words, you can make more money hammering away at the small stuff than going for the gold. The implications for the US automobile industry are clear: the days when Henry Ford could base an entire company on one black car are toast. By the same token, the one-size-fits-all mentality that assumes hundreds of thousands of people will buy a new Chevy Malibu or Chrysler Aspen is also extinct. Consumer desire for choice has fragmented the automotive market beyond the point of no-return.

Consumer desire for differentiation is stretching the long tail of the US automotive market like so much taffy. You can see these fragments made manifest in the astounding proliferation of automotive makes and models vying for pistonhead patronage. And yet automotive development costs are massive; the development process is complicated, slow and cumbersome. It’s far easier for Hollywood to crank out hundreds of new movies for Netflix than it is for the automobile industry to create 40 plus all-new models per year— never mind adjusting its retail channels to profit from this niche proliferation.

The explosion in the automotive aftermarket hlghlights the discrepancy between supply and demand. In the last two decades, the Specialty Equipment Manufacturers’ Association has grown to represent a $30b a year domestic industry. BMW earns about a $60b a year. In other words, the North American automotive market now supports the equivalent of half a small car company– just so owners can differentiate themselves from drivers of “stock” products.  

The mainstream manufacturers’ recent efforts to capitalize on the long tail underscore their inherent inability to rise to the challenge. It took Cadillac an entire model cycle to develop the sort of bling wheels its Escalade owners were buying in their tens of thousands. And almost as soon as they were released, aftermarket wheel makers offered cheaper, more stylish and more exclusive alternatives. Manufacturers know they must create more choice, but their inefficiency means that have to do so with less. Hence their increasing reliance of platform sharing and its evil twin, badge engineering.

To most enthusiasts, badge engineering is about as acceptable as cannibalism. The differences between a Chevy Uplander and Saturn Relay, for example, are so insignificant as to be insulting. A look at the Ford 500 and Volvo XC90 reveals a different tail. These aesthetically and dynamically differentiated vehicles in no way threaten to steal customers from one another. From style to function to price, these cousins are so far from the Patty Duke variety that they do exactly what the market wants. They offer a genuine, easily understandable increase in consumer choice.

Whether or not the long tail turns out to be a serviceable economic theory is irrelevant. The marketplace in general demands, and now receives, more products: more movies, more books, more videos of cats falling off stools, more cars, more wheels, more of everything. The auto companies that can find a way to cater to this desire with authenticity will find treasure, whether that’s by platform sharing or so-called mass customization. The ones that continue to base their business on breakout blockbusters simply won’t survive.

I'm fresh back from a Mazda marketing boondoggle called “Zoom-Zoom Live." Ford's Japanese brand conducted these ride 'n drives in major markets across the US: DC, Boston, New York, Miami, Houston, Dallas, Atlanta and Chicago. I attended the San Francisco event [actually on a decommissioned Naval air base in Alameda, but the SF skyline was visible]. These kind of "bring the consumers to the product and let 'em loose" deals are supposedly the wave of the future, "high-touch" marketingspeakwise. Unfortunately, car companies seem to have a very strange idea of what "let 'em loose" actually means. 

Upon arrival, we were parked in designated areas – Mazda owners and performance cars over here, please – then herded into the Registration tent. Organizers quickly made with the paperwork: a form releasing Mazda from any responsibility for anything, ever. Just in case that didn't cow us into submission, a smiling Mazda rep read us the riot act and pinned us with some stinking badges– which had to be worn at all times. A (static) Mazdaspeed 6 and a CX-7 whetted our automotive appetites while we waited for the mandatory advance penance video. This paean to pistonhead performance tried to convince us that Mazda is the only brand producing passion on planet earth, narrated by a man wearing a polo shirt without a Mazda logo.

Finally, we were cut loose. Gimme a steering wheel! Well, wait just a minute there buddy-san. Or 120. When signing up online, we were invited to select a starting time. It quickly became obvious that temporal measurement was provided by Albert Einstein; the process was nothing more than a relatively feeble attempt to create an even flow of mass over the event’s two day time – space continuum. Meanwhile, we perused tents displaying all of Mazda's fine products. Except the Mazdaspeed 3 (MS3). And the Tribute. And the MPV. And the B-Series truck (which was probably just as well, since the event was about driving, not plodding about with mulch). Other tents sheltered Mazda engines, the new MX-5 Retractable Hardtop and, oddly, a neglected slot car track. A roach coach served up greasy grub for g-force nausea induction.

We had four different coned tracks from which to pick, The "Mazdaspeed Challenge" was a half-mile hike away, where the lines were deeply reminiscent of a certain mouse-themed amusement park (30-minute wait, 25-second ride). In fact, the the hang time for a MazdaSpeed6 (MS6) stretched over two hours. The "Sports Course" was another Rip Van Winkle deal, [eventually] ending with some seat time in an MX-5 or RX-8. The "Matched Time Gymkhana" was a shorter wait, as was the "CX-7 Target Hunt." This something-less-than-PC event gave attendees the chance to shoot rolling cardboard cutouts of the Ford Edge and Buick Enclave with a large caliber paintball gun.

Not really. Pilots drove Mazda's new CUV down a closed course, aiming towards (but not directly at) a set of yellow cones. Our aim: run the CX-7’s nose sensor so that the outside edge of your left front wheel steers between 6 and 18 inches from each of these yellow cones, and complete the course within a specified time frame. I did neither very well, proving what? The CX-7’s sight lines and maneuverability are just as crummy as any numb and inept SUV. Most excellent marketing Ted!

The Gymkhana was a bit more fun, but many of us forgot that the point was to match a time, not to go as fast as humanly possible. This is not advisable in a “Multi Activity Vehicle,” as evidenced by the number of drivers who negotiated curves in the Mazda 5 on three wheels– only to be shown the exit gate by some sour-faced Mazkateers. The outside rear left tread on one of the 5’s was completely worn. All of the vehicles presented for our dining and dancing pleasure had autoboxes or, at best, manumatics. This was probably a good thing.

On the Sports Course, four MX-5's were evenly equipped with manuals and automatics, the latter quite rightly shunned by unqualified drivers in search of public humiliation. Waiting in line, we were entertained by "contestants" who stalled and shuddered their way to the starting line, accompanied by a chorus of most unsportsmanlike hoots and hollers. The event organizers needed a wiffle bat to pound these drivers about the head into the slushbox cars. Those of us who are three pedals proficient waited impatiently, inhaling the acrid smell of burning clutches in the morning. I asked for a list of VINs at exit, so I wouldn't meet any of these vehicles on the used market. Very funny sir. Request denied.

At the end of this [non-Tapscott] carnival of cars, we were awarded “points” in the great Whose Line Is It Anyway? tradition. We were then handed an exit questionnaire and a hat. I’m sure we’ll see an emailed post-briefing, just in case we want to see how badly the data capture fiends had mispelled our names.

From a TTAC industry observer's POV, the most interesting part of the program was the demographics of those inattentive– I mean, in attendance. Fully 90% of the participants were 20-somethings. So where was the MS3? If you're trying to build street cred with a touchy-feely demo, why keep your star player in the locker room? Sure the great unwashed (though not fully indebted) might have broken it, but c'mon. Who's zooming who?

In 1991, Italian clothing maker Benneton released a controversial ad campaign. Huge billboards and full page magazine ads displayed rows of crosses in an American military cemetery, a priest kissing a nun on the lips, a black woman breast feeding a white baby and other images designed to shock even the most jaded sensibilities. In 1992, Benneton upped the ante with photos of a dying Aids victim, a Kalashnikov-wielding African guerrilla holding a human leg bone, a boat overcrowded with Albanians, a group of African refugees, a weeping family contemplating the bloody body of a Mafioso and two Indians caught in a Calcutta flood. “Reality advertising” had arrived. And now it’s here, courtesy of, of all companies, Chevrolet.

The ad in question is “Our Country, Our Truck.” The 60-second music video cum ad features a montage of historical and manufactured images, including civil rights campaigner Rosa Parks sitting on a bus, Martin Luther King mouthing “I have a dream” in front of the Washington monument, a half-naked peace protester clutching a US flag modified with a peace symbol, a recently resigned President Nixon waving goodbye from a Marine helicopter, a raging wildfire, a hurricane ripping the roof off of a house, post-Katrina flooding, the twin floodlight light tribute at Ground Zero, weary firefighters (geddit?) and, oh yeah, a new Silverado.

Needless to say, after the ad was aired, a number of viewers and more than a few media commentators took GM to task for using images of disaster and political strife to sell pickup trucks. Needless to say, Chevrolet’s spin machine was warmed-up and ready to go. "We were trying to strike that balance between provocative and not stepping over the line," Chevrolet Advertising Director Kim Kosak told Automotive News. "A brand like Chevrolet can do it. If you used those images to hawk a $199 deal that would be reprehensible," Kosak added, oblivious to the old joke that ends “We already know what you are; we’re just haggling over price.”

When asked WTF they were thinking, the edgy ad guys responsible for the spot were even, um, edgier. According to Bill Ludwig, Chief Creative Officer for the Campbell-Ewald ad agency, "If you want to make a statement that rings true with the majority of people, you are going to piss off some people.” This, we can presume, was a large part of Ludwig’s goal. In case you missed it, “There are a lot of cynical people out there who don't react well to this, and a lot of people who will never get behind the wheel of a pickup. So let them get into their Volvo sedans and complain about this spot that they see as exploitive. This is not for them."

Never mind the ad’s subtext, clock Ludwig’s anti-Volvo agenda. Following GM’s recent hiring of right wing commentator Sean Hannity for a national radio promotion, this kind of barely concealed blue state hate is designed to attract pickup buyers with an “us vs. them” political mentality. Paranoid? Then what’s with John Cougar Mellencamp’s musical tribute to the idea of “stand and fight” under an image of a Vietnam battlefield? How reactionary is that? And you’ve got to wonder about the politics of a man who uses death, disaster and turmoil to sell a truck calling his critics “cynical.”

All of which brings us back to the central question: does controversy sell pickups? If Benneton can sell sweaters by showing a black stallion humping a white mare (as you can see, I’m not making this up), surely Chevy can sell a light truck or two by reminding us of the tragedy of 911. Ah, but there is a crucial difference between the two campaigns. As you’d expect from the company that brought us the front wheel-drive Impala SS, Chevy wimped out. Benneton’s ads were/are designed to confront viewers, to make them question their values and preconceptions. Chevy’s “Our Country, Our Truck” was/is designed to reinforce the traditional pickup truck buyer's (if no one else’s) values and preconceptions.

GM’s ad guy’s right: for Chevy’s core audience, the “Our Country, Our Truck” ad is about as confrontational as The National Enquirer. Even the atomic bomb explosion removed from the final cut would not have asked any questions of the average pickup truck buyer’s psyche. Sure, the ad exploits a few uncomfortable moments of our national history for commercial gain, but it’s not as if they showed a bunch of flag-waving Chevy owners pushing a non-union made Toyota Tundra off a cliff.

Once again, GM shows it just, can’t, quite, get, there. Like the people in charge of designing and building their products, the execs responsible for Chevrolet’s advertising don’t understand that fortune doesn’t favor the semi-brave. If you’re gonna build a V8 performance car, it's gotta be rear wheel-drive. If you're gonna piss people off, you gotta really piss them off. As it stands now, the only people who are going to be angry about this Silverado thing are GM’s shareholders.

The ‘Sclade re-started it, the Navi went with it and the C made it official: bling is king. What began as an urban tuner phenom– modifying domestic SUV's with flashy wheels, “presidential” window tinting, an infestation of video screens, a stereo powerful enough to make rap music even more painful than it already is (to me), etc.– has become industry practice. One need only glance at the new Escalade, Navigator and Aspen’s gleaming prows to see that bling now comes standard. And thank God for that.

While it’s tempting to give white middle-aged Detroit executives mad props for accepting and adopting urban flava, what choice did they have? The bling thing went ka-ching pretty much about the same time SUV sales started swirling around the toilet bowl. More to the point, why should they care? Quite rightly, the execs saw the financial value of a trend– any trend– that celebrates the most profitable examples of their most profitable genre. If customers want to paint Motown’s premium barges bright red and carpet their insides with two inch thick shag, who gives a shit? Nothing– not even good taste– can interrupt Detroit’s “move the metal” mantra.

Detroit quickly– OK, eventually built on the blingery. They peeped the billions of dollars lavished on their trucks’ aesthetics and creature comforts and decided to grab as big a piece as possible. Your ‘Sclade now comes straight from the factory with wikkid dubs. A Chrysler Aspen can be yours swathed in “Cognac Crystal Pearl” paint. And up-specced Navi's arrive pre-blinged with an “Audiophile” stereo that pumps out enough bass to bruise your sternum– from outside the truck. And if the manufacturer can’t help you transform the not-so-sublime into the entirely ridiculous, their dealers sure as Hell will.

And now we hear that this year’s SEMA (Specialty Equipment Market Association) convention in Viva Las Vegas will feature eleven heavily modified Buick Lucernes. “We want the Lucerne and the event to move Buick into a new audience,” Buick rep David Dorovitz told Brandweek mag. That’s a bit like Brooks Brothers announcing they’ve created a line of ladies’ lingerie, but you gotta admire Davey's street-flavored chutzpah. From Tiger Woods to Krayzie Bone in one giant leap. Wow. Again, what exactly does Buick have to lose? (Remember: they paid TTAC to junket it up in Canada.) Anyway, respect.

And warning: danger Will Robinson! The whole point of automotive blingery and tunery is to display your unique sense of style. Just ask the ex-heads of one of the thousands of super-cool clothing brands that rose and fell like Alan Shepard’s Freedom 7 spacecraft: as soon as “your” style hits the heady heights of mainstream acceptance, it’s headed for the drink. Less poetically, when Wal-Mart’s got it, millions of people don’t want it. Of course, for a while millions of sheeple do, and Wal-Mart makes a fortune. So, again, you can’t blame Detroit for minting money by bringing it to the masses. But there is a wider lesson to be learned: the best way to avoid fashion-based obsolescence is to create products worthy of modification.

I know: SUV’s suck. Gas, that is. But the genre found its way into the urban culture’s heart because they best reflect the American spirit: bigger is better. This website has long argued that Detroit should do what it does best: big, comfy rear-wheel drive vehicles with a bit of style and plenty o’ waft. OK, they can’t really do much else, what with their penthouse overheads and crazed competition. But now that Buick– Buick— is getting the spizzarkle treatment, what’s the bet that the bling craze will shift focus towards the recently saved Ford Crown Vic and its platform siblings? Or that the Lincoln Town Car will find some new friends? It's time for Detroit to get their rear-wheelers into gear, ready for the boyz in the hood.

Granted: it’ll take a while for the movers and shakers to make the move and shake-off SUV love. The money showered on trend-setting rappers took them into wheels made of unobtainium. (Which they no longer modify, ironically enough.) Style makers lower down on the food chain need some time to regroup. But the freshened Mustang (in all its crap packaged glory) showed the world that there’s still a huge market for traditional American cars. If you doubt that Yank tanks are set for a resurgence, clock the recent development of thoroughly hideous “donks.” (If you have to ask, believe me, you don’t want to know.)

CUV’s and front wheel-drive high-mileage mid-market motors ain’t gonna cut it. Americans like barges. My advice to Detroit: embrace your inner bling. Let the imports do the fuel-efficient, sweet-revving, tight interior thing. Build cars worthy of stunting and flossing. Either that or you’ll be bitching and moaning as your market share goes the way of the pet rock.

GM Car Czar Maximum Bob Lutz’ recently stated that anyone who thinks that GM will shutter divisions is a “weenie” who doesn’t understand the cost of dealer lawsuits. Yes, well, one day, GM will have to jettison brands. Perceived wisdom dictates that The General should pare itself down to Chevrolet (low end cars), GMC (trucks and SUV’s) and Cadillac (high end cars). As for Saab, Buick Hummer and Saturn, bon voyage!  And then there’s Pontiac. Yes, Pontiac. I believe GM’s product starved “performance” division has the greatest potential of any of its current brands. With great products, Pontiac could go from neglected stepchild to superstar son.

The Solstice roadster is a huge step in the right direction for GM’s excitement division, in every way the ill-fated “new” GTO wasn't (except luggage room). Chiefly, the Solstice is gorgeous. The model also has an entry-level and hard core (or at least harder core) performance variant (GXP). As for the rest of the lineup… meh. G6: a rental car from birth that’s nowhere near as good as the Camry/Accord juggernaut. G5: ditto. Grand Prix: 303hp through the front wheels—who wants that? Torrent: as exciting as a cute ute can get (i.e. not at all). Vibe: a Toyota Corolla. GTO: dead and dead ugly.

So, now’s the time to apply a little art and a little science a la big brother Cadillac. First off, GM should decontent the beJesus out of Caddy’s outgoing CTS, give it Solstice-quality sensuous sheet metal and rechristen it the Pontiac Grand Prix. While the new CTS is due any time now, Chrysler’s 300– made with bits and pieces of the last gen Mercedes E-Class– shows you can get new money for old rope. This home-grown Grand Prix would keep both customers and the UAW happy. The Caddy set up’s rear wheel-drive opens-up the possibilities; can you imagine a Grand Prix Coupe with a 505hp Z06 engine? Eat that, Shelby GT500. More importantly, you’d have a family-priced rear-driver that would steal sales from DXC’s ageing Magnum/Charger/300C trifecta.

Meanwhile, bring on the Firebird! With FoMoCo selling massive herds of Mustangs (August being the best ‘Stang month since 1979), Pontiac needs to flip their cross-town rivals the bird. Release a new Pontiac Firebird with half a dozen variations right off the bat with various degrees of engine oomph. Build it off the Corvette chassis—not the Camaro’s. Most importantly, festoon it with flaming chickens. We love that. Point being: make it as visually exciting as the Solstice. Make it a sports car that people talk about, swoon over and ultimately desire.

Speaking of excitement, where are America's WRX’s and Evo’s? Sure, the Dodge Caliber SRT-4 puts out 300hp, but it’s a front-driver, the chassis is junk and it looks constipated. GM committed a horrible, almost unforgivable gaffe with the Saabaru, charging 5K over retail for nothing more than a badge. (That car should have been the new Vibe.) Correct the mistake. Imagine a small, American wagon with world class performance and handling. People would eat it up. The fat-faced Chevrolet WTCC Ultra that GM recently debuted in Paris would make a vicious Pontiac; assuming they raise the asphalt-scraping chin spoiler a yard. Even if that particular small, muscular car is not the solution, something is. Build it, and boy racers will come.

The world also needs an exciting and sexy fuel-sipper. Sure, you can buy Honda’s Fit – an outstanding car – but it’s just so goofy looking. There’s the Mini, but it’s over-boiled and too much of a statement for many. Most importantly, neither car is American. Instead of taking the lame, Lido way out and importing small, dorky Korean subs, let’s design and build one here. DCX is about to start building the Hornet in China, which despite what WalMart wants you to think, is not America. Moreover, the Hornet looks like an angry filing cabinet. Pontiac, this segment is yours for the taking.

Pontiac can of course choose to do none of the above, stay the course and follow Oldsmobile, Plymouth and Dead-Buick-Walking to the gates of automotive hell, with Lincoln/Mercury bringing up the rear. But that needn’t be the case. Performance divisions, no matter how stale the marketing shtick may be, are good things. Take a gander at Mazda, Ford’s defacto fun to drive brand. With the lone exception of the lame duck B4000 pickup, all of Mazda’s product offerings are at least sporty, if not outright sports cars. From the mutant CX-7 to the perfectly executed Miata, every product serves the driver first, last and second. And Mazda’s US sales are up 5% from a year ago. In a model cycle, Pontiac could be in the same boat, especially if they heed the example of what the CTS-V did for Cadillac; making enthusiasts care about a moribund brand. It’s the fast things that count.

Peter F. Drucker grew up in Frankfurt just as the Nazis gathered power. When Hitler was elected Chancellor, the future business guru fled for England, watching the storm clouds of centralized power in his rearview mirror. No wonder the concept of decentralization became one of Drucker’s first and more useful contributions to American business theory. Drucker and his beliefs came to prominence with the publication of "Concept of the Corporation" in 1946. Hard to believe, but the landmark work was based on 18 months Drucker spent studying General Motors.

By 1950, Drucker decided that workers were assets and the corporation was a community. He asserted that humans– not machines, numbers, paper or parts– were the heart of the company. He eventually extended the perspective out of the factory doors out to the customer. Drucker spent a lot of time and other people’s money reminding executives not to forget the customer.

The nature of any business, he argued, is to create a customer. To hunt him or her down and serve them like… um… There is no good metaphor for hunting and serving. Maybe that’s why it’s such a tough dictate to follow. But according to Drucker, follow it you must: the customer is the essence of any successful business, including automotive. Following his logic, a car is the RNA to the essential DNA of those inside. In other words, it’s the people that matter, not the car.

Ironically enough, Volkswagen is a perfect example of a company founded on this “customer as essence” philosophy. Adolf Hitler decided that his working class supporters needed a “people’s car” that could take five passengers to 62 mph for under 1000 Reich Marks. He met with Ferdinand Porsche, owner of the design house Porsche Byro. The Beetle was born. The Beetle became a runaway success and an automotive icon.

Volkswagen’s customers, however, evolved. Post-war, family sizes increased. Consumers became aware of safety and environmental considerations. Volkswagen kept pace with their customers' expectations of performance, comfort and safety by shifting from the spartan Beetle to the increasingly luxe Golf (or Rabbit, depending on your county of origin). The two models have almost nothing in common– except the people you find riding inside. VW stayed true to its middle class customers.

Many decades later, VW re-launched a "new" Beetle. The model illustrates the company's ability to understand their "essence." Rather than create another utilitarian people's car, they released a horrendously compromised package wrapped in "cute" retro-minded sheetmetal. The result appealed directly and powerfully to their existing customers' sense of nostalgia, at a price they could afford. The new Beetle was/is a value-priced fashion statement– the exact opposite of the Bug’s original intent. And a solid sales success because of it.

It seems simple enough: build a car for your customer. Some companies do this very well. As wealthy consumers have children later in life, Porsche correctly figured that a fat, 911-nosed station wagon was just what the “new traditional” Porsche customer needed to cart their dependents and lifestyle equipment. Or, if you prefer, the Cayenne was exactly what their customers' wives wanted their Porsche worshipping husbands to want to buy for them. The Chevrolet Corvette is another machine that's faithful to its maker's essence. Although no longer as affordable as it was, the 'Vette still caters to its [increasingly wealthy] customers' desire for impractical, low-slung, all-American, V8-powered sex appeal.

Volkswagen also supplies us with an excellent example of the converse of the consumer-centric theory: the Phaeton. Though superbly engineered, VW's $70k luxobarge was an answer to a question that none of their customers asked. How far from the young, middle-class family did they park that thing, anyway? By the same token, Saab customers prize nimble driving, clever design and originality. Give them a warmed-over, rebadged Chevy Trailblazer and see what happens. Nothing. Observers of the automotive scene often see an automaker's essence denied (Cadillac BLS) or essence from another planet (Chevrolet SSR). These products– if not the companies who build them– are doomed from the start.

Which is the long way of saying badge engineering is the exact polar opposite of customer engineering. A company may like to build a certain type or style of car, it may be relatively cheap to manufacture. But if the company forgets its essense (i.e. whether or not its existing customers want to pay them for the result), they won't be building cars for long. In short, the person who should be in the driver's seat of any viable car company should be the person who ends up in the driver's seat: the customer.

In 1983, Drucker wrote this epilogue: "Concept of the Corporation had an immediate impact on American business, on public service institutions, on government agencies – and none on General Motors!"