I don't know about you, but I've been feeling sorry for Volkswagen for a while now. VW didn't so much lose their mojo as strap it to the nose of a Titan IVB and fire it into deep space. No disrespect to the world's fifth most populous country, but was anyone really surprised when a Brazilian Golf turned out like German bobo de camarao? Now that Vee Dub's got THAT out of their system, here comes the new, Wolfsburg-built Golf GTI. It's an Old School hot hatch with a Masters in Engineering. Viva VW!

For reasons best left to The International Museum of Marketing Doublespeak, Volkswagen decided to begin their mission-critical US Golf refresh with a two-door. More's the pity. The fifth-gen four-door is a far more handsome beast than the coupe– if only because the Golf's rear portals soften the enormous disparity between the front windscreen's bottom edge and the side windows' lower boundary. This bizarre asymmetry pisses on the Golf's 32-year history of two-box harmony. The resulting rear end trades brand recognition for something vaguely Japanese– as if the Golf suddenly decided to play the Accordian. And then there's the front end's unresolved echo of Audi's unconscionable house snout…

Chasing Robert Berry's Enzo up Equinox Mountain in a Lamborghini Murcielago, I remember thinking there's no way I'm going to keep up with this guy. As the Ferrari's exhaust note ripped through the Murcie's windscreen like a shotgun blast through fiberboard, I set my priorities: no dying, no crashing, no humiliation. The big bull proved equal to the task. Every time I over-cooked it, the Murcie's front tires juddered and… we're back! Every time Berry slowed for a turn, the V12 supercar closed the gap. The experience gave me a profound respect for Lamborghini. And then I drove a Gallardo.

As reported here, the Gallardo is as cohesive as a first grader's art collage. While the four-wheel drive supercar cuts corners like a bankrupt builder, the Gallardo's over-wrought sheetmetal, humdrum cabin, relatively feeble brakes, lack of low-end grunt, questionable high-speed stability and point and clunk paddle shift gearbox wouldn't pass muster in an entry level Porsche or, for that matter, a garden variety Audi. Well exactly. Audi has owned Lamborghini since 1988. The Gallardo (né '03) should have married German precision and Italian passion. Instead, it joined German flair with Italian fastidiousness.

Given the parade of eccentrics who've owned Lamborghini since the Arab oil embargo first forced the former tractor maker into receivership– Georges-Henri Rossetti and René Leimer (Swiss investors), the Mimran brothers (Senegalese-born French food tycoons), The Chrysler Corporation (recovered US bankrupt), 'Tommy' Suharto (son of the former president of Indonesia, now serving 15 years for murder) — Audi deserves credit for saving Lamborghini from oblivion. But at what cost? Lamborghini's build quality may now, finally, match that of an average Ford, but the company's entry level model fails to embody the marque's well-established brand values. It's a sure sign that the venerable nameplate is, once again, heading for disaster.

Let's be clear about this. Automotive identities are not half as mystical as the fees brand consultants charge to divine them. In fact, if you can't sum-up a car company's core values in four words, the chances are it doesn't have any. By the same token, any marque that sells models that don't embody those values is in deep shit– whether they know it or not. Jaguar: sexy looks, smooth ride. BMW: impeccable ergonomics, superb handling. Toyota: faultless build, cheap price. Cadillac: ummmm. Mercury: errrr. Lamborghini: sexy body, monstrous power. Almost every Lambo ever produced conforms to this recipe (even the mid-engined Miura). The Gallardo does not.

Lamborghini's failure to stick to the knitting highlights an insidious force that destroys valued brands: cash. With a few exceptions (e.g. Saturn), automotive manufacturers start as bootstrap operations. The lack of resources forces them to be focused, creative, dynamic and driven. As venture capitalists and dot bombers have discovered, the more money you plough into a small company, the less efficient it becomes. When Lambo's budgets were tight, managers had to sweat every investment, every sale, everything, all the time. When investors like Audi backed the Brinks truck up to the company gate, suddenly, anything was possible. Paint bubbling? Panel gaps visible from outer space? Sorted. Hey, I know! How about we get a Belgian to design a small Lamborghini and give it a torque-deficient V10 engine? Increasing possibilities increases the possibility of mistakes– and doubles the difficulty of rectification.

Just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD. Unless management protects a car company's core values, focus is lost. From there, short term gain's siren song seduces the company into building brand-betraying products. There are plenty of examples: Lincoln Zephyr, Buick Terraza, Saab 9-7x, Jaguar X-Type and more. Cash-rich companies fool themselves into thinking they have to do everything– reliability, safety, performance, style, comfort, packaging, fuel efficiency, etc.– and do everything well. Their survival actually depends on creating cars that do one or (at the most) two things better than anyone else.

It's all part of the automotive equivalent of the Big Bang. In the early 1900's, hundreds of tightly-focused car companies exploded onto the scene. The consolidations that gave birth to GM and the rest of today's limited universe of multi-branded automotive conglomerates continued until the century's close. Now, the entire system is collapsing in on itself, leaving a handful of major players. Eventually it will implode, leading to another explosion of small manufacturers (aided by globalization and new technology).

In that sense, the brand-busting Gallardo is a sign of the times. Whether or not Lamborghini ultimately withstands Audi's stewardship is an open question. But energy is never lost. As long as there are wealthy drivers who crave the howl of a big-bore V12 encased inside an in-yer-face Italianate wrapper, Lamborghini has a future. As for all the other emotive car brands currently sheltering under the wing of a multinational conglomerate, well, the road to Hell really is paved with good intentions.

At 9:30am this morning, a group of lawyers representing bankrupt auto parts supplier Delphi will appear in front of Federal Bankruptcy Judge Robert Drain. The lawyers will file legal motions for Sections 1113 and 1114. It's a legal request to void Delphi's current collective bargaining agreements with the United Auto Workers (UAW). The moment the judge says the word "granted," he will terminate the wage structure, post-retirement health care and life insurance plans for the company's 33k US hourly workers. The UAW will respond with a strike against Delphi. Starved of its former subsidiary's parts, GM's assembly lines will fall silent. The General will begin its final slide into Chapter 11.

There will be a gap between Delphi's filing, the judge's final ruling (May 9th) and industrial action. During this highly fraught interregnum, Delphi President Steve 'Quotation Marks' Miller may make a fourth wage and benefits offer to the UAW. The proposal would fall somewhere between the workers' current compensation ($27 per hour) and Miller's last last stand ($16.50 per hour). As we've said before, the UAW will accept nothing less than the status quo, and that's somewhere where Miller won't go– at least not without GM footing the bill. Common sense says if GM CEO Rick Wagoner was going to ride to Delphi's rescue, he would have done so already. Chances are he can't.

Analysts estimate that the General's got about $20b lying around. Take away the $10b GM needs to run its business, add in its line of credit, discount its line of credit (the company just got locked-out of $5.6b worth of previously available funds), add in recent and upcoming sales of overseas assets (including Isuzu), discount the cost of recently announced worker buyouts and plant closures, add back the cost of worker buyouts (it's unlikely that many workers outside the infamous jobs bank will take-up GM's offer), discount ongoing losses from its automotive operations, ponder the possibility of more "accounting adjustments," throw your hands in the air regarding the possibility of GM selling majority interest in its GMAC finance unit (The General's only remaining lifeline), and you'd be forgiven for wanting to check Rabid Rick's wallet.

GM's inability/reluctance to pay off Delphi's UAW work force may be the clearest indication of The General's true financial situation. In fact, despite a stock price still hovering around $20 a share, the world's largest automaker could very well be worthless. I write that with some trepidation. I'm aware that any large institution in extreme financial crisis is susceptible to the fatal effects of negative perception. So much so, it's entirely possible that GM's fate will be sealed somewhere well away from federal bankruptcy court, by someone who simply loses faith in The General's future. For example…

Although The General has pledged to reduce sales to rental car fleets, the automaker still sells as much as 15% of its US production to these volume/discount buyers (roughly 600k vehicles). All of the purchases are financed by large banks, who lend money to the fleets based on the strength of GM's buyback guarantee. All of these banks have industry analysts who now admit (if not actually forecast) the possibility of a GM bankruptcy. Should the banks suddenly decide that GM's buyback guarantees are meaningless, financing for GM products would dry up quicker than the Mojave Desert after a light drizzle. Without rental sales, well, as TTAC's Deep Throat eloquently puts it, GM would soon be Tango Uniform.

Alternatively, GM's suppliers could be its ultimate downfall– a poignant reversal given how harshly The General has treated its parts-providing "partners." While GM's biggest suppliers aren't anywhere near as short-sighted as the UAW (i.e. they know better than to kill the golden goose, no matter how pitted and pathetic it may seem), a smaller, mission critical, non-GM dependent supplier could look at the lay of the land, get up its gumption, and refuse to give GM credit on terms. GM would have to put cash up front for its parts. Once news of the deal got out, all of GM's suppliers would seek similar protection. GM couldn't survive this "run on the bank" scenario.

And so it goes. As anyone who's been following this story knows, we're at the point where if it's not one damn thing, it's another. Critics who call for Wagoner's head are missing the point. GM has expended all its capital: political, creative, financial, moral and, now, psychological. When I started this GM Death Watch, TTAC was one of the few places where the words "GM" and "bankruptcy" appeared in the same sentence. Those days are gone, and it's not our fault. Time and time again, GM had their chance to do the right thing. To stand up, admit their failures and change their business. Now, it's too late.

Testing a Gallardo SE in Miami is like sipping Chateau Lafite Rothschild in a public urinal. The little Lambo was born to annihilate the twisting mountain roads surrounding Italy's supercar valley, or flirt with V3 on a derestricted German autobahn. Miami's geometric streets and traffic-choked highways offer the Gallardo driver nothing more than a sinuous onramp and an occasional half-mile sprint– which is plenty damn exciting but about as satisfying as red wine slammers. So, whilst fending-off a frantic flackmeister preoccupied with the definition of the words "driving impression," I guided the baby bull towards the nearest race track.

As I quick-quick-slowed through the cars clogging I-95 North, I was taken aback by the lack of stare and attention given the Gallardo. With its strange combination of diminutive footprint, cab forward stance, drop snout, near horizontal windshield and unrelenting angularity, the Gallardo lacks what native S-Class owners call "uberholprestige": that indefinable yet unmistakable car-isma that convinces fellow road users to move the Hell over. Either that or Floridians are fed-up with the automotive tastes of Bolivian drug lords. In any case, we now know what happens when a Belgian designs a supercar for a legendary Italian nameplate under the wary eye of a German conglomerate; and it ain't what I'd call pretty.

As predicted, the American Family Association (AFA) has renewed its boycott of the Ford Motor Company. The move comes after The Blue Oval reneged on a private pledge to the AFA to stop advertising in gay and lesbian media, and end direct financial support to gay and lesbian events and organizations. When the story broke back in December, Ford denied the AFA deal. They claimed the decision to pull Jag and Land Rover ads from gay-oriented publications was "strictly business." When that didn't fly with the gay, bisexual, lesbian and transgender (GBLT) community, Ford reversed itself and kept the cash flowing. Thus the AFA's retaliation for their alleged betrayal. Now what?

This time 'round, Ford has taken a sensible line on the AFA's boycott: ignore it and hope it goes away. Yesterday, Blue Oval Spinmeister Kathleen Vokes issued a written statement more generic than store brand soap. 'Ford is proud of its tradition of treating all with respect, and we remain focused on what we do best — building and selling the most innovative cars and trucks.' Ignoring Henry Ford's vicious anti-Semitism and the brand's spurious claim to technological supremacy, the official pronouncement left little doubt about Ford's current perspective on the AFA's goals. Not to put too fine a point on it, Vokes' words were multi-national corporate PR speak for "fuck off and die."

That's not likely. Like many such crusades, the AFA's Ford boycott is largely the result of one man's zeal. In this case, it's Donald E. Wildmon, a United Methodist minister operating out of Tupelo, Mississippi. In 1977, Wildmon formed the AFA's predecessor, the National Federation for Decency. His subsequent boycott and protest march against Sears Roebuck and Co. convinced the doomed retailer to pull its ads from 'Three's Company' and 'Charlie's Angels.' The action might seem quaint by today's moral standards, but Ford underestimates Wildmon's resolve at their peril. Wildmon is a veteran campaigner whose scored many high profile victories in the last twenty-nine years– including Procter & Gamble's decision to remove its sponsorship from 50 TV shows in 1981 and chain stores' banishment of Playboy and Penthouse magazines in 1986.

Again, Wildmon is something of a one man army; it's highly unlikely that the AFA has anywhere near the 2.2 million supporters it claims. But the main point remains: the Mississippi minister is a tough, shrewd, organized and persistent opponent– who knows the fine art of media spin. While the GBLT community likes to present the AFA as a group of right wing fundamentalist extremists who revile and reject alternative lifestyles, Wildmon and his followers are not so easily cornered. According to the AFA's official statement, "Ford could have easily avoided this boycott had they desired to do so by simply remaining neutral in the cultural battles."

Wildmon has a point. While the AFA is rightly reviled for demanding an end to Ford's advertising in homosexual-oriented publications, FoMoCo's financial aid to GBLT pressure groups plants the corporate flag on one side of a highly contentious issue. Ford has made large cash contributions to the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Campaign. More specifically, the Ford Motor Company Fund donated $250k to the Affirmations Lesbian and Gay Community Center in Ferndale, Michigan. More explosively, Ford sponsors a great many GBLT events (e.g. the London Pride parade) that generate images bound to offend mainstream sensibilities.

Does the average American Ford buyer care that his or her car payments support these GBLT organizations? I have a sneaking suspicion we're going to find out. Wildmon is an Internet savvy activist with a strong core constituency. He's ready, willing and able to spread his message of protest to the general public. In stark contrast, the GBLT community cut Ford a great deal of slack when it was revealed that the Blue Oval Boys had been playing footsie with the AFA. They pointed to the company's policies towards their GBLT workforce, took a meeting with Bill and let the incident slide. If it comes down to it, I reckon the AFA's steadfast determination will surprise its opponents and hurt Ford's reputation, but good.

It promises to be a nasty scrap, but that doesn't alter the fact that this is a debate worth having. While all fair-minded people support the GBLT community's right to fair treatment under the law and Ford's right to advertise its products where it pleases, the AFA raise a pertinent question: why is Ford donating money to gay and lesbian activist groups? Surely the company should take a politically neutral line in ALL its charitable contributions, restricting their largesse to apolitical organizations like children's hospitals. Either Ford has a deep moral committment to homosexual rights, or, more cynically, they thought that spreading corporate cash throughout the GBLT activist community made good business sense. If that's the case, Wildmon may be about to prove them wrong.

Ward's Automotive recently profiled Pete Gerosa, GM's former Vice President for Field Sales, Service and Parts. Although Gerosa's heading for retirement, he's still on the road, selling the company line to GM's dealer network. Reporter Steve Finlay painted the 42-year industry veteran as a living link between GM's past and professed future: selling the vehicle, not the deal. While Finlay pressed Gerosa on GM's so-called value pricing, the scribe failed to confront the exec about GM's recent sales incentives or The General's March Madness campaign. In any case, Finlay's feature contained a telling tale.

At a dealer conference, David Latshaw, finance director at Shaver Pontiac in Thousand Oaks, CA, asked Gerosa why GM can't build enough Solstii to meet demand. "Our dealership had 600 initial orders and only got thirteen cars,' Latshaw said. "What is the right number?' Gerosa answered. 'Too many, and you discount. Too few, and there are waits. But thirteen is too low." Ya think? Latshaw: 'We put a sold Solstice in the showroom just to display it, and people were saying, 'I want to buy that car!' They got mad when we told them they couldn't. They were freaking out. We had to hide the car in back." Before we file that one under defeat, from the jaws of victory snatched, note Gerosa's inability to accept responsibility for the company's screw-up or promise any kind of resolution to an ongoing problem.

Mr. Gerosa may be a tenacious and dedicated foot soldier. His efforts may have earned The General tens of millions of dollars. But his career arc and atttitude reflect and reveal a company without the slightest hint of personal accountability. Where middle management fails upwards or, at worst, sideways. Where assembly workers' jobs are secure whether or not there's a market for the products they produce. Where a CEO and his team can oversee the inexorable dimunition of their company's market share, losing $8b in a single financial year, and continue to get paid millions of dollars to hold the tiller. Where GM's Vice President of Global Product Development can threaten American jobs without repercussions.

Check it: At the Geneva Auto Show, Maximum Bob Lutz addressed the pressing issue of US labor costs and dropped this pearl upon the press: 'Hourly workers in the U.S. no longer are faced with a choice between high-paying jobs and low-paying jobs. They must choose between jobs or no jobs at all… In a few years time, it's clear that the Chinese automobile industry will be capable of exporting products. There's no doubt that someday we will be (using) GM China as a source of products. I'm very optimistic." Even if it's true, it's not exactly what you'd call helpful– given GM's do-or-die labor negotiations at bankrupt parts supplier Delphi.

But who's going to stop the septuagenarian Car Czar from shooting his mouth off? Rick Wagoner? Like Gerosa, GM's CEO is a lifer. Rabid Rick's learned that there's no comment or action or inaction that doesn't disappear off the face of the earth if you just give it enough time. Drop $4b on FIAT? Pontiac G6 a sales dud? Hybrids and muscle cars ten years too late? GMAC sale a bit… delayed? SEC probe unearthing some nasty accounting problems? Forgeddaboutit. Literally. It's a logical corollary of unaccountability: all failure is temporary, survivable and, ultimately, irrelevant.

GM watchers who are shocked by the lack of urgency over at RenCen don't understand that GM's corporate culture is the ultimate defense against reality. Nothing can go that wrong because even if it does, well, life goes on. Rabid Rick cashes in GM's chips at Suzuki, uses the money to pay off Delphi's workers and everyone goes back to business (or lack thereof). That fire burning-up GM's cash reserves? Oh, we'll put it out eventually. It's the same mentality that the UAW displays in its negotiations: tough it out, give them nothing and everything will be OK. That's the way we've always done things around here, bankruptcy or no bankruptcy. Even if the union leadership knows better, they know their members don't.

It's Pan Am redux. The international airline once enjoyed a clear playing field: no significant competition and enough money to give the unions whatever they wanted. When deregulation arrived, the company considered itself too big to die– even as it lost market share, sold off assets, wiped billions off shareholder equity, suffered union strife and floundered in an endless sea of red ink. An article by Jon Marcus and Gretchen Voss quotes a financial advisor to the company: 'Half of Pan Am's problems were caused by circumstances. The other half was caused by the culture, which seemed to make perfectly rational men think they were invulnerable once they walked through Pan Am's doors.' Nuff said?

Badge-engineering. You know the drill: take a run-of-the-mill bog standard plain Jane vanilla sort of car, add some external bits and internal pieces, tweak the ride, slap on a more prestigious badge and jack-up the price. More specifically, the "new" Lincoln Zephyr is a Ford Fusion with a modified grill, wood trim, floatier ride, Lincoln logo and an inflated sticker price. So rather than badge engineer my Ford Fusion review, I'm going to tell you what Ford– sorry, Lincoln, should have done with this car.

The obvious answer is nothing. Lincoln needs a front-wheel-drive mid-size sedan like Hummer needs a camouflage SMART (unless they use it as an H2 escape pod). Even if we ignore Lincoln's illustrious past– first betrayed in 1936 by a funny-looking car called a Zephyr– the brand's recent history sets the standard. Exhibitionist A: the Lincoln Continental Mark IV: a huge, thirsty, poorly-built, foul-handling beast from a time when jeans had bells at the bottom. While the infinitely smaller [modern] Zephyr is so safe and reliable it Hertz and boasts twice as much everything room than the old Mark, Lincoln's '70's luxobarge holstered a 7.5-liter V8 with more swagger than Ludacris at a Kapp Alpha Theta. Now THAT'S what I'm talking about.

It's official: bankruptcy is good for GM. In their recent ass-covering exercise for the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), The Ford Motor Company listed 'adverse effects from the bankruptcy or insolvency of a major competitor' as a significant risk to its financial future. Translation: if GM goes bankrupt, The General will slough off its excessive labor costs and become… wait for it… competitive. So competitive, in fact, that Ford reckons GM's products would gain an important price advantage. Well how about that?

Obviously, there's more to it than that. Ford's SEC filing also alerts investors that GM's Chapter 11 could destroy The Blue Oval's supply chain. Both automakers share a large number of mission critical parts suppliers; if GM's submersion sucks vital parts makers into bankruptcy– which it most assuredly would– Ford will lose access to the bits and pieces it needs to build Fords. In fact, it's hard to see how Ford could survive a GM bankruptcy. Or why it would want to. The automotive community is slowly (and quietly) beginning to conclude that bankruptcy is both the only thing and the BEST thing that can happen to GM, and, by extension, Ford.

To review: GM can't build competitive vehicles at a profit. It's got too many models, brands and dealers. Too much bureaucracy, waste and inefficiency. Its labor costs are too high, its capital investment is too low and its supply chain is about to snap. And GM can't change a thing. The United Auto Workers' contract prevents any wage or benefits cuts, and precludes any alteration to their Byzantine working practices. Legal obligations also stop GM from trimming its distended dealer network or euthanizing fatally wounded brands. To survive, GM needs to lower its costs and revamp its business. And it can't do that without Chapter 11.

Oh, OK, it could, if everyone pulled together: investors, management, unions, dealers, suppliers and customers. But they won't. It's not in their nature. And even if it was, GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner is singularly incapable of tackling this monumental leadership challenge. And even if Rabid Rick could unify all the negatively charged particles in the GM universe, it's too late. The General doesn't have enough cash to weather the turbulence between business-as-usual and the end result of a difficult and dangerous overhaul. Nobody's going to give them the extra money– at least until The General declares bankruptcy. As Ford publicly acknowledged, only bankruptcy can give GM the wiggle room it needs to implement necessary changes to the way it goes about its business.

So be it. As I said at the beginning of this odious odyssey, GM will emerge from this multi-decade debacle a smaller, leaner and better automaker or, preferably, automakers. And that's why Ford's worried. Of course, they're not the only ones. The prospect of revolutionary change is making everyone involved a little, well, crazy. We're already seeing some strange behavior emerge from GM World: a public pledge to end national incentives followed by the announcement of a "March madness" sale, exciting new cars playing one-two-three green light, red light, green light; a Board Member and Car Czar squabbling over a moribund Swedish car brand, etc. It's the End of Days, Detroit style.

As GM's fate reaches its terrifying conclusion, workers will get all the attention. The moment the axe falls, whether by a slow strike or a lightning default, the spotlight will shift to "the little guy." Needless to say, the media will depict them as victims. They'll highlight the most desperate cases and blame their fate on management incompetence, outsourcing, the Japanese, the Chinese, foreign trade policy, currency manipulation, oil prices, George W. Bush, the anti-GM press, anyone and anything other than the workers themselves. Never mind that a huge number of these workers performed two hours work for eight hours pay. Never mind that thousands were willing to receive full pay and benefits for doing nothing whatsoever. It will always be someone else's fault.

Understand this: GM's workers are no better or worse than any of the other players in this sad saga. All of them work for a company where personal responsibility doesn't exist. Where everyone thinks they deserve to be well-paid, no matter what they or the company does, or doesn't do. Yes, there are plenty of good people within GM. And here's the kicker: most of them can't wait for the company to file. They want to see an end to the waste, laziness, greed, corruption, inequality and stupidity they see around them. When GM becomes the world's largest bankrupt, these good men and women will be satisfied, knowing that there is justice in the world. And they'll be hopeful; that something good will replace something bad.

The power of love is a curious thing. It makes one brand weep, another brand sing. Change a bug into a little white Dub. More than a feeling; that's the power of love. Yes, I know it's old News, but Volkswagen's Beetle still gets a lot of love. You would've thought a retro reissue of Hitler's people's car would've fallen down the same rat hole that swallowed-up the mustachioed Plymouth Prowler, Chevrolet's WTF SSR and Ford's turkey T-bird. But no. Eight years after its re-introduction into the US market, VW's self-titled "New Beetle" is still here, people still adore it, and I still don't get it.

Admittedly, I'm not gay. While I do enjoy a well-formed six-pack, and consider myself a far better interior decorator than that stuck-up Connecticut con artist, I can't understand how anyone could find VeeDub's Bauhaus Bug "cute." I reckon J Mays drew the St. Louis arch over a Kohler bathtub and called it good. All the superb detailing that gave the 60's version its cutesy-tootsie cartoon character has been replaced with generic post-modern jewelery. To my eyes, the slab-sided minimalist Beetle is about as emotionally engaging as a Braun razor. The '06 facelift offers rounder headlights, more tapered wrap-around air dams and flat-edged wheel arches. It looks like… a slightly newer Braun razor.

Yesterday, The Detroit News caught-up with Maximum Bob Lutz at the Geneva Auto Show. GM's Car Czar was busy unveiling Saab's Aero-X, a Corvette-based concept car from a brand that's lost GM several billion dollars over 17 years. It probably seemed as good a time as any to ask Maxi Bob about GM Board of Directors' member Jerry York's call to axe the Swedish brand. 'I've spoken at length with Jerry York,' Lutz said. 'And he's off this get-rid-of-Saab thing.' Thing? Calling the Turnaround King's strategic recommendation a "thing" is so condescending it qualifies Lutz for a British knighthood. More importantly, Maximum Bob's summary dismissal tells you all you need to know about Saab's future, and it ain't good.

Lutz' alternative to York's Saabicide is badge engineering. Or, more specifically, MORE badge engineering. Yes, now that The General has sold off its share in Subaru, the plan to transform Japanese Scoobies into Swedish Saabs has been ditched in favor of turning German Opels into Swedish Saabs (with an Ohio SUV thrown in for good measure). In other words, GM is fully committed to integrating the Saab brand into the bureaucratic clusterfuck known as GM's "global vehicle development system." Saab's ignition key slot will remain in between the front seats, but the decisions about its major components will now be taken somewhere a long way away from Sweden. And the choices will be made by a series of committees with far greater responsibilities than "just" Saab.

Never mind that GM Marketing Maven Mark LeNeve recently swore on a stack of Solstii that GM would no longer slap a badge on a standardized GM product and call it a Pontiac Torrent (oops). Don't confuse Maximum Bob with the company line; the man's talking about returning Saab to profitability by lowering the division's cost per unit. 'Soon.' Anyway, as the Saab faithful will tell you, it's too late to worry about the brand's identity; the Opel Vectra-based Saabs drive remarkably like… Opel Vectras. If you still cling to the belief that this platform sharing arrangement serves the greater glory of Saab, or, alternatively, justifies its destruction, Maximum Bob's happy to dispel either proposition. 'Saab is no longer an independent company that you could sell off as a unit.'

Now there's a bit of auto industry theater for you: Bob Lutz proudly admitting that GM has killed its Swedish goose before it could lay a single golden egg. Yes, proudly. As far as Maximum Bob is concerned, the de-Saabing of Saab is not only desirable, it's overdue. 'We left it independent way too long. Three years ago, Saab had its own capital budget. They ran the business as if it didn't belong to General Motors. Now, it's totally blended into the worldwide architecture plan.' Saab has its own budget? Who the Hell do these Swedish guys think they are, a car company? We've got a business to run here, Sven.

If you want to know why GM makes such a broad range of substandard products, why they can't or won't build a truly magnificent Saab, there's your answer: centralized power and control. The ends of the The General's vast Empire constantly fight against the center– and lose. Can you imagine the difficulty Saab has– I mean would have had– sourcing a seat bracket? Can you imagine the difficulties they would face if they tried to make a NEW seat bracket? Theoretically, the GM corporate mothership helps each brand achieve its goals. In practice, The General's overarching bureaucracy sucks the life force out of everything it touches, until all its vehicles are as bland and lifeless as a Pontiac G6.

The opposite of corporate synergy is… GM. The "global architecture" that makes Lutz' heart beat that little bit faster was designed by the company, for the company. Putting as many models as possible on the same platform using the same bits will reduce each brand's unit costs, but it won't enhance each brand's character or the consumer's pleasure. In fact, Saab never stood a chance against the legions of GM pencil pushers, bean counters and union reps: people who couldn't care less if a Saab looks, feels and drives like an Opel as long as its sales, marketing and production don't violate GM's corporate practices.

All of which makes the Aero-X concept a fitting memorial for Saab: a striking vehicle whose beauty and imagination will never see the light of day. Oh sure, Lutz dutifully mouthed the usual crap about incorporating the X' "design cues" into Saab's lineup, but it's hard (not to say nauseating) to imagine GM adding the X' aeronautic themes to Saab's rebadged Trailblazer. The Aero X is physical proof that "crisis what crisis?" GM is happy to celebrate its corporate diversity– even as it grinds its divisions, and itself, into the dust.

[UPDATE: After receiving an email from Jerry York, Maximum Bob Lutz has publicly retracted his contention that the GM Board member favors the continuation of the Saab brand.]

If you were going to invent a way to control an automobile, you wouldn't ask the average driver to develop the skill and coordination of a church organist. Note I said "average." As far as hardcore automotive enthusiasts and skilled pipe organ players are concerned, there's nothing more natural or satisfying than making beautiful music with a sublime dance of hands and feet. Yes, well, the average person would rather drive an automatic and download an iTune. Pistonheads and pipe worshippers may sneer, but if the majority of humans didn't take the path of least resistance our species would still be stuck in the trees. Meanwhile, just as digital sound has invaded God's house and rocked the organist's world, Audi's DSG transmission is here and tripedalists are toast.

The day F1 racing cars switched to paddle shift control, the clutch pedal was doomed. Only the paddle system's violence kept the left pedal from a date with old Sparky. Ferrari's ground-breaking attempts at a passenger paddler were representative rubbish; the clunky F1 system transformed the sublime F355 into a herky-jerky one-track pony. Other early systems were equally obtrusive, equally foul. At the same time, style conscious high-end manufacturers added wheel-mounted button shifts and gate activated "tip shifts." Although the technology simply handed customers slushbox control, computers eventually transformed the systems into a reasonably convincing halfway house between mindless ease and endless excitement.

Aston's Vanquish got closer to the real deal. If drivers tapped its over-sized plus paddle at the exact right rpm, the V12 GT rewarded them with a perfectly timed gear change. If not, not. Other systems followed: Ferrari, Maserati, BMW, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, even Toyota (MR2 Spyder). All of these paddle shifters downshift magnificently– even blipping the throttle on your behalf– but they either slur their upchanges like a drunk handing you a cigarette or smack you in the back of the head like a sadistic schoolteacher. And that's without considering the challenges of around town ambling or, God forbid, reverse (a non-issue for F1, obviously).

And then BorgWarner and Volkswagen AG developed DSG. The direct shift gearbox (DSG) features two wet plate clutches: one engages the odd-numbered gears, the second the even-numbered gears. When the first clutch is putting down the power, a computer readies the second clutch to engage the next gear (pre-selected according to engine revs and speed). When the driver bangs the paddle for another gear or the automatic calls for another cog, the first clutch is released and the second engages. Gear shifts are fast, smooth and accurate; both up and down the ratios. The DSG's computer– complete with 12 sensors– stands guard against "inappropriate" gear selection; an over-twitchy paddle shifter can't stall or blow up the engine.

OK rivet counters: Volksie didn't invent the double clutch. Citroen offered something similar over 70 years ago, and Porsche's formidable 962 racer also gave it a go. But VW and BorgWarner have just about perfected the DSG. (The only drawbacks are a certain sluggishness when gently tipping-in and a slight hesitation when lifting off and paddling down more than one gear, as the DSG shuffles through the intervening ratios.) Even with its quirks, the DSG rules– to the point where the clutch pedal and traditional manual gearbox is a mechanical redundancy, a dead device shifting. In fact, any car manufacturer who doesn't have a DSG or something similar installed in their performance-oriented products will soon be at a tremendous disadvantage.

And here's where the culture wars begin. Two years ago, Bob Elton's editorial "Death to the Stick Shift" suggested that cars equipped with an automatic gearbox were safer, more reliable and more pleasurable than their manual equivalents. Enthusiasts considered the proposition a personal affront. Two years of flame mail leads me to conclude that stickshifters– a self-selecting community of motorists who cherish the skill and pleasure that only a manual transmission can provide– consider autoboxers less competent, safe and passionate. Many of these tripedalists will not take kindly to the DSG; it's a bridge from the know-nothing rabble to the self-proclaimed automotive elite. The barbarians are at the shift gate; The Volkswagen Group has unlocked the door.

It will be some time before this issue plays out, but the stickshifters will lose. Once they get behind the wheel of a DSG-equipped machine like the new Audi A3 or the VW R32, even the hardiest of these manual transmission diehards will understand the system's clear superiority; in terms of speed, safety and, most importantly of all, enjoyment. Eventually, the tide will turn. Automakers will be forced to buy 'dual clutch transmission' technology from BorgWarner or their partner Getrag, or develop something at least as good. Of course, there will still be enthusiasts who stick with the stick, for personal pride and sensual satisfaction. In the meantime, a quick message from Paddle Shifters Anonymous to open-minded automotive enthusiasts: get ready for some serious fun.

A couple of days ago, I was talking to an auto industry analyst about the world's largest automaker. We were discussing the cracks in GM's hull, trying to figure out which of The General's compartments were already breached, which are filling with water and which remain viable. A wistful tone in the analyst's voice indicated head-shaking dismay. "I'm no longer hearing anything positive about GM," he revealed. "The conversations range from how bad it is, to how bad it's going to get." I didn't want to sound like a paranoid fantasist to a new source, so I tried not to out-pessimist the doomsayers. But it wasn't easy.

GM's supply situation is dangerously dire. If former subsidiary and mission critical parts supplier Delphi doesn't reach an agreement with its unionized workers by March 30th — the third and "final" deadline — a judge will void the company's labor contracts. Pundits poo-poo the possibility; they reckon the UAW will make concessions and GM will fork over the necessary union blood money to keep Delphi chugging along. But… over at Tower Automotive, the smaller but equally bankrupt GM supplier tried to cut $1.50 to $3 from their union members' $13 to $15 hourly wages. The United Auto Workers (UAW), United Steel Workers and International Union of Electrical Workers (IUEW) said no. On Monday, a judge will void Tower's union contracts. The inevitable strike will deprive GM's Hail Mary GMT900 SUV's of vital suspension components (amongst other things).

This ominous development reflects the indisputable fact that the UAW and its brother unions are not prepared to surrender a single dime in their salaries, pensions or health care benefits. Not one. Not ever. (I doubt UAW Boss Big Ron Gettelfinger has ever said the word 'concession' in public.) What's more, the unions are literally spoiling for a fight. To wit: members of IUEW will vote today to authorize its leaders to strike Delphi as and when. That's 33,000 Delphi workers ready, willing and able to walk at a moment's notice. It's not posturing; it's preparation.

The unions own GM. If organized labor strikes even one key supplier, they'll be giving The General a 90-day death sentence. While some analysts believe that's no bad thing– the situation forces the unions to accept responsibility for the fate of the company paying its wages, leading them to take the hit needed to keep those wages coming– nothing could be further from the truth. The UAW and its fellow unions are like a cancer: they will feast on their host until it dies. End of story. Why would they walk out on Delphi and send GM into Chapter 11? Because they can. Look at the Rust Belt. How avoidable was that? By the same token, General Motors gives in to union demands when it can't afford to because that's what they do.

GM didn't rush in, bail out Tower and protect its new SUV's because the supplier is only the tip of an iceberg that's gouging a hole in the General's hull. GM's constant efforts to low-ball its suppliers, its poor credit (downgraded by Moody's on Tuesday to B1, five rungs below investment grade) and the looming prospect of bankruptcy are all inflicting fatal wounds to its supply chain. Suppliers are caught in the squeeze between rising commodity costs, declining production (due to lost market share) and contracts that reduce pricing over time. TTAC's Deep Throat reports that an inferior part for the GMT-900 recently forced GM to return to a "quality supplier." The supplier refused to invest its own money to create the part and demanded a contract stipulating that the automaker would pay a true market rate for the finished component.

This is not an isolated case. GM used to provide suppliers an advanced payment program arranged by GE Credit. Late last year, GE bailed on the entire business, in favor of GMAC (yes, the same GM-owned finance company currently on the block). If that wasn't a bad sign of GM's financial situation in and of itself, GMAC then tightened the restrictions. The payment program is no longer available to the broad spectrum of GM suppliers. Bottom line: GM's current procurement process fails to assure parts manufacturers adequate financial compensation, doesn't provide protection against program termination due to budgetary constraints or model "realignment", and can't possibly guarantee payment if GM files for Chapter 11.

It's not too much of a stretch to imagine that at some point, one way or another, GM's entire supply chain will collapse. How's that for dark? You want light? How about this: I've received dozens of emails from frustrated workers, designers and administrators inside GM. No question: there's an enormous amount of creativity and passion locked-up inside General Motors. Once The General shakes off its union, deep-sixes its insufferable bureaucracy, dumps unnecessary brands and gets down to the business of building a limited number of great cars, it will build a limited number of great cars. When it comes to GM, the parts are greater than the whole.

Anyone who looks at the new Audi A3 3.2 DSG and sees an overpriced economy car should not be allowed to play with Rottweiler puppies. While Ingolstadt's diminutive four-door may seem like a hatchback for badge snobs willing to sacrifice size for breeding, it's actually a four-wheeled fiend, a beast born and bred to take a bite out of the time – space continuum. Everything else about the A3– the foot on the Audi ownership ladder thing, the four-wheel-drive peace-of-mind shtick– is nothing more than a glossy coat on a vicious little monster. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

The A3's aesthetic dissonance should tip off neophytes that something wikkid this way driveth. Calling the little Audi "ungainly" is like saying a Saab stretch limo lacks a certain finesse. The unconscionable gaping maw that is Audi's house snout never looked as hideous as it does here, attached to a car whose creators seems to have given up around the halfway mark. I presume the A3's sloping rear roofline was designed to distance Audi's $35k 'entry level' hatchback from the traditional econobox. At best, the A3 looks like a dwarf station wagon. At worst, it joins Mercedes' SLK as another petite whip suffering from Peter North syndrome.

This is a tale of two Tahoes. The first is a wildly successful SUV that's flying off the lots at full price: a Hail Mary pass that will put General Motors back in the end zone, saving them from the unthinkable humiliation of bankruptcy, with only moments to spare. The second is a gas-guzzling truck that's being swept out to sea by the vast receding tide of SUV buyers: a four-wheeled indictment of GM's inability to build what America wants to drive at a price that makes the company enough money to stay in business. For the time being, which vehicle you see depends entirely on which one you want to see.

Over at The Detroit News, Brett Clanton paints a portrait of the new Tahoe as the corporate lifesaver The General needs it to be. His article on the Tahoe's initial fortunes is sprinkled with the kind of upbeat non-contextual factoids that German newspapers relied on at the end of WWII: "Tahoe sales were up more than 50 percent in January. The 2007 model is fetching a higher average selling price than its predecessor… Only on sale since Jan. 10, GM has booked just more than 4,000 sales and is still in the process of shipping Tahoes to dealers." To be fair, Clanton mentions Wall Street's unenthusiastic response and sensibly states that "a true verdict on the vehicle is probably still months away." But the article's overall tenor is reflected by the headline "Hot Tahoe fuels GM Optimism."

If Tahoes are 'hot,' Antarctica is 'tropical.' Four thousand Tahoes per month equals 48k per year– as compared to the 152k examples Chevy sold in '05. Meanwhile, down on the showroom floor, I was offered a $2k discount on a brand new LT without asking for it. No wonder: in his February 6th newsletter, automotive journalist Ed Wallace reports that GM is offering a $1750 fleet rebate on new Tahoes and Yukons. (So much for GM's "Value Pricing Program": the highly-touted plan to keep vehicle sticker prices– and incentives– low.) What's more, GM isn't putting an actual number to '07 Tahoe sales or breaking out sales by model year. In other words, that "50% increase" represents sales of both the new and the old Tahoe. Add in the fact that dealers are selling the '05 Tahoe with an $8k rebate, while the '06 models are leaving dealer lots with $5k off sticker, and the rosy picture takes on a more deathly pallor.

In fact, Wallace's assault on GM optimists extends well beyond carefully shrouded Tahoe sales. The talk radio host points out that The General's dealers sold slightly fewer than 300k vehicles (discounting fleet sales) in January. Yet the company currently plans to build 1.26 million vehicles this quarter. That's 25% more vehicles than it will sell at the current pace. You don't have to be an economist to know that there's only one way prices can go when supply exceeds demand. Talk about duality: GM can't afford to discount its products; it can't afford not to discount its products. Unless sales pick-up quickly and dramatically, GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner's recent production cuts won't be enough. The General's death spiral will continue.

Depending on what happens tomorrow, we might be spared the agony of watching GM lingering on life support. We'll know whether or not Delphi has hammered out a deal with the United Auto Workers (UAW) that allows the parts maker to continue making parts for the Tahoe, Yukon and the rest of The General's lineup. The smart money says the UAW will accept some cuts to their members' compensation, while GM foots the multi-billion dollar bill for a continuation of the status quo. The smarter money says the UAW will agree to nothing more than window dressing, while GM foots the multi-billion dollar bill for a continuation of the status quo. If not, the UAW will strike and no one will have to worry about Tahoe sales for quite some time, if ever.

If you hear "deadline extension", think strike. Anyway, either way, this is a fight GM can't win. In fact, we're back to twins, and they're BOTH evil. The world's largest automaker can't survive a strike (UBS analyst Rob Hinchcliffe reckons a moribund GM would burn through its $19 billion cash hoard in about 10 weeks) and it can't afford to subsidize Delphi's UAW workforce (GM is ALREADY on the hook to Delphi workers for $12b). All of which means the new Tahoe's sales are… unimportant. Even if the Tahoe and its platform siblings fly off the forecourt at full retail for months– reversing a deeply entrenched industry trend– it couldn't keep GM's sinking ship above water. So the General's pride and joy, its last, best hope for financial salvation, is destined to become what anti-SUV campaigners saw all along: an irresponsible irrelevance.

Over at Edmunds.com, automotive journalist Alistair Weaver reckons Dubai's Jebel Hafeet Mountain Road is "The World's Greatest Driving Road." Judging from Marty Padgett's rhapsodic description of Maui's Heavenly Hana Highway, The Car Connection scribe may beg to differ. It's a dual-branded debate. BMW paid for Weaver's wanderings; Volvo footed the bill for Padgett's peregrinations. I'm not saying these corporate subsidies rendered these writers less qualified to choose the world's best tarmac, but neither journalist could make that call without car company cash. In other words, once again, money talks, bullshit walks.

Both Edmunds and The Car Connection neglected to tell their audience that their travelogues were made possible by a grant from a company whose cars were described glowingly therein. I have no qualms with Weaver's assertion that the MINI's "success is a testament to the brilliance of its design." Nor do I quibble with Padgett's assessment that Hawaiian C70 drivers should "bring great music for the C70's top-notch 910-watt audio system." But these stories wouldn't exist without the manufacturers' undeclared interest. Withholding that information from site visitors is unethical.

Fair disclosure: I don't know for sure that BMW or Ford paid for these trips. I've yet to receive an email on the matter, or a statement from either site about their junketeering policy in general. So I'm assuming. This is the same defense I've heard from publications who happily sell junket fruit (i.e. NOT Business Week, Conde Nast Traveler, The Wall Street Journal, Boston Globe and the LA and New York Times). One gatekeeper told me straight out that he simply assumes that his readers will make the connection between pay and play, and so be it. Which is a bit like a counterfeiter saying that a store clerk should be able to tell a bogus bill from a real one when they see one.

I've also heard the excuse "we don't have a choice." Which is more or less true. New car launch junketeering is so pervasive that unless a car publication/journalist accepts an all-expenses-paid first-class trip to Spain, South Africa, Arizona, Hawaii or wherever, they won't get Stage One access to the latest whip. (Post-junket, manufacturers cars take about two months to filter down to the local writers.) Buff books and car manufacturers are locked into a symbiotic relationship whose corruption is smothered by the quality of the free surrounds, food and, lest we forget, alcohol.

I find the extension of this jet-set corruption club to web-based media distressing, but not surprising. As eyeballs defect to the net, carmaker cash was bound to follow. Why wouldn't the Mayja Playas work the same scam on web-based automotive journalists that they've employed so successfully on their print-based colleagues? Why shouldn't websites stick their poorly-paid snouts into the same velvet-lined trough? Who really cares if there's an unspoken agreement: you be generally positive and respectful of our products and we'll keep you in the style (and access) to which you've become accustomed?

Word up: the web ain't like that. While carmakers and info corps are busy working the same old, same old, surfers are looking for the real deal. At the risk of repeating myself, buying a car is a big deal. Consumers want the straight shit. And they aren't stupid. They know what that big old Chevy logo blinking at them from the corner of Edmunds.com means. They know what's what when an article waxes lyrically about Hawaii, and then ends with a plug for a Volvo C70. Websites that think they can get away with unacknowledged junketeering will learn that it ain't necessarily so. And by the time they do, it'll be too late.

Meanwhile, I realize that the majority of my colleagues are a lost cause. I don't expect them to buck the system or take the high moral ground or even engage in fair disclosure. So I call on the automotive manufacturers to end this gold-plated junketeering once and for all. Listen up guys: TTAC, Jalopnik and Autoblog's Google rankings, and the increasing relevance of brand-based forums, proves that the rules have changed. Car buyers will find independent information about your products. You can't stop it. You can't co-opt it. So why not go with the flow? Less philosophically, ending the junketeering practice will give you far more bang-for-the-buck.

Ditch the Dubai and Hawaiian feeding frenzies. Release new cars to the regional press fleets. The buff books will find a way to keep their customers. You'll save a huge amount of money AND get blanket coverage. And here's another idea: lend your cars to web-active automotive alphas. If your products are good enough, you'll get the kind of groundswell of honest, untainted opinion that sells cars in this, the new millennia.