Remember Joe Isuzu?  In the late 80’s, the brand’s spokesman was an actor (David Leisure) playing a pathological liar who’d say anything to sell an Isuzu.  He claimed the Trooper could carry “a symphony orchestra” or “hold every book in the Library of Congress.”  The Impulse was “faster than a [catches a speeding bullet in his teeth]… well, you know.”  While Joe’s commercials-– and for that matter, the Isuzu brand– are busy fading from the American automotive landscape, his spirit lives on.  The main difference between Joe and no-Joe car ads: today's disclaimers are smaller.  You have my word on it.   

On second thought, look for yourself.  Most automobile commercials include a small disclaimer like “closed course,” “professional driver,” “do not attempt” or some other CYA statement mandated by the company’s legal department.  It’s there to protect them against ambulance chasers waiting for a buyer to injure themselves or (preferably) die when they try to make their vehicle do what it did in the commercial– even if that’s just driving around a corner.  You have to wonder about a world where companies showcase an SUV driving off-road, or a sports car zooming through a road course, then feel obliged to tell the buyer “do not attempt” to do the same.  Just what are we supposed to do with these vehicles?   

The TV commercials for the new Mercedes GL-class are probably the best/worst example.  The ads show the Alabama-built off-roader shrugging off the impact of a crash test sled, towing more than a Peterbilt can handle, hauling an entire vacation home full of stuff and tackling a slalom course so fast it sets the cones on fire (actually my first impression was the brakes were overheating so badly they ignited the cones).  All this wouldn’t be too bad if it was presented Joe Isuzu-style, with humorous disclaimers.  Instead, the word “fictionalization” appears in letters small enough to qualify as a DMV eye test, flashing by so fast it could serve as an Evelyn Wood final exam.   

Autodisclaimermania reminds of a five-year old who lies about breaking a lamp but thinks it’s OK (and he won’t be caught) because his fingers were crossed.  When it comes to portraying extreme performance capabilities that might not actually be, you know, possible, or, equally worrying, destroying the vehicle involved in the display, truck ads are particularly notable offenders.  Could someone explain what “underbody digitally modified” meant in the Ford truck ad showing an F-150 crushed between two bulldozers?  Did the frame crumple like a beer can against a frat boy’s forehead?  Why won’t they show us what really happened?  Or tell us they actually crushed four trucks to make that commercial?   

Then there’s a special category of ads operating so far outside the realm of reality they should be classified as novelization.  These ads try to sell us on a vehicle’s ability to cater to/create a particular “lifestyle,” or seek to fill us with warm fuzzies (WF) for a company building vehicles that can’t stand evaluation on their own or relative merits.  Here’s a simple question: how many Americans actually own a kayak?  How many go rock climbing?  Not as many as own SUV’s.  But that doesn’t stop their manufacturers from selling their lumbering land yachts as gateways to the great outdoors.  Nissan may urge potential owners to “tell better stories,” but it would be hard come up with more imaginative fiction that their lifestyle vignettes.  

The poster child for the WF concept is Ford’s “Bold Moves” campaign.  The Coca-Cola style ads show a quick cut montage of bold Americans doing courageous and noble things– from a teenager getting his first driver's license to a woman with breast cancer entering the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation's Race for the Cure.  So… where are the cars?  They don’t appear until the ad’s closing seconds.  What does that tell us about Ford vehicles?  Either a great deal (Ford’s ethics, spirit and community service) or nothing (), depending on whether or not you got paid to throw around words like “target demographic.”  

Of course, Ford’s not the only one inviting customers to share their highly selective alternate reality.  Toyota touts their “hybrid synergy” but neglects to mention its profitable flotilla of gas-guzzling Tundras and Sequoias.  GM brags how many of its cars get better than 30 MPG in highway driving, but fails to disclose that their whips are a lot less efficient around town, and that their overall fleet hews closely to the Corporate Average Fuel Economy legislation.  (Unlike BMW.)  

You have to wonder who the car makers and their advertising lackeys think they’re fooling.  They aren’t fooling me and I doubt they’re fooling you.  The truth is they, like Joe Isuzu, they are only fooling themselves.  And if I’m lying, may lightning strike my computer.

Another year, another J.D. Power survey. Since the non-profit Consumer Reports organization prohibits carmakers from using its ratings in their ads, “ranked highest in initial quality by J.D. Power and Associates” should start flooding the airwaves and Internet any minute now, with print sure to follow. But does all of this noise signify anything? Should those seeking trouble-free wheels be sure to buy one of J.D.’s winners? Hardly.

First, note the “initial” that qualifies “quality.” Power surveys car owners on “problems” encountered within their first 90 days of ownership. Most people understand that a car that’s reliable for 90 days isn’t necessarily reliable beyond that. But there’s a bigger issue. J.D. Power’s IQS has been redesigned (for the second time) to encompass a larger number of potential defects. And the more the IQS includes, the less it measures what most people want to know: vehicle reliability.

The previous redesign doubled the average number of reported problems per car by extending the IQS beyond defects (that can be fixed) to designed-in annoyances (that must be endured). For example, cupholder dissatisfaction famously slammed MINI’s score. The 2006 IQS report takes a step in the right direction by including subscores for "design quality" and "production quality." Combining two very different elements into a single score makes it unclear what the number represents. Yet this score receives 99 percent of the press coverage and 100 percent of the ad citations.

If you compare the rankings based on production quality alone, the brands’ relative positions change dramatically. BMW bounds 24 places to third; Buick jumps 14 to eighth; MINI ascends 13 to 16th; Mercedes-Benz climbs nine also to 16th; Subaru also gains nine to 19th. At the same time, Dodge drops eight to 27th; GMC plummets 13 rungs to 22nd; Nissan plunges ten, also to 22nd. Eight others change position by at least five slots. These include Chrysler, which shares many models with Dodge yet moves up five places, to fifth. Out of 37 brands, 16 rankings are heavily affected by the inclusion of design quality.

Beyond the cloudiness of the revised methodology, the way the results are reported and spun continues to put too much emphasis on relative rankings. In fact, absolute differences are often minuscule. Looking at defect rates alone, 22 out of 37 brands fall within one-tenth of a Problem per Car (PPC) of the 0.64 average. Thirty of 37 brands fall within two-tenths. Of the seven beyond this range, only one, Lexus, is on the top, and it only betters the average by 0.22 problems per car.

Stay with me here. The best brand, Lexus, has 0.42 problems per car, while the worst, Isuzu, has 1.10: a best-to-worst difference of 0.68 problems per car. Even this range results from a few especially low-scoring brands. The difference between number three (Toyota) and number 32 (Hummer) is a scant 0.27 problems per car. It’s ironic, since brands at the bottom of the chart receive the least attention in J.D. Power’s press releases. For years they didn’t even publicly release below-average scores.

Put another way, a Toyota compared to a Hummer has a one in four chance of having a single additional problem. Even comparing a car from Isuzu with one from Lexus, only two in three cars will have a single additional problem. What’s more, this additional problem is likely to be the only problem. Folks, we're talking about a single trip to the dealer for a single problem–which you still face nearly even odds of taking if you buy the best brand.

The reason why J.D. Power lumps design quality into the IQS is clear: without it, the differences between brands are rarely worth debating. And the smaller the differences, the less people care about IQS. And the less the pubic cares about IQS, the less automakers will pay to advertise IQS scores, and hire Power consultants to help improve them. This would truly be a problem– for J.D. Power.

J.D. needs to re-think their methodology and reporting. They should keep problems that require repair separate from other issues. Forget the brands, they don’t vary enough. Instead, emphasize model scores. Next, focus less on rankings and who is the best and more on the size of the differences and who is within spitting distance of the best. Finally, J.D. Power needs to shift their emphasis away from “initial quality” towards long-term durability. Manufacturers won’t like that a longer-term study keeps new models off J.D.-branded consumer radar, but anything less is, well, less.

Heck, J.D. Power might even rake in more cash this way. Anyone reasonably near the top—and not just those at the top—could advertise “ranked good enough in quality that you should focus on other criteria by J.D. Power and Associates.” No, it’s not punchy. Just the truth.

[Michael Karesh operates www.truedelta.com, a vehicle reliability and price comparison site.]

When Bob Lutz launched the new-ish Chevrolet Tahoe, GM's Car Czar claimed the SUV and its platform partners would sell to a core group of customers who need (or at least desperately want) the size, power and towing abilities of a traditional American truck. At the same time, Lutz acknowledged that overall SUV's sales were shrinking. Unfortunately, the press neglected to explore the corollary: GM's ability to maintain SUV profits depends on conquest sales from existing owners. Never mind the Dai-san (Toyota, Honda, Nissan) or the "Crisis" Corporation. There's only one way GM can generate life-sustaining lift from this profit-rich segment: hit the weak man. Ford is Job One.

In fact, GM and Ford are locked in a Detroit Death Match. Both companies' finances are in tatters. Their market shares are shrinking. Layoffs and closings are spreading throughout their respective empires. A Delphi strike threatens to shutter their assembly lines. Impossible pension and health care costs are eating into profits. They pay thousands of workers not to work. The unions can't or won't play ball. There's not enough money to invest in new products. Their dealer networks are bloated. Ailing brands are dragging them down, but they can't afford to cut the deadwood. It's like the old joke about the man fleeing a bear who nearly trips over his companion, who's putting on a pair of running shoes. "Are you crazy?" he yells. "You can't outrun a bear!" "I don't have to outrun the bear," his former friend replies. "I just have to outrun you."

Ever since The General's bankruptcy stopped being a paranoid fantasy, GM CEO Rick Wagoner has insisted that Chapter 11 is not on the horizon, or even in play. While GM could use Chapter 11 to cut pay, pensions, health care, brands and dealers, Wagoner claims the move would fatally damage GM customers' trust (such as it is). But, if Ford went to the wall first, broke the UAW's back in court and jettisoned its excess dealers, GM could demand the same treatment from the unions and the courts. GM would enjoy most of the benefits of "re-alignment" without damaging its reputation AND scoop-up market share from its prostrate rival.

Seen though this lens, it's possible that Rick Wagoner's otherwise inexplicable "steady as she goes" strategy reflects a deeper understanding that GM is fighting a war of attrition against its cross-town rival. If so, the sides are evenly matched. Ford has a better pickup, arguably a better car line and better foreign brands (all solid except for ailing, arthritic Jaguar). GM has better SUVs, a more robust luxury line and sheer size. At the end of the proverbial day, these two automaking giants are in such similar straits that Ford (and to some extent Chrysler) feels obliged to equal or better every GM incentive, discount and sales gimmick. Employee discounts, gas cards, zero per cent financing, cash back– the hits to the bottom line keep happening.

Of course, these incentive wars are a dangerous game of "chicken.' The endless discounting has not only damaged all hope of profitability, it's dragged GM and Ford deep into discount car company territory, shattering their once-proud reputations for high-quality products. What's more, the campaigns are only working relative to each other; while GM and Ford (and Chrysler) fight each other over scraps, Dai San continues their slow, inexorable increase in overall US market share. The rot may become so bad that neither company could find their way back– even after bankruptcy levels the playing field.

Besides, the "what's good for the goose is good for the gander" principle has no basis in law. Who's to say a Ford Chapter 11 would force the all-powerful labor unions to be more conciliatory towards GM when their contracts come up for renewal in '07? Why would the myriad of state courts involved in dealership agreements allow a solvent GM to dump its dealers just because a federal bankruptcy judge bestowed this advantage upon a stricken FoMoCo?

If Wagoner and his team are thinking Who Laughs Last, they may have it exactly backwards. The first domestic carmaker to file for bankruptcy could well be the first company to fully recover. Ford as much as admitted this when its quarterly statement listed GM's bankruptcy as a potential competitive threat. So why hasn't either company simply bitten the bullet and filed first? As always, it's about character. Rick Wagoner sees himself as GM's savior. He doesn't want to be the captain who went down with the ship. Billy Ford feels the same way. But events (and their own incompetence) are conspiring against them. Sooner or later, both men are bound to learn that pride goeth before a fall.

According to Alfa Romeo's website, Henry Ford used to doff his hat whenever he saw an Alfa Romeo pass. More credibly, the Italian automaker claims Enzo Ferrari cried like a baby on the day his race cars finally beat Alfas'. Yes but– Alfa Romeo's distinguished portfolio of elegant motor cars and racing heritage may be glorious beyond compare, but that history also includes ignominious defeat. In 1995, after selling just forty-four cars to [long-suffering] American enthusiasts, Alfa withdrew from the US market. And now, once again, the company that gave Dustin Hoffman's graduate his getaway car wants back in.

Emboldened by Maserati's North American comeback, reinvigorated by GM's $2b payoff, corporate parent Fiat believes that the Alfa Romeo brand is finally ready to launch its own US re-invasion. Initially, Alfa plans to sell and service a small range of vehicles through some of its 40 former American dealerships and most of Maserati's current US franchisees (recently liberated from the Fiat's Ferrari dealers). Fiat management refuses to commit to a timetable for the move, which has been postponed three times since 2003. Rumor has it we could see Alfas stateside by late '07. But is there a seat at the table for Alfa? Where does today's Alfa fit in the world's largest automotive marketplace?

The American car scene has changed a great deal since the mid-90's. Generally speaking, American automotive consumers have divided into four distinct camps: truck-lovers, horsepower-mad pistonheads, reliability fanatics and mileage-seeking tree huggers. Whether it's 5000lbs. towing capacity, 500bhp, five-year warrantees or 50mpg, all four market slices are well-served by all the major manufactures; from Ford's sublime F150 and Explorer, to DCX' brawny behemoths, to Honda's legendary Accord, to Toyota's frugal Prius. If Alfa Romeo thinks it's in a position to compete with distinction in any of these categories, they may be about to proven wildly, sadly mistaken.

Alfa's press release promises Americans the Alfa 159, Brera and Spider. Judging from the lineup's sporting orientation, the company is taking aim at US automotive enthusiasts. Again, it's a crowded market filled with highly-skilled, deeply-entrenched competition. Honda, Mazda, Nissan, Pontiac and Saturn all offer sexy mid-market drop-tops. BMW's 3-Series owns the $30K sport sedans (where Alfa's Quadrofoglio once struggled). For more than a decade, Infiniti and Lexus have failed to knock the Bimmer off its perch. What hope does a newcomer have?

Alfa may have a peerless racing pedigree, but Americans are notoriously uninterested in such things. If mainstream US buyers think Italian sports car– and that's a big "if"– they think Ferrari; followed, perhaps, by Maserati. Alfa's adrenalin-oriented image builders will have to start from scratch– with front-wheel-drive cars whose relatively small engines are not likely to tempt US power mongers. As for the reliability side of the equation…

Alfa's build quality, fit, and finish may have improved since their departure, but their cars will have to overcome a great deal of residual distrust. Many Americans have vivid memories of Alfas that fell apart mid-route and/or rusted into thin air. What's more, Alfa will be facing some of the world's best-built products (thank you Toyota) in a litigious country (God Bless America) that expects a long, comprehensive warranty (kudos Hyundai) and distinctly non-Italian levels of customer service (all hail Lexus). In short, Alfa will have zero wiggle room for excessive panel gaps, condescending or indifferent dealers and the odd failure to start– especially in the all important $20K-$40K segment.

As for the "green" angle, Alfa's decision to leave its econoboxes and diesels on the other side of the pond pretty much takes them out of the running in that category. In short, there's only one way the Italians can possibly hope to compete in the US. It's the same way Jaguar manages to stave off oblivion: style.

If anything is going to drive customer to Alfa, it's sex appeal. Alfa's management's decision to restrict its US dealers to the company's most comely performance cars is a tacit admission that Alfas will have to trade almost entirely on their looks. It's also no coincidence that Alfa's relaunch will coincide with the '07 debut of their elegant new GTV and Spider. (Eventually, Alfa Romeo will bring forth the drop-dead gorgeous 8C Competizione.) It sounds crazy, but it just might work. All of these cars possess enough easily-identifiable Italian flair to attract automotive alphas who want to stand out, or simply distance themselves from Bangled excess or Japanese invisibility.

In fact, America needs Alfa Romeo. A healthy infusion of Italian style could be just the thing to wake-up risk-aversive US and foreign car designers, to lead them away from their bland, cookie-cutter sheetmetal, to push them towards a more artful and dramatic aesthetic. In fact, were they alive (and kept away from each other's throats), I'm sure Henry Ford and Enzo Ferrari would welcome the competition.

[Gunnar Heinrich publishes <a xhref='http://www.automobilesdeluxe.blogspot.com'>automobilesdeluxe.blogspot.com</a>]

Mitsubishi Motors is on the ropes. US sales are in the basement. Aside from the new Eclipse and the niche-market EVO, they haven't got a winning product in sight. A line of forgettable sedans and me-too SUVs does not a viable car company make. DaimlerChrysler's decision to pull the plug on future financial aid doesn't bode well either. In fact, Mitsubishi is knocking on the door of bankruptcy. Desperate times call for desperate measures. It's time for them to build a "real" pickup truck: a Mitsubishi Freightliner.

Despite the recent surge in gas prices, the US pickup truck market remains relatively robust. And even if it's contracting slightly, the profits aren't. The average profit on a pickup is $13,000 per unit. No wonder Nissan threw their hat in the ring with the Titan, and Toyota's promising all-new Tundra is due out next spring. Mitsubishi's entry, the Raider, is a badge engineered Dodge Dakota, but not nearly as memorable. It has some of the right stuff, including a V8, but cowers in the darkest corners of the marketplace, ignored and little missed. To make the grade and mint some money, Mitsubishi needs a full-size competitor to the Ford Super Duty.

Despite its connection to DaimlerChrysler, Freightliner isn't doing so well. Demand for their medium and heavy trucks has been soft for some time. Their foray into vans, the re-badged Mercedes Sprinter, is aimed at a narrow market niche– a niche that's even narrower now that there's a Dodge-badged Sprinter. But Freightliner's reputation as a maker of tough trucks is undiminished. Their Century Class trucks set new standards for comfort and luxury in heavy truck cabs. Freightliner's Sterling (formerly Ford) trucks are probably the most efficient and durable medium and heavy trucks on the planet.

Mitsubishi and Freightliner should pool their resources and build a new, heavy-duty, full-size pickup truck, designed to compete head-to-head with Ford's Super Duty. Freightliner has the design and engineering capabilities to create the truck. The Mitsubishi version could be sized and optioned like a Ford F250HD and F350, and the Freightliner version could cover the F350 and F450 range. Make sure it's big enough, has all the truck amenities and a really aggressive front end, and buyers will flock to the showrooms. A real Freightliner for the price of Dodge imitation? Hard to resist.

Freightliner doesn't make engines, and Mitsubishi doesn't have an engine suitable for a large truck. As we've discussed here before, there are plenty of first-rate American parts makers who can feed aspiring automakers suitable components. Freightliner is a major customer of Cummins. The new Mitsubishi Freightliner could run on the same Cummins diesel engine used in the Dodge Ram. Alternatively, Navistar (International) has developed a new 4.5-liter V6 diesel for Ford's F250– that The Blue Oval abandoned. Navistar has the engine and the plants to build it, but no customers.

"All Diesel, All the Time" would be a great marketing slogan. Mitsubishi could be the only company with a line of all-diesel trucks. A buyer could get a truck capable of F350 performance with the gas mileage of a gasoline powered F150 and the ruggedness of a Freightliner (at no extra charge). A tie-in with the bio-diesel business could make buyers feel good about driving a huge pickup truck, and wrest the green crown from Toyota. (Tundra pickups belch greenhouse gasses in a big way.)

Freightliner and Mitsubishi each have a suitable marketing channel for the truck. Freightliner could offer the product to fleet buyers who need a pickup to complement their semis and/or delivery trucks. Buyers could have the truck financed and serviced by the truck professionals at any Freightliner outlet, where employees know the commercial truck business inside out. No more hanging out at the Ford dealer waiting for mechanics to finish changing the oil on a minivan before getting to your work truck. Freightliner could also market a truck chassis in this class to motor home and ambulance builders; a market that's currently locked-up by Ford.

Obviously, Mitsubishi's distribution channel caters to the average consumer. Since most pickup trucks are sold for personal use, a Mitsubishi dealership would be a logical place to offer a Freightliner pickup truck for the masses. The presence of an attractive full-size truck would act as a halo vehicle, bringing buyers into the showroom (most for the first time) to see Mitsu's other offerings. A premium truck would also have a premium margin for both dealer and manufacturer, something both companies need desperately.

The US automotive market is in flux. Only those companies willing to consider new ways of doing business are going to survive. Will Mitsubishi and Freightliner see the next decade? That could very well depend on whether or not they realize that a problem shared is a problem halved.

Turn the ignition, and its carnal soul stirs from hibernation. The engine rumbles and burps its way to idle. Blip the throttle and unbridled power and torque stir your soul. Grab the pistol grip shifter, throw the slush box into D and let em' rip. There's no denying the truth about muscle cars, and no denying their place in the world. Known and revered globally, Japan has their R34's, Deutschland has their M's and AMG's and the US, of course with its goats, 427's and Hemi's. The muscle cars' place on this earth is to remain politically incorrect, defy the law, and spit in the face of the rebel which lies in all of us.

Some would argue that the term "muscle car" is an American term, originating during the 50's or 60's. But in actuality, the muscle car has lived, exactly, since the assemblage of automobile number 2. Over the years, muscle cars have evolved from an existence solely defined by monster displacement, to fully sorted and balanced ubermachines, equally capable of accelerating, turning and stopping within un-comprehensible and convention defying specifications. If necessity is the mother of invention, then muscle cars are the dead-beat father of innovation. Through their evolution, laws (governmental, physical or otherwise) have challenged engineers and gearheads to do more with less. Inevitably they succeed.

Considered neither supercars or pocket rockets, the muscle car lies in the sweetspot somewhere between. To further define a muscle car is futile. To place boundaries around its limits is stupid. We've all been in muscle cars, and we all remember exactly the moment we first laid eyes on one. Our first ride, our first drive- burned indelibly into the minds eye. Few days in a man's life compare to our first experience in a muscle car. Thereafter, our life is an endless pursuit to re-capture that moment, the smell of white and red-piped leather, and the feel of your cranium bouncing off the headrest as you banged through the gears. Sensory overload leads to a blur of motion, lights and noise. Few earthly possessions can satisfy like that of the orbit orange encountered in our first judge, or the exhaust note of a WOT 427. Simple words, grabber, shaker, Boss, Hurst, Cuda and Skyline elicit unspeakable boyhood fantasies, and drive irrational acquisitions of unworldly proportions.

Today, we are living on the verge of a golden age for the muscle car, the likes of which have never been seen. The effects of globalization, currency manipulation, plummeting market share and deathwatches loom overhead, yet the worlds' automakers are duking it out in a no-holds-barred ultimate cage match for hot rod supremacy. For domestic manufacturers, the gold standard of success is an incentive free sale. To that end, the current generation Mustang has been running wildly right out of the gate. Old man Shelby and Parnelli Jones are lending further credibility to the first worthy successor to the Hurst editions and TransAm racers of yore. Thankfully, everybody is piling into the battle royal. Originally unveiled as "concepts" in January, the next generation Chevy Camaro and Dodge Challenger are pedal to the floor, in a head to head race for production. Not to be left in the dust, Nissan just announced its' plan for the GTR, the successor to the legendary Skyline. Do we really need a sub-5-second 0-60 jeep Cherokee? Hell no, but why not! The go-fast treatment is being applied with reckless abandon to SRT's SVT's, M's- S's, and AMG. With the recent unveiling of the Lexus LS600hL packing 430hp, even the otherwise anemic hybrid powertrain has crawled into the ring and delivered a folding chair to the head of their competitors. Never before has the world enjoyed the selection and performance of muscle cars that we do today. And the undisputed winner in all of this? You and I.

Their place in the world is hard to justify, existing in a peripheral space alongside the mainstream market. The muscle car commands attention from the worlds' automakers like that of a red-headed step child. Because cars are commodities, amounting to nothing more than toaster ovens to the general populace, bean counters and regulators will remain the ever-present threat. But for the believers, their value is defined by forces greater than ROI and MPG. And what about the future of the muscle car? Have no fear, they will remain the omnipresent force driving vehicle sales and buzz around the worlds great brands. They will irresponsibly burn through too many gallons of gas and be responsible for too many "reckless driving" tickets along the way. And what does the muscle get in return? No respect. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Muscle car translated in any language means fast, loud and obnoxious and shall be universally celebrated for being so.

[Published as originally submitted.]

What's wrong with Ford and GM? In the face of shrinking demand for their core vehicles, The Blue Oval and The General are disgorging an endless stream of new products without rhyme or reason. This is the American market. It's supposed to be an American game. Yet time and again, Detroit's giants have misread the temper of the times, unleashing all-new products that flop, forcing them to scrap expensive models and start again. It's time for all the stopping and starting to stop.

Examples of Detroit's endless game of one-two-three red light are both bountiful and pitiful. For example, whatever happened to the bulbous Taurus? Where is America's favorite family sedan these days? It's been replaced by the Ford 500, a bland, underpowered vehicle whose customers are lined-up none deep. By the same token, the Ford Focus is a terrific little family car that could compete with the new Honda Fit, Toyota Yaris and Nissan Sentra. There's even an improved version in Europe, ready for federalization. But no, Dearborn has hung the Ford Focus out to dry, presumably in anticipation of its eventual unrelated replacement.

And what of the once-proud Lincoln brand's answer to the BMW 5-Series: the LS (Luxury Sport)? Despite the positive media buzz, despite selling over a quarter-million vehicles in six years, Ford let the model languish without major improvements– and then canned it as part of their "Way Forward" plan. In fact, there is not one single Lincoln you can look at and say, yes sir, that's a Lincoln! GM's Pontiac division is in the exact same position. Everything in their lineup is entirely new and connected to absolutely nothing in the company's past.

Detroit's corporate culture shoulders much of the blame for this automotive ADD. Long before John De Lorean hitched his wagon to the Pontiac GTO and Lee Iaccoca rode a Mustang to the top, Detroit's corporate culture rewarded execs tied to "winners" and punished anyone involved with "loser" vehicles. Improving an existing model, adding a few more percentage points to the sales charts, puts auto execs on the fast track to nowhere. Launching an exciting new hit guarantees a key to a corner office. While there's no profit in releasing an endless series of dogs, the suits are addicted to gambling their careers on quirky new models. SSR? XLR? Fusion? Freestyle? No thank you.

Contrast this with BMW's evolutionary approach. When The Roundel introduced its hideous 7-Series, complete with an unfathomable iDrive multi-media controller, even the normally subservient press slated the luxobarge. And yet BMW stood by the latest generation of its flagship and slowly, gradually, improved it. iDrive was simplified. The extreme sheetmetal was gently smoothed. At the same time, BMW maintained its program of regular engine upgrades, added features, continued a relentless, behind-the-scenes attack on quality control issues and kept on marketing the car. It's that kind of single-minded, single model dedication that keeps 7-Series sales growing, and protects BMW's from marketplace vagaries.

Clearly, the Germans "get it;" they appreciate the over-riding value of consistency. Consider the Mercedes-Benz S-Class. In the '80's, the W126 was Germany's answer to Rolls-Royce; 80% as grand and 100% more practical. There was no finer luxury sedan on the road. Subsequent decades saw an inverse developmental algorithm: as the S-Class evolved to new technological heights, it declined in quality and substance. Even so, by maintaining the model's lineage– selling the grandeur that was with the technology that is– dealerships can't keep the latest W221 S-Class long enough to sign the import papers.

Master chameleon Toyota understood the concept from the start. They knew that design evolution equals brand recognition, mechanical evolution equals customer satisfaction, and keeping a conquested customer is far cheaper and more profitable than getting a new one. In 1989, Lexus launched the LS400 as an upstart alternative to the Mercedes-Benz S-Class and BMW's 7-Series. Despite criticism for its bland design, despite German counterattack, Lexus never wavered from its commitment to its flagship. Today, most Americans consider the LS as cut from the same hide as its European competitors.

Ford and GM should face facts. They should 'realign' their corporate culture and stop chasing niches in search of "the next big thing": crossovers, convertible pickup trucks, pseudo-minivans, etc. They should plough all their resources into what they've got and get on with it. The truth is, there's no quick fix in the car business. There's only an endless pursuit of customer loyalty. The vast majority of customers want to be brand loyal. Unlike Detroit's ambitious execs, they want to chose once, choose wisely and stick with it. As long as Ford and GM continue to focus their energy on short-term product solutions, the Detroit monoliths are condemned to playing catch-up. It's a fruitless endeavor that ultimately produces nothing but mediocrity.

[Gunnar Heinrich publishes <a xhref='http://www.automobilesdeluxe.blogspot.com'>automobilesdeluxe.blogspot.com</a>]

Fit. That's a good one. At the exact moment that America's obese SUV's are giving the country petrochemical chest pains, Honda invites us to get healthy. Why chug-a-lug gas and stagger around like a big-bellied lummox when you can sip petrol and sashay around town with all the moral superiority of a marathoner? OK, but getting fit involves sacrifices: unpleasant bending, less grunt, no street cred, etc. Or does it? Let's face it: the less we give up, the higher the likelihood we'll do it. Does the Honda Fit let us frugalize without fear?

A certain Mr. E. Ferrari used to refer to Jeep as 'America's only real sports car.' I never fully understood the Italian automaker's claim until I handed the keys to my Cherokee to my SUV-hating girlfriend. As my liver busied itself processing bourbon, she kicked the Jeep's 4.0-liter straight-six into life. Carving through the Silver Lake hills, the Jeep's right-now acceleration, scrappy handling and elevated driving position pleased her almost as much as I did. Enzo was right: Jeeps are a buzz. When DCX lent me the new Jeep Liberty Renegade, I slipped on my steel-toed Wolverines and readied myself for a good 'ole thrash in America's redneck Ferrari.

The model replacing Jeep's venerable Cherokee exchanges the Cherokee's near-perfect two-box design for something that looks like a VW Bug after a visit to Barry Bonds' doctor. Macho dignity is upheld (literally) by the Renegade's seven slot grill and its over-sized, over-compensating wheel arches– attached by marble-sized bolts as garish as diamond teeth. Rock rails and fog lights (disguised to look like KC lamps) reinforce the strong man aesthetic. That said, as I admired the Renegade on my drive, a desperate homemaker walked up and commented, 'That's cute.' Yes, well, the Liberty's UniFrame construction makes it stiffer, lighter and more crashworthy than the body-on-frame construction used by truck-based competitors. So it's still as tough as nails (the metal kind).

Harley-Davidson has been making obsolete, inefficient and technologically deficient motorcycles since the 60's. Despite an unrelenting onslaught of technically superior Japanese product, the Harley-Davidson brand has stayed true to its roots (however inadvertently). They've never stopped building bikes that maintain the charm and character of old-fashioned American motorcycling. Or, put another way, Harley makes its living convincing otherwise responsible adults to pay premium prices for old technology. This transition– from cutting edge to outdated to nostalgic to a way of life– is a perfect model for the American automobile industry.

It's already happening. Consider America's love of big dumb SUV's, or, better yet, its best-selling vehicle, the F-150. Ford's perennial sales leader is a tried-and-true workhorse built around fundamentally simple (if highly evolved) technology. As personal transportation it's incredibly inefficient. Compared to a Japanese or Korean car, it's laughably basic. And yet the F-150– and American pick-up trucks in general– are thriving. They're style icons that remind drivers of a time when American culture was dominant and cast iron V8's ruled the roads. The modern F-150 is as "authentically American" as any '50's hot rod or '60's muscle car.

American automobiles started going wrong in the '80s and '90s, when Japanese imports changed the rules of the game. Yes, there were still cars wearing the Camaro, Firebird and Mustang nameplates, but even these Stone Age carry-overs were loaded-up with "sophisticated" technology. As for the rest… Modern braking and steering systems, turbocharged engines, front-wheel-drive, aerodynamic design, adaptive suspensions– there's a long list of technology that gradually turned proud American iron into something, well, pathetic. These "improvements" robbed American cars of their character without adding anything to their intrinsic appeal.

The Japanese are very good at building Japanese cars (which are enhanced clones of European sedans). American automakers should stop trying to compete. In fact, they can't compete. While the Big Three have engineering and design talent to spare, their sky-high labor costs and stifling bureaucracy make it virtually impossible to build a passenger car with anything like the quality and technology of their rivals'– never mind the price. As FedEx proved, the key to success isn't doing something a little better than the other guy; the trick is to do something DIFFERENT. Like building American cars.

Building big dumb American cars offers US automobile manufacturers a huge economic advantage. American-style muscle cars can be sold for higher margins than price-sensitive mainstream vanilla sedans (whose manufacturers are engaged in a never-ending battle for value-driven customers). The possibilities are endless. GM, Ford and Chrysler could market an entire range of garish, low-tech, high-profit American nostalgiamobiles. No need for state-of-the-art braking systems, no need for fuel-efficiency (captive imports can be used to keep the CAFE under control), no need to keep up with Toyota or Honda or Nissan or Hyundai. Just build something with all-American allure, satisfy NHTSA safety regs and call it good. No, call it great.

This strategy would be in perfect synch with the heartbeat of America: NASCAR. The quintessentially American race series is a showcase for '60's tech. (Yes the race teams are high-tech, but how many modern cars are equipped with carbureted V8's?) In fact, "NASCAR Nation" is nothing more than a public manifestation of American car culture– which never died nor wavered from its belief that there's no replacement for displacement. Before the Daytona 500, Speed Channel interviewed several NASCAR drivers. To a man they said that their first, favorite and current vehicles were pickup trucks. Just like the majority of Americans.

Building and selling charismatic American vehicles with V8 engines and solid rear axles could result in a rebirth of the "win on Sunday, sell on Monday" philosophy. Cruise nights at local drive-ins would no longer be dominated by cars built during the Johnson and Nixon administrations. In fact, you'd see a new flowering of American car culture. And since the automakers wouldn't be spending money on developing, refining and implementing the latest vehicle technology, they could focus their R&D dollars on accessories. As Harley Davidson will tell you, non-mechanical parts are a licence to print money.

Of course it'll never happen. Detroit still thinks this is 1966, not 2006. Too many people in top management believe their automotive divisions will never become Harley-like 'niche players'– even though it's already happening. They think they're only a spiffy new high-tech car (or fifty) from market dominance and massive profitability. They think they can somehow compete against the new guys' non-unionized labor and technological ingenuity– even if they have to build their cars in China and Korea to do it. We can only hope that the Big Three's bankruptcy and resulting reorganization happen as quickly and painlessly as possible. That way, America's automakers can retrench, regroup and start building genuine American cars again. Cars with style, power and profit.

As GM fast approaches the day when it surrenders its world's largest automaker title to Toyota, it's important to remember that we're still talking about a corporate colossus. If you include fleet sales, The General makes one in every four vehicles sold in the United States. Obviously, GM's problem isn't volume. It's profitability. GM's US operations are still designed to cater to a third of the US car market. That's Hell of a lot of fat to trim– especially with a union that hears "efficiency" and thinks "downsizing". Meanwhile, The General has an even bigger problem: it doesn't have a heart.

An automotive brand's "heart" is the car that the average customer associates with a given brand. It's the vehicle whose character most clearly personifies the brand's values. Toyota has the Camry. Honda has Accord. Nissan has the Altima. Ford had the Taurus (and demolished it to push the Explorer). GM has nothing. More importantly, Chevy has nothing. Remember "the heartbeat of America"? It's on the crash-cart, waiting for a transplant.

Ironically, Chevrolet sells The General's halo car: the Corvette. The 'Vette is a world-class sports car whose style, power and handling has met with universal approval. It's a sexy, well-engineered vehicle that should instill pride into the heart of every American enthusiast. And yet the 'Vette is not Chevrolet's heart. How could it be? At $50k plus, it's far too expensive for the average car buyer's pocketbook. Even if were affordable, a two-seater does not speak to the average car buyer's real world aspirations. If it does, the Corvette says one thing: toy. Just like the Pontiac Solstice, the 'Vette is little more than showroom eye candy.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the financial spectrum, the $10k Aveo is an equally unlikely candidate for becoming Chevy's "people's champion." Even without considering its flaws, the Korean car's point of origin rules it out. The new Impala is a sensible, well-built car, but it's the automotive equivalent of a straight-to-video movie: a rental car wannabe from the word go. The Malibu is decently equipped, reasonably frisky, sensibly priced and no rental slut (unlike its predecessor). But it's another slab-sided scoop of low-calorie vanilla with a Motel Six interior: one of the few cars that can make an Accord or Camry look sexy. As for Chevy's trucks, that ship has sailed.

Chevrolet seems to think that selling something that doesn't suck is enough to fill this gap. It's not. Chevy needs one bullet-proof, brand-defining car. The company needs to build one superb machine that buyers can examine inside and out and instantly "get it". An inherently desirable car that tells the world what it means to be a Chevy. The heart car should have a modern engine (a baby Northstar), the best possible cabin materials, plenty of standard equipment (in recognizable trim levels), superb build quality and just enough style that you know who built it.

Profit margins have nothing to do with it. The only way Chevrolet can claw their way back to credibility is to take the financial hit and build something so outstanding in both form and function that it redefines GM's home brand for years to come. Profit can come later– and it will. Good niche vehicles grow off of good roots. (Weak trunks grow into Azteks.) While the heart car's volume grows, it will provide a decent base for more profitable spin-offs. A good heart car could spawn a sport coupe, and some of those vaunted "crossovers", including the original crossover, the minivan.

In fact, Chevy's flagship model could be a minivan. There are over a million of these family haulers sold in the US every year. (Chrysler, Honda and Toyoda own 75% of the market, with the Japanese skimming the cream, and Chrysler doing the volume.) GM's current minivans are warmed-over nose-jobs grafted onto overly-narrow European platforms– more proof that GM doesn't have a clue. A feelgood proletarian minivan with genuine American style and plenty of class could be a profitable volume seller, and an appropriate model to show the world what a "real" Chevy is all about– well, these days.

Why go on the attack now? Because the best defense is a good offense. When GM abandons a market, the competition consolidates and goes for it. Backing only the profitable lines built GM's bottom line– barely– but it kills brands. Even now, Toyota and Nissan are taking aim at the full-size pickup truck market. They've been at this for years; they haven't got it all together yet. But they're going to keep whacking the door with an axe until it opens. (We've seen this movie before.) In both pickups and mass market motors, GM hasn't pushed back. It can't. Not because it lacks guts or talent or money. It simply doesn't have the heart.

Maybe it's because my father's Canadian, but I always pull for the underdog. Right from the start, I wanted Nissan's upstart Infiniti brand to kick Lexus's polished derriere. And so it did. The Z — make that G — 35 made the original IS250 look like an over-stressed poodle. Where Lexus offered an overwrought interior (ahoy there diving-watch gauge cluster) and under-cooked mechanicals, Infiniti served-up a four-door Camaro. The G35 dispatched the IS, yawned and started hunting Germans. When Japan's 'other' luxury brand (not counting Acura) re-launched its 5-Series fighter, I thought right; here we go. Round two…

At first sight, all bets were off. Why would Infiniti produce such a fat, unsightly beast? Up front, the sedan's massive chrome grill clashes with the body's not-so-svelte proportions, and the brash headlights are just plain wrong. The M's obese hind quarters are more offensive than a cartoon of the Prophet lounging by the pool. I'm not saying the M45's taillights are garish, but they'd look huge on a school bus. From the side, the M45's not a tragedy, but that's only because you might mistake it for the more comely G35 at twenty paces. In all, the M45 is only vaguely alluring, like a post-partum Britney.

For those of you who've just joined us from Wall Street, welcome. We've been waiting for you for a while– long enough to wonder if GM's stock price got lost in hyperspace. I guess you guys needed some kind of sign to find your bearings. Something like Toyota's announcement that they're gonna Avis The General in '06, ending GM's 70-year run as the world's largest automaker. Or Rabid Rick Wagoner's post horse departure barn door closing homily: "I'm not conceding anything to anybody." No matter. Now that you're here, let me tell you a story…

I was scanning Wardsauto.com the other day when I came across a "good news" piece: "Crucial GM Fullsize Truck Program Launches Early". Well, OK, it MIGHT be a good news piece, you know, if The General's SUV cavalry racks-up the sales GM needs to die another day. Obviously, it's a bit of a long shot, what with SUV's being a dead genre guzzling. But hey; it is what it was. Anyway, mid-way through Ms. Priddle's puff piece, a thought occurred to me: is it really a good idea to rush the GMT900 vehicles (Tahoe, Yukon, Escalade, Suburban, Silverado, Sierra, etc.) to market? What if they're not ready?

It's not inconceivable. The Pontiac Solstice was due to hit the forecourts in June, promised for November, still isn't widely available and already appears on bulletin boards with a laundry list of complaints. Let's face it: GM has a bit of a history manufacturing, dare I say it, crap. Oh wait; Ward's says the "new" trucks will use 60% of the old trucks' components. And according to Gary White, GM's Fullsize Truck Vehicle Line Executive, the GMT900's are "entering the world with higher quality than the ones they replace." Now THERE'S a reassuring thought.

But let's get to the point. Check the article's last paragraph: "'No one's going to ride a 1-trick pony today,' White says, noting GM could have spent an extra $2 billion for marginal additional improvement to the GMT900 lineup, but recognized the money is better spent elsewhere for a balanced product portfolio." Now ask yourself a question: what the Hell does THAT mean?

The first part of White's quote seems straightforward enough. White's saying his handiwork's got to be safe, reliable, comfortable, attractive and frugalesque. (By implication, yesterday's 'one-trick' SUV's were, um, affordable.) But what's that second bit about the extra $2b GM DIDN'T spend on "marginal additional improvement"? Is White seriously suggesting that a couple of bil only buys you a bit of soft touch plastic here, a nicer steering wheel there? I'm no bean counter, but I would have thought that 2000 million dollars can do a great deal to improve a vehicle.

I emailed Ms. Priddle to see if White had specified these missing marginalities. (GM stopped returning my calls sometime back in April.) No joy there. It then occurred to me that no matter what White's mob left out of the GMT900's, his remarks typify GM's product mentality. The company's lineup is stuffed with ¾ vehicles: cars, trucks, SUV's and minivans that are just about as good as the competition, but not quite. For example, the Pontiac G6 seems a suitable alternative to a Nissan Altima. But if you look closely (as customers do), the G6 isn't up to snuff on almost every level: interior quality, engine refinement, reliability, etc. Even the class-killing Chevrolet Corvette features some of the nastiest plastic known to mankind. In general, The General signs-off its vehicles when they're still a few furlongs from the finish line.

An Audi engineer once told me that the final millimeter of a materials gap eats up a third of the item's production budget. Even though an Audi buyer might not see or feel the resulting precision, the automaker makes the effort and pays the freight. That's just the way they do things. It's already clear from the GMT900's 60% parts carry-over (much of which is due to the SOS timetable) and pre-production shots of the vehicles themselves that White's got it exactly backwards. The huge amount of money GM spent on these vehicles delivered nothing BUT marginal improvements.

White's comments highlighted the trade-off that created the $2b compromise: "marginal improvement" vs. "a balanced product portfolio". In other words, rather than get one vehicle– I mean, a host of similar vehicles– absolutely perfect, GM prefers to build [yet] another product. It's a shotgun approach in a rifle shot world. By manufacturing a complete range of not quite products across eight brands, GM condemns itself to perpetual mediocrity, and guarantees its also-ran status relative to the tightly focused folks at Toyota. The General's generals fail to realize that people don't buy GM's balanced product portfolio. They buy a single GM product. Or, increasingly, not.

For over 30 years, Maryann Keller's kept tabs on The General. The auto industry analyst has watched GM lose billions in overseas investments, surrender great chunks of market share to its rivals and sacrifice shareholder value in an endless pursuit of The Next Big Thing. According to Keller, GM's inability to face-up to its structural weaknesses is nothing new. Nor are the excuses coming from RenCen. "It's one big idea after another," Keller said. "This time it's crossovers. Well, they've used that 'there's a new product in the pipeline' routine for years. GM's problems are NOT temporary." OK, but are they terminal?

Like most observers, Keller's brain balks at bankruptcy. For one thing, The General is sitting on an estimated $30b cash pile– which will grow by another $12b or so when GM jettisons controlling interest in its GMAC mortgage and financing business. For another, Keller says bankruptcy would have a cataclysmic effect on GM's business. "Customers would disappear," Keller says. "They'd think, who's going to pay for my warranty claims? What will my car be worth? And what bank would write a loan for a car sold by a bankrupt company? Would fleet customers do business with them? I don't think so. The long-term damage to GM would be incalculable."

That said, there's no doubt in Keller's mind that GM's current situation is extremely bad, and getting worse. "In October, GM pulled down a 22% market share. If you remove fleet sales from those numbers, they actually had a 13 to 14% share. That's less than Toyota. November and December aren't going to do anything for them, and if Delphi goes out on strike, there's no telling how long current inventories will last. Even as it stands now– 14% of the market, eight brands, 70 plus models– it's simply not sustainable."

Keller is convinced that this doomsday scenario's increasing likelihood will motivate GM's management to address the company's flawed fundamentals. Call it the cornered car company concept. Keller points to Nissan and Chrysler's comebacks as examples of automakers brought back from the brink because… they didn't have a choice. Keller predicts– and clearly longs for– a signal from inside GM that reality bites. She hungers for a bold and comprehensive recovery plan that acknowledges the full extent of GM's problems and pledges the company's full resources to solve them. She calls it the "moon shot solution":

"What I'm hearing is platitudes. What I'd like to hear is a plan. A plan that says we're going to the moon. We're going to spend as much money as it takes to rebuild the brands– even if we don't make a profit on a single car for ten years. We're going to use that money to build substantially better cars than the competition, and significantly under price them… This is not rocket science. GM needs to give customers more than they expect at a price they can't ignore."

Keller doesn't see the unionized elephant in the room as an insurmountable obstacle to this as yet unexpressed turnaround plan. In fact, Keller says GM's recovery is doomed without "shared sacrifice" from management, the United Auto Workers (UAW), suppliers, bankers and dealers. In that sense, Keller feels the UAW is getting a raw deal in the court of public opinion. "It's currently in vogue to blame GM's ills on runaway health care costs, but if things are that bad, why is GM 'giving away' money in the form of stockholder dividends… The only way GM's going to solve its union problems is if they solve all the other problems at the same time. There's no way out of this mess except for GM to fix it."

While I agree with Keller's analysis, I don't share her optimism in the power of self-preservation. Keller says "People buy one car at a time." By the same token, people contemplate their employer's future one person at a time. Nothing I've read, heard or seen convinces me that any of the participants pulling the levers of power in this twisted saga have enough at stake to make them, as Keller puts it, "do things that are not in their character". Even on the fateful day they clamber aboard their golden lifeboat and watch the mother ship sink beneath the waves, they will insist that they did the right thing. To paraphrase Richard Nixon, they will accept none of the responsibility, and none of the blame.

Capitalist enterprises have a way of bouncing back from adversity. Even so, it takes more than a comprehensive plan. It takes leadership. Until and unless GM dumps Wagoner, Lutz, et al. from their lineup, and finds a team with genuine backbone, the company will not have the will nor the skill to sidestep the looming disaster. As Keller says, "Despite its success, Toyota operates with a sense of urgency. I still don't see that from GM. I wonder if I ever will."

A few months ago, mid-size SUV's had to battle each other for supremacy. They locked horns over style, utility, reliability, horsepower and off-road prowess. Market forces changed all that. Now, SUV's like the Nissan Pathfinder must fight for their survival against any vehicle getting 15mpg or better, from station wagons to minivans to plain old sedans. The old question: is this SUV any good? The new question: why bother?

Well, if you like a machine that jumps off the line like a wildebeest that just got a whiff of lion's breath, the Pathfinder is going to take some beating. Sure, there are $30k cars that can dump a Venti bold on your boss' lap with a simple foot flex, but there's something enormously satisfying about making a big rig go so fast so quickly. Never mind the fact that a 270hp 4.0-liter V6 nestles in the Pathfinder's nose. Just feel the G-force.