Starting next year, F1’s technical regulations will freeze engine development. This is the first time this kind of stricture’s been imposed since the inception of the World Drivers Championship. For many fans, this move represents an unconscionable about-face that goes against the F1’s basic ethos; they accuse the sport’s regulators of turning their backs on F1’s traditional role as motorsport’s technological pinnacle. And yet, the rules may end-up helping the sport– and not just by increasing competitiveness. The regulations may make it easier for the major players to justify their gigantic investment in the F1 circus.

Since the day when Gold Leaf Cigarette branding first adorned the Lotus 49, advertising sponsorship quickly became F1’s driving force, steering the sport’s modern progression. Today, the financial balance has shifted. The money provided by major automobile manufacturers has become the F1 team’s lifeblood (excluding the endangered privateers). As carmakers like BMW, Mercedes and Renault continue to pour phenomenal sums of capital into the sport, as Toyota joins the hunt (spending a reported $393m on their 2006 campaign), the demand for a return on investment beyond halo-polishing corporate glamor is bound to become ever-more pressing.

From an automobile manufacturers’ point-of-view, F1’s value has also created value through its contribution to the company’s technological research and development. Obviously, it’s a bit of a stretch to connect F1 with the “race on Sunday, sell on Monday” philosophy, but the sport has contributed a great deal to the advancement of basic automotive technology– from aerodynamics to turbos to paddle shift gearboxes. And yet recent developments in F1 racing engine technology– creative as they are– have little applicability to the manufacturers’ bread and butter, their road car lines. 

The regulations of the past few decades have collectively funneled engine development down a very narrow path. Limited to naturally aspirated engines and already possessing the pneumatically-actuated valve trains and variable-geometry intake systems crucial to performance, teams in the last 10 years have focused primarily on increasing engine power by way of increasing engine speed. Past-formula V10 power plants red-lined at around 18k rpm.

The formula change for 2006 mandated a reduction in engine capacity from 3.0 to 2.4 liters and a change in configuration from a V10 to a V8 (also doing away with variable-length intake trumpets).  Essentially stripped of 20% of their cylinders and displacement, teams under the new formula pushed ahead with the rise in engine operating speeds. V8 engines run in competition during the 2006 season registered over 21k rpm, with higher speeds certainly explored during test sessions.

While engine speeds never reached the 25k rpm level predicted by some commentators before the season, the observed increase represents drastically higher loads on engine components and much higher risk of failure. These increasingly delicate machines are short-lived, lasting only 1400km in normal usage.

These achievements– while significant in terms of performance gains on the track– are almost completely inapplicable to the modern commercial automotive market. Increasing demands for more fuel-efficient cars have risen in tandem with the constant consumer desire for higher performance. F1 engineers provide their teams with horsepower aplenty, but they’ve not been “encouraged” by the sport’s technical regulations to develop their drive trains in ways that satisfy the need for fuel efficiency.

Max Mosley, president of the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (FIA), recent comments to the sporting press have finally brought us long-awaited evidence of the “greening” of the sport. Mosley envisions three distinct, overlapping sets of regulations, two of which should emerge by the 2010 season. First, in 2009, they’ll introduce “energy-recovery and re-use from braking.”  Then, in 2010, teams must work on “recovery and re-use of excess heat or waste heat from the engines.” In the longer term, Mosley wants “a completely new F1 engine reflecting the industry tendency which is to have a downsized, turbo-charged engine.”  That’s right; the Turbo’s back. 

Technical details and my enthusiasm for forced-induction aside, F1 must undertake this challenge to remain relevant. Fueled by manufacturer money and beholden to it, teams have recently produced little of value in terms of technology. They have, of course, remained an advertising powerhouse, but their technological contribution has diminished significantly.  The continued good fortunes of the sport depend on its relevance to the products that earn so much for the manufacturers. Each of the sets of regulations above corresponds to road-relevant approaches to vehicle performance and fuel economy and consequently are very attractive to manufacturers. 

The potential for a great leap forward is obvious. F1’s designers and engineers will be given a new, wide-open development path, one with plenty of room for innovation– as it should be. Given the current crudeness of the technologies in question, and assuming that the FIA wields its regulatory power with some skill, the sky’s the limit. No question: Mosley’s on the right track.

Every month the pages of car magazines sport autoerotic photographs of the greatest thing to hit the roads since, well, the last time. In their celebration of unbridled speed and handling, reliability simply isn’t a major factor. It should be. A high performance car may be fast, furious and fun, but if bits keep falling off, if it spends more time in dry dock than cruising the highways and byways, it's nothing but a pretentious, expensive fraud. And yet automakers continue to build "supercars" that can't even run hard for an entire day without some kind of extremely expensive tinkering afterward. 

There's a long, sad history of big name cars that show up for a magazine road test, only to go weak in the knees when the stop watches come out. Once at the Transportation Research Center in Ohio I watched a bewinged, bellowing, NACA-ducted Lamborghini Countach fail to crest 140 mph. Then there was a cross-country comparo featuring a Lamborghini Diablo and some Ferrari-of-the-month. The article neglected to elaborate on the fact that a van containing mechanics and assorted parts followed the cars at a discreet distance.

Back in 2002, the redoubtable Brock Yates, late of Car and Driver, challenged Ferrari/Lamborghini (for the purposes of this article they are interchangable) to place in the top three in his annual One Lap Of America. He put five G’s on the barrel to back up his claim that they couldn’t measure up. "All the swooning about Italian iron fades away when the party gets rough,” Brock said. “When it comes to a hard-core street fight, they're as soft as mozzarella in the Tuscan sun." Perhaps that’s also why a Ferrari PR man once admitted that his customers are “an integral part of the development process.”

Nor should we overlook that latest of nonsense cars: the $1.3m rolling sucker bait known as the Bugatti Veyron. Here we have a 1001hp car with a “troubled gestation,” with more cooling than the Sears Tower, that requires a troop of people to acompany it whenever it's tested. Let's overlook the fact that it's as ugly as a mud fence. How do you say garage queen in French? Or is it German? Even the $455k Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren has been criticized for its snatchy brakes and the persistent smell of unburned fuel in the cabin under hard deceleration.

And then there’s Porsche.

There's an old racing expression: "To finish first, first you must finish." Porsche doesn’t just pay homage to it, they live it. The German company has dominated nearly every race series in which they’ve competed. More to the point, Porsche’s won the grueling 24-hour race at Le Mans sixteen times. That’s more than Ferrari and Ford put together. This phenomenal stamina is now built into every Porsche road car.

A while back, I was invited to speak to a local chapter of Porsche owners. I tried to explain the over-engineering that makes Porsche’s road cars so tough. For example, their engines and transmissions are built absurdly strong for their size. You will find more bearing area, big-ends and mains, for each liter of displacement in a 911 engine than in any other engine in production today. It’s an obscure technical point, but a telling one. You simply cannot buy a more robust high performance automobile. It’s a difference a skilled driver can feel.

There are plenty of surveys that document Porsche's reliability. Porsche’s Finnish subcontractors, Valmet Automotive, recently received the Bronze Plant Quality Award from J.D. Power’s Initial Quality Study 2006. The Cayman S was ranked best overall (together with Toyota Lexus LS 430) for having the fewest quality problems in the entire industry. The Cayman S was best in its category "Compact Premium Sporty Cars,” with the Porsche Boxster ranked third. And Porsche was awarded the highest initial quality of all automobile brands.

OK, it is true that the Carrera GT’s carbon fiber clutch is a disaster that transforms a perfectly serviceable (if low slung) daily driver into a San Francisco supercar owner’s worst nightmare. But it’s the exception that proves the rule. The Porsche Turbo is still the single most effective exemplar of the “everyday” supercar. It’s the only ultra-high performance automobile I’d jump into at a moment’s notice and confidently head for the other end of the country, or take to the supermarket to pickup a weekend’s supplies.

Is reliability the ultimate measure of a high performance car? Of course not. Otherwise, the Porsche Turbo would be in a class of one. In my opinion, in fact, it is. But reliability is an important safety consideration too for anyone who intends on using their exotic as God intended. And it jibes with the age old question: what’s the world’s best car? Simple: The one that lives up to its promises.

[For more of Don Vorderman's work, please visit www.carcritic.com.] 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surrounded by four competing sedans, the Nissan Sentra looks like a hippopotamus amongst a pack of grinning velociraptors. It’s as if the old model went on a Haagen-Daz bender after having its heart broken by a Renault Megane LE (Lothario Edition). And talk about late to the party. If you’re young, stylish and sporty-ish, you buy a Mazda3. If you’re young, stylish, play too much X-Box and want a handbrake like a photon torpedo release, you buy a Honda Civic. And if you’re a veteran of the Crimean War or your personality’s been surgically removed, you buy a Toyota Corolla. So what does the Sentra bring to the small car party?

In Friday’s interview with Automotive News (AN), Rick Wagoner snapped. When confronted with the fact that Toyota is set to overtake GM as the world’s largest automaker, the CEO stopped making sense and started talking to himself. “I can't argue that if you keep drawing the trend lines, your conclusion is correct. Is it inevitable? No. No it's not inevitable. If Toyota passes us, I guess they pass us. Do I like it? No. Am I willing to take us off our plan or to sacrifice our profitability or the implementation of our marketing strategy here? No, I'm not willing to do that. If we're going to stay ahead, we're going to stay ahead doing it the right way and a sustainable way." 

So, here we are at Death Watch 100, and nothing much has changed. The good ship GM is still taking on water and it’s still steady as she goes. Rick’s turnaround plan– cut costs and build stuff people want to buy– remains unaffected. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a great plan, something along the lines of the classic “take in more money than you spend.” Only it’s not working. Quite aside from the fact that GM is still losing money, and has done so with remarkable consistency since we began the series (including a few truly spectacular financial quarters), Rick has failed to address the fundamentals dragging his employer into bankruptcy.

The General still has too many brands, models, dealers, legacy costs and overheads. Its UAW contracts and overcrowded smorgasbord of lackluster vehicles still make it a high cost automotive producer trying to sell heavily discounted products in a highly competitive market. And Rabid Rick is still talking as if simple persistence– rather than radical change– is the key to GM’s survival. Wagoner’s comments to AN about the infamous jobs bank– the ultimate symbol of GM’s management stupidity and union intransigence– tell you everything you need to know about Wagoner’s reformatory zeal.

"We'd like to reduce the cost of the Jobs Bank, yes. There are plenty of ways to do that… A lot of times people want to jump to the sort of extreme answer and that very well might not be acceptable to the UAW. If we've learned anything over the last decade, it's that if we sit down and work over the tough issues, most of the time we can make some progress."

He’d “like” to reduce the jobs bank? “Most” of the time we can make “some” progress?  Methinks Rabid Rick may have learned too MUCH in the last decade; applying the rules of GM’s past labor negotiations (“give ‘em what they want”) to the current crisis. And make no mistake about it: GM is in crisis. The General has sliced production, sold off everything except GMAC, burned through the cash and still isn’t making enough money to stop the rot. 

It can’t be that bad, can it? After all, Automotive News claimed that Wagoner is “unwilling to return to heavy incentives and fleet sales to stimulate sales.” So I guess GM’s just announced, much anticipated (by customers anyway) Toe Tag Sale– offering $5k discounts on selected ’06 vehicles and $3.5k on some ‘07’s– doesn’t count. And the same goes for the large number of generic GM vehicles that still find their way into fleets (roughly 25% of production). The truth is Wagoner has failed to reverse the increasingly accurate impression that GM is the overstock.com of cars. 

For those who’re listening, the klaxons are sounding loud and clear. Check this excerpt from a GM press release regarding an upcoming $1.5b seven year secured loan (tied to machinery and equipment and special tools at US production plants).

"GM's ability under some of its existing bond indentures to pledge U.S. property, plant and equipment is likely to be affected in the future by new rules applicable to pension and OPEB accounting, which could cause GM's shareholders' equity in its year-end 2006 financial statements to be negative.”

In other words, the well has run dry. With 51% of its GMAC finance unit (a.k.a. cash cow) set for sale, GM can no longer borrow from this once dependable internal source. As of next year, GM still won’t be able to take out unsecured loans, while the terms of its bond indentures rule out secured loans. With a negative cash flow from its North American operations and no ability to borrow, with debt payments due AND the need to fund Wagoner’s turnaround plan (new products, severance pay, depreciation, etc.), GM’s cash crunch is going critical. The only money available: $8.5b (plus another $4b over three years) from the GMAC sale.

How long will that last? We’re going to find out. Or not. Rick says he’s “optimistic” that the GMAC sale will go through by year’s end. Should it fail, so will GM. In any case, watch GM’s dividend payments. If and when they’re suspended, that's it: the beginning of the end. Either that or just another stop along the way.

The sex industry has a motto: if you don't get it, it's not for you. Never mind all those activities involving non-reproductive bodily fluids, military fatigues and/or extra-legal restraining orders, I don't get hookers. I'm not saying I don't understand why other people employ prostitutes, and I'm not saying I've never paid for sex (and not in that "one way or another" sense). But if I had done so, I am saying I probably would have found it an incredibly unsatisfying experience. (Can you imagine the tortuous language OJ Simpson must use in his non-confessional confessional?) Same goes for rental cars.

I am fully aware that many pistonheads relish rentals, safe in the knowledge that there won't be any long-term consequences for any motorized misbehavior (provided they tick the right boxes). But I can't stand them (rental cars, not my beloved pistonheads). I suppose I might change my mind if I ever rented a car worth driving– as opposed to the asthmatic pre-beaters the rental companies foist on their suspecting customers. Ford Mustang V6? Chevrolet Impala? Toyota Vanilla? You gotta be kidding. Quite simply, I've never met a rental car I liked.

And while I will never compromise my commitment to calling it like I see it, I have just about enough tact left in me not to want to return someone else's car in pieces. That said, it happens. I've knocked the wing mirror off a Land Rover, watched an electric gate crease the side of a Civic and woken-up to an Infiniti sitting on milk crates (as opposed to tires). And I've seen journos crash press cars. In all cases, the PR flacks involved trotted out the "as long as no one was hurt" shibboleth. Which says a lot about PR flacks– one way or another.

When it comes to lunching a rental car, I reckon the paperwork must make it worth not crashing. Sure, you only pay the deductible, but insurance companies know all too well that traumatizing all parties involved with endless, excessive, obsessive bureaucracy is the best way to prevent future accidents. And, of course, you have to fill out a police report. "I was driving at a safe and reasonable speed when the car's front end suddenly and inexplicably began to understeer. The vehicle plowed nose-first into the curb, at approximately 25 miles per hour." Thankfully, I can only imagine the look the trooper must give drivers of recently creased automobiles when they hand over the rental car agreement. 

In short, I don't like breaking cars. It runs against my nature, imprinted into my subconscious mind during all those times I broke my own car with one stupid ass stunt or another. [Note to self: check road for leaves before testing tire adhesion.] And while I can appreciate the skills involved in driving a really horrible car really fast, I find that the really horrible cars that rental car companies provide are so horrible that driving them fast is, well, horrible. And for me, defying death is not half as satisfying as trying to find my way where I'm going without wandering into the middle of a 3am drag race in the wrong part of Philadelphia (no, really).

Anyway, JD Power reckons the rental car industry is getting better: faster, happier, shinier and more customer friendly. Well, good for them. And good for all the poor sad bastards who must take their laptops to places where people couldn't care less if they died in a horrible car wreck, never mind whether or not they made a compelling PowerPoint presentation. I’ve seen those haunted faces in the rental shuttles. I’ve heard their loud locker room talk with their cohorts, as they prepare their egos to drive a car that grinds them down with the mechanical equivalent of an endless loop of Pink Floyd’s The Wall.

I know there are exotic car rental companies that will loan you a Porsche, Ferrari or Merc. And the mainstream players are beginning to catch on that people are willing to pay extra for a car that doesn’t suck-out their soul. But until and unless Hertz et al rent out an Audi S4 for the price of a V6 Mustang, I’m always going to regard that walk to space H8 as a stroll down death row. They can wash them, clean them and de-cigarette smoke them, but rental cars will always be a kind of automotive purgatory, always endured rather than enjoyed. Which probably accounts for so many enthusiasts’ desire to punish their rentals. And that, my friends, is kinky.

Americans never demanded whale blubber. They simply wanted to light their homes. When a better means to the same end came along– a cheaper, safer and more effective energy delivery system (that didn’t require long, dangerous voyages and a Hellish rendering process)- they said ‘pardon me, be right back,’ and never returned. By the same token, Americans don’t demand imported oil or inefficient cars. They want a certain standard of performance. The two concepts just happened to be joined at the hip– at the moment. But that needn’t be so.

Many critics of America’s vehicular efficiency call for a gas tax to “force” the free market to create more efficient cars and trucks. The truth is a hefty gas tax will never pass. Besides, our federal Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) standards are a perfectly adequate instrument to stimulate a relatively painless increase in our automotive efficiency. If this system was properly implemented, every car, van and truck in America would get better gas mileage. We know this because we can already see its effects: hybrids, eight speed transmissions, composite materials, Canada goose-like drag coefficients. This process could easily be accelerated simply by raising the CAFE standards. 

Could automotive engineers meet the challenge of more demanding regulations? Consider Formula One. Year after year, the sport’s regulating body attempts to slow things down using restrictive legislation. Year after year, F1 teams create cars that perform at the brink of human endurance. To say ingenuity can’t lead to more fuel-efficient cars, trucks, vans and sports cars is to say science is played out and we know all there is to know. The principle that CAFE necessity is the mother of invention remains fundamentally sound. Ah, but there is a caveat; raising CAFE standards is not enough. The rules are fundamentally flawed. 

First, the legislation should be amended to stop assigning higher fuel economy ratings to flexible-fuel vehicles. For example, CAFE regs rate an E85-compatible 5.3-liter V8 Chevy Tahoe at 33mpg. The vehicle’s “gas only” EPA rating is 15/19mpg. The SUV struggles to achieve 10mpg on E85– which is more or less completely unavailable to 90% of the US population. Oh, and that’s one of the reasons why GM can advertise the fact that so many of their vehicles get “over 30mpg.” The CAFE regulation’s E85 calculations are ridiculous on so many levels it hurts.

Second, the EPA mpg figures should reflect actual real world driving. A Toyota Prius does not get 60mpg in city driving or 51mpg on the highway, and should not receive CAFE credits for doing so in the theoretical realm. While new EPA regulations will supposedly lower mileage estimates on hybrids by roughly 30%, and reduce a lot of other overly-optimistic estimates, it’s been clear for quite some time that the EPA should be using real world data. What’s more, the agency should create one simple statistical average for both city and highway driving.

Third, the loophole whereby passenger vehicles get called trucks or light trucks– removing some of the worst CAFE offenders from manufacturers’ car fleets and subjecting them to lower truck-related mpg standards– must be cinched. Classifying the PT Cruiser as a truck because it has a removable rear seat is just wrong. Classifying a crossover a truck because it has greater cargo-carrying capacity than passenger-carrying volume is also unacceptable. Common sense– rather than weights and measures– should be applied. If we’re really serious about improving overall fuel efficiency, it’s time for pickup trucks to be classified as passenger vehicles, regardless of their weight or commercial use. 

Fourthly, the whole system of CAFE “credits” should be eliminated. Specifically, when a manufacturers’ car or light truck fleet’s average fuel economy exceeds the required standard, they earn credits that can be applied to any three consecutive model years prior to (“carry back”) or subsequent to (“carry forward”) the model year in which the credits are earned. Why do we need to dangle a carrot in front of automobile manufacturers?  On the stick side, the penalties for non-compliance must be raised to the point where companies like BMW can’t simply shrug them off as a cost of doing business.

Lastly, again, CAFE standards should be raised. A manufacturer’s passenger car fleet is currently required to average 27.5mpg; light trucks must average 21.6 (rising to 22.2 mpg for 2007). I suggest a relatively modest increase of 2% a year for the next ten years.

Repealing the laws of supply and demand is challenging.  If cars use less gas, supply rises, prices drop and the airline and trucking industries gobble up what good CAFE achieved. Everyone needs to be in the same boat, because consumption is – forgive me – a whale of a problem.  Transportation is responsible for nearly 70% of the world’s oil use.  The captains of that industry should be charged with changing course.

What do China, Thailand, India, Mexico, Eastern Europe and Venezuela have in common? They’re not America. Or, if you prefer, the United Auto Workers don't work there. Which is why General Motors is planning on producing its new Gamma Gamma Hey small car platform in these low-cost labor countries– and exporting the wee beastie to the US and other "developed" nations. In fact, it’s increasingly clear that GM is trying to outsource/globalize/synergize its way out of trouble. It seems to make sense: building standardized products in non-unionized factories will save the carmakers billions. But are they going about it the right way?

On one hand, GM seems to know what it's doing abroad. In China, GM uses its proven engineering and manufacturing skills to create the bird-eyed Buick GL-8 minivan and the recently announced Cadillac STS variant (the SLS). Both vehicles demonstrate The General’s ability to modify established products to local tastes. And there’s no question that GM’s reaping the rewards: sales of Chinese Buicks, Cadillacs, Chevrolets, Opels, Saabs and Wulings rose 35.2 percent this year, to a grand total of 665,390 units.

On the other hand, there’s the Cadillac BLS, a Swedish-built Euro-spec sedan riding on GM’s Epsilon platform, powered by a FIAT-sourced 1.9-liter diesel, wearing a US luxury car badge. Or how about the most recent Pontiac GTO, a re-badged Australian Holden Monaro built on an enlarged Opel Omega B platform (formerly used for the Cadillac Catera), sold in the Middle East as a Chevrolet Lumina SS? The failure of these cars to find a sustainable international audience illustrates the challenge of leveraging economy of scale into a viable product– when you start with economy of scale rather than a viable product.

Of course, GM (and now Ford) aspires to the Toyota model: sell the same "world" car (built on the same platform) in as many markets as possible. That’s fine if A) you build the right car and B) you've got deep enough pockets and a lean enough organization to recover from a major bomb. Do we really believe that GM can pull off a Corolla? The new Gamma platform small car was designed by Daewoo; if past history is any guide, they ain't no Toyota. By the same token, when the Toyota Echo went nowhere fast (in every sense of the phrase), the Japanese automaker re-engineered it to become the best-selling Yaris and other local variants. Does GM have the resources it would need to snatch victory from a dud Gamma-woo? 

As Toyota has demonstrated countless times in dozens of countries, “world” cars require a coherent and focused sales, marketing and distribution channel. And that's only possible if the car in question is part of a coherent and focused brand. While analysts tend to think of small cars for developing nations as a commodity– if it's cheap enough, it'll sell– branding plays just as crucial a role at the bottom of the market as it does at the top. A Toyota small car is not an Opel, Daewoo or Chevrolet small car. It's a Toyota, and everyone– designers, engineers, auto workers, marketing execs, dealers, salesmen and customers– know what that means. 

What IS GM's world brand these days? Oh right, it has four: Buick, Chevrolet, Cadillac and Saab. Although there are basic distinctions between these brands, things fall apart at the local level. Chevrolets are many brands and a wide variety of models to many people around the world– to the point where GM decided to create a separate "Corvette" brand in Europe. A Cadillac is a luxury car made of unobtanium in some markets, and a garden variety mid-priced mid-sized sedan in others. A Saab is a sophisticated European-style sedan in some markets, and a Chevy Trailblazer with the ignition key between the seats in others. 

When it comes to international automobile production, GM’s biggest problem isn’t its cost structure; it’s brand management. No matter where they do business in the world, no matter what food items are on the menu, McDonald’s and its customers know who it is. The same can not be said for GM, which, lest we forget, doesn't even exist as a brand. The General's cluelessness on the product branding front threatens any potential production-related savings from multinational platform sharing. Not to put too fine a point on it, low unit costs only create profits if you sell what you make.

This brings us back to the primacy of products over process, and the all-conquering power of coherent brands. GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner may be looking around the world and lovin' it, but until and unless GM sorts out its branding issues, globalization will hasten its destruction, not its success. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buzzwords like “breakthrough”, “paradigm” and “integration” are management Viagra. They give ignorant execs and clueless PR folk the power to appear talented. But no word sets the flack-talker’s soul afire like “synergy.” And no other word was deployed more often to justify the merger of Daimler-Benz with Chrysler. But what happens when you synergize top-dollar Mercedes underpinnings with Chrysler engineering and sell it for the price of a Camry? I’ll give you 300 guesses.

I was making my way through my morning paper recently when my progress was interrupted by a paean to perfection by automotive journalist Matt Nauman. Normally, I don’t pay much attention to the local paper’s car reviews or features; thanks to wall-to-wall dealer ads, these syndicated features are about as independent-minded and critical as a stage mother watching her daughter perform Grease on a high school proscenium. Of course, pistonhead that I am, I still scan them. And Nauman’s work stopped me in my tracks. The subject of his unadulterated adulation, you see, was the Toyota Corolla.

It’s easy to understand the car hack’s choice of subject matter. After 40 years of incredibly humble service, the lowly Corolla is the far-and-away sales champ of all time. With 31.6 million cars sold worldwide it’s The Car That Just Won’t Go Away. More Corollas have occupied our streets than all of the Golf/Rabbits, VW Beetles, Ford Escorts, Honda Civics or Model T’s produced by hand of man.

Although Nauman’s mechanical hagiography matched the vehicle in question for overall excitement, his article was not without insight. His pat-on-the-back interviews, for example, included Keith Byrd. For over eleven years, Mr. Byrd has been one of the thousands of gainfully employed autoworkers who've helped breed 2.5 million Corollas at the Toyota plant in NUMMI in Fremont, California. Byrd described what has become his life’s work with a librarian’s passion. “It’s kind of like water. When you want to get a drink, you know it’s refreshing, but you don’t talk about it all the time.”

Cupid’s automotive arrow also whizzed straight past David Zatz. The man whose surname Dr. Seuss would adore runs the Toyota Corolla fan site corolland.com (which admonishes its readers to pronounce it “Corolla-Land” even though they couldn't quite swing the domain with the "a" in it). “You’ve got good trunk space," Zatz effused. "It’s quiet inside. It corners well enough.” Ernest Bastien, Vice President of Toyota USA’s Vehicle Operations Group added his faint praise to Nauman’s Corolla love-in. “It’s a car that meets the needs of most consumers on an everyday basis.”

[Fair disclosure: I’m guilty of participating in this conspiracy to numb American motorists’ hearts and stultify their minds. My first new car was a shiny 1979 Toyota Corolla SR-5 Liftback, a green machine that tried hard to suggest “sportiness,” but instead delivered just enough utility and economy to keep me driving it for six years. I have served my penance and have emerged on the Other Side.]

The Corolla’s greatest sin– perhaps its only sin– is boredom. Toyota exec Bastien is right: in its many ancient and modern forms, the Corolla has and will continue transport its passengers from A to B with little cost and intrusion. But it will also generate the least desire to stare at the keys and wonder where to take her next. This is precisely why enthusiasts will gleefully deride such a vehicle on these e-pages. This is why sister Camry, venerable and useful as it might be, nearly made it onto the TWAT list.

Too right too. The Corolla is as sexy as Aunt Bea, dressed in steel, plastic, rubber and glass. It’s the automotive equivalent definition of “wallflower.” The Corolla is a shaped box on four wheels. It turns as sharply as cheese. It screams to speed as quickly as Ol’ Paint. It whirs and hums and wheezes. It is to exciting transportation what Slim Jims are to fine cuisine. On any pistonheads’ automotive wish list, the Corolla fits just above moped and girl’s bike.

For enthusiasts, driving a Corolla is living death. Sure, Toyota tuners will argue that the humble Corolla can be modded and prodded into a speed-mobile that can kick serious Civic backside. My question to them would be: why? Is there a reason – any reason – to expend a serious number of Franklins on a vehicle that will still be, in the final analysis, your mother’s car?

In the Corolla's defense, the model was offering five-speeds and DOHC engines back in the ‘70’s, when Detroit was hard-pressed to give motorists four-speeds and SOHC four-cylinder engines. The Corolla offered– offers the two characteristics people look for in a car: economy and reliability. It set the standards for other small cars… which they singularly failed to achieve. 

Yes, well, great. Meanwhile, the Corolla is the match to the enthusiast's fuse. One is always sedately lumbering along (safely below the speed limit) ahead of us and a line of others when we…want…to drive. We shake our heads, never quite understanding why buyers choose to make the public statement, “I really don’t care what my car drives like, handles like, or says to the world. And, when it breaks, I’ll get another one.”

Been there done that. Get the damn thing out of my way.

Has anyone noticed that Toyota’s new pickup truck production plant is located in the same Texas town as The Alamo? I know: metaphorically speaking, it’s not a perfect fit. The Alamo has come to symbolize the spirit of any small group of believers holding out against overwhelming odds. In that sense, it should be Texas-built domestics pickups facing Mexican-built Toyota Tundras. Only Toyota is the little guy in this battle. Well, sort of. Anyway, no matter how you look at it, this whole pickup truck thing is shaping-up to be a Texas-sized brawl, and anyone who discounts ToMoCo’s chances (so to speak) is making a big mistake. 

The perceived wisdom says Toyota’s Texas Tundra faces insurmountable odds. Last year, The Big Two Point Five carved-up 90 percent of the market. We’re talking 2.25m full-size pickups split between GM (935k), Ford (901k) and Dodge (414k). Thanks to rising gas prices and a falling construction market, ’06 pickup truck sales have taken a big hit. But the segment still generates enormous, life-sustaining profits. No wonder GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner publicly declared that his company’s fortunes rest squarely on the broad shoulders of the new Chevy Silverado and GMC Sierra. In short, there’s everything to play for.

Ho-hum. The domestics may not be smug about ToMoCo’s revised entry, but it sure sounds that way. According to an article in yesterday’s Detroit News (DTN), GM Car Czar “Maximum” Bob Lutz doesn’t think his company’s full-size pickups are anywhere near crap enough to lose out to the new Tundra. “Lutz said when Japanese automakers grabbed significant share in the U.S. car market between 1979 and 1981, Toyota and Honda Motor Co. were building better quality vehicles.” Setting aside any debate about the beginning and end points of Maximum Bob’s time line, we can extrapolate his main point: we’re ready. Bring it on.

Fair enough. GM, Ford and Dodge make some mighty fine pickups. As MB said, this is not a case where domestic abuse has thrown open the window of opportunity for higher quality competitors to defenestrate the established players. Pickup truck buyers are also notoriously brand loyal. And if you believe the media, they’re all a bunch of NASCAR-loving red staters (not to say rednecks) who’d rather trade their Budweiser beer for a charming little chardonnay than not buy a gen-u-ine ‘Merican pickup. If ever a market segment was well-defended, this is it.

Yes, well, this time out, Toyota’s not bringing a knife to a gun fight. The '07 Tundra is bigger, tougher-looking and more capable than its predecessor, from its industrial strength air conditioner to its promised "class leading" towing capacity. And Toyota’s going in with their eyes open: "We've been competing with Ford, GM and Dodge for 50 years," Toyota PR flack Denise Morrissey told the DTN. "We know the full-size market is very loyal and smart. Once they get familiar with the Tundra, get to know it, I think they will consider it. Loyalty is definitely key in this market, but it will only get you so far."

If Detroit was paying attention, that little comment would give them major cause for concern. Morrissey is saying that Motown’s pickup buyers aren’t as loyal as the domestics would have themselves believe. While Lutz and his cohorts are right to insist that their products are good enough to withstand a side-by-side comparison with the new Tundra, Toyota is smart enough to know it only has to meet– not beat– the domestic pickups’ capabilities. It can then deploy a secret weapon which will seduce great swathes of brand faithful pickup truck buyers, and carve out an enormous chunk of this vastly profitable market: price.

The GM Silverado starts at $27k. The Dodge Ram starts at $22,135. The Ford F-150 starts at $18,220. The current Toyota Tundra starts at $16,155. While we’d have to turn to Michael Karesh for a proper price comparison, the relative disparity indicated by these numbers is not misleading. Lest we forget, Toyota is a non-union manufacturer without excessive legacy costs and excess production capacity, that’s building its new pickup in a brand spanking new (i.e. extremely efficient) facility. What’s more, pickups trucks are relatively cheap to build and Toyota has plenty of money in the bank.

So, if Toyota builds a competitive product, they’re perfectly positioned to attack domestic pickups on price. Remember: the majority of pickups sold are work trucks. As such, their owners are hardly immune to economic arguments for a different brand; it’s “I’m a businessman” first, “I’m a Chevy guy” second. Toyota says it wants its sell 200k ’07 Tundras. To do that, they’ll have to compete on price– which will put irresistible pressure on The Big 2.5 to cut their margins. Even without capturing significant market share, Toyota’s overwhelming economic force could threaten GM’s survival. Think it couldn’t happen? Remember the Alamo.

The Chinese automotive market has over a billion potential customers. Sales growth is well into the double digits. Labor rates are a fraction of those paid in western countries, without any union rules to slow down investment or add legacy costs. An ideal place for American investment? Depends on how you look at it. The Chinese market is controlled by a totalitarian government and regulated by an Automobile Industry Policy that’s more convoluted than a bowl of shahe fen noodles. As China nips at Germany’s heels to become the world’s third-largest auto producing country, let’s take a closer look at the sleeping dragon.

There are nearly 100 automobile manufacturers in China.  Ninety-percent of the market belongs to eight state-owned companies. To meet soaring demand for new cars, these companies have partnered with automakers from around the world. These partnerships can appear strange; one Chinese company may have several partners which are competitors in the rest of the world. Here’s the list:

FAW:  Toyota/VW/Mazda
SAIC:   GM/VW
Changan:  Ford/Suzuki
Dongfeng:  PSA Peugot Citroën/Honda/Nissan-Renault/Kia
Guangzhou AIC:  Toyota/Honda
Beijing AIC:  DCX/Hyundai
Nanjing AIC:  Fiat
Brilliance:  BMW

While Chinese law prohibits any foreign company (or combination of companies) from owning more than 50% of their Chinese partner, these joint ventures have proven lucrative for all the parties involved. The Chinese companies get access to the engineering and design expertise of world-class companies, while the partners gain a quick inroad to what is arguably the hottest new car market in the world. 

As the market has grown, a number of independent (i.e. carmakers who aren’t affiliated with a foreign manufacturer) local companies have sprung up. They are usually either motorcycle manufacturers expanding into the auto market, new companies funded by capital from other industries (such as consumer electronics) or parts manufacturers that started assembling their parts into complete cars. The primary independent players are:

Southeast
Chery  
Geely
GreatWall
Zhongxin
Jianghuai
Hafei

Of these, government–owned Chery is the best known– thanks to Malcolm Bricklin’s professed intention to import cars built by Chery under his Visionary Vehicles nameplate. While Bricklin keeps pushing back the introduction of his Chinese-built products due to quality, production and safety issues (not to mention a lack of investors), he insists he will revolutionize the American market with his line of low-cost, high value vehicles. Recently, DCX has also been negotiating with Chery to produce a subcompact economy car for Chrysler.

Chery’s other claim to fame isn’t so, well, cheery. They jump-started their production capability by buying the defunct VW factory in Westmoreland, PA and relocating it to China lock, stock, and tool dies. They then procured blueprints from SEAT for a car based on the Jetta and began producing a clone. (Jetta is the biggest selling car in China and the Chinese market generates almost 20% of VW’s pre-tax profits). As you can imagine, VW was furious. They eventually accepted a financial settlement in compensation. 

To expand their operation further, Chery began hiring engineers from other companies including Daewoo. Two new models, the “Son of the Orient” and the “QQ” were suspiciously similar to Daewoo’s Magnus and Matiz (sold as the Chevrolet Spark). Chery introduced the QQ six months prior to the planned introduction of the Spark, priced $1500 lower than its automotive homonym. 

GM accused Chery of “copying and unauthorized use of GM-Daewoo’s trade secrets.” Chery countered by claiming they had developed the QQ independently and with only “inspiration” from the Matiz. Since this “inspiration” consisted of styling so similar you couldn’t tell them apart from more than 10 feet away and interchangeable body panels, doors and other parts, GM filed suit.

After three years of litigation, GM and Chery finally settled out of court. While the details of the settlement haven’t been released, GM did win one concession: Chery can’t sell cars in the US under its own name due to the similarity between “Chery” and “Chevy.”

The problems with Chery underscore the sword of Damocles hanging over foreign manufacturers operating in the Chinese market. Any time you’re dealing with companies owned by a dictatorial government, you’re at the mercy of the whims of the political leadership. The Chinese government (controlled by the army) provides all of the information used for business planning: economic growth, per capita income, projected sales, etc. They create the rules for the protection of intellectual property. They control the courts that interpret the rules on the protection of intellectual property. They control everything within the supply chain, from labor to raw materials to retail distribution to taxes to traffic laws. 

Like China’s so-called citizens, foreign auto companies are completely at the Chinese government’s mercy. If China’s rulers decide to nationalize all automotive production facilities, there’s nothing foreign automakers can do but leave. Meanwhile, they’re making hay while the sun shines, doing whatever they can to make sure their “partners” don’t pull the plug.

I remember my Dad carrying me out to a little greenish-yellow station wagon when I was two. We had that car a little more than a year and that’s my only memory of it. This puts me in rare company: one of the few Americans with a positive memory of a Chevy Vega. My parents would not be in that group. One rear end collision and one melted engine, and the Vega was gone. If I missed out on the joy of picking rust scabs, at least I got to sample the full majesty of the Chevette. Was it a bad car? Was it a match for the Vega? To steal a line from “Bloom County,” it wasn’t that bad, but Lord it wasn’t good.

The car in question was a blue Chevette hatch, my bud Joe's family car. Joe’s parents weren't poor as much as they were deeply frugal. When it was time to join the growing ranks of the “two car family,” they added a posh red Chevette to their stable. I became very (not to say over) familiar with the blue Chevette. At first, I rode shotgun. After I got my driving license, I became the Chevette’s wheelman. Joe didn’t get any kick out of driving (understandably); he was perfectly happy handing that job on me. He also palmed-off testing his home-built rocket-launchers on me, but I digress.

Aside from its unabashed expression of its owners and manufacturers’ penny-pinching, there was nothing particularly “wrong” about the Chevette’s interior. Speedometer, gas gauge, idiot lights and a glove box with no lock. Done. The seats were made of vinyl specifically designed to sear beachgoers' skin. The gear change was a mess and you had to use your whole hand to flick the turn signal. We referred to the back seat as the torture chamber and, by God, it was.

Driving the Chevette was like a dream. The car liberated us from our families, blessing us with the freedom that all young drivers feel when they first set sail for the big wide world. Not that it was pleasant. The Chevette looked and drove like a slightly jumped-up pedal car. There was none of the gliding heft of The General’s larger vehicles. Nor was there any of the sure feedback of other hatchbacks. Our Accord was getting on, and was never all that fast, but it felt like a car, not a toy. It was as if GM execs created the Chevette simply to justify their disdain for “those tinny foreign cars.”

The Chevette’s utter lack of get-up-and-go was remarkable. You could floor the 1.4-liter four and get nothing more than a slightly louder rattle. It wasn’t THAT slow (we had a VW MicroBus), but there was no power reserve. The Chevette’s anemic power delivery and iffy feedback (despite lacking power steering) made for careful driving. As for top end, the little Chevy might hit 60– downhill with a tailwind. Since we mostly stayed in town, the lack of top speed wasn’t much of a factor.

While the Chevette was stable to the point of catatonia in normal driving conditions, the rare occasions when I drove it in the rain were nigh-on religious experiences. Trying to guide an underpowered, numb feeling, lightweight rear wheel-drive car sitting on narrow tires while keeping track of other drivers without an effective window defrosting system evoked all the terror beloved of slasher movie audiences. I don’t think I ever drove the Chevette in the snow. If I had, I’m sure I would have remembered it. On the plus side, the Chevette proved to be a fairly reliable ride that withstood teenage abuse and neglect. 

Looking back, I don’t think the Chevette deserves to be lumped-in with that era’s epic failures: the Ford Pinto and the Chevette's immediate predecessor, the Chevy Vega. No question: the Chevette was never the best car in its class (Dodge Omni, VW Rabbit, AMC Gremlin, Toyota Tercel, Renault Encore), nor was it the cheapest (especially if you added the options other cars offered as standard). The Chevette stayed in production as long as it did (1976 – 1987) to fill a “hole” in GM’s line-up, and then prop up CAFE ratings. 

The Chevette wasn’t a failure for what it was. It was a failure for what it could have been. The Vega was horrible, but it was a start. Its replacement (Chevette and the Monza) didn’t move the game forward on any level other than reliability (and only relative to the Vega). No front wheel-drive, no style, no aluminum engine, no disc brakes– nothing that said small and inexpensive can be beautiful. In fact, the Chevette marks the point where the imports started to run away from the domestics, as Detroit turned their back on small vehicles and once again stuffed their pockets with cash from larger ones. Now there’s a memory for you.

Voting for The Truth About Cars’ Ten Worst Automobiles Today (TWAT) awards has now closed. We will reveal the ten winners/losers next week, once our writers have penned their pithy pillories and our new PR flack has been prepared. Meanwhile, our esteemed (though not necessarily by us) colleagues have begun their annual love-ins. Motor Trend has named the Mercedes GL450 their SUV of the Year– testing the controversial theory that the most expensive vehicle is also the best. Edmunds has unveiled their “most wanted” list, with no fewer than 32 winners (TTAC snipers note: only two domestic gongs). Thankfully, the awards season isn’t all ad-scented fluff. For example, here’s the National Insurance Crime Bureau’s (NICB) 2005 list of America’s most stolen vehicles:

1.  1991 Honda Accord
2.  1995 Honda Civic
3.  1989 Toyota Camry
4.  1994 Dodge Caravan
5.  1994 Nissan Sentra
6.  1997 Ford F150 Series
7.  1990 Acura Integra
8.  1986 Toyota Pickup
9.  1993 Saturn SL
10. 2004 Dodge Ram Pickup

The NICB's list was compiled using FBI data on 1,235,226 stolen vehicles. Last year, the Bureau’s number crunchers estimated the average value of a heisted car was $6,173. (I guess you gotta steal a whole lot of Saturn SL’s to make up for a stolen Ferrari.) The bottom line: over $7.6b in insurance claims your insurance company would rather not pay, thank you very much, and God knows how much in “extra” premiums you’ve got to fork over whether you like it or not (at least that’s Allstate’s stand).

The survey raises some important extra-financial questions. Who would steal a 1994 Dodge Caravan? An eight member team of bank robbers? Why is General Motors, once again, so poorly represented on a list, any list? In fact, the vehicles on the NICB’s most stolen vehicles list aren't all that surprising. The majority of car thefts are crimes of opportunity. These are the alarmless cars most likely to be parked at the mall or along the street or, in the case of the Saturn, stolen because the owner paid someone to do it. 

These most stolen stats are extremely misleading for paranoid car shoppers. After all, there are a LOT of Accords, Civic and Camrys on American roads. If theft-aversive consumers seek the least lifted automobiles, they need to know which cars are most likely to be stolen as a percentage of the total number of those models still in service. For that reallycooldatainfo, we turn to R.L. Polk & Co., home of intelligenceinsightimpact™.

1. 2001 BMW M Roadster
2. 1998 Acura Integra
3. 2004 Mercury Marauder
4. 1999 Acura Integra
5. 1995 Acura Integra
6. 2002 Audi S4
7. 1996 Acura Integra
8. 1997 Acura Integra
9. 2001 Acura Integra
10. 2000 Jaguar XJR

M Roadster? Audi S4? Jaguar XJR? I guess when a fast car gets stolen, it stays stolen. And man, are those thieves clever! Stealing a car that looks like a cop car (Mercury Marauder) is nothing less than criminal genius (at least in Rhode Island). Actually, it’s not quite that simple/interesting. This is a list of the top ten stolen vehicles, as a percentage of the total number of those models sold, that aren’t recovered.

The feds report that 62.1% of all stolen vehicles– some 450k automobiles– are never seen again by their owners. Well, not by Americans. As much trouble as the United States has keeping illegal immigrants out, we have difficulty keeping stolen cars in. Exporting hot wheels (1:1 scale) is una cosa muy grande. In ’05, the NICB’s multi-lingual sleuths claim to have repatriated some 3k vehicles from Belize, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Honduras, Jamaica, Mexico, Nicaragua, Venezuela and (get this) Lithuania. Obviously, that’s a drop in the container cargo vessel stuffed with stolen cars filled ocean.

The insurance industry mouthpiece says a much larger number of stolen vehicles are “give ups;” the PC term for cars dumped illegally by cheats and deadbeats. The rest end-up in chop shops, helping to reduce the rapacious prices charged by original equipment manufacturers and increasing the profits of auto body shops at the expense of the insurance companies who pass that cost along to you, the guy who pays insurance and [probably] doesn’t know that his damaged vehicle has been fitted with stolen car parts so the autobody shop owner can afford a nice summer house by the lake, and a new bass boat.

The NICB has a solution to all this, similar to the one used by Antarctic explorers: layering. That’s a fancy way of saying don’t leave your keys in the car and buy as much protection as you can: alarms, immobilizers, tracking devices and some guy named Bruno. Strange that the NICB go to all the trouble of naming names and then forget to say it might be a good idea to avoid buying one of these thief magnets. Never mind. The truth is that car theft is a huge and hugely profitable business that endangers our lives (with crap parts). All you can do is all you can do. If “they” want your 1999 Acura Integra, they’re gonna get it.