Oh dear. It seems that the long predicted "perfect storm" is massing above the stricken supertanker that is General Motors. Storm cloud one: the Wall Street Journal reports that SUV sales have tanked in Texas.

Never mind today's sales figures, which reveal that GM's light truck sales dropped 17 percent last month, to 209,917 vehicles. Or today's S&P downgrade, which reduces GM's bonds to 'junk' status (raising their borrowing costs). If Texans are abandoning their Conestogas, GM's number one [non-finance] profit engine is running out of gas– without a service station in sight. Unlike Chrysler and Ford, GM doesn't have a plan B: a supply of more fuel-efficient sedans, SUV's and crossovers ready for sale. I'm not talking about hit products like the Mustang or 300C. I mean reasonably frugal vehicles appropriate to these $2.70 a gallon times, like the Ford Freestyle.

Storm cloud two: these vehicles are not on the immediate horizon. That's why GM Chairman Rick Waggner is heading to Tokyo. He's exploring the possibility of GM getting (as in buying) Toyota's help (as in patented technology) on safety and environmental issues (as in engines that don't burn gas like GM's health care obligations burn money). If Wagoner is traveling to the Toyota camp just a week after they humiliated The General with an offer to raise their prices in sympathy, GM's upcoming product plans must be very bad indeed.

[NB: on 5/9, GM officially denied that Wagoner's trip to Tokyo will include meetings with Toyota.]

Storm cloud three: Mr. Kirk Kerkorian. an investor so rapacious they had to name him twice. Mr. K. just bought 22 million GM shares, upping his total stake to 9%. Kerkorian is what the business community calls a "tree shaker"; which is a bit like calling an M1 tank a "peacemaker". He likes to buy his way into the boardrooms of large companies and force them to sell off noncore assets, cut costs and restructure the whole damn shooting match. Sounds like a plan to me. It also sounds like the end of GMAC Finance, Buick and Saturn. At the least.

As far as I'm concerned, that's no bad thing. As far as the unions are concerned, it is. In fact, the UAW recently decided that the huge crisis facing the world's largest automaker requires them to do nothing whatsoever. There will be no union flexibility regarding GM's chronic excess capacity and the company's disastrous labor costs– save keeping the plants open come what may and increasing members' compensation when their contract comes up for renewal in 2007. The idea of dismembering GM to save it is about as high up on their list of priorities as lowering union dues.

The brewing tempest here is union intransigence vs. Kirkorian intransigence. While Wagoner, Lutz and the rest of the GM rat pack are happy to hold the fort, appease the unions, scramble for market share and pray for cheap gas; Kirkorian is just as likely to tell the UAW to go to Hell. (Lest we forget, the guy is an 87-year-old billionaire.) As is the way of such things, if the UAW is going to Hell, they'll take GM with them. How does a UAW workers' strike sound right about now?

How about bankruptcy? Bankruptcy, the room-dwelling elephant that scares the shit out of everyone except real capitalists, would afford GM protection from its creditors: the unions. Obviously, no GM exec with a desire to retire with the respect to which his wife has become accustomed wants to be known as the guy who drove The General into the world's largest Chapter 11. They'd get down on their knees in front of Congress Lee Iacocca-style before accepting that scenario. Kirkorian, by contrast, would not be afraid to go nuclear. He might even enjoy it.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Mr. K also likes companies to turn their huge cash stockpiles into stock dividends. You know, to create a little walking around money for long-suffering stockholders like… him. A cash-strapped GM wouldn't have the wherewithal to fund new product development and their own stupidity (e.g. the $2b+ Fiatsco and ongoing recalls). Denied the opportunity to live off the fat of its finance arm and automotive heyday, hemorrhaging cash at the rate of a billion or so per quarter, GM would, eventually, go out of business.

Could it happen? Sure. Would I want it to happen? Now that's a different question; which a lot of people have been asking me lately In fact, I've recently been accused of wanting to be the instrument of GM's destruction. Well nuts to that. Automakers should sell products that consumer want to buy: stylish, safe, reliable, affordable, efficient and pleasurable to drive. Is that too much to ask? If GM in its current form isn't up to the job and goes under, it's a shame. But rest assured: America will weather the storm.

According to Rush Limbaugh, we’ve got plenty of oil. So I’m not really bothered about a given car’s fuel economy, from a “we are the world, we are the stars with air-conditioned mansions” perspective. More to the point, TTAC’s weekly test cars arrive with a full tank of gas. Of course, I’m not completely insensitive to working class priorities, or my profession’s desire to promote an anti-oil agenda. So I’m always up for a good hybrid bashing– I mean review. Only things didn’t quite turn out as I’d planned…

Yup, the Griswolds are back. Or as near as I can figure, anyway… because this Honda Pilot is surely the Clark clan carrier incarnate. Granted, someone's gone and prized off the Wagon Queen Family Truckster badging, coating its formerly pea-green flanks with something called 'Redrock Pearl'. But make no mistake: despite whatever lip service the Pilot pays to off-road cred, Honda has chamfered what few edges remain on the SUV franchise and produced a whale of a big foul-weather wagon.

At Microsoft's recent "Global Automotive Summit", someone asked Bill Gates if he thought the auto industry should aim for cars that "wouldn't let themselves crash". To which Mr. Gates replied "absolutely". Bill was, of course, sandbagged. The media love to paint the world's wealthiest man as the world's most powerful control freak– which, of course, he is. But the subtext is always there: Bill Gates is a fascist. In this case, the press got him to "admit" he wants his company to take control of your car.

Again, the insinuation contains an element of truth. For some time now, the automobile industry has been moving towards augmenting/replacing human decision-making with computerized control. Mercedes' Distronic adaptive cruise control is only the most impressive example. The system integrates forward-facing radar with their car's "drive by wire" throttle and brakes, automatically maintaining a safe distance from the vehicle ahead. Rumor has it that the new S-Class will add an emergency braking algorithm, raising electronic intervention to the next level.

Mercedes' braking system will eventually appear in Chrysler vehicles and other mass market products. At the same time, Volvo is unveiling its lane departure warning system. Using sideways-looking radar, the device will guard against driver fatigue and help prevent collisions with vehicles in a driver's "blind spot". From there, it's a slippery slope (without traction control) to computer-controlled steering intervention to automated steering, braking and acceleration. Yes, that's right: a car that drives itself.

It may seem like one of those Popular Mechanics cover stories that never quite pans out, but robots can already negotiate highly challenging physical environments. It's also no secret that the Pentagon is busy developing combat vehicles that can negotiate harsh terrain without any human intervention or oversight, at speed. Within the next twenty years, our relatively safe and featureless highways will accommodate fully automated automobiles. The "set it and forget it" car will follow.

Of course, that's not exactly what Bill endorsed at his press conference. Mr. Gates only agreed that we need cars that wouldn't "let themselves crash". Anyone who's seen a fatal traffic accident up close and personal, or watched a moron drive, would surely agree that effective computerized safety intervention is a laudable goal. I mean, who WOULDN'T want a car that would stop you from crashing?

Enthusiasts. This special interest group can think of nothing worse than a car, truck or SUV that denies them driving's constant, ever-changing challenges– even if the human controlled vehicle is inherently less safe than its robotized equivalent. Wait; there IS a worse nightmare: a self-driving car powered by Microsoft software.

When Mr. Gates unfavorably compared the pace of the auto and computer industry's progress at a COMDEX convention, car enthusiasts launched a withering counter-attack. Their reaction revealed the extent of their antipathy to MSBill. Ironically enough, most of the sarcasm centered on safety issues. For example, "If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, your car would crash twice a day for no reason whatsoever. For some reason you would simply accept this."

It's funny stuff, but irrelevant. The truth is that the majority of people on our roads are not enthusiasts. They do not enjoy driving– at least not in the same sense that pistonheads do. (Hence the large numbers of motorists talking on their cell while driving and the huge take-up rate for satellite radio.) When the Chicago Tribune recently asked readers what features they would like on their car, real or fanciful, nearly 25 percent of the more than 100 respondents named autopilot as the top desire. Most people would gladly sacrifice a large measure of driving pleasure– and autonomy– for extra covenience and safety.

Why wouldn't they? Why shouldn't they? In emergency situations, over 50% of drivers take no evasive action whatsoever. Enthusiasts have been arguing for years for an active, human factors approach to automotive safety: better training, higher driving standards, regular re-testing, selective enforcement, etc. But there is an economic imperative at work. If you raised the standards high enough to prevent serious accidents, you'd probably remove 25% of all drivers from our roads.

The fully computerized car is the ideal way to reconcile driver stupidity with the need to keep our population mobile. And make no mistake: society is up for it. Computerized control has been the de facto standard for the airline industry for many years. Modern planes will not "let themselves crash". They can take-off and land automatically. (In fact they do, all the time.) We accept this development in safety's name, yet commercial airplanes are thousands of times safer than automobiles.

In the US at least, the self-driving car will never be federally mandated. So it's not an either or situation. Enthusiasts should encourage Mr. Gates' in his [unstated] desire to make a self-driving car. It will let them enjoy 'active' driving in a much safer world.

When Toyota Chairman Hiroshi Okuda proposed raising the price of his company's products to help floundering US automakers, industry insiders didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The idea that inflating Toyota sticker prices would lead US consumers back into GM or Ford showrooms is so ludicrous that Okuda's comment struck many as a malicious joke. Either that or the head of the world's second largest carmaker hasn't driven a Ford, lately. To get a consumer to choose a Ford or GM product over a similarly priced Toyota, the Japanese would have to tack on a couple of grand. At least.

Although Okuda quickly recanted, the brouhaha focused yet more unwanted attention on Ford and GM's lackluster products. It's one thing for your bond status to head for the junk pile, it's another for potential customers to hear that the Japanese feel sorry for you. Of course, from a marketing point of view, Okuda's offer was a masterstroke; potential car buyers now have good reason to believe that Toyotas are underpriced. From an industry point of view, Okuda placed not one but two elephants in the room.

The first pachyderm is a media fantasy: import tariffs. Yes, there was once a time when Detroit covered its ass by taxing Japan's. Those days are gone. The Big Three are now importing an enormous amount of parts and products from abroad (e.g. Korean cars re-badged as Chevy's and Chrysler's plans to sell Chinese-made cars). An import tax would hurt the domestics as much as the Japanese. And now that Toyota, Honda and Nissan ARE domestics, an anti-import tax would be, well, silly.

The second elephant, another media invention, is that Okuda's comments indicate that he's worried about the potentially crippling impact of a GM or Ford collapse on the US economy. The reasoning is as simple as it is stupid: if GM or Ford go under, their extinction would damage the US economy so severely that fewer American consumers would be able to buy Toyotas. In other words, Okuda will do anything (including increasing his company's profit margins) to save the wounded domestics, to ensure his company's long-term success.

This logic assumes that corporate chieftains like Okuda have a deeper insight into "how things really are" than your local shopkeeper. Maybe, but I doubt it– especially when you consider the wisdom of Okuda's executive counterparts at Mitsubishi. In any case, it's laughable to paint Okuda as an altruist. Show me a shopkeeper who doesn't want his competition to F-off and die.

The Revelations theory also assumes that when General Motors sneezes, America catches a cold. Again, those days are gone. The US economy is far more broadly-based than it was when GM supposedly called the tune. If GM or Ford bought the farm, there'd be a lot of hand-wringing and the stock market would plummet, but the vast majority of the US population would go right on buying food, videos, houses and… cars. In fact, the chances are excellent that a stricken domestic carmaker would quickly re-organize itself and survive, significantly leaner and meaner (did I hear someone say crippling health care costs?) than before.

Of course, no one would want to see tens of thousands of workers join the welfare rolls (especially regional politicians). But let's face facts: propping up a terminally ill multi-national corporation just to protect jobs is the worst type of socialism. And the last time I looked, the US economy is a capitalist system. If GM or Ford dies because they take in less money than they spend, it will– eventually– strengthen the US economy. In fact, protecting GM or Ford would play straight into Okuda's hands; insulating the domestics from market forces would allow them to continue to producing unpopular cars, trucks and SUV's.

Hmmm. Maybe THAT was Okuda's cunning plan: to help GM and Ford stay afloat so that Toyota could continue to compete against a couple of paper tigers. Oh well. Never mind. The most important thing about Okuda's offer is that it's completely unimportant. It's a distraction from the main game: building vehicles that kick Toyota's butt. If Okuda's taunts energize complacent executives at Ford and GM into doing just that, then they're a blessing in disguise. If not, the US execs deserve Okuda's abuse, and worse.

Personally, I think Bob Lutz and Bill Ford missed a golden opportunity. They should have responded to Okuda's statement by announcing that their dealers would offer an extra 10% on all Toyotas trade-ins. But if they thought that way, and had the products to back it up, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Unbelievable. GM’s lost the plot, they’re losing the game and now they want to take their ball and go home. After automotive critic Dan Neil ripped apart the new Pontiac G6 GT and called for an executive putsch, The General pulled its $10M adspend out of the Los Angeles Times. While you can’t begrudge GM’s right to place—or not place—its money where it chooses, the decision to pull the plug on the Times displays an unappealing combination of arrogance and petulance. To wit: GM spokesfolk defended their action by saying that the review (and other GM-related coverage) contained “factual errors and misrepresentations”—without providing any specifics. So there. Nuh.

GM’s version of The Wizard of Oz‘ “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain” routine is good for a few laughs. It’s always fun to watch the rich and powerful act like victims. Nevertheless, it’s a worrying situation. The General’s muscle-flexing will certainly have a dampening effect on the already obsequious US automotive press. The ripples will be felt from the biggest buff books to the smallest local supplements. Even the blogosphere and ad-free sites like this one will sense the heat (if nothing else, we depend on manufacturers for access to test models). With the threat of retribution lingering in the air like sulfurous gas, the truth is bound to suffer even greater indignities.

The press’ silence on this story is deafening. Ironically, this lack of coordinated response actually works against the automotive media; leading the public to the not-so-wrong conclusion that lapdoggery towards the big advertisers is the norm. I’ve said it before: the press’ greatest asset, perhaps its only asset, is its credibility. If the car media doesn’t stand up for Neil, if they don’t defend the principles which they claim govern their profession, they risk losing their readers’ respect, and thus, affections.

At the same time, GM’s vindictiveness will hurt GM’s bottom line. The move against the LA Times catapulted Neil’s column out of pistonhead backwaters into the national consciousness. By doing so, it focused yet more attention on the generally piss-poor performance of GM products vis-à-vis their competitors, as well as the likelihood that the General may axe two entire divisions. Buyers who’ve long suspected that domestic automakers try to hide their products’ mediocrity behind a wall of hype and ad spend—consumers who don’t want to buy a car from a brand that might disappear—now have even more reason to shop Toyota.

GM’s assumption that the general public would side with big business in a fight against a lone (not to say rogue) journalist also raises serious doubts about the company’s understanding of PR. The proper response to Neil’s criticisms was obvious: demand that the Times publish a detailed refutation of the charges leveled against the company and the G6 GT. At the very least, when GM pulled their ads, their objections should have been made clear. But no. As far as the public is concerned, GM’s action was designed to punish the Times for doing what newspapers are supposed to do: report the truth. News flash to GM brass: people LIKE newspapers. And they don’t like bullies.

Of course, GM couldn’t really offer a point-by-point reply to Neil’s review because the G6 sucks. Oh wait, Neil didn’t say that. With uncharacteristic reserve, the Pulitzer Prize-winning critic called the G6 “uncompetitive.” If GM doesn’t agree with this assessment, if they can’t read their own sales figures and come to the same conclusion, they are in deep, deep denial. At the risk of sounding as obvious as an alcoholic’s friend during an intervention, lashing out at the LA Times doesn’t change anything. The G6 is still mediocre. GM is still in deep shit. The General’s assertion that it’s being unjustly persecuted doesn’t make it so.

Both domestic carmakers and car hacks need to wise-up. Until and unless the automotive press puts their readers’ interests first, advertisers will have them over a barrel. Until and unless GM faces the truth about its products, they will keep making boneheaded, self-defeating and futile attempts to protect their increasingly illusory reputation. Meanwhile, send dan.neil@latimes.com an email. Let him know that his short-term prospects are a lot better than GM’s.

I love horsepower. I love the feel of it lingering underfoot, ready to explode into neck-snapping, stomach-churning, tire-shredding violence. I love the sound of it: the blend of Fortissississimo bellowing and heavy metal madness. I love the power of it, the ability to make “ordinary” machines look as if God grabbed their rear bumpers and yanked them backwards. Sure, my passion for accelerative overload is infantile, dangerous and about as politically correct as a 1920s minstrel show. But at least it isn’t impractical or expensive. Well, not anymore.

When The Donald calls aspiring apprentices into the boardroom to determine which one to fire, I’m always hoping for a miracle. I want him to can ALL of them. My feelings about GM are identical. When GM Vice Chairman Bob Lutz hinted that he’d axe Buick or Pontiac if the divisions didn’t “gain traction,” he ignited a debate over which of the General’s lackluster brands deserved death. The answer is, of course, all of them.

General Motors was born as a conglomeration of independent car companies. In the beginning, all of GM’s acquisitions maintained their own distinct mechanical, design and marketing identity. Despite the imposition of centralized control in many strategic areas (e.g. choice of suppliers), each sub-brand remained true to its niche. Exactly when, how and why the structure fell apart, or became one big amorphous mass of poorly made product, is not as important as the fact that it has.

GM’s eleven brands—Buick, Cadillac, Chevrolet, Holden, Hummer, GMC, Opel, Pontiac, SAAB, Saturn and Vauxhall—are virtually interchangeable. You could rebadge a Vauxhall Lightning and call it a Saturn Sky; or a Holden Monaro and call it a Pontiac GTO; or a GMC truck and call it a SAAB 9-7X. Those are just the real-world examples. How about the new Cadillac STS as a Buick, or the Hummer H3 as a GMC? And that’s without mentioning the elephant on the assembly line: platform sharing.

GM’s brands bring new meaning to the words “product overlap.” Pontiac GTO or Chevrolet Corvette? Chevrolet Cobalt or Saturn Ion? Saab 9-5 or Cadillac CTS? The divisions might have better luck competing with non-GM brands if they weren’t so busy competing against each other. As a result, whenever one of the eleven non-identical twins tries to make a case for itself, it unintentionally demeans a fraternal partner. GMC’s claim to be “professional grade” makes Chevrolet seem amateur. Hummer’s “like nothing else” makes Buick seem common. And so on.

The marketing departments may beg to differ, but their campaigns don’t. Pontiac still touts itself as GM’s performance division—at the same time that Cadillac emphasizes its products’ supersonic speed. SAAB’s ‘State of Independence’ exhorts buyers to go their own way—while Saturn continues to chase iconoclastic buyers. And here’s a compare-and-contrast from Hell: Chevrolet’s marketing strategy for its full-size pickups vs. GMC’s.

The situation reminds me of Coca-Cola’s plight in the 70s. When the competition started offering strange and marvelous soft drink variations, Coke responded by introducing a wave of new flavors: Coke, Diet Coke, Cherry Coke, Diet Cherry Coke, Caffeine Free Diet Coke, etc. The bottom line? Add all the sales of all the new Coca-Cola sub-brands together and … the company LOST total market share. Am I the only one who sees a parallel with GM, which is responding to their diminishing slice of the US car market by introducing a flood of new products?

Vice Chairman Lutz could axe a couple of brands, figure out what the remaining ones are supposed to be, erect some Chinese walls and—like Hell he could. Thanks to decades of bureaucratic bungling, craven UAW appeasement and intra-departmental intrigue, GM has neither the will nor the skill to kill the omnivorous cancer devouring it. There’s only one thing for it: sell off all of the brands.

GMAC Finance is the only solidly profitable part of the entire multi-billion dollar corporation; everything else is either limping along, a dead loss or a loss leader. Dump the car and truck making side of the equation and GM becomes instantly profitable. What’s more, under independent ownership, each division would be leaner, meaner and quicker on its feet. Think about the breakup of AT&T, and the highly competitive, hugely profitable baby Bells it spawned…

Even if a liberated division’s new ownership WASN’T entirely independent, even if some other multi-national car-making goliath bought up, say, Hummer, and ran it into the ground, well, so what? As a GM stockholder, I’d say “better them than us”.

The idea of being wrenched from the corporate tit is not bound to please GM’s employees and suppliers. Most sensible financial analysts would view GM’s dissolution as an improbable corporate Krakatoa: a violent, tectonic shift signaling the end of big business as we know it.

Of course, these are the same sensible people who don’t buy GM products anymore. They buy Mercs, Toyotas, BMWs and other vehicles made by companies who don’t try to juggle eleven balls at the same time. If these experts want to feel GM’s seismic rumblings, all they have to do is look at their own driveway. Even the Donald would savor the irony.

Once upon a time there was a luxury car manufacturer in America. The company virtually owned the luxury car business, both at home and abroad. Their cars were the gold standard for expensive cars, and rich and powerful people the world over bought and used them. They easily sold more luxury cars in America than most of their competitors combined. Their reputation for engineering innovation and excellence was unsurpassed. All of the best custom body builders clamored to make special show cars for them, in hopes that they could make it into the sales catalogue this company published every December.

Then came hard times. The stock market bubble popped. Thousands of people lost their jobs. And, the market for luxury cars started to dwindle. To make matters worse, the company's major competitor in America started to build bigger and more luxurious cars, and developed a reputation as a true engineering innovator in their own right.

Top managers, many of whom had been with the company for decades, agonized about what they should do. To do nothing was to ensure that the company would spend all of their savings and go out of business in a few years. The answer, they decided, was to build a car that would sell for substantially less than their traditional luxury models. Thus was born the Packard 120, in 1936.

The 120 was, by all accounts, a pretty nice car. It was powered by a smooth straight 8 engine, and it carried the traditional Packard grill and radiator ornament proudly. But it was no custom built luxury car, just a mass-produced, medium priced vehicle, a Packard one could buy for the price of an Oldsmobile or a Buick. The sales success of the 120 saved the day for Packard, and the company managed to stay in business for another couple of decades. The underpinnings of the 120 provided the basis for many Packard models, like the Clipper and the infamous bathtub Packards of the early 50s.

But the day that ordinary people could afford a Packard marked the end of the company as a viable luxury car manufacturer. Packard's demise as America's luxury car was guaranteed when the town's richest banker glanced out the window of his chauffeur-driven Packard as he left the estate, only to see his gardener arriving in a Packard. In just a few years, Cadillac overtook Packard in luxury car sales, and wrested the crown of American luxury away from Packard for good.

Fast-forward 60 years, to the 2005 North American International Auto Show, in Detroit. Lincoln, reeling from a 50% drop in sales over the last 5 years, announced the new Lincoln Zephyr. Priced to compete with the Nissan Maxima and the Toyota Avalon, the Zephyr is the lowest priced Lincoln (inflation adjusted) ever offered. While the Zephyr appears to be a very nice medium priced car (it is, after all, made from a Mazda 6) it faces some pretty tough competition. The Zephyr, like the Packard 120, will allow thousands of new owners to sail down the road behind a Lincoln grill and hood ornament. If it sells well, Lincoln will make some money, but at what cost to the Lincoln brand? Will the average hip-hop artist still want a Lincoln Navigator when he sees the bartender at his favorite club drive up in a Lincoln Zephyr?

Lincoln's Town Car is already suffering under the onslaught of a revitalized Cadillac and a host of other tough luxury car competitors. Once the car of choice for stretch limo converters, it is rapidly being displaced by the new Cadillac DTS. The Lincoln LS, aimed at the BMW 3 series, is failing, despite offering a V8 to the 3 series 6. The Navigator is in a fierce sales duel with SUVs from Porsche (Porsche!), BMW, Lexus, Land Rover, Cadillac and others, and the Aviator appears never to have lifted off the runway. Moving the Lincoln brand downscale threatens the viability of these products even more.

It is rare that a luxury carmaker recovers from flirting with downscale products. Packard never recovered, and Cadillac, after the unfortunate Cimarron and Catera, discovered that it takes many years and many billions of dollars in new products, to begin to turn around a cheapened image. Jaguar is in the process of discovering this, in the wake of the X-type debacle. Even Infiniti found that cheapening the brand caused it to lose all value in the US.

Ironically, the first Zephyr, in 1936, was Lincoln's answer to the Packard 120 and the LaSalle. It didn't carry the Lincoln name, just as LaSalle didn't carry the Cadillac name. The value of the Lincoln name wasn't squandered on a medium priced car, and lived on in the first Lincoln Continental, and a host of other fine cars.

Detroit execs have been too quick to sell the idea that consumers' clocks have struck midnight and turned the hardcore small SUV and pickup party into a pumpkin. Ask any domestic automaker, and today's smart truck money is almost exclusively on the crossover market. And while it's true that all-wheel-drive softroaders are hot, the notion that Americans won't pony up for a charismatic, purposeful body-on-frame compact is utter nonsense. The segment's erosion has far more to do with a dearth of compelling product than it does with the rise of alternative classes.

Need proof? Look no further than Jeep's evergreen Wrangler. Despite underpinnings hewn from Woolly Mammoth tusks and a convertible top that only a masochist could love, it continues to sell smartly year after year, decade after decade. In fact, its sales have actually been trending UPWARD as of late– no doubt thanks in part to the overdue addition of Jeep's Unlimited model (and the brand's ever-present cult of personality).

Of course, not every vehicle possesses Jeep's iconic style and enviable lineage. But that hasn't stopped Nissan from doing a decent trade in its Xterra. Based on a then-aging Frontier pickup, the first generation model quickly capitalized on the unrealized demand for an authentic 'purist's' SUV, almost in spite of itself. Overlooking more cheap plastic rattles than a Tic-Tac factory, those much-coveted 'extreme-sports' types lined up, smitten with the Xterra's beefcake visuals (jungle-gym roof rack, first-aid kit tailgate blister, etc.). Freshly bulked up, the second-generation Xterra remedies its predecessor's deplorable on-road manners and exiguous power allotment, all while fortifying its off-road credibility.

Sadly, the best a domestic compact truck intender can hope for these days is Ford's moth-eaten Ranger and General Motors' instantly-dated Colorado/Canyon twins. Loyalists looking to trade-in their old examples have been understandably reluctant to shell out for what amounts to dent-free versions of what they already own. It comes as little surprise, given Ranger's oatmeal-like constitution and appearance. GM's duo manages better, but suffers from a poorly conceived engine range and interiors exuding more plastic flashing than Anna Nicole.

Worryingly, there's little relief in sight. Bill's boffins continually push afield a Ranger replacement, and GM's ColCan is still too light on calendar pages to receive a meaningful upgrade. Worse still, neither appears to be anywhere close to introducing a hardcore demi-ute. Of course, flag-wavers still have Dodge's Dakota and Durango, but their available V8s are thirsty and less powerful than competitor's V6s, and neither remotely says 'compact.'

Which brings us to the Japanese. Once-dormant Nissan has moved closer to fine with its confident new Frontier. Formerly a knock-kneed, oddly styled also-ran, Nissan wisely plugged its Titan full-sizer into a Xerox machine set on 'Mini-Me,' resulting in a powerful and competitive midsize offering.

And while Toyota's long been guilty of misunderstanding the needs of the American truck buyer (the too-small T-100 begetting the too-small Tundra, etc.), that's no longer true. The Tacoma now impresses with its configurability and segment-defining power and refinement. What's more, the forthcoming FJ Cruiser signifies Toyota's intention to transcend its reputation for trafficking solely in the safe, sanitized, and reliable. If its throwback off-roader arrives cheaply enough, expect a colossal hit.

It didn't have to be this way. Ford's delectable derv-burning Bronco concept went down a storm at the 2004 NAIAS, and should've been fast-tracked for production immediately. However (and somewhat predictably), Dearborn lacks suitable drawers in its hamper for the SUV, and the Bronco remains mired in feasibility studies. At last word, Ford's Brazilian-built EcoSport platform is under consideration, but such rumblings lack promise. An old school off-roader masquerading atop a car-derived monocoque? Umm, no.

Lest we forget, in 2002, Dodge's M80 concept promised to put the 'body' back in 'body-on-frame.' Retro-steeped yet forward thinking, John Opfer's design was enthusiastically received by press and consumer alike, but the much-discussed 'shrinking small pickup market' shriveled Dodge's cojones in the end. Pity, as it would've made for a nifty little SUV, too.

It's tragic. The Big Three desperately need solid-selling small trucks to boost their CAFE figures and improve their lot among younger buyers. As it stands, the Ranger and Colorado lose ground minute by minute, their numbers propped to competitiveness largely via incentives and fleet sales. Dodge is the closest domestic to righting its ship, but remains well adrift.

Look: just a few years ago, most execs completely wrote off rear-wheel-drive family sedans, station wagons and hatchbacks. DCX's wildly successful 300 and Magnum, along with BMW's MINI illustrate that the right products write their own demand curves, statistics be damned. It's a shame Detroit remains oblivious to the latent sales potential in the small 'true' pickup/SUV segments, because their competitors aren't likely to make the same mistake.

The Lexus GX470 is a poster child for SUV haters: huge exterior, cramped interior, hippo handling and mileage figures so low they make an M1 tank look frugal. For those who care about such things, the fact that the GX470 qualifies as an Ultra-Low Emissions Vehicle doesn't alter its planet-killing profile. For those who couldn't care less, the GX470 offers at least one good reason to piss off your PC neighbors (providing that's not enough reason in and of itself): off road prowess.

The GX470 is a fantastically capable four-by-four. It sports all the structural strength and traction control doo-dads you need to trammel the road less traveled. Hill Assist Control stops the SUV from sliding backwards on steep inclines. Downhill Assist Control modulates engine and wheel braking to avoid nose-diving in the opposite direction. And if that's not enough to help you boldly go where TV ads have gone before, the GX470 also has full-time all-wheel-drive, a limited slip diff, rear air suspension and enough ground clearance to mount a MINI. I couldn't find a single hill, rut or rock that could ruffle the 470's mechanical feathers.

Why aren’t mechanical skills taught in driver’s ed anymore? Aspiring motorists learn obscure signage, passing safely (an oxymoron to any parent) and when to pay their motoring taxes. But basic automotive maintenance is a total no show. In my home state, a new driver can get a learner’s permit or driver’s license without having the slightest idea how to check their car’s oil or change a tire.

It’s a shame. Our schools teach our kids how to cook, use a laptop and avoid sexually transmitted diseases. Today's techno-savvy teens can whip-up an omelet, send batch emails from Starbucks and open a condom one-handed, but they don’t know how to keep their car running smoothly and safely. They consider automotive maintenance and repair something their hopelessly nerdy Dad does, or something that happens when their parents [arbitrarily] interrupt their freedom by sequestering the car at the local dealer.

This glaring omission can be traced back to the modern cars’ increasing reliability. Even before Cadillac’s zero-maintenance Northstar engine appeared, manufacturers had been Hell-bent on eliminating any non-cabin customer-to-car interaction. The Japanese have been particularly zealous in this regard, and successful; drivers no longer expect anything to go wrong with their cars. Ever. In fact, reliability has come to mean inviolability: hood and trunk locks are protective shields against "amateur" interference.

This mechanical dumbing down has gone over the top. For example, more and more cars are being fitted with run-flat tires. The technology completely eliminates the need to know how to fit a spare; which is just as well as there usually isn’t one, and if there is, most young drivers wouldn’t know where to find it or what to do with it when they did. Electronic oil gauges are also becoming the norm, virtually eliminating the need to be able to find or use a dipstick.

Once upon a time, automotive mechanical skills were passed from father to son, mother to daughter, friend to friend. Now, much to my amazement, I’ve yet to meet a teenager who knows anything about their car other than how to hook-up their iPod. Recommended oil? Pass. Battery location? Dunno. How to tell when the brakes are wearing out? Nope. The enthusiasts amongst them want NOS and coffee can exhausts, but they have no idea where or how to affix the parts to make them work (other than the local tuning shop). We’ve lost an entire generation to the microchip mentality: if it’s broke, replace it.

Obviously, no car is 100% reliable. Even a Toyota can fail when you least expect it. If you’re paranoid or believe in Murphy’s Law (or both), the breakdown will inevitably occur in the most dangerous place possible (e.g. a busy highway at night in the rain, or the part of town where tow trucks refuse to respond). It’s also obvious that we can no longer rely on the government, schools or the social network to impart mechanical skills to young drivers. Which means it’s down to us, the “car nerd”, to teach our genetic inheritors the basic repair and maintenance skills they need; before their ignorance kills, injures or strands them in the middle of nowhere.

So how do you broach a subject that your children find about as trendy as Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass? Cunning and subterfuge. Choose a day when their social schedule is either relative empty or completely full. Run the car’s battery flat, let the air out of a tire, pull a bulb from the tail lights, remove a fuse, extract a wiper blade and hide the keys under the spare. Then gently inform your hormone charged loved ones that they’re not going ANYWHERE until they learn how to take care of the car.

Start with something simple. Hand them the tire iron and ask them what it’s for. (If necessary, duck.) Then have them change that flat tire. Remember: laziness makes people clever. Don’t end up changing the tire for them. Next, move on to the engine compartment. Get them to open the hood (trickier than it sounds), check the oil, refill the windshield washer fluid, locate the battery, and so on. Then watch them replace the wiper blade, headlight bulb and fuse. Finish with the jumper cables to get the whole thing started.

Once you’re satisfied that your children can take care of family car fundamentals, you’ll sleep a little better at night. You can go back to worrying about that guy your daughter is dating, instead of worrying about that AND whether the car will make it home.

Why aren't mechanical skills taught in driver's ed anymore? Aspiring motorists learn obscure signage, passing safely (an oxymoron to any parent) and when to pay their motoring taxes. But basic automotive maintenance is a total no show. In my home state, a new driver can get a learner's permit or driver's license without having the slightest idea how to check their car's oil or change a tire.

It's a shame. Our schools teach our kids how to cook, use a laptop and avoid sexually transmitted diseases. Today's techno-savvy teens can whip-up an omelet, send batch emails from Starbucks and open a condom one-handed, but they don't know how to keep their car running smoothly and safely. They consider automotive maintenance and repair something their hopelessly nerdy Dad does, or something that happens when their parents [arbitrarily] interrupt their freedom by sequestering the car at the local dealer.

This glaring omission can be traced back to the modern cars' increasing reliability. Even before Cadillac's zero-maintenance Northstar engine appeared, manufacturers had been Hell-bent on eliminating any non-cabin customer-to-car interaction. The Japanese have been particularly zealous in this regard, and successful; drivers no longer expect anything to go wrong with their cars. Ever. In fact, reliability has come to mean inviolability: hood and trunk locks are protective shields against 'amateur' interference.

This mechanical dumbing down has gone over the top. For example, more and more cars are being fitted with run-flat tires. The technology completely eliminates the need to know how to fit a spare; which is just as well as there usually isn't one, and if there is, most young drivers wouldn't know where to find it or what to do with it when they did. Electronic oil gauges are also becoming the norm, virtually eliminating the need to be able to find or use a dipstick.

Once upon a time, automotive mechanical skills were passed from father to son, mother to daughter, friend to friend. Now, much to my amazement, I've yet to meet a teenager who knows anything about their car other than how to hook-up their iPod. Recommended oil? Pass. Battery location? Dunno. How to tell when the brakes are wearing out? Nope. The enthusiasts amongst them want NOS and coffee can exhausts, but they have no idea where or how to affix the parts to make them work (other than the local tuning shop). We've lost an entire generation to the microchip mentality: if it's broke, replace it.

Obviously, no car is 100% reliable. Even a Toyota can fail when you least expect it. If you're paranoid or believe in Murphy's Law (or both), the breakdown will inevitably occur in the most dangerous place possible (e.g. a busy highway at night in the rain, or the part of town where tow trucks refuse to respond). It's also obvious that we can no longer rely on the government, schools or the social network to impart mechanical skills to young drivers. Which means it's down to us, the "car nerd", to teach our genetic inheritors the basic repair and maintenance skills they need; before their ignorance kills, injures or strands them in the middle of nowhere.

So how do you broach a subject that your children find about as trendy as Herb Alpert and his Tijuana Brass? Cunning and subterfuge. Choose a day when their social schedule is either relative empty or completely full. Run the car's battery flat, let the air out of a tire, pull a bulb from the tail lights, remove a fuse, extract a wiper blade and hide the keys under the spare. Then gently inform your hormone charged loved ones that they're not going ANYWHERE until they learn how to take care of the car.

Start with something simple. Hand them the tire iron and ask them what it's for. (If necessary, duck.) Then have them change that flat tire. Remember: laziness makes people clever. Don't end up changing the tire for them. Next, move on to the engine compartment. Get them to open the hood (trickier than it sounds), check the oil, refill the windshield washer fluid, locate the battery, and so on. Then watch them replace the wiper blade, headlight bulb and fuse. Finish with the jumper cables to get the whole thing started.

Once you're satisfied that your children can take care of family car fundamentals, you'll sleep a little better at night. You can go back to worrying about that guy your daughter is dating, instead of worrying about that AND whether the car will make it home.

The Audi A8L W12 goes like Hell. Kick the gearbox in the sides a couple of times, mash the gas and the long-wheelbase leviathan transforms itself into a car-sized guided missile, punching through the air with terrifying resolve. And so it should. The W12 in question– two V6 powerplants connected at the crankshaft in a 'W' formation– generates 450hp. That's enough power to propel Audi's flagship from zero to sixty in five seconds dead, or accelerate from any speed to its 130mph V-max with stupendous, seamless, seductive shove.

Ah, you noticed that did you? One-three-oh is plenty fast compared to say, a Toyota Corolla, but we're talking about a top-of-the-line limo from the makers of the S4 and RS6, two cars that clearly believe that life begins at 140. You'd be forgiven for assuming Audi built the W12 to mix it with big-engined Mercs and Bimmers tear-assing up and down Germany's unrestricted Autobahns, knocking on the door of the double ton. At the very least, the W12 should top-out at 155mph, in accordance with the Fatherland's so-called "gentleman's agreement".

Sciontologists are scary people. Who else would re-package a Toyota Echo and sell it to American twenty-somethings? We're talking about a Japanese sub-compact with all the edgy excitement of a five-year-old Readers' Digest (large print edition). You couldn't imagine a more cynical marketing ploy. Still, props to Toyota for having the stones to foist the "new money for old rope" routine on the world's most style critical audience.