noozdawg's carblog

As I was saying ...

Where was I? Oh, yes.

The new Wrangler.

It's ugly, and another giant leap removed from the rugged military Jeep that everyone loves, but what do I know? The Chrysler Group says Wrangler sales are up like 50%, and helped drive Jeep's overall market share to 3%, even as dealers throw thousands of dollars on the hood of the Grand Cherokee (already too small and too big at the same time), the Commander (too big and too big) and the Liberty (cannibalized by Patriot and Compass).

In Jeep circles, there's something known as the "Wrangler wave." If you're in a Wrangler and you approach another one, you're supposed to wave to each other. You know, gotta represent and all that. Around these parts, the wave is usually a peace sign, or a two-finger raise from the hand that's invariably gripping the top of the wheel. I don't find myself driving our Wrangler that much, but when I do, I engage in this custom, not wanting to be perceived as rude.

But I don't wave at the 4-doors.

What, is the oil filter titanium?

Clearly, I am in the wrong profession.

It's been a long time since I've considered myself poorly compensated for the work I do, but after reviewing the most recent service bill for the Pathfinder, I think I should have picked auto mechanics instead of journalism.

Brought the truck into Huckster McFlimflam Nissan for a "7,500 mile service," which includes oil/filter/lube, plus tire rotation and some kind of "42-point inspection" or something.

Total bill: $179.

"For an OIL CHANGE!?" asked the BF incredulously.

I know, I totally don't get it. And they had the car for barely an hour and a half. And I didn't even have time for them to look at the thing that really bugs me: the rear driver-side window switch on the driver's door panel will lower the window, but not raise it.

What's the going labor rate now for auto mechanics, $90 an hour? $100?

I'm not saying auto mechanics aren't smart. I'm not saying it's low-skill work. It's not. But I now understand why so many cars I encounter on the road seem to have some sort of mechanical or electrical problem. Who can afford to take their cars in anymore?

At least they washed it. For $179, they should have washed ME, too.

Who's calling who Bitter?

One of the joys of my commute -- and ordinarily, I don't need more than a few fingers to enumerate them -- is going by a particular car repair shop in my town. Invariably, I'll see some kind of wacky European iron in the lot, awaiting the ministrations of the mechanics inside ... all of whom are surely named "Klaus" or "Giuseppe."

Going by usually yields a glimpse of an older Ferrari or Aston Martin. My favorite sighting was a Lancia Thema 8.32, a front-drive sedan (from the old Saab 9000 architecture) with the engine out of the Ferrari 328GTB/S. What fun! What exclusivity! What torque steer!

But yesterday when going by the shop, I found a surprise in the lot.

When I first saw the car, I noted the very crisp C-pillar line raking from the roof back to the trunk lid. The angle of the backlight and the 80s-vintage alloys made me think Ferrari 400i -- a great find in itself.

But no. Moving to the front revealed a slanted nose with pop-up headlights and driving lights in the egg-crate grille. It was slightly chunkier than the 400 -- and slightly less-exclusive looking.

I suddenly realized: it was my first Bitter!

The Bitter SC was a limited-production, coachbuilt sports coupe designed and built by former German racing champion Erich Bitter. It was based on the underpinnings of the Opel Senator, which was a great car for the late 70s/early 80s period. Bitter has largely flamed out now, and one website suggests there aren't more than about 250 Bitters in the US.

And I saw one.

Honestly, it's like I went to the zoo and saw an echidna or something. It's just that rare.

Freeze warning for Hell.

Wouldn't you like to be a fly on the wall at GM's board meeting this Friday?

Apparently, that's the company's first chance to sit down at a table and discuss the remarkable turn of events precipitated by Kirk Kerkorian, Jerry York and Tracinda Group over the past week.

A few entries ago, I crapped on the very idea of Nissan/Renault considering an alliance of any kind with General Motors. What, I wondered rhetorically, could GM possibly have to offer Nissan, which has one of the sharpest product portfolios on offer in the country?

Well, as I wipe the egg off my face, I see that Carlos Ghosn, the now-legendary turnaround artist at Nissan/Renault, has been given the OK to pursue buying a 20 percent stake in General Motors. I assume this is attractive largely because of the economies of scale that would come from combined purchasing, and from use of shared platform sets.

But every analyst I've seen writing about this seems to say the same thing: the product overlap here -- especially between Nissan and GM in North America -- is so massive that it would take years to realize any savings from a tie-up, and by then Ghosn might not be the bulletproof master of the universe he's now considered to be. Indeed, sales for Nissan and Renault have started to fall a bit ... and his attention to those pressing matters would be diverted by the massive problems entrenched in Detroit.

I'll add to that the concern you don't see on a balance sheet or a model portfolio: This is the America that brought the phrase "freedom fries" into the lexicon. It's the America where, if you take a casual drive through the streets of Detroit even now, you'll rarely come across a car with an Asian nameplate. How well will GM handle a boss who works for an Asian AND a French car company?

I'll be watching closely to see what GM's board decides to do, what Kerkorian and his manservant York decide in response, and whether Ghosn shows up. Some are writing that Wagoner may be on his way out as of this meeting; that wouldn't surprise me at all, and it wouldn't be the first time that a good guy has failed to come to grips with the octopus of inertia that is GM.

And if I start to hear reports of frost-freeze warnings in Hell, I'll pass 'em along.

Who's Dr. Z, and why won't he let me out of this car?

Those of you still laboring under the false impression that Chryslers, Dodges and Jeeps were the product of an American car manufacturer will not be pleased to see the latest commercial by DaimlerChrysler.

It features an automotive journalist asking DCX chairman Dieter Zetsche about why Chrysler Group vehicles are so darned good. "Get in," responds Mr. Zetsche (the company calls him "Dr.", but unless he also gives employees their annual physicals, he doesn't get the honorific from me). They then take off on an odyssey of Chrysler Group products: powersliding a Charger R/T, driving a Commander over a steep ramp, and slamming a Pacifica into a wall. It's a montage with possibly the highest ratio of disclaimers per second in advertising history, and it's supposed to leave the viewer with the German-accented impression that Chrysler Group vehicles are awesome.

It left me missing "Mr. K."

Yutaka Katayama was the head of Nissan's US operations in the 1960s, and he's the guy credited with taking a two-seat sports car called the "Fairlady" in Japan and turning it into the legendary Datsun 240Z. When Nissan was feeling its oats again in the late 90s, it hired an actor to replicate Katayama-san in a series of television commercials, the most memorable line of which was "Dogs love trucks." (By the way, it's true. Our dogs love the Pathfinder ... of course, they don't have to put gas in it)

Of course, not even "Pat" Morita could have gotten consumers to buy the old Quest. It took the arrival of the less-fictitious Carlos Ghosn from Renault for Nissan's fortunes to turn around. The "Mr. K" campaign was quickly binned ... and now, you'll only find a reference to Mr. Katayama in the "Heritage" section on Nissan's Web site.

The thinking here is that the DCX people worried that American car buyers were mentally lumping the Chrysler Group in with GM and Ford, which together would make a really decent car company, but individually are completely adrift. Throwing the ultra-German Zetsche into the ads, DCX suggests, helps reinforce that Chrysler isn't really one of the "Big Three;" in fact, it's better than the other two, thanks to the help of its German owners.

Of course, given sales volume and North American production, the Big Three's about to become GM, Ford and Toyota. But I digress.

Will the ads work? I think "no." Herr Zetsche looks authoritative with his bushy mustache and all, and I can never see enough video of Chargers in full drift ... but the campaign is really selling two things: Dieter Zetsche as a guy who knows something, and Chrysler Group cars as being awesome. It'll either succeed at one or the other; it can't succeed at both.

The Challenge(er) To GM.

DCX is expected to announce today that it will build a version of the Dodge Challenger concept that premiered to rave reviews on the auto show circuit this year. Indeed, the GoManGo-colored concept based on the LX rear-drive sedans was my favorite concept of the year, inching out the (imho) disjointed Camaro concept over at GM.

DCX executives quoted in other media say their plan calls for them to build as few as 20,000 Challengers off the full-sized sedan platform, and they acknowledge they could sell as many as 70,000 if the MSRP comes in under $30,000. This is significant, in light of recent comments by Bob Lutz, My Hero.

Herr Lutz recently told a group of journalists that GM would have to sell 100,000 Camaros for it to make sense as a business proposition. Given that Ford sold 160,000 Mustangs last year in a segment it has basically to itself, busting in at 100,000 is a tall order.

The DCX volume is smaller, of course, because it already has a quality rear-drive chassis and component set it can use to underpin the Challenger's Coke-bottle curves, and a North American plant that already builds that platform. GM will have to borrow a rear-drive chassis from Holden, since its current RWD platforms are too expensive (Cadillac and Corvette/XLR) or too small (Solstice/Sky). And a plant will have to be reworked to build it here, so as not to run afoul of the UAW, as GM did when it started bringing in GTOs from Down Undah.

But business case or no, DCX's smart decision to jump into the market is really going to force Lutz's hand ... to say nothing of Chevy dealers sick of seeing Mustangs driving by their lots. But at this rate, even if GM pulls the trigger, it'll be '09 at the earliest before we see the first Camaro on the street. That may wind up being fortuitous: the Mustang will have been out for about five years by that time, and Ford's current money problems and other challenges may keep it from sinking a lot of resources into a new version. Bullitt '09, anyone?

Ultimately, I think GM will build the Camaro, lose money on it, and it'll go away as we all inch closer and closer to driving one-box "multi-activity" vehicles.  Meanwhile, the Challenger will be free to slug it out with the Mustang, and keep the "pony car" battle alive.

A new Alliance?

The holiday weekend began with the news that Kirk Kerkorian's front organization is trying to play yenta for the decidedly non-traditional marriage of Renault, Nissan and ... GM.

What's really behind this is Kerkorian's attempt -- which is not at all misguided -- to get Renault/Nissan brainiac Carlos Ghosn into the Renaissance Center, and work some of the magic that's put Nissan back in the black and into many garages around the world. If you like the Altima, Murano, 350Z, and most of the Infinitis now on the market, you can thank Ghosn.

As usual with a Kerkorian idea, though, this one has only a passing relationship with reality. Because really, why would Renault/Nissan want anything to do with GM?

Think about it: Nissan is a global car company with several world-class platforms, one of the best engines on this planet in their ubiquitous V6, and some of the most efficient plants in the industry. Why on earth would it want to tie up with a company that's still building the Buick Rendezvous? That still offers only a four-speed automatic on most of its domestic lineup? I mean, seriously?

Besides, the last time a Renault concern tied up with an American car company, it produced ... the Renault Alliance/Encore. When was the last time you saw one of THOSE on the road?

Crack is wack.

The scene is a methadone clinic on Jefferson Avenue in Detroit, about a half-mile from DaimlerChrysler's Jefferson North plant. Desiree has worked at the center for about six years, and in that time, she's seen just about everything. But not even she was prepared for what came through the door just a couple of days ago.

She'd looked up from her paperwork to check out the parking lot of the clinic, a converted Farmer Jack grocery store on the city's near east side. At just that moment, a brand new Pontiac Solstice pulled in. The driver stepped carefully out of the low-slung roadster. He was a tall man wearing a three-piece suit and exquisite Italian shoes. But as the man got closer, she realized he wasn't what he seemed. The suit was dirty, one shoe was unlaced, and the man had three days worth of stubble and eyes that seemed sunken halfway into his face.

As he entered the clinic, Desiree gasped out loud. It looked like someone she'd seen on the news talking about General Motors, but she wasn't sure it was the same guy. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Um, yeah ... " said the man, his voice trailing off as his eyes darted nervously around the room. "I, uh, need some help."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Desiree answered. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

The man nodded. She poured coffee into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to the man. With hands visibly shaking, he brought the cup to his lips and took a big gulp of the bitter black liquid inside.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Wagoner. Rick Wagoner."

"And what do you need, Mr. Wagoner?"

"I need some market share," said the man, clearly in the grip of addiction.

"Say what?" Desiree was confused.

"I ... I thought I could do it," the man said, putting his head in his hands. "I thought I could turn things around without ... them."

"Them?"

"Rebates," Wagoner answered. "Zero-percent financing. You know ... the usual. "

He took a deep breath. Clearly, talking about it was helping. "At first, I figured the product would get me through. Lutz said it would. But the G6 isn't selling -- even after that bitch Oprah gave away 300 of them. Everyone's crabbing that the Solstice doesn't have a trunk ... well, of course it doesn't, it's a freaking sports car, ferChrissake. The Impala's selling, and people like the Cadillacs, but no one's buying Buicks or Saturns. And now, gas is so expensive, no one's buying the new SUVs."

He was getting agitated. "So I figured I'd try something different. Gas price guarantees -- buy a Tahoe, I'll sell you gas at $2 a gallon. Sounded great, until those freakin' tree-huggers started breaking my stones."

Desiree watched, mouth agape, as Wagoner began to rock back and forth in the armless metal chair on the other side of her desk.

"Then, the New York Times -- the New York Freakin' Times! -- has the gall to suggest that we're trying to hurt the environment. When I read that, I guess ... I guess I just lost it."

Desiree reached over and took his hand. "And that's when the rebates started?"

"Yeah," Wagoner exhaled. "I thought I could keep them regional, but ... they just took on a life of their own. Now, we've got 0% for 6 years on just about every car except Cadillac. Rebates on the SUVs we brought out just a few months ago ... and  ... and ... " His voice cracked.

"You need help," Desiree offered.

"I need help."

Desiree knew what to do. "Just fill out this form, Mr. Wagoner. I'll hook you up on some factory-to-dealer incentives ... with maybe a morphine drip."

He looked into her eyes, and saw warmth. "Thank you so much. Say, you don't need a new car, do ya?"

She patted his hand. "No, thank you. I bought a Camry three years ago, and it's still running great."

(The preceding was fiction. I don't know if there's a methadone clinic near Jeff North, and I have no information to suggest that Mr. Wagoner is addicted to anything stronger than Diet Coke.)

It's about dang time.

So DaimlerChrysler has finally decided to sell the Smart car here in 2008. In a stroke worthy of the car's name, it'll be sold exclusively through the dealer group owned by Roger Penske, who's as smart a guy as there is in the car sales business.

I think it'll sell great in big cities like New York and Chicago, where traffic is a mess and parking is non-existent. It could even be a big enough deal in those cities to supplant the Mini Cooper as the young person's urban car of choice. Hopefully, DCX doesn't have great expectations for profits -- as its appeal beyond first-cardom and urban centers is limited. That's chiefly because it doesn't have 20" wheels and can't be ordered with a fake-convertible top or rear-seat DVD setup.