Autoshow 2009

Why was I scowling at the Autoshow? Why was I angry and disappointed? Why was I rude to a Ford rep? Because the Detroit section of this year's Auto Show was a little like the most pathetic middle-school science fair you could imagine. Nothing but half-assed attempts drawn up in a fevered night of cramming, motivated by only the feeblest notions of future successes.

The massive front section of the exhibition hall was nothing but big, shiny piles of boring staffed by hungry-looking salespeople and disinterested booth babes. Bizarre hearselike concepts. Hideous, cannibalized Saabs. The sad strange horror of the 2010 Camaro.

Chrysler and Dodge had a few interesting innovations for their part. But for the most part, the spectacle of the GM/Ford section was a sea of cars I did not want, based on shopworn technology, bland design, and the overwhelming pall of failure.

I guess the reason it angered me so was the fact that the American car booths were flanked by evidence of their former glory. Local Hot Rod and classic car enthusiasts had been kind enough to bring in their beauties to show under the glare of the kleig lights. They were lovely. They were beautiful exhibits of what American cars are supposed to be. But why were they there? My sister and I couldn't help but speculate that the nostalgia value of these exquisite cars was calculated, to bring the crowds at the show back to the notion that American cars were still worth their faith. They glittered and gleamed behind velvet ropes as if to say, "Remember us? The cars you lost your virginity in? The cars you heard your first Zeppelin tape in? Remember when your big brother drove you up the twisties to Boulder Canyon in me, that summer you were still close before he left for college?"

But I think we both came to the conclusion that, compared with the sad spectacle around them, these vintage models only proved the point of how far GM, Chrysler and Ford have fallen. Instead of inspiring hope, they only exhibited the sad contrast between what Detroit once was, and what it has become in its bloated, lazy, corner-cutting old age.

what the fiat?

Personally, I think that Obama has every right to push his weight around with GM right now. I mean, we elected him, GM is now in a position where the federal government is their biggest shareholder, so by the transitive property the man the taxpayers have chosen as their representative is now the de facto chief executive of GM, right? We put Obama in charge of our money, and GM is now using our money to try and survive.

I also think that the Fiat move is one of the first truly globalized solutions proposed by this government to bring GM out of its dependence on the American federal dollar and into the world of actual free-market competition.

GM has always been exceptional, always the American trust fund baby, allowed to clutter the highways and driveways of America with cheap, ugly, gas-hungry cars that nobody really wants. It has been bailed out despite its proclivity toward creating a product that is far inferior to that of nearly every single one of its competitors (except Kia. Kia is still crap).

It's about time GM were forced to play well with others and collaborate with the innovators abroad. You know, people in Europe for whom the troublesome issues of workers' rights, unemployment and expensive fuel have been a reality for decades. Free market folks like my dad always balk when a federal body starts asserting itself over a business, but the truth about GM is that it has been entangled with the federal government and the American economy for so long that it never has been, and never truly will be, a completely private organization. America owns GM now. We need to cut off its allowance, force it to go to work, and force it, at LONG last, to learn from its numerous mistakes.

I got the white one.

I call him Felix.

2006 Scion tC, or what I dearly hope to park in front of my apartment this weekend.

I test drove the tC last night, and in the words of many a smitten young woman, I think it may be the one.

The particular year I drove was an 06, a slightly edgier, more angular-looking build than the newer 08s and 09s. Which is to say, a better-looking build than the new models, which, I think, edge too close to a sort of space-age bubbleness I'm not too thrilled with. Photos don't really do the Scion much justice. Though much has been made of the supposedly substandard paint Scion used in the first two years of the Scion brand, the graphite color of this car was subtly beautiful, playing up both the curves and angles of the design to great effect.

But enough about the outside.

Though reviews have slammed Scion for their stripped-down interiors and basic interior materials, I have to say that I was impressed with the fit and finish of the car's living space. Tough ballistic nylon-like textile covers the seats, and the dash is covered in some kind of space age polymer resembling a vinyl record. Groovy. My sister couldn't keep her hands off the myriad buttons and dials on the center, "waterfall console," which opens and closes to neatly conceal the frankly, robotic-looking stereo and climate controls.

Scion is defined as an heir, an offshoot to a great legacy. And as soon as the key is turned on the Scion ignition, you get why. This is Toyota's sexy, fun, slightly kinky daughter. While used Accords, Civics, and Corollas in this price range have left me decidedly cold with their 1.8s, 1.7s and such other sad displacement figures, the Scion's feisty 2.4 is exactly what I want, where I want it. Roaring to go under the skin of a lightweight, but well balanced vehicle.

I had just gotten used to the very squishy clutch and very small gearbox of the Saab after repairing the clutch cable this December, so the tight, responsive gears of the Scion took a lot of getting used to (though not as much as the fact that the ignition is actually up by the steering wheel, not on the center console). The gear shift asks for only the smallest of motions to change gears. My sole complaint about this is the fact that the tC really does feel like it wants a 6th gear at highway speeds. It feels like you're asking a lot of it at around 65/70.

We took the tC for a ride on roads that I am almost frighteningly familiar with- roads around Boulder that I spent my teenage years driving. I'd joyrided these curves with my Volvo (which actually cornered better than one might imagine) my sister's 90 Prelude, and, most exciting, my father's 1996 Nissan Maxima (the v6). And the tC should have been the best time I'd ever had on those roads, had I not been trapped behind a noisy, smelly Suburban taking curves at about six miles an hour. But the reason I'll probably buy this car, the reason I fell so in love with it last night, is that I could tell this car wanted to take those curves just as fast as I did.

Shopping around

I am looking for a new car. I have a pretty lean budget- like most people, but rounding up to a $200 car payment is currently a much more attractive option for me than the average of $400 a month I've been paying since November to keep the Saab in running condition. I have a list, a very specific list, because my tastes are very specific. Reliable but not boring, practical but relatively fast, and stylistically appealing. It has come down to these seven:


1. Honda Si
I'm not all too sure my image completely overlaps with the Si market. I mean, I'm not a teen aged Asian boy. However, this car appeals to my desire for something fast without sacrificing reliability or gas economy. Plus: they are very cute.

2. Subaru Impreza RS or WRX
I can't get over the sound an Impreza makes. The WRX in particular, with its sexy little boxer engine, has all the angry growl of an Italian supercar in an unassuming little hatchback. A lot of these are out of my price range by just a tiny bit, but the higher-mileage ones are scarily close. All that horsepower and all wheel drive? The thought gives me goosebumps.

3. Mazda3

I've never considered Mazdas in the past, because of their close relationship with Ford and my genetic aversion to anything with a blue oval on the grille. But the styling of the 3 is dead on, and the hatch has an added aspect of practical charm. The Mazda may be the polar opposite of a Saab convertible in both style and function, but I find that each one I see on my busy street catches my eye.

4. Honda Accord Coupe
It doesn't get much more practical than an Accord. But the 2 door coupes have always had a certain gracefulness I've preferred over the ubiquitous sedan. Plus, even with the added weight, the v6 some of them carry is a very attractive idea. I can only afford the years between 99 and 2003, but I like the older style- with that strange little flat butt- much better than the bulbous newer models.

5. Toyota Matrix
I'm a sucker for a good station wagon, and this is definitely a good station wagon. A station wagon for girls with nose studs and tattoos, like me. Killer stereo and great looks. Too bad they only made about four of them in a manual.

6. Scion tC
I really, really love this car. It is perfectly marketed to a person like me, as well: basically a Toyota but with all the sexy style points of a little Mercedes C-class coupe. And with a price point well below the European cars I so covet. I think if I can find one with the right mileage and clean title history, I'll make it mine.

7. Acura RSX
Again with the hot hatch styling and Honda reliability. This is one of the few Acuras you can find with a stick shift with ANY kind of regularity, and its little luxuries make it all the more appealing to me. Fast, fun, and pretty. I like it.

The Trollhaettan blues

I am a Saab owner. I loved my Saab, once. But as "real" Saab people will tell you, the 1996 900 was but a pale, Americanized version of the true, iconic 900. And as I now consider my very real possibility of a Saabless future, I will agree. The New Generation 900 was a model that cut corners, and put a European car price point on Chevy quality control. Considering I've known people who have taken old generation 900s well past the 200,000 mile mark, the sad state of my 900s at barely 100k is testament to a brand that was influenced by the unfortunate, calculated-obsolescence philosophy of American automaking. It is truly sad how GM changed one of the most venerable brands in the world from a name associated with jets and idiosyncratic design to one of flabby Saabarus and ill-advised crossover attempts.

The beauty of Saab was that it never tried to appeal to the Average American. Saab owners were never average. They were people who could never settle for a throwaway American car or an German "I'm Better Than You"-mobile. The eccentrics, the geeks, the niche. A search inside the books of Amazon.com brings up any number of descriptive paragraphs in which writers, artists, sexy indie rock girls in glasses (ahem) or musicians speed off in their 900s. Saabs were never meant to be commuters, daily drivers, an SUV for your 3.5 children and your Golden Lab, and no matter how much GM tried to make it that way, they were going to fail.

And fail it did. And now as the fate of Saab hangs in the balance, I have to say, this is a good thing. Now we have the opportunity, as we do with all automakers at this point, to start for square one and really evaluate the car-buying public. For the first time in ages, carmakers have to think of what their customers want and need, rather than what focus groups and price points have to say. Perhaps Saab, as an independent automaker, will have to return to its off-the-beaten-bath roots, the base that made it great.

1982 in all its glory

I read this news several times before I truly realized that this means auto sales are the lowest they've been in nearly my entire lifetime.

This got me thinking though... I imagine that while some of the reasons 1982 was a lousy car year are probably the same reasons 2009 will be (tight credit markets, poor consumer confidence, etc) another reason might be just that the 1982 model year saw some of the most god-awful cars ever to roll over the planet. At least these days there are a few bright points of design and innovation... all they had in 1982 was the promise of glacially-slow power windows and faux walnut on the heater controls.

If you will, a gallery of 1982 design:



The 1982 Chevy Caprice.

The two-tone paint/vinyl look was big in the late 70s and early 80s, and that's about the only distinctive characteristic the Caprice can claim. This thing looks like a brown corduroy suit with braces.



The 1982 Cadillac Seville.

Does anything embody the renewed conservative promise of the Reagan years better than this hunchbacked, horrible doorstop of a car? Can any other car claim to be as perfectly matched to the spirit of the 1980s Republican Party than this hideous bastion of a trickle-down economy? This car is all angular suits, brick-shaped cell phones, "greed is good," casual coke use, marbled mirrors in the bathroom, "put the his-and-hers brown velour bathrobes on my gold card, baby" early 1980s slime. Gross.



The 1982 Ford Mustang.

Oh, how the American sports car had fallen by this point. Like a mighty wolf stunted and inbred into a snorty French Bulldog, the Mustang had become little more than a Dirt Devil with seats by 1982. So sad. So ugly.

And lest you think I'm just pounding on Detroit steel here, there were imports that were just as bad:



The '82 Celica.

Resembling a sedan whose butt-end is in the process of getting sucked through a black hole, this little piece of Asian pseudo-sporty was sadly underpowered from three generations of overengineering. Those in search of a fun Toyota would have to wait an entire model year for the 1983 GT-S model to come along.



The 1982 Citroen 2CV.

I used to think these were cute. But now I know that the only people who could roll with the Citroen 2CV look are Captain Beefheart and French cartoon hero Tin Tin.



The 1982 Renault "Le Car"

But possibly the worst car, the absolute nastiest vehicle on the dismal 1982 market, was the "Le Car." From its condescendingly faux-francophilic name to its laughable Eurotrash looks, this AMC/Renault showed the world just how far the quality of Franco-American collaboration had slipped since the American Revolution. And this Mork-and-Mindy rainbow van version may just be the stupidest looking car I've ever seen. It seems they were really reaching for a specific target market with this design. Like ambiguously gay guidance counselors who needed a way to haul their drum sets to jazz band practice.