Category Archives: Uncategorized

Feeling hawkish

The Silver Hawk (1957-59) replaced the Flight Hawk and Power Hawk in the Studebaker line. (Spotted in Arnprior, Ontario)

It’s one of those cars that makes you wish you were living in the ’50s.

The part after the polio vaccine.

Anyone wandering by this stunning 1959 Studebaker Silver Hawk would assume its vibrant, triple-tone paint job, plentiful chrome and unapologetic tail fins were the product of a company awash in money and idealism.

Not true.

The 1959 Silver Hawk escaped the cost-cutting being performed by a financially desperate Studebaker.

The car this Silver Hawk was based on – the radical 1953 Studebaker Starlight, sculpted by legendary designer Raymond Loewy – did emerge in a time of seemingly limitless postwar bliss – for both America and Studebaker.

Six years later, Studebaker’s fortunes had fallen drastically, and the Indiana-based company was in what Lee Iacocca would call ‘triage mode’. An ill-fated merger with Packard and a myriad of other issues saw Studebaker in the red, leaking money, and struggling to survive.

The Loewy-designed coupes – Starlight (pillared coupe) and Starliner (pillarless hardtop) – were given a re-working for 1956 to freshen their appearance, and were expanded into five models. The Flight Hawk, Power Hawk, Sky Hawk, Silver Hawk and top-line Golden Hawk oozed ‘1950s’, but didn’t sell in enough numbers to balance the company’s books.

Powered by a 259 c.i.d. V-8, the 1959 Silver Hawk served as Studebaker's flagship during that lean year.

In the background of these glorious models, the parent company was doing everything possible to cut waste and increase revenues, with moderate (but ultimately limited) success. The stodgy Studebaker Champion was stripped down to become the entry-level Scotsman (1957-58) and the same car was chopped and shortened to become the spacious ‘compact’ Lark (1959-64).

Those models gave Studebaker just enough money to struggle onward rather than folding altogether. In the waste-cutting department, the Silver Hawk – Studebaker’s best-selling Hawk model – was kept for 1959 while the others were canned.

The ’59 Silver Hawk was available with a 170 c.i.d. inline-six making 90 horsepower, or a 259 c.i.d. V-8 making 180 or 195 horsepower, depending on carburation. Buoyed by the success of the Lark, Studebaker saw renewed interested in the Silver Hawk that year, selling 7,788 units.

For ’59, the Silver Hawk’s lettering moved to its tasteful (for ’59) tail fins.

The Silver Hawk name was abbreviated to just ‘Hawk’ for 1960 and ’61, as Studebaker soldiered on into a decade it wouldn’t survive. The body remained exactly the same for those model years, though an upgrade engine appeared in the form of the company’s 289 c.i.d. V-8 (making 210 to 225 horsepower).

A transmission upgrade was also offered in 1961.

The last of the Hawk lineage – the 1962-64 Gran Turismo Hawk – is still a classic, despite being a facelifted model based on 11-year-old architecture. Right up until its demise in 1964 (1966 in Canada), Studebaker had the uncanny ability to transform dated designs into something reflecting its era.

Call it ‘grace under pressure.’

Iron chic

1972 Buick LeSabre Custom, spotted in Edmonton, Alberta.

Low interest rates have been kind to Canadian car buyers, but they’ve served to slowly eliminate a once-common automotive entity – the beater.

You know, the rust-and-primer coated barge that just needs to make it through one more winter until its owner’s fortunes turn around? An increasingly rare presence in this day and age, and high gas prices and emissions regulations haven’t helped, either.

When so many road-going classics are now of the waxed weekly, Sunday drive variety, you really start to take notice of the beaters – especially the legitimately classic ones.

On a hot, dry day in July, this rusting land yacht beckoned to me from the side of Gateway Boulevard in south-end Edmonton, Alberta. A 1972 Buick Lesabre Custom, this rig truly fit the definition of ‘beater’.

Rusting everywhere along the lower body panels, and with a sun-faded vinyl top, this Brougham Era tank used to be a lot more commonplace. Yet, even with its rust and faded paint, its chrome still sparkled and the overall car still exuded a feeling of solidity, like a grizzled rancher who has no plans of retiring.

The LeSabre had beefier bumpers for ’72, in anticipation of federal 5-mph crash regulations coming down the pipe.

Clearly, this beast had been through many a winter, and the only reason there’s any body left is because Alberta doesn’t salt its roads.

The LeSabre was one of those ubiquitous ’70s full-sizers that, like the Caprice and LTD, seemed to make up a good part of the American landscape during its reign.

The LeSabre, slated above the Century in the Buick lineup but below the Electra 225, ran with few changes from ’71 to ’76, before downsizing shed both length and weight. Under the hood of this version was the trusty 350 c.i.d. V-8, now with Nixon-era EPA-mandated emissions controls.

A 455 c.i.d. V-8 was optional, with a badge on the front fender broadcasting your engine choice to the world. The only transmission available was the 3-speed Turbo-Hydramatic that propelled GMs from the 60s to the 90s.

The ’72s featured beefier bumpers than the previous year, an acknowledgement of the federally-mandated 5 mph bumper requirement that came into effect the following year. The ’73 bumpers weren’t nearly as graceful and form-fitting as those on the ’72.

The Electra 225 Limited was the top-end model for ’72, with the LeSabre slotting beneath it.

Times were changing in the American auto industry. Besides smog controls, Nanny State features like ‘fasten seatbelt’ lights and door ajar chimes entered Buick equipment lists in ’72. This was also the last year for full-size Buick ragtops.

The OPEC oil embargo the following year would bring a whole new world of hurt to the industry, one that nearly killed a member of the Big Three by the end of the decade.

Still, seeing this relic 42 years after it rolled of the assembly line is a reminder of how far the industry has come since that turbulent decade. And, we can’t forget that GM, and Buick, lives on today.

SVX FYI

Subaru SVX (times two), spotted near Low, Quebec.

It’s like seeing two white rhinos in one place.

That place? Rural Quebec.

Once the pride of 1990s Japan, the Subaru SVX threw all the futuristic trappings it could find into the sporty luxury coupe, which was sold in limited numbers from mid-1991 to 1996.

The most tell-tale styling cue/gimmick on the SVX (sold as the hard-to-pronounce Alcyone overseas) was the window-in-a-window treatment, which made the car look like it had just driven out of a dystopian film set in the near future.

Under the hood of the SVX, you’d find pretty much everything except a turbo. Its twin-cam 3.3-litre flat-six used the fanciest multi-port fuel injection system available at the time, complemented by platinum spark plugs and a hefty computer nanny overseeing engine functions.

All this hardware brought the car up to 231 horsepower, which was delivered to all four wheels via the only available transmission – a four-speed automatic. No manual tranny meant that the car’s sporting credentials were not complete.

A little closer: Its tires may be flat, but that block heater cord is ready for action.

Technologically advanced, and reasonably fast, the flagship SVX was by far the most expensive product offered by Subaru at the time. Productions costs were high and buyers limited, leading to a situation where Subaru lost money on each SVX they sold.

Offering front-wheel drive base models at a reduced price didn’t reverse the tepid sales trend. Despite projecting (read: hoping) that annual sales would touch the five-figure mark, less than 25,000 were sold worldwide for the entire model run – a little more than half of that number reaching North American buyers.

Subaru’s supercar was an ambitious vehicle at the time, but multiple factors ensured that it never quite measured up to its name (Alcyone – the brightest star in the Pleiades star cluster, which forms Subaru’s corporate logo).

My kingdom for a Ute

1978-79 Chevrolet El Camino, spotted in Hull, Quebec.

Of all the extinct American cars I’d like to see resurrected, the Chevrolet El Camino tops the list (the Lincoln Continental, ideally with suicide doors, is a close second).

It’s been 27 years since the last El Caminos rolled off U.S. assembly lines, bringing an end to the car-pickup era. Despite having been produced since 1959 (with a gap between ’60 and ’64), by the end of its life the midsize sedan-turned-pickup had gained a somewhat undeserved stigma as the ride du jour of hillbillies and moonshiners.

Designed to compete with the Ford Ranchero (introduced in 1957), the El Camino was initially based off the full-size Impala for ’59-60, before switching to the mid-size Chevelle platform from ’64 onwards. From 1978 to 1987, a slightly lengthened Malibu platform was put to work underpinning the fifth and last generation of El Camino. Despite being associated with the U.S. (especially the Southern U.S.), the car-pickup – aka the coupé utility, aka the ‘ute’ – was an invention and treasured automotive oddity of Her Majesty’s Commonwealth of Australia.

First marketed by Ford of Australia in 1934, the new body style was created in response to a 1932 letter from a lady who asked if they could build her a vehicle that could drive her to church on Sunday, while still being able to haul livestock on Monday.

2010-2011 Holden Ute. Since the mid-1930s, GM’s Australian division has been cranking out Utes without stopping (image: OSX/Wikimedia Commons)

The need to compete with this strange new vehicle hybrid led General Motors subsidiary Holden to bring a ute to market the following year. The Holden Ute is still in existence, and speculation has been neverending about a Chevrolet-badged version coming to our shores.*

(* Note: while I love the idea of a returning El Camino – something that probably won’t happen for years, if ever – I despise the Holden Ute’s roofline. That pinched effect where the door frame and C-pillar meet turns me off. Having the door integrated into a solid sail panel, like on El Caminos of the 60s and 70s, would eliminate this effect, and I could go back to loving it completely.)

American or Australian, the intent of the ute was to offer buyers a comfortable, car-like ride with a side of utility, made affordable by using as many existing parts as possible. And that’s the way things stayed for the El Camino (and its twin, the GMC Sprint/Caballero), though the muscle car era saw the Chevelle-based El Camino adopt the same hot powerplants and paint as its stablemate.

The El Camino Royal Knight. Just like a Trans Am. Only based on a Malibu. With a pickup bed.

The fifth and final generation of El Camino saw the ute slimmed down (as was the style in the late ’70s), now based on the midsize Malibu platform. The wheelbase gained an inch over the Malibu, but otherwise, the tradition of make do with what you have carried on. The front end of the ’78-’87 El Camino was pure Malibu.

The long doors were borrowed from the Monte Carlo coupe, while the rear tailgate was sourced from the Malibu wagon. Under the hood, the El Camino reflected the lean times it found itself in. For ’78, the base engine was a 200-cubic-inch inline six making a paltry 95 horsepower. The upgrade was the respectable and long-lived 305 cid V-8, making 145 horsepower.

A ballsy 350 c.i.d. small-block V-8 topped the range, and was the engine of choice if you were the type who longed for an eagle painted on your hood.

Three and four-speed manual transmissions came standard in lower trim levels, though most buyers opted to let the ubiquitous 3-speed Turbo-Hydramatic do the shifting for them. In ’79, the El Camino saw the stopgap 267 c.i.d. V-8 join the engine lineup, while in 1980 the base engine was dropped in favour of a 229 c.i.d. V-6 making 115 horsepower. The 350 option was also dropped that year.

The 1981 model is my favourite from this generation, mainly because Chevy ditched the egg-crate grill and went with horizontal chrome bars. Desperate to please the EPA and meet their stringent emissions requirements, GM joined most other automakers that year in adding a lockup torque convertor to their 3-speed automatic in an effort to boost highway mileage.

The following year, 1982, saw the El Camino adopt the quad-headlights and blunt front end of the refreshed Malibu, a style it would carry to its demise. GM’s notorious 350 c.i.d. diesel was offered from ’82-’84, while the 267 was dropped.

The ad says ‘Chevy Trucks’, but the El Camino was all car underneath.

Despite strong initial sales of the fifth generation El Camino, buyers drifted away and the model withered on the GM vine through most of the 1980s.

As the top photo shows, this model of El Camino (especially the pre-1982s) had some style to work with, and made the best of a two-tone paint job. Despite the stigma that grew mostly after the car ceased production, a lower-end El Camino with a V-6 and three-person bench dished out a fair bit of practicality and would have been useful in a number of situations.

And wasn’t this the original intent of the body style all those years ago in Australia?

Whether or not the El Camino rises from the ashes in North America is a question for gamblers. I figure if there was real demand for the vehicle, it would have happened by now.

Maybe the body style is too polarizing for modern sensibilities (mention the El Camino at a party and you’ll quickly see it’s either ridiculed or revered), or, maybe there are just too many new vehicles today that already have room to haul our stuff.

I’d still like to see it come back one day. And not solely as a limited-edition performance car, either – that would be GM thumbing its nose at history and the intention of the model.

Big and topless

1968 Dodge Monaco 500 convertible, spotted in Ottawa, Ontario.

I’ve said it for years – there’s something about Chrysler products from the late ’60s/early ’70s that make them seen invincible.

It just feels that regardless of what damage they could sustain – even a frame bent 90 degrees – the menacing Chrysler/Plymouth/Dodges would just get mad… and then get even.

Too many car chase movies in my youth, I guess.

The example of Mopar muscle seen here – a slightly battered 1968 Dodge Monaco 500 droptop – was once the pinnacle of luxury motoring for the Dodge division. Not just any Monaco, the massive, top-level 500 was two tonnes of compliant driving enjoyment.

Luxury conveniences were plentiful, while the power any driver of a menacing Hippie-era Dodge needed was instantly on tap. A 383-cubic inch V-8 making 330 horsepower was mated to a bulletproof 3-speed Torqueflight automatic with console shifter.

The Monaco and Monaco 500 coupes, sedans and convertibles were all based on the forgettable Dodge Custom 880 (the division’s hastily-prepared full-size offering), which ran from 1962 to 1965. The Monaco replaced the 880 in the U.S. market in 1966, and in Canada in 1967.

While the American Monaco had a 383 as the standard engine, the thrifty Canadian marketplace demanded that it also come with the 318, as well as the 225 Slant-6.

Doing what a ’74 Monaco always seemed to do best… (image: www.imcdb.org)

Looking at the bruised-but-still-kicking convertible pictured above, some of the menace fades from its visage when you imagine a Valiant-worthy Slant 6 under its hood.

While the Monaco soldiered on well into the Malaise Era (earning it lasting fame as The Blues Brothers’ car), the 500 option was scrapped after 1971. After splitting the nameplate into ‘Monaco’ (formerly, the Coronet) and full-size ‘Royal Monaco’ in 1977, a bankruptcy-bound Chrysler Corporation was forced to kill off both the following year.

Serving as the ubiquitous cop car in countless 1970s films and TV shows, the stodgy-but-tough Monaco saw its media presence last well into the ’80s, thanks to its durability and cheap resale value. Look to any episode of The Dukes of Hazzard for proof of this.

Links:

http://www.allpar.com/mopar/383.html

Breeze life away

1963 Mercury Monterey ‘Breezeway’ sedan, spotted in Meadow Lake, Saskatchewan.

There was so much happening in the early 1960s, one can be forgiven for not noticing the roofline on a mid-range Ford Motor Company product.

The Bay of Pigs invasion, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Space Race and the JFK assassination all competed for national attention in that era. But behind all the drama (not to mention the drinking and smoking), there was a movement afoot to set the often wayward middle child of the Ford family (Mercury… we’re talking Mercury) on a new and distinctive path.

While the Fords of the late 1950s were understated and didn’t go in for the styling excesses of the higher end GM and Chrysler models of the time, Mercury and Lincoln embraced them.

Fast-forward to the early 60s. Fords remained relatively conservative in appearance (read: safe) thanks to lessons learned from their short-lived 1960 styling experiment, while Lincoln had scrapped its former gargantuan and gaudy 1958-1960 body to create a timeless classic – the 1961 Continental.

The Mercury division was left somewhere in the middle, unsure of whether to appear as an uplevel Ford or a stripped Lincoln. In preparing for the 1963model year, Mercury seized on a styling cue originally marketed in their ’57 Turnpike Cruiser as a way of setting themselves apart from the other divisions.

It was impossible not to smoke ALL THE TIME in the Mad Men era, and this 1963 ad showed how the Breezeway could change your life.

The reverse-slanted, retractable rear window was just one neat-o, futuristic gimmick on a car now semi-infamous for being full of them. The Turnpike Cruiser was the ultimate Space Age dream car, but that era has now passed.

The rear window idea, however, had legs. Not only was there comfort and convenience attributes in having a back window that could open up, out of the rain, but it would make for a noticeably different roofline – something that would help set Mercury apart from both Ford and Lincoln.

For 1963, the ‘Breezeway’ roof (as it was marketed) became available on the Monterey. In addition to the distinctive roof, the ’63 Merc set itself apart from its other stablemates by way of a strong beltline and slightly concave side panels, as well as a set of triple taillights. A big 390-cubic inch V-8 came standard and provided plenty of muscle to move the large sedan around. A 427-cubic inch V-8 was optional.

Advertising at the time called attention to the new roof, depicting pleasant scenes brought about by that overhanging roofline and retractable window. One ad showed a bird taking shelter from a rainstorm under the rear lip, while others showed happy people venting their cigarette smoke out the back of the passenger cabin.

The Breezeway roof treatment set Mercury vehicles apart from their Ford siblings from 1963 to 1968.

For 1964, Mercury resurrected the higher-end Montclair and Park Lane nameplates and applied the Breezeway roof treatment to them. In ’65, designers tried to bring the model line even more upscale by giving the Mercs a Lincoln-like front end, while reducing the number of models with Breezeway roofs.

Buyers liked the Lincoln front end (offered at a much lower price than the actual luxury division) but preferred a formal roofline for sedans. This trend carried over into the similar-styled ’66 models.

For the last two years the Breezeway roof was offered (1967 and ’68), the design changed completely in order for the car to adopt the sloping beltline with ‘shoulder’ over the rear fenders that was so popular at the time. The Breezeway roof now sloped towards the front of the car like a conventional roof, except with a slight overhang that allowed the rear window to be rolled down a couple of inches.

While the ventilation effect could still be achieved, air conditioning was now becoming commonplace, and features like the Breezeway were no longer needed, or marketable.

Though it disappeared after just six model years, the Breezeway represented an interesting and successful attempt to get noticed in a turbulent and confusing time for the auto industry. Still distinctive after all these years, well-preserved models like the mint example I found in rural Saskatchewan really stand out.

It’s easy to see the appeal in a Breezeway.

Big in Japan

2014 Toyota Avalon: more style, less dust.

This won’t come as a shock to anyone who read my earlier post about being a land yacht-ophile, but I have always respected the Toyota Avalon.

It’s okay to be big, and yes, it’s okay to appeal to an older demographic that just wants a large, reliable car. A conservatively styled one, at that. One that would prefer to pamper an owner, rather than get their blood pumping.

That was not an old person joke.

Since its debut in 1995, the Avalon has always seemed like something of an anomaly. Why does Toyota, a brand known for economic, compact cars, insist on fielding a large car offering? One would think the ubiquitous (and large-ish) Camry and the offerings of luxury division Lexus would cover the lion’s share of customer’s wants and desires.

First generation (1995-1999) Toyota Avalon, featuring the absence of straight lines that characterized the decade in automotive styling (photo: TTTNIS/Wikimedia)

First generation (1995-1999) Toyota Avalon, featuring the near absence of straight lines that characterized the decade in automotive styling (photo: TTTNIS/Wikimedia)

Yet here we are, having now passed the 20th anniversary of the Avalon (first produced Feb. 21, 1994), now in its fourth generation. Clearly, the model has legs, and a purpose in the lineup. Hell, Toyota sells around 5,500 of them a month in the U.S., and sales numbers are higher now than they were two, three, four years ago.

What’s going on, and how did we get here?

As the flagship of a make, but not a company, the Avalon always made do with a single engine/transmission choice – just like its razor-sharp predecessor, the Cressida, and like other contemporary flagships. After all, who needs choice when you’ve already got it all?

For the first decade of its existence, through an extremely safe restyling job and evolutionary equipment improvements, the Avalon kept its 3.0-litre V-6 and 4-speed automatic. Let’s be clear – this isn’t exciting stuff.

Though it was always based on a stretched Camry platform, Toyota saw fit to make the body larger starting in 1999, possibly to set it apart from other Japanese sedans and position it to better rival traditional American comfort cruisers.

The Avalon quickly gained the nickname ‘Japanese Buick’, for reasons obvious to everyone.

Second generation (2000-2004) Avalon. Someone had to battle the all-new Impala. (image: IFCAR/Wikimedia)

In 2005, the Avalon grew again – both in body size as well as engine displacement. At 3.5-litres, the sole engine choice made a very respectable 280hp, while the transmission gained a cog and, for whatever reason, ‘manumatic’ shifting capability. Find me one retiree who rowed the gears on his Avalon…

Sadly, the third-generation Avalon did away with the 3-person front bench seat, a move that further set it apart from traditional American cars (which were, by then, endangered). As far as I know, this was this the last time a Japanese car offered a front bench.

Against a backdrop of financial upheaval in world markets and the near collapse of the American auto industry, the Avalon plodded a safe course through the late 2000’s. The model remained in the Toyota stable, but some would argue it played things a little too safe.

Third generation (2005-2012) was the chrome-iest and most American of the ‘Japanese Buicks’ (Image: IFCAR/Wikimedia)

During the seven years the third-generation model was produced, buyers could be forgiven for thinking it had gone out of production, such was its invisibility.

A 6-speed transmission was added to keep things mechanically up to date, while the body underwent subtle styling changes. The 2011-2012 models liberally slapped on the front-end chrome, making it the most American looking of all of the Japanese Buicks.

Then, things changed. Possibly to give it a new lease on life, for 2013 the Avalon dared to break out of its safe room, confronting potential (and return) buyers with… a full-body design change. Its super-wide lower grille opening, flowing roofline and pleasingly creased sheetmetal might have turned off some buyers, but could easily have brought more on board.

Baby got bustle…

No longer invisible, the Avalon began offering a secondary drivetrain option for the first time in its two decade existence. In this case, a gas-electric hybrid drivetrain (utilizing the Camry’s 2.5-litre four-cylinder), a needed addition to reach those ever-higher EPA-mandated mileage numbers.

The 6-speed automatic carries over as the sole transmission.

Clearly, the significant restyle had an impact on the buying public, as Avalon sales shot up starting in December, 2012 – the first month the fourth-generation model went on sale. See the link below for those numbers.

Time will tell whether the Avalon remains in Toyota’s lineup for the foreseeable future, but given the ride it’s been on over the past 20 years (and the current sales volumes), I doubt we’ll see it disappear anytime soon.

Links:

http://www.goodcarbadcar.net/2011/01/toyota-avalon-sales-figures.html

Southern belle

1930 Ford Model A Town Sedan, spotted in Charleston, South Carolina.

Anything with Henry Ford’s name stamped on it commands respect in America, even today.

That titan of industrialization, efficiency and ingenuity continues to hover over the western world with his ephemeral presence, like a spiritual elder still capable of instilling lessons in the youngest generation.

Everything Henry touched remains steeped in glowing, historical reverence, which is why it was such a treat to come across this pristine antique Ford in the warm gaslight of Charleston, South Carolina.

A mild breeze was blowing that night, as I strolled through the polite, temperate city that started the Civil War. And there she was – parked under a streetlight, her yellow wheel hubs and spokes matching the painted limestone of a nearby home and the crushed leaves underfoot.

The 1930 Ford Model A Town Sedan was a classy model for its era, but this example didn’t have the sidemounts that would really complete the package. Still, who can complain?

History collided that night. An 84-year-old car parking in the heart of a city 260 years its elder. If the country’s history was a stage play, both the car and the city would play larger-than-average roles.

Lookin’ civilized in the South.

The Ford Model A – Henry’s second runaway hit – is not a rare classic car. In fact, it’s one of the most common.

Between October 20, 1927 and March, 1932, Ford produced 4,849,340 Model A’s in a limitless variety of styles. So many were produced that parts are still plentiful, all these years later.

The Model A was conceived to replace the once phenomenally popular (but now rapidly aging) Model T, amid newfound competition from other automakers. The new model, like its predecessor, was designed to be durable, affordable, and easy to manufacture, but now boasted modern features and a dash of style.

The rock-solid, 201-cubic inch 4-cylinder under the Model A’s hood made 40 horsepower, and was mated to a 3-speed unsynchronized gearbox. Unlike the Model T, the Model A used the 3-pedal setup American drivers were becoming accustomed to.

Innovation was a Ford hallmark, and the new car didn’t disappoint – the Model A was the first vehicle to use windshield safety glass.

Henry Ford (1863-1947) was getting long in the tooth by the late Twenties, and didn’t feel like bothering to have a hand in the design of the car. This was likely for the best, as by that time, the Model T – which Ford still saw as adequate – was looking awfully primitive and stodgy.

Henry Ford, left, and his long-suffering only son Edsel are seen in this archive pic.

A design team headed up by Henry’s son (and Ford Motor Company president) Edsel Ford came up with a proper style for the new vehicle. And, unlike before, they made sure buyers of a new Model A could pick from a choice of colours.

Tough, versatile, and cheap (the starting price undercut $400), Model A’s continued to fly out of showrooms even after the stock market crash and subsequent onset of the Great Depression. Good thing they were built Ford tough, as many drivers were forced to keep them a lot longer than expected (or even live in them) due to the financial conditions of the time.

Edsel Ford didn’t outlive his father (he died of stomach cancer in 1943 at age 49), but the Model A will outlive all of us.

Thousands of examples of the relatively affordable classic roam the roadways of North America each summer (never quite reaching their claimed to speed of 65 mph), and new parts for the simplistic drivetrain are as close as a visit to Google.

“I am not a number!”

Patrick McGoohan, in The Prisoner (1967-68).

Every now and then, a group of us gets to talking about car commercials, and I get yet another chance to mention my favourite vehicle ad of all time.

No, not Lee Iacocca’s “If you can find a better car, buy it” Chrysler commercial from 1982 (though that is a classic, and pure marketing genious). I’m talking print ads.

TV commercials can be entertaining, but print ads can be everything their motion picture brethren are, too – visually arresting, thought provoking, emotionally stimulating – everything that a good commercial needs to sell you a product you don’t really need (but really, really want).

Long ago, at the dawn of the 21st century, I wrote a paper for a university advertising course I had enrolled in as a fun elective. We had just finished studying the eras of modern advertising – examining print ads from the Victorian era to the 1990s and learning the key themes that dominated each era.

I choose to focus my paper on – what else? – the world of automotive advertising, something that had always fascinated me.

Though it embraced counter-culture identity, Chrysler’s hippie-era ads still equate belonging to a group with happiness, satisfaction and status.

Focusing on the latter half of the 20th century, I worked through the counter-culture era (a period exploited by the Chrysler division, with its ‘Dodge Material’ and ‘Scat Pack’ ads), before moving on to the ‘Value Era’ of oil crisis/recession-plagued America in the mid ’70s to early ’80s (“$17 less than Caprice!”).

Rather than focusing on lifestyles, the Value Era emphasized respect for pocketbooks and bank accounts. Clearly, not the sexy, titillating stuff that had proceeded it.

A very annoying era followed these, one that seemed to define the 1990s. If you wanted to sell a car, dishwasher, or anything else in the ’90s, you had to make the buyer aware that they’d be joining a community.

Yes, the buyer would now be part of a quasi-commune populated by like-minded, like-interested people. “You’re really not alone when you buy this product, see? There are others like you.”

Depending on your world view, it was either a comforting, cosy sentiment, or an individual-destroying collectivist nightmare. And no car company adopted this strategy more than plastic-clad GM division Saturn.

Describing itself as “A different kind of company” (um, what?), Saturn’s commercials were festooned with members of the Saturn-buying community. Their print ads were part classic sales pitch, part family reunion newsletter.

A memorable 1996 episode of the sitcom Ellen poked fun at the Saturn ad campaign, depicting the title character’s friend purchasing a new ‘Rapture’, only to find herself an unwilling member of a creepy cult-like collective. After overbearing, stalker-like requests to join baseball teams and attend picnics, Ellen is forced to ‘rescue’ her friend, eventually breaking her lease agreement by holding a Rapture sedan hostage with a cigarette lighter.

“It’s okay – you can embrace your individuality now.” (image: Jaguar)

I wrote my term paper towards the end of this cloying era, or maybe at the very beginning of a new one. At the time, one memorable ad stood out – one that spoke to me personally while shattering the message spread by the likes of Saturn.

The ad, which appeared around 1999 (give or take a year) was for the Jaguar XK8 convertible – a beautiful car whether coupe or drop top. Pictured in the ad was a man driving solo (and fast) down a twisty, shade-dappled highway, with the message “Live vicariously through yourself”.

Who doesn’t want to be the guy piloting that Jag? I mean, really?

That sort of appeal is easy to understand, after all, all car ads want you to picture yourself in the driver’s seat. However, the message being telegraphed by Jaguar was decidedly different from that of the community-minded Saturn.

Live vicariously… through yourself.

Some could see this message as being indulgent, selfish and consumerist. A hedonist celebration of capitalism’s ill-gotten gains. I, on the other hand, see it as a big middle finger to the concept of collectivism – a celebration of the individual. A message that it’s okay to go your own way and enjoy life on your own terms.

Oh! Oh! Pick me! (image: Jaguar)

That one can still exist and participate within a society without having to adopt all of its norms and expectations.

That this ad originated from the country that brought us the Libertarian-themed 1960s TV show The Prisoner maybe shouldn’t come as a surprise.

(See show intro and highlights, including McGoohan’s bitchin’ Lotus Seven, here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tra3Zi5ZWa0)

Another ad for the XK8 carried the theme along with a similar, if somewhat confusing, message.

The turn of the century now seems a lifetime away, and I couldn’t begin to describe the era of advertising we now find ourselves in. Like most normal people, I try to avoid exposure to commercials as much as humanly possible.

Still, by thumbing its nose at the establishment and prevailing attitudes, Jaguar cranked out a real gem of an ad all those years ago. By reacting – and rebelling – against the norm, Jaguar created a new counter-culture.

A counter-culture of one.

Links:

http://blog.dodge.com/features/you-could-be-dodge-material-%E2%80%93-1970-dodge-charger-500-commercial/

Hot 200?

The 2015 Chrysler 200 has little in common with its predecessor (photo: NetCarShow.com)

The 2015 Chrysler 200 has little in common with its predecessor (Image: Fiat-Chrysler Automobiles)

When it comes to refreshed car models, no American vehicle departs more drastically from its predecessor than the new Chrysler 200.

Ditching the tall, bulbous body left over from the 2007-2010 Sebring, the new 200 brought with it a flowing, Audi-like roofline and body, competitive drivetrains, a taught chassis (Fiat-Chrysler’s Compact U.S. Wide platform), and upgraded interior.

In short, the 2015 Chrysler 200 was designed to be everything the 2014 200 wasn’t.

With all these attributes, the refreshed sedan was sure to be a sales hit, right?

No, there’s never a guarantee of that. The 200 leapt into an ultra-competitive field of capable mid-size vehicles, starting at a price point much higher than its bargain basement priced predecessor.

Older, Sebring-based 200’s might have flown off dealer lots thanks to drastic markdowns and fleet sales, but that can help create a stigma around a vehicle. The new 200 had to sell itself on content, not cost.

Amid a strong marketing campaign emphasizing its class-leading technology and mileage (9 speeds, people!), the new 200 went on sale in spring of 2014, on the heels of the coldest winter in decades for most of North America.

Sales figures from March to June of this year show far fewer 200 purchases than in 2013. Then, something interesting happens as summer rolls around.

In June and July, in both the U.S. and Canada, sales top monthly figures from the previous year.

In July, in the U.S., the 200 managed 8,159 sales (compared to 8,122 in 2013), while in Canada the tally was 1,331, compared to the previous year’s 947.

In August, 10,810 units rolled off U.S. lots, compared to 10,139 the year before. In Canada, Chrysler moved 1,100 examples of the new model, up from 886 in 2013.

These numbers can’t tell us the reasons behind the surge in sales, nor can they (at this point, anyway) reveal whether the rise will be sustained over time. Still, looking at it from a distance, it would be easy to speculate that the new 200 has attracted the interest of discerning buyers (who are no longer simply looking for the cheapest mid-size on the market).

Links:

http://www.goodcarbadcar.net/2011/01/chrysler-200-sales-figures.html

http://photo.netcarshow.com/Chrysler-200_2015_photo_48.jpg

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Hot 200?