Special Car, auto, cars, vehicles

Except there's one small problem: Sales of the Prius last month were about half the level they were in November 2007. Meantime, helped by deep discounts -- up to $6000 on some 2008 models -- Ford F-150 sales for November were down just 18.5% compared with November last year, while Chevy Silverado sales were down just 22%.

Obviously, the meltdown in the economy accounts for some of the fall-off in Prius sales: Toyota's total volume in November was down 32% as fearful, credit-crunched customers stayed away from dealerships in droves. But the fact that gas in the U.S. now costs, on average, less than half as much as it did in the summer, is undoubtedly having an effect. The 8660 Priuses Toyota sold last month compares starkly with the 21,000-plus it sold in April as gas raced toward the $4/gallon mark. It also compares starkly with the 37,911 F-150s and 29,534 Silverados shifted by Ford and Chevy dealers in November despite frozen credit and swirling rumors of bankruptcy.

The Prius problem highlights the major challenge facing any bailout of the Detroit Three. If Toyota, allegedly the smartest guys in the room when it comes to the auto biz, can't figure out what American consumers want one month to the next (as of a few months back the Tupelo plant was actually slated to build Highlander SUVs) how on earth is Capitol Hill, or any so-called "car czar" for that matter, going to be able to figure out which direction Detroit's salvation lies? Building Prius clones? Or pickups? Which will give us the best chance of getting our loan money paid back?

There's no question gas prices will rise again once the global economy climbs out of the crater and demand for oil picks up. But as of right now, no one has any idea when that might happen and how fast gas prices might rise. Goldman Sachs recently forecast oil would slump to $30 a barrel, but these are the same geniuses who predicted it would hit $200 a barrel earlier this year. So it's anyone's guess, although futures for deliveries beyond 2013 are trading above $75 a barrel.

Against that background, full-size pickup trucks look like they could still be profitable business for a leaner, lower cost, slimmed-down Detroit for a few years yet.

As has been widely reported, it now looks likely President Bush will allow some of the TARP bank bailout funds to be used to throw GM and Chrysler a financial lifeline. The specter of a massive jump in unemployment -- and what that would do to an economy already reeling from a collapse in consumer confidence -- seems to have gotten the attention of even the hardliners in the White House. "If the auto industry goes belly up now," Vice President Dick Cheney told talk show host Rush Limbaugh, "there's a deep concern that would be a major shock to the system." D'oh...

Of course, any money doled out by the White House this week won't solve the problem. All it will do it buy time -- little more than three months -- to leave the freshly minted Obama administration between a rock (letting the Detroit Three fail and dealing with the grim social and economic cost of 12% unemployment within two years) and a hard place (pouring what has been estimated at $75 to $125 billion into creating a retooled Detroit that will almost certainly be composed of fewer companies making fewer vehicles).

President-elect Obama has said he won't let the American auto industry fail. But will he see pickup trucks as part of the solution? Or part of the problem that got Detroit in this mess in the first place.

Dodd is not exaggerating. During today's hearing Wagoner admitted GM had investigated acquiring Chrysler a month or so back, but had abandoned the idea because it was running out of money: "...we were concerned we did not have the liquidity to survive until the deal closed." Senator Bob Corker from (R-TN) made this point: "GM is the reason we are here. There is no way we would be having these meetings if GM was not having problems." UAW chief Ron Gettelfinger told the assembled Senators: "Unless something changes, General Motors will be bankrupt by the end of the month."

No-one disagreed with him.

Here are some of the key themes to come out of today's hearing:

• The actual bailout bill could be $75 billion to $125 billion

Mark Zandi, chief economist, Moody's Economy.com, attending as an expert witness, claimed the $34 billion requested by the Detroit Three would not be enough to avoid bankruptcy in the next two years. Zandi contends the new car market will not recover as quickly as the Detroit Three anticipate. The credit crunch will continue to keep customers out of showrooms, and that the frenzied discounting of the past decade has led to a pull forward of demand that has yet to work through the system. He says a market of 17 million units -- close to the average of the past few years -- "is not supportable by underlying demand".

• Bankruptcy is not an option

Rick Wagoner confirmed fears over a possible bankruptcy had already begun to impact GM sales. "It is clear the overhang surrounding bankruptcy is affecting certain buyers." Ford Boss Alan Mulally claimed American consumers needed to believe in the company they were buying their cars from. Bankruptcy would mean "sales would fall off so fast we couldn't restructure". Mark Zandi pointed out the automakers would not get the financing they needed to work through a Chapter 11 bankruptcy in the current environment, so the government would likely have to provide that money. The taxpayers would therefore be on the hook "no matter what". "We recognize bankruptcy is not an option," said Senator Elizabeth Dole (R-NC).

• There should be a government-appointed "car czar" with wide powers

The need for strong oversight to ensure public funds were being applied correctly was a recurring theme among the senators questioning the Detroit Three CEOs, mainly, as committee chairman Dodd implied in his closing remarks, because it was felt the banks had gotten public money with too little clear direction as to how it was to be used. All three CEOs agreed with the idea of an oversight board or a trustee to monitor how loan money be used, even if that body or person had the power to impose sweeping restructuring conditions.

• GM and Chrysler should merge

"No thinking person thinks three companies can survive," said Senator Corker, who questioned Chrysler CEO Bob Nardelli at length as to why Ceberus would not make further investments in the company. "Chrysler doesn't want to be a stand alone business," he said, adding that it troubled him any loan to Chrysler would simply allow Cerberus to keep the company operating long enough to find a suitable buyer. He described a consolidation or merger of GM and Chrysler as "the kinds of things we need to force to make happen". "Everything I've seen suggests a merger between GM and Chrysler is a good idea," said Senator Bob Bennett (R-Utah), who claimed the two companies didn't need loans but an injection of government money he called "patient capital". Bennett then asked if GM and Chrysler would agree to a merger if it was made a condition of receiving government money. "I would be very willing to look at it," said Rick Wagoner. "The first job that would go would be mine," said Nardelli, "but if that's the criteria ...I would do it."

• Only $17 billion -- for now

Economist Mark Zandi recommended any money be paid in two tranches. As GM claims it needs $10 billion to get through into the first quarter of 2009, and Chrysler $7 billion (Ford's Alan Mulally stuck to the line the Blue Oval may not need to touch the $9bn credit line it's requesting) it was suggested this amount be paid, and a review set for March 31 next year to see whether restructuring plans were on track. The "car czar" or oversight body would then decide whether more money would be paid.

• The UAW needs to give up more

Senator Corker pressed UAW chief Gettelfinger hard on the issue of more concessions. GM's core problem, Corker said, was its debt level. He believed it would be necessary for GM's bond holders to accept 30 cents for every dollar of debt they held by March 31 (roughly a 50 percent premium over what it is currently trading for) to reduce the debt burden. But he said it was unreasonable to expect the bond holders "to take a haircut" without the UAW giving up more. Specifically, he wanted Gettelfinger to agree to cut UAW wage rates to the same level as that paid in transplant factories "and not a penny more", and wanted 50 percent of the $35.5 billion GM was due to pay into the union-owned VEBA fund by 2010 to be taken in the form of equity.

Tomorrow the CEOs sit down in front of the House Financial Services Committee for another grilling. While Chris Dodd took a swipe at the Bush Administration for not making some part of the TARP funding quickly available to help automakers, noting drafting legislation in the next 72 hours to ensure funding would be a mammoth task, he did say "...inaction is not an option". It's a long way from a slam-dunk, but the mood in Washington seems to be tilting towards a bailout. Whatever happens in the next few days is still open to plenty of speculation. But this much is clear: Detroit has changed forever.

In the white-hot crucible of the European mainstream market, products like the Ford Ka, Fiesta, Focus and Mondeo, and the Opel Agila, Corsa, Astra and Insignia hold their own against rivals from Germany, France, Italy, and -- yes -- Japan and Korea. More importantly, these Fords and GMs compete against VWs, Renaults, Fiats, Toyotas and Hyundais on style, performance, handling, efficiency, innovation, not price.

Both Ford and GM have been quick to move into emerging markets. GM has a 10 per cent share of the Chinese market -- second only to Volkswagen, the first western automaker to move into manufacturing in China -- and last year sold twice as many Buicks there as it did in the U.S. GM also has 20 percent of the Russian market, 22 percent of the Brazilian market, and last year its sales growth in India outstripped that of Hyundai. Before the global economic collapse emerging markets accounted for 35 percent of total GM sales, and helped boost total GM sales outside of North America to 65 percent of the company's total volume earlier this year.

Ford lags behind GM in China and India, but it was one of the first western automakers to invest in Russia, establishing an assembly plant near St. Petersburg in 1999. It now has 10 percent of the Russian market, selling more cars in a week than it did in a year when it started. Emerging markets now account for about 25 percent of Ford's global sales.

Before the bozos on Wall St. drove the world's economy off a cliff, both Ford and GM planned further significant investments in emerging markets. Here's why: In the U.S. there are more than 900 cars and personal use trucks already on the road for every 1000 people of driving age. In Europe, where cities are more densely packed, and there is a more effective public transport network, there are still more than 600 vehicles per 1000 people of driving age. But in Russia, that number is under 200, Brazil it's about 130, China 30, and India under ten.

With those four countries alone accounting for about 42 percent of the world's population, the growth potential is huge. Assuming the global economy gets back on track, China will soon surpass the U.S. as the world's largest auto market, and Russia will surpass Germany as Europe's largest within a few years. In Brazil, sales have been growing at the rate of 30 percent a year for the past two years.

Apart from the fact the Ford and GM experiences overseas suggests the senior management do know something about running an auto business, and the companies do know how to build competitive products, all this raises some interesting questions.

First, if Ford and GM can be competitive in other markets around the world, why not here in the U.S.? What special factors are preventing Ford and GM performing here more like they do in the rest of the world? Is it solely a problem with management? Unions? Product? Or is it a wider structural problem with the U.S. economy?

And then there's this: If they can survive the impact of the economic meltdown on their North American operations, Ford and GM currently look well positioned to profit from the explosive growth in demand for cars and trucks in emerging markets over the coming decade or so. So does it make sense to just let them die?

I was thinking about this over the weekend as I tiptoed a Land Rover LR3 through a forest ablaze with fall color on the 8000 acre Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. Tricky climbs, heart-stopping descents, deep waterholes, nasty ruts, chassis-twisting undulations: It was a walk in the park for the LR3, our 2005 Sport/Utility of the Year winner.

I learned to drive in an early 1960s Land Rover Series II with about a million miles on the clock and no synchro on first or second gears. It went damn near anywhere, that old Landie, but it was a visceral ride; all sweat and muscle when the going got tough. In the LR3, Land Rover's impressive Terrain Response System, which electronically links all the vehicle sub-systems -- suspension, differentials, throttle, transmission, braking -- and optimizes them to suit the surface you select from a menu on the center console, does most of the heavy lifting.

One thing hasn't changed, though: Although you might be travelling at little more than walking pace, serious off-roading is driving every bit as technical and challenging as hot-lapping a racetrack. You're constantly thinking about the physics at work in the interplay between vehicle and surface; always aiming to place each wheel with millimetric accuracy. The most notable difference is that, if you make a mistake off-roading, you usually have a lot more time to think about it as the consequences unfold before you in slow motion.

The Land Rover LR3 is a lot like a Porsche 911: Function has been transcended by fashion. Many owners buy the style or the badge rather than the ability; few have any real idea what their vehicle can do, and fewer still have gotten anywhere near the limits of its performance. Demonstrating to folks what the Land Rover badge really means is the idea behind the Land Rover Experience Driving School.

The Land Rover Experience Driving School at Biltmore Estate (it uses land around the stunning 250-room Biltmore House built by George W. Vanderbilt in the late 1800s) is one of four in North America. The others are in Manchester Village,Vermont, Carmel, California, and Montebello, Quebec. The schools offer everything from one-hour tasters for people who have never ventured off the blacktop, to full-day advanced winch-and-recovery techniques for those who understand that a four-wheel-drive vehicle, however accomplished, does not transcend the laws of physics.

As we noted during this year's Sport/Utility of the Year evaluation, the term SUV is now applied to everything from high-riding hot-rods (BMW X6, Infiniti FX) to 21st-century riffs on the traditional full-size station wagon (Ford Flex, Chevy Traverse). Form following marketing, I guess. Like a track day in a Porsche 911, my drive in the Land Rover LR3 at Biltmore Estate was a welcome reminder of a deeper truth, however: Form still follows function.

Looming over everything is the aftermath of The Nightmare on Wall Street. No-one you talk to here expects all three of Detroit's automakers to survive the credit crunch intact. Chrysler is widely regarded as the weakest link and the most likely to fail or be absorbed, though most people merely nod sagely when you explain that at the current rate it is burning cash, GM has maybe 12 to 24 months to live. A year ago they would have called you crazy.

Ford's in scarcely better shape, but the view here is Alan Mullaly's decisive moves to dramatically downsize the company have at least given it a head start over the other two. And maybe a shot at survival.

It's easy to think of the credit crunch as only really affecting the vulnerable Detroit Three. But otherwise healthy automakers are also deeply worried. The long faces among execs working for Japanese automakers betray the strain of dealing with sudden 20 to 30 percent slumps in sales. Even the upscale brands are stressed -- I heard the suggestion one high-margin, highly successful European automaker could only afford to support its dealers at current levels for 16 months before the company would run into serious financial problems.

There's blood on the concrete at dealerships all over the country. One prominent dealer told me his business was currently running at 25 percent the level it was seven or eight years ago. "We've been used to growth," he said. "Now we're having meetings every day trying to figure out how we can get back to profitability." He paused for a second, then smiled: "At least at SEMA we can enjoy some escapism for a couple of days."

How true.

Pro-Street Rolls-Royce
We're used to seeing Rollers at SEMA -- even this year there were at least two Phantom Drophead Coupes on display. But most are simply high-priced show ponies for uber-bling wheels, primly stock in every other way. This Pro-Street Silver Shadow is the real SEMA deal, however -- slammed and tubbed, with a blown Hemi metal mountain thrusting through the hood. Inside is a lot of leather. But no burl walnut.

Rothmans Porsche 962C
I started in this business in the early 80s as a freelance motor sport reporter in Australia, hustling stories as a way of getting up close and personal to fast cars and fascinating people. And maybe make a couple of bucks here and there along the way. By 1985 I had landed a job on a mainstream buff book, giving me the opportunity to occasionally see first hand the best racers in the world compete on tracks I'd read about all my life. The Rothmans Porsche 962s ran in the World Sports Car Championship in the mid-80s, a series that rivaled Formula 1 for excitement and manufacturer involvement. I think I saw this particular car race at Spa-Francorchamps in 1987. It's most famous, however, for winning the Le Mans 24 Hour race that year, breaking a run of wins by the all-conquering Silk Cut Jaguars, and causing then Jaguar boss Sir John Egan to utter the immortal line: "God must be a German".

Matte and gloss
One of the fun parts of SEMA is trying to spot the trends. One of the obvious ones this year was tone-on-tone matte-gloss paint jobs. This Nissan GT-R was one of a number of cars with variations on this theme. Another that caught my eye was a very cool Challenger with a gloss black lower, matt black upper, and gloss black racing stripes over the hood, roof and trunk.

Get smart
Though Ford tried hard with the Flex, the tiny smart fourtwo was -- along with the Dodge Challenger -- one of this year's "it" cars at SEMA. The smarts ran the gamut from mild to wild (George Barris had one pimped as a baby Batmobile). My favorite was this neat little one from German tuner Carlsson. It had been lowered, fitted with 16in front and 177in rear wheels and bigger tires, and had a sports exhaust with quad outlets. Carlsson boss Markus Schuster wondered aloud whether there would be a market for a modded smart in America. What do you think? We'll be testing this one when it's shipped to LA after the show, so stay tuned.

Closing the circle
This is how it began. Could it also be how it ends? The Jeep J8 "Sarge" is a military-spec version of the JK Jeep. It rolls on a 116in wheelbase, and is offered as a two or four door. It can be configured as a light troop carrier, ambulance, or cargo truck. Chassis upgrades allow the J8 Sarge to tow and carry much heavier loads than a regular JK Jeep. Under the hood is a 2.8-liter four cylinder turbo-diesel making 158hp and 295lb-ft of torque, driving all four wheels through a five speed automatic transmission. Jeep started out as an all-purpose motorized mule for the Allied forces in World War Two. The J8 Sarge has a rugged honesty that too many of Jeep's modern products lack -- step forward Commander, Compass and Patriot. Maybe that's why I liked it.

By now you've probably seen all the big-name star cars and trucks on our SEMA show pages. But there's a lot of cool stuff on the smaller stands, too. So here are a few cars that caught my eye while dashing between meetings.

Dan Webb's Streamliner Coupe
This gorgeous, jewel-like retro rod is a recreation inspired by the streamlined 1916 Miller coupe, the world's first enclosed race car, driven by legendary racer Barney Oldfield. Almost every piece of this car has been handmade by Dan Webb and his crew, from the steering wheel to the seat to the beautifully curved aluminum panels. There are details to die for in this car, from the way the exhaust exits right at the tip of the car's pointed tail, to the Miller-style grille, to the trick motorcycle disc brakes that are almost as large as the front wheels.

Galpin Scythe
I saw this car come together at the Galpin Auto Sports shop as the guys were working on the Motor Trend Flex. To say Scythe is a wild custom is a bit like saying Heidi Klum is attractive; would you believe this thing started life as a Mustang convertible? Scythe is a love it or loathe it car. Most of the hot-rod establishment loathe it. Ford design chief Peter Horbury just rolled his eyes when asked about it. Scythe channels Ed "Big Daddy" Roth, creator of some of the wackiest customs that defined the early '60s -- no surprise given Galpin Auto Sports boss Beau Boeckmann is a huge Roth fan, and has just spent a fortune restoring a long-lost Roth hot rod, the Orbitron. Scythe is the sort of car that 40 years ago I would have been building as a 1/24th-scale plastic model. Maybe that's why I kinda like it.

1951 Henry J Wagon
The great thing about SEMA is that even cars that were ugly orphans in their heyday get their opportunity to shine. Built by Kaiser, the odd-duck Henry J was an attempt at building a cheap, no-frills compact car, and launched just as Americans started to celebrate the end of wartime austerity by buying bigger, faster, more extravagant automobiles. The Henry J sedan had a hunchback roofline, and nascent tailfins. It was never going to make an attractive wagon, but this slammed, tubbed, and trimmed street machine is somehow strangely appealing. The wood trim, by the way, is actually hand painted.

1951 Mercury
I'm a sucker for a trick flame job -- and for early-'50s Mercurys. Put the two together and, well, I just had to grab a snap. I love the contrast between vibrancy of the modern paint and the decidedly old-school custom touches such as the lakes pipes, the full wheel covers, and the spotlights on the windshield posts. Interesting, too, that this is one of the few early Merc customs that hasn't been chopped.

Camaro GS Racecar
"Tell me your favorite," said Camaro design director Tom Peters the night before SEMA opened. GM may have scaled the number of people it sent to SEMA this year, but it didn't stint on the Camaros. Okay, Tom, here goes: My favorite Camaro on the stand is the GS Racercar concept, which recalls the iconic blue-and-yellow car raced by Mark Donohue in the 1969 Trans Am series. I grew up watching Trans Am-style Mustangs and Camaros duke it out on the track with Holden Monaros and Chevy Novas and Lotus Cortinas and Mini Coopers in Australia in the late '60s and early '70s. I'd love to see Trans Am-style racing back again. You know, with real cars. Not tube-framed identicars with different badges painted on them.

That's all for now. I've got more meetings today, but I'm hoping to grab a few minutes off to walk the halls. With my camera ready.

So what is it about Buick? Welburn, a lifelong Buick fan (his father had a Bill Mitchell-era Riviera), thinks it's because of Buick's storied design heritage. After dross like recent LeSabres, Regals, Centurys, it's easy to forget that GM's first concept car, the Y-Job, was a Buick styled by Harley Earl, or that Bill Mitchell's 1963 Riv was one of the absolute high watermarks of 1960s auto design. Period.

Welburn could be right. But what's more interesting -- and, I suspect, what really has GM's hot young designers juiced -- is the way Buick is morphing into something completely unrelated to its past.

As we reported earlier today, GM will unveil a sedan concept at the Beijing show in a few weeks' time. It will be called Invicta and will likely hint at the forthcoming 2010 Lacrosse replacement, a car known internally as GMX353 and built off the next generation Epsilon 2 architecture.

The Invicta follows last year's Riviera concept, one of the stars of the Shanghai show, and like the Riviera, was largely styled in GM's Shanghai studio. Buick is GM's hero brand in China, accounting for about one-third of the million or so GM vehicles the company sells there. That explains the Shanghai styling connection: Buick's future depends on designing cars that primarily appeal to consumers in what will soon be the world's largest auto market.

Buick is morphing into the world's first Chinese-American brand. And wouldn't it be ironic if Shanghai's sharp new Buicks helped make one of America's iconic auto nameplates cool again?

I've just spent two days and about 600 miles in the Phantom Coupe, driving from the factory at Chichester in the south of England to Crozet, just outside Geneva. A long-distance trip like this is exactly what Rolls-Royce says the car was designed to do, though in truth the folks who can afford to spend $400,000 on a two-door coupe are more likely to use their Rolls-Royce-powered private jet for the journey.

I guess that only goes to prove money is wasted on the rich because the Phantom Coupe is a very pleasant device in which to cross a continent. Under a hood long enough to double as the flight deck of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier is the now-familiar BMW-based 6.75L V-12, with 453 hp on tap at 5350 rpm and 531 lb-ft of torque at 3600 rpm. Rolls-Royce claims 75 percent of the torque is available from just 1000 rpm, though, in practice the big V-12 likes to rev, becoming more responsive as engine speeds build.

While much of the rolling stock -- front and rear suspension, hubs, wheels, brakes -- is shared with the Phantom, the Coupe rolls on a wheelbase that's 9.85 in. shorter than the sedan's. The smooth-shifting ZF 6HP32 six-speed automatic transmission is also shared. Detail changes include revised spring rates to stiffen the ride, a thicker rear stabilizer bar to improve turn-in, and reprogrammed power steering. The brake modulation has been tweaked to provide more aggressive tip-in, and the transmission has been remapped with different shift points.

Even so, the Phantom Coupe feels...languid. Its natural rival, the Bentley Brooklands coupe, launches like a Saturn V, accompanied a rolling-thunder soundtrack that resembles the USS Missouri delivering a broadside. The Rolls oozes away from a standstill with the quiet murmur of a Buckingham Palace garden party. Hit the sport button on the giant steering wheel, and the car will launch in first gear instead of second and hold on to each gear longer. Selecting sport mode also sharpens the steering response, though in no way could you call the result truly sporty.

Like the Phantom sedan, the Coupe is best driven with your fingertips, guided rather than hustled. Driven smoothly, the Phantom Coupe is deceptively quick, though it's clearly best suited to fast, open roads than sinuous mountain passes. On the freeway it's so smooth, so quiet -- and so big -- you easily find yourself wafting along at an effortless 100 mph.

I arrived here at Crozet a few hours ago, relaxed and ready to watch the sunset with a chilled glass of champagne on the hotel terrace. Instead, I came back to my room to write this and a first-drive story for Motor Trend magazine. Like the rest of us, I might not be able to live how the super-rich live. But at least I've driven their car.

We'll have a more complete story on the Rolls-Royce Phantom Coupe -- with more photos -- here at motortrend.com in the next couple of days.

The rich, as F. Scott Fitzgerald once observed, are different from you and me. I remember when the Phantom was launched in 2003, more than a few of my colleagues openly questioned whether there were enough people in the world with the means to spend what many of us would spend on a reasonable house on something they would only park in their garage. Apparently, there are.

So here's a profile of your typical Rolls-Royce Phantom owner: They generally own two to three homes and have five to seven cars, with typically a Mercedes-Benz S-Class, a Bentley, and a Range Rover (well, you need something to run down to the marina) among those sharing the garage with the Phantom. One in three has access to a private jet, and most have at least $1 million sitting in the bank not doing much.

The Unites States is unique in that it's the only country in the world where Rolls-Royce dealers routinely hold inventory. Elsewhere, buyers spend time ordering their Phantom exactly to their requirements ("You want leather the same shade as your wife's favorite Chanel bag? No problem, sir") and some even travel to the factory to watch their car being built.

Not here, though. Between 80 and 90 percent of buyers walk in, check out a Phantom on the showroom floor, and drive it away that afternoon. Financing is not an issue, as basically most of these guys effectively pay cash. They drive a hard bargain, however, says my source: "These are smart business people and tough negotiators. They are not careless with their money." Very few Phantoms are leased.

For that reason, perhaps, even though Rolls-Royce boasts a bespoke color palette of 44,000 different hues, some 40 percent of Phantoms sold here are black, with white, silver and dark blue accounting for the majority of the rest. Boring lot, these dealers, though you probably wouldn't want to bet your commission on trying to shift a salmon pink Phantom on spec, either. Even so, the typical Phantom runs about $20,000 to $25,000 in options, usually special wood and leather trim combinations chosen by savvy dealers. Triple black -- black paint, black leather, and black piano-finish wood -- has been a popular seller. Pictured is the Rolls Phantom Tungsten, a special-edition model that sounds perfect for U.S. showrooms.

I find all this faintly depressing. The Rolls-Royce Phantom is a glorious automotive experience. I love the stately manner in which a Phantom glides down the road, even at 100 mph. I love the imperious view over that long runway hood, past the Spirit of Ecstasy. I love the lounge room interior that quietly reveals the high technology contained within only when you need it.

Riding in a Phantom seems to make this hyper-wired, interconnected, multi-tasked world run a little slower, which is why it's one of the few cars in the world that truly makes you feel special, that truly defines that much abused term -- luxury. Yet most of these guys seem to put no more thought into buying one than they would plucking a new Camry off the lot. F. Scott Fitzgerald was right. The rich are different from you and me.

Don't get me wrong, the X6 -- in this case the six-cylinder version -- is an impressive piece of work. The 3.0-liter turbocharged engine is smooth and torquey and punches the X6 hard away from the lights. The ride is beautifully controlled, a huge improvement on the first-gen X5, which bounced around like a Conestoga wagon on the Oregon Trail. It changes direction with near sport-sedan alacrity.

But driving the BMW X6 hard is a bit like watching an elephant tap dance -- you're left faintly bemused by the whole act, but not entirely sure it belongs anywhere outside a circus. I couldn't help wonder how much time and effort it took the BMW engineers to make this 4894-pound truck perform like, well, a BMW. More to the point, I wondered whether deep down the BMW engineers, car guys all, thought the X6 a waste of their talent. You see, good as it is, the X6 is still a truck. A perfectly pointless truck.

A Ferrari 599GTB has a point. A Toyota Prius has a point. A Ford F-150 has a point. But what, exactly, is the point of a BMW X6? Despite all the clever engineering, it still manages to artfully combine all the disadvantages of a tight-fitting coupe with all the downsides of a big SUV. The result is a vehicle that can't go off-road or carry as much stuff as a regular SUV and doesn't quite go around corners as well -- or use fuel as efficiently -- as any comparable BMW car.

I guess the point the X6 proves is the auto business has long ceased to be about transportation. The auto business is really a fashion business. The X6 exists only because BMW's marketing mavens are convinced there are enough of you out there who want an SUV that thinks it's a coupe. And judging by the approving looks and thumbs up grins our test X6 is generating on L.A.'s streets, it seems they might be right.

Hold on. What about a Ferrari 599GTB? Or an Audi R8? Yes, I love them both, but I know I'll never be able to afford to own either. The M3 is different. Sure it's expensive -- the car I was driving this morning stickers at $72,795 -- but I like to dream that once the kids are through college in a couple of years, I might just be able to make that nut if I work hard enough.

I liked the new M3 from the moment I drove it in Spain last year. But the dual-clutch transmission takes the car to a whole new level, providing the perfect synthesis between the hair-trigger 4.0L V-8 under the hood and the preternaturally alert, agile chassis.

I ran close to 100 miles on deserted switchback roads this morning, and this car made me feel like Robert Kubica on a qualifying lap. I went deeper under brakes, punched harder out of corners, pinballed faster through switchbacks than I've ever done before, the transmission firing off shifts as fast and crisp as those in Kubica's BMW Sauber F1 racer as I fanned the paddles.

In full commando mode (a button on the center console allows you to choose from five different shift speeds), you get a touch of shift-shock as the transmission harnesses the rotational inertia of the engine as it sheds revs to ensure there's absolutely no delay in forward motion. Downshifts are accompanied by an instantaneous explosion of revs.

Default setting is midway between race fast and schmooze slow and delivers the same neat shifts as you get in the VW and Audi dual-clutch trannies. In schmooze mode, it's as seamless as a CVT, a million times better than the dull-witted SMG that blights the M5, and making the regular six-speed stick feel like you're wrestling a tire iron through a drum of molasses.

Would I take the dual-clutch M3 over the similarly priced Nissan GT-R? In a heartbeat. The GT-R is an awe-inspiring piece, a triumph of technology. But it's about as engaging to drive as a PlayStation console: a curiously soulless contraption that staggers you with its sheer performance, but leaves you wondering whether it actually needs you behind the wheel at all.

And the more you drive the big, heavy GT-R, the more you become aware an awful lot of computers are working awful hard to keep the whole thing on the road. You feel sheer mass working against the Nissan every time you change direction, and the gigabytes sweating to keep up. It works its front tires very hard, and all the on-board systems are designed to convince you otherwise.

The M3 is lighter, more agile, more truthfully tactile. There's more front-end grip and more clarity in the steering. You know exactly what every corner of the car is doing, all the time. Caught out by a vicious crest on the exit of a swooping turn, I felt the M3 get airborne, then felt it land, cat-like, the touchdown of each wheel clearly telegraphed. On this morning's roads -- sometimes smooth and sweeping, but more often lumpy and laden with tight curves and sudden heaves and crests -- I truly doubt the GT-R would have been much faster.

And when the fun finishes; when you have to schlep back down the freeway, or through stop-start traffic downtown, the M3's the far nicer car to live with. The ride, though still firm, is more compliant, and there's far less crashing and banging from the suspension. The BMW's transmission has none of the audible grumbling and clunking of the GT-R's dual clutch unit, either. The M3's rear seat is more useable, and so is its trunk.

The GT-R looks like it jumped off the pages of a manga comic. The M3 is as suave as George Clooney in a Brioni tux. It's at once a truly inspiring sport sedan and a genuinely relaxed, sophisticated daily driver. Now, where's that 401(k) paperwork?

The 2009 BMW 750Li is a bit like that: It carefully airbrushes away everything that made its predecessor, the E65, one of the most confronting BMWs ever built. The "Bangle Butt"? Psssht! The tank-like proportions? Psssht! The dash that looks like a piece of furniture; the column-mounted shifter; the odd-ball seat controls: Psssht! Psssht! Psssht! All gone. Walk around the new 7 Series, and it's as if the E65 had never existed. (Note: the new 2009 7 Series is pictured at left, the E65 7 Series is pictured below)

The irony is the E65 has been the most successful 7 Series in BMW's history. Despite continual carping from the world's automotive media over the car's uncompromising aesthetic, BMW has sold over 344,000 units worldwide. America liked the E65 a lot -- the U.S. accounted for 35.7% of total sales, more than twice the number of the second most popular market, China. Germany? BMW's home market accounted for just 13% of total sales.

BMW is clearly hoping the new 7 Series will build on that momentum -- and win over buyers put off by the E65's confrontational design and counterintuitive user interfaces.

If that's the case, first impressions suggest BMW is on target with the new 7 Series. Everywhere we went with the car during our drive in and around Dresden, Germany, the locals expressed their approval of the new design. They all knew about the old one; they all agreed this one looked better.

The final signoff of the E65's design happened amid huge turmoil at BMW in early 1999. First, chairman Bernd Pischetsrieder was forced to resign over the alarming losses at Rover Group, the ailing British automaker whose purchase he'd largely engineered. Within hours, product chief Wolfgang Reitzle, Pischetsrieder's logical successor, had blown his chance for the top job with an unbelievably ham-fisted attempt to secure the unquestioning support of the board. He, too, was shown the door. Joachim Millberg, a bureaucrat barely known outside BMW's iconic headquarters building in Munich, was made chairman.

The mercurial Reitzle, long regarded as one of the best car guys in the business, has always insisted privately he only approved the E65's design as an interim measure; that he always intended to go back and fix the 7 Series once Pischetsrieder was gone. "They have given my car sad eyes," was all he'd say on the record, referring to the E65's hooded headlight design. But most critics would argue the E65 needed a lot more than happier headlights.

Maybe Reitzle -- and the rest of the BMW board -- meant for the E65 to be deeply controversial; meant it to be a like-it-or-loathe-it design that no one could mistake for anything else. Why? Because they realized BMW had become one of the world's most successful and profitable automakers using a fairly singular design language and that they had run out of adjectives.

The turning point was the E46 3 Series. While the revisionists among my colleagues later lauded this car as one of the best-looking BMWs ever, that certainly wasn't the chatter around the dinner tables at the car's launch in Spain in 1998. Basically, the media view was the E46 was a ho-hum car to look at, just another cookie-cutter BMW and not enough of a step-change from the previous-generation model. For a company whose reliance on the 3 Series was total -- it still accounts for over half of total BMW sales -- the notion folks might be getting bored with it must have been worrying. Chris Bangle, the relatively new BMW design chief, was at the launch. He certainly heard the chatter.

You don't mess with success, however. Simply ripping up the 3 Series playbook would have been an unacceptable risk. The 7 Series was another issue, however. Here was a model that had always struggled in the shadow of Mercedes' all-conquering S-Class. Even the audacious 1987 launch of the 750i version, powered by the first German V-12 in more than 50 years, had failed to make a dent in the S-Class' blue-chip reputation and the world's best luxury sedan. Unveiling a bold, even shocking, new design language on its most expensive new model wasn't as counter-intuitive a move as it might have seemed: With the 7 Series BMW had nothing to lose.

The E65 7 Series changed the world's view of BMW and set in train the strategy to devolve BMW design away from the cookie-cutter system where each model range looked like a scaled version of the other, a strategy that would also allow BMW to move into new market segments such as SUVs. You can argue the relative merits of the various BMWs designed on Chris Bangle's watch -- some are way better than others -- but there is no doubt each is strikingly different from the other, while retaining a strong BMW design identity.

The E65 may have been a design too far, but you could argue it did precisely the job it was intended to do. The new 7 Series dials back the extremism and dials in some old-school BMW DNA, such as the long dash-to-axle ratio, stronger shoulders on the body side, lower H-point, and the center stack angled toward the driver. There's even an echo of the famed Hofmeister kink stamped into the C-pillar for emphasis. And this time, no one finds it boring.