Muscle-car fans would love nothing more than to see Camaros and Mustangs back on the racing circuit but Nascar won't allow it, reports Ben Austen in the Wall Street Journal (3/4/10). "The safety of our competitors and fans is paramount," explains Nascar's Robin Pemberton. Three years ago, Nascar began requiring teams to race a standardized, templated car "in its premier Sprint Cup series. Although these cars are badged as Chevys, Fords or Toyotas," they don't look like anything you can buy, which is a problem.

"Nascar was built on fans becoming loyal to a race car because it looked so much like the car in their driveway. That's lost," explains Steve Waid of Nascar Scene magazine. However, Nascar "recently announced several rule changes for its current season, including some designed to make the car look more like the showroom model." But they still aren't "stock" cars, which Tom Peters, a General Motors design director, thinks is a missed opportunity. "Imagine the possibility of racing these guys," he says. "It could be relevant again."

It would almost certainly sell more cars, as it did years ago when "race fans would watch the 'stock' cars compete on the weekends, then head to the showrooms on the weekdays eager to buy them." It might also foster innovation. Back in the day, innovations "filtered up from racing to production models." Ratings for Nascar's Sprint Cup could use some help, too, having "dropped to 2.8 in 2009 from 3.8 in 2007. But interest remains high for the sport, drawing some "5 to 8 million viewers and 110,000 spectators each week," suggesting a big opportunity.

Technology is now making cars as "unfamiliar and scary" as they were 100 years ago, writes Joseph B. White in the Wall Street Journal (2/10/10). Back then, cars were scary because they were mechanical beasts, "with controls operated by cables and levers and shafts," oh, my. Now they're scary because they've gone "electro-digital" with "electronic and software systems that control the flow of gasoline" and brake pedals that "send signals to computer-controlled systems."

Hybrids "can't function without computer controlled systems that tell the brake system when to capture energy to regenerate the batteries, or when to just stop the car." This is scary, obviously, because "where there's software there's often bugs." Ford, for example, "is telling customers it plans to preprogram certain Fusion hybrids to fix a glitch that can cause consumers to feel they have lost stopping power. Toyota says it is moving toward a similar software fix for braking complaints lodged against the 2010 Toyota Prius."

As Joseph points out, it may be reassuring that problems with the gas and breaks can be remedied by a software patch. But you've got to wonder if you can "trust a car that could malfunction because of some random software misfire, the way ... company-issued laptops are wont to do." And as David Champion, head of vehicle testing at Consumer Reports notes, "We are in the learning curve on these systems." Not only are they a mystery to the average driver, but when they fail, they "can be impossible even for experts to diagnose."

The Yugo was "a turkey, a lemon, a dud, a failure, a blunder, a boondoggle and a bust," writes Jason Vuic in his new book, The Yugo, reviewed by Dick Teresi in the Wall Street Journal (3/4/10). Small wonder, given that it was manufactured in a factory that "had previously been used for making hand grenades," by workers who began drinking plum brandy "at eight in the morning and continued drinking during breaks, on the assembly line, and in spontaneous toasts." Some cars were so poorly made that they were already rusting before they left the factory.

That didn't stop Americans from embracing the Yugo when it first arrived in the States in August 1985, priced as it was at just $3,990, with some dealers offering it "for $99 down and $99 a month." In fact, the Yugo "became the fastest-selling first-year European import in U.S. history," selling 1,050 cars in a single day. Fortune magazine actually "named the Yugo one of its 'Outstanding Products for 1985 ' -- right up there with New Coke." But it wasn't long before this "cutting edge of Serbo-Croatian technology" began falling apart -- literally.

When Motor Trend road-tested the Yugo, it broke down. Consumer Reports wrote, "The clutch chattered. The brakes squealed ... The speedometer clicked. The hood became loose." The magazine said it couldn't recommend the car at any price. Contrary to popular belief, the Yugo was not named for its country of origin, Yugoslavia. Its manufacturer, Zastava, liked wind-related themes, and the car originally was to be called the Jugo, which is "a southeasterly wind on the Adriatic." Zastava changed the "J" to "Y," thinking it was easier to pronounce. And, as it happens, easier to ridicule, too, as in, "You go call the tow truck, and I'll stay here with the car."

Two collectors, living across the pond from each other, are keeping the world safe for New York's Checker and London's Hackney cabs, reports A.G. Sulzberger in the New York Times (2/10/10). The two fellows -- Ray Tomkinson of Manchester, England and Alvaro Gallego of Queens, New York -- started swapping taxis from their respective collections more than ten years ago. They've never met and exchange no money: Ray sends Alvaro London cabs and Alvaro sends Ray New York cabs in barter deals. They also swap "parts and other taxi paraphernalia."

Their bond is a passion for vintage taxis, obviously. They both also rent out their cars "for film shoots and promotional campaigns" -- Alvaro's business is called Taxidepot. They were introduced by a mutual acquaintance who thought Alvaro might be able to help Ray procure Checker cabs for his collection. At first, Ray paid cash, but before long "they were working out trades." Alvaro says his interest in old taxis began about 40 years ago, the first time he "sat behind the wheel" of a Checker cab. He thinks London's Hackney cabs are pretty cool, too.

"Both are strong and good cars," says Alvaro. "They've been doing what they've supposed to be doing for so many years, moving people from A to B in a safe, roomy way." Both cars also "symbolize their home cities, their distinctive curves adorning all manner of gift-shop knickknacks. And both were made explicitly to be taxis -- purpose-built ... with roomy back seats large enough to comfortably hold five people." Of course, the Checkers were discontinued in 1982, and while the London cab is still around, "it too has been pressed by new models, stoking the fear that it could go the way of the Checker."

A quartet of Auburn University students figured out how to solve an architectural conundrum for Volkswagen's new factory in Tennessee, reports Fred A. Bernstein in the New York Times (1/27/10). The problem is that the new factory's parking lots are not only located across a river, but also sit some "32 feet higher than the factory entrance." The assumption was that some kind of gently sloping walkway would be needed. But the four students -- two of them studying design and two studying construction, thought it wouldn't be right for workers to have to walk uphill after a hard day's work.

Their solution, picked from among 40 entries in a student competition sponsored by Volkswagen, was to build a tower connecting "two horizontal sections of the bridge, one higher than the other. (image)" The tower would rise some 182 feet, and possibly house "a conference room, with panoramic views, under its roof." The students -- Ben Loftin, Michael Glenboski, Tyler Mahoney and Dylan Cook -- cleverly urged VW to "Think Tall" in its design, in a nod to the carmaker's famous "Think Small" ad campaign.

The design solved an additional problem that wasn't part of the brief -- it adds some architectural interest to what is otherwise a 1.9 million square-foot box of a building. The students also suggested putting ads on the Tower's facade, which is visible from a nearby thruway. But they also created a problem -- the tower would cost about $12 million to build but Volkswagen only wants to spend about $2 million. VW's head factory-architect Jan Spies, says he likes the solution anyway and is "very likely to think about incorporating part of it."

The magic number in automotive pricing is $25,000, reports Jonathan Welsh in the Wall Street Journal (1/27/10). That's because $25,000 is a price many people perceive as affordable while also giving them at least some of the creature comforts they crave. In other words, they're not setting for an econobox. It means they can "keep monthly car payments between $400 and $500 on a four year loan with an interest rate of 6.56 percent and a down-payment, trade-in or combination equal to 20 percent of the sticker price."

This explains why Chevy's Camaro costs just $23,880, complete with "air conditioning, power-operated windows, locks and seats, a CD player and 304-horsepower engine. It isn't the most powerful version of the car or the most luxurious, but it looks sharp and gets attention." The Honda Accord EX sedan comes in at $24,630 and the Volkswagen Jetta station wagon at $24,615. The Toyota Prius is $23,800 (sticky gas-pedal not included).

Subaru sells most of its cars for less than $25,000 and actually "lowered the price of its top-of-the-line 2010 Outback by $1,100, in part to help keep the model's average price down." Of course, while it's true that a $25,000 price helps attract buyers to showrooms, "dealers assume buyers will wind up spending closer to $30,000 after adding options, tax, registration and document fees." So, as Philip Reed of Edmunds.com advises, "If you want to end up paying $25,000, you should start with a car in the low 20s."

Headlights and taillights -- "often referred to as jewelry by auto designers" -- increasingly "express brand identity and model personality," reports Phil Patton in the New York Times (1/10/10). "I want the cars to be recognizable as Volvos from twice as far away," said designer Steve Mattin, when the Volvo XC60 was introduced. Steve's no longer with Volvo, but the "XC60's sinuously shaped taillight was recently included in a collection of notable designs of the last decade."

Lincoln signals itself "by simply extending the taillight all the way across its MKX crossover in a bold, horizontal band ... On the Cadillac CTS Sport Wagon, LEDs are deployed in upright strips that echo the traditional Cadillac tailfin ... Audi headlights are accented with strings of dotlike LEDs, faintly suggestive of holiday decorations. Other forms of LEDs are used as taillights, resembling tubes or ribbons of light, on the A4 and A5." Audi head designer Stefan Sielaff, thinks the look expresses precision and high technology.

You can't miss an Infiniti at night, with "their circular constellations of red light, like Betsy Ross flags (link)." BMW has a new concept in mind with a plug-in hybrid, featuring a grille "equipped with slats that close and glow blue when the car is powered by electricity, but open and brighten when the car is running on diesel." Renault, meanwhile, is working on a concept for Ford called the Glo-Car. Its surface is "covered with smart LEDs signaling the driver's mood, pulsing red when locked in a traffic jam," for instance.

When Adolf Hitler ordered Volkswagen to name its new sedan the KdF, he was way ahead of his time, reports Paul Ingrassia in the Wall Street Journal (1/21/10). The initials stood for Kraft durch Freude, which means Strength through Joy -- also the name of the Nazi labor union. The name was dropped after the war, and of course the car became known as the Beetle. But the German tradition of using "alphanumeric" names continued at Mercedes and BMW, which used the monikers to indicate engine size.

Then, about 20 years ago, when Japanese automakers decided to take on the Germans, they imitated this idea, with Lexus naming "its first two models the ES 250 and LS 400." Acura eventually followed suit, re-badging its Legend, Integra and Vigor plates as alphanumerics. Acura now has cars known as the ZDX, RDX, MDX, TSX, the RL and the TL. Not to be outdone, Lincoln now offers the MKS, MKX, MKZ and MKT.

Mazda, meanwhile, is trying to have it both ways with its so-called MX-5 Miata. Mazda USA svp Robert Davis says the MX-5 is the "see name" for print advertising, while the Miata is the "say name" when talking about the car. Hm. Maybe it's time to do what Ford did in 1956, when it hired a poet, Marianne Moore, to name its new luxury car. Her suggestions included: Mongoose Civique, Varsity Stroke and Utopian Turtletop. Unfortunately, Henry Ford II had other ideas, and the car in question now lives in brand-name infamy ... otherwise known as the Edsel.

Little did Antoine Laumet realize that when he appropriated the name "Cadillac" in 1687, he would influence the health-care debate in 2009, suggests Ben Zimmer in the New York Times magazine (11/8/09). Antoine was a commoner, who "presumptuously assumed the name of a nobleman, Cadillac, before going on in 1701 to found what is now Detroit." His "fortunate moment of personal re-branding" lives on to this day in Washington, DC, where politicians routinely attack so-called "Cadillac" health-care policies, meaning those that are luxurious (link).

The twist, of course, is that it's been some time since the car called Cadillac has itself truly lived up to its name. As long ago as 1979, "Cadillac felt the need to remind consumers that it was still 'the Cadillac of cars.' As the fortunes of Cadillac declined in the '80s and '90s, the old laudatory expression became a source of pop-culture satire ... Most recently, in the HBO series 'The Wire,' when the young female thug Snoop is sold what a salesman calls the Cadillac of nail guns, she dismisses his pitch with the line, 'He mean Lexus, but he ain't know it.'"

The "automotive figure of speech outlasts the prestige of the car that inspired it" perhaps because its brand positioning was so inspired to begin with. In the 1920s, G.M. chairman Alfred P. Sloan "aligned each of the company's car models with a stage of social mobility -- and placed Cadillac at the top of the ladder." Our automotive aspirations moved up through Chevy, Olds, Pontiac and Buick to Cadillac. Nancy Friedman, a branding consultant, also suggests that Cadillac benefits "from the euphony of its name ... It rolls off the tongue, which you can't say about Studebaker or Edsel -- or Mitsubishi, Lexus or Saturn."

For 25 years, Matti Holtzberg has been perfecting a car engine made of plastic, reports Don Sherman in the New York Times (10/25/09). It's not as crazy as it sounds. After all, "if modern plastics are sturdy enough for 600-mile-per-hour airplanes, why are car engines still made by pouring molten metal into molds, a 6,000-year-old process?" True, it's just airplane wings and fuselages that are made of plastics, but still. A plastic car engine would shave considerable weight -- as much as 30-35 percent -- from that of an aluminum engine. It would also "trim both material and machining costs."

Matti has also proved he can make the concept work. In fact, back in 1979, he re-built a Ford Pinto with an engine, known as a Polimotor, using "plastic for the block, piston skirts, connecting rods, oil pan and most of the cylinder head." Two years later, he built a "300-horsepower design weighing 152 pounds; a stock Pinto engine made 88 horsepower and weighed 415 pounds." He even "campaigned a Lola racecar" to prove the engine's worth (link), and "the only mishap during half-a-dozen 1984 and 1985 races was the failure of a connecting rod, a part purchased from an outside supplier."

Over the years, Matti has accumulated various patents related to plastic engines, and "views his composite casting technology as the next logical step in the evolution of the automobile, from wood, iron, and steel, to magnesium and advanced plastics." But car companies apparently still see plastic engines as risky, and in any case own the foundries used to supply "major aluminum power train castings." But Matti has now formed a partnership with Huntsman Corp., a major auto industry supplier, and hopes for a breakthrough "before internal combustion is finally superseded by electric propulsion."