EXCEPT FOR A FEW SUV-size blips, my life has coincided with the steadily declining market share of GM, Ford, and Chrysler (RIP, American Motors). I missed out on the ’60s muscle-car wars and high-compression, solid-lifter V-8s. Mid-’60s Pontiacs, arguably a high-water mark for the mainstream domestic car, are something I’ve only recently discovered. My life is marked by the industry’s hand-wringing struggle to adopt emissions controls, inability to assemble a reliable car, and product plans that were reactionary instead of visionary. It’s a life that’s seen downsizing, 165-hp Corvettes, pushrod four-cylinders, wire wheel covers, vinyl tops, and forests of fake wood.
Like a rear-ended Ford Pinto, the American car industry incinerated the goodwill that existed for its brands. Customers left and never returned. My family’s experience mirrored that of countless…
