On one automotive forum that I frequent, there is a discussion of which car brands should be the next to leave the US market. Poster after poster lists their choices and the reasons why they believe each should no longer sell their wares in the US. Most of the opinions are based on biases formed from personal experiences with these brands…some of which are quite out-dated. But it’s an interesting discussion.
My opinion, as a car fanatic, is that more is better than less. I’m an American and proud of it. I wish American manufacturers were not losing market share to the imports, but it’s not, in my opinion, completely undeserved. But I would not want any brands to go away to simply save a domestic brand name (domestic jobs, however, are another topic for another time).
With the Chinese brands knocking at the door, this discussion takes on added fervor. Many of the people involved in this discussion believe that the Chinese are the next wave of automotive competition to beat up the American companies, and I have to agree. Where the Japanese were laughed at just 40 years ago, today they’re among the most admired automotive manufacturers in the world. The Korean brands were in the same boat just 25 years ago and today Hyundai and Kia are respectable names in many parts of the world.
Along with a few Indian companies, Chinese companies are looking to the US for market expansion.
Many people have heard of Chery since they have been in the news for the past few years while they prepare to enter the US market. Today, Chrysler is working with Chery to produce an entry-level Dodge product for the US market. And Chery will take what they learn from Chrysler to become a global brand on their own.
There’s also Nanjing and Shanghai and Great Wall and Geely and a dozen others that are looking across the Pacific. Nanjing owns the MG brand and will, most likely, use that name in its global expansion. Shanghai has been working with Volkswagen and General Motors for a number of years to increase their hold on the Chinese market, but exports aren’t too far away especially since they bought out the Rover side of the former MG Rover company, but need to establish their own brand name (they’re currently using Roewe, almost pronounced “wrong way”) since the Rover name did not come with the package. Great Wall has light trucks and Geely has economy cars and both have eyes on the US market. Brilliance and Wuling and Landwind could be in the next wave as well.
But, from what I’ve seen, none of these companies are ready for the US market quite yet. The Japanese entered the US market with cars too small for American tastes but quickly tailored their products with US buyers in mind…and raised their quality to class-leading levels. The Koreans learned from the mistakes made by the Japanese and brought true entry-level product to the US. Although they made their own mistakes along the way, they were competitive players in just over 25 years from producing their first car (the Japanese took about 40 years. The Chinese seem like they’re on the 20 year plan, which would bring them to a competitive nature in just a few more years.
Once in a while, one of my cars impresses someone. It doesn’t happen very often, but it’s a nice feeling that someone likes your choice of car. The only person who really matters about my choice of car is me. And that’s how it should be with everyone’s choice. The fact that I don’t care for a single guy buying a Ford SuperDuty just to commute to his office doesn’t matter as long as the owner of that big pickup likes his choice. This laissez faire attitude should extend to brand names as well. If Isuzu finds enough buyers for their products, more power to them…it’s a capitalist marketplace. Not too many would be sad to see Isuzu (or Mitsubishi or Suzuki or Buick or Mercury or…) go, but the reduction in choice would be a sad thing.
So here’s hoping that we see a return of Alfa Romeo (discussed for a year or two from now), Citroen and Peugeot (oft-rumored), Fiat, and MG. Perhaps then the Americans can bring back Duesenberg and Packard and Stutz and AMC and Edsel and…
Okay, maybe I've gone a bit too far.
Showing posts with label mg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mg. Show all posts
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Me, My Father, and My MG
One late December afternoon, my friend and I were driving around rural Bedford County Pennsylvania. It was winter break from college and we were exploring. We were driving on roads I was vaguely familiar with since my summer job working with PennDOT. And this was a particularly out-of-the-way region of the county.
We passed under an old brick railroad overpass and emerged to find a nice little house situated there. Aside from it being an older home with a little porch out front and a garage out back, I don’t recall too many details about it. I do, however, remember the little car parked in the yard right next to the road.
Snow covered the faded orange MG Midget. The body had some rust, but was in good condition. The roof had a hole about 18 inches across where snow could cover the vinyl seats. The inspection sticker expired a year earlier and the useless rear window sported a University of Miami sticker.
It was love at first sight. “It needs me,” was my first thought. But I was just a poor college student.
A few months later, school was over for the year and I was working in a local quarry. My bank account sported a positive balance in the triple digits. And my mind returned to that house next to the railroad tracks in Everett. I had to find it.
I retraced my steps and found the MG just as before, but this time without the snow. The home owner told me the whole story of the car.
Mr Ritchey’s daughter had purchased this car and used it for a few years. She parked it in the yard and there it sat for years. A gentleman purchased the car for $400 but could not drive it away. Another failed attempt to take it left the car as an oversized lawn ornament in Mr Ritchey’s property. Until I arrived.
I was given the name and address of the car’s owner and I promptly contacted him. My letter, in my best legal-ese, stated the current state of affairs. This poor car had been left at Mr Ritchey’s house and was the responsibility of the new owner. Mr Ritchey, as I so eloquently wrote, could have the car removed at the new owner’s expense. And I felt that it was in his best interest to sell it to me for $250; a $150 loss to him.
My letter was mailed on Monday. On Friday of that week, the owner of the car called me. He had moved away from the address I was given and the US Postal Service had taken all of three days to find him. He accepted my offer with no conditions. We planned to meet the very next day.
All of this planning had been made without the knowledge of my parents. I was old enough to buy a car, but I didn’t think my parents would appreciate this project car darkening their doorstep.
Just as I was planning to make the roadtrip out to buy the car, I told my mother. Since I didn’t have a checking account, she took my $250 and wrote a check for the same amount. And, against her better judgement, she sent me on my way.
The following Tuesday, I had planned on having the car delivered to my friend’s house where I would work on it. That afternoon, my mother called me at work to request that I tell my father about the car.
Let me back up a step or two.
My father was a powerful man. He stood only about 5’10 but his rounded chest hid his 220-pound heft. He experienced many ups and downs to that point from plucking chickens for a living to his position as Captain of the State Police. I learned much from his past experiences and I tried to show my maturity by demonstrating that I’ve listened to (and heard) all of his stories and warnings. But my father was not a car person and only tolerated my love of all things automotive.
I called Dad. I explained that I had purchased a car and that I wanted to have it brought home. He immediately went into defensive position.
What did I pay for it? How could he complain about a $250 car that I had an MG expert look at?
Did I have a notary sign the proper documents? Yes…the seller and I found a notary and that’s where the money changed hands.
How was I getting the car moved there and how much did I pay for it? I hired a rollback truck to haul the car about 10 miles for $10 (this still astounds even me).
He had no more questions. He said, “bring it home.” And so I did.
I arrived just seconds before the car. My father walked out of the house with his stern look of disapproval. I had nothing but a shi---, er, crap-eating smile on my face.
The poor little car was off-loaded and parked in front of the house. And then my father took charge.
He moved the car to the backyard. We immediately put it up on cinderblocks and took off the tires. We surveyed the car to find out what our next steps should be.
We removed a wasp’s nest. We removed the old carpeting and seats. Replaced the battery and transmission. Replace a burned valve. Replaced the carpeting and various other old pieces.
We eventually got it running. Those moments working on or driving that car with my father will always stay with me. My father passed away a number of years ago but I still have that car.
The car still talks to me just like it did when I first saw it that December afternoon. It yells from its shed (which itself cost a few times more than all of the money I’ve put into the car) to take it out and drive it around. It’s currently on its third “restoration” since I’ve owned it. And I plan to drive it around in memory of my father. While it was my first car, it was his last.
If you see a faded orange MG puttering around with its driver smiling ear-to-ear, give me a thumb’s up!
We passed under an old brick railroad overpass and emerged to find a nice little house situated there. Aside from it being an older home with a little porch out front and a garage out back, I don’t recall too many details about it. I do, however, remember the little car parked in the yard right next to the road.
Snow covered the faded orange MG Midget. The body had some rust, but was in good condition. The roof had a hole about 18 inches across where snow could cover the vinyl seats. The inspection sticker expired a year earlier and the useless rear window sported a University of Miami sticker.
It was love at first sight. “It needs me,” was my first thought. But I was just a poor college student.
A few months later, school was over for the year and I was working in a local quarry. My bank account sported a positive balance in the triple digits. And my mind returned to that house next to the railroad tracks in Everett. I had to find it.
I retraced my steps and found the MG just as before, but this time without the snow. The home owner told me the whole story of the car.
Mr Ritchey’s daughter had purchased this car and used it for a few years. She parked it in the yard and there it sat for years. A gentleman purchased the car for $400 but could not drive it away. Another failed attempt to take it left the car as an oversized lawn ornament in Mr Ritchey’s property. Until I arrived.
I was given the name and address of the car’s owner and I promptly contacted him. My letter, in my best legal-ese, stated the current state of affairs. This poor car had been left at Mr Ritchey’s house and was the responsibility of the new owner. Mr Ritchey, as I so eloquently wrote, could have the car removed at the new owner’s expense. And I felt that it was in his best interest to sell it to me for $250; a $150 loss to him.
My letter was mailed on Monday. On Friday of that week, the owner of the car called me. He had moved away from the address I was given and the US Postal Service had taken all of three days to find him. He accepted my offer with no conditions. We planned to meet the very next day.
All of this planning had been made without the knowledge of my parents. I was old enough to buy a car, but I didn’t think my parents would appreciate this project car darkening their doorstep.
Just as I was planning to make the roadtrip out to buy the car, I told my mother. Since I didn’t have a checking account, she took my $250 and wrote a check for the same amount. And, against her better judgement, she sent me on my way.
The following Tuesday, I had planned on having the car delivered to my friend’s house where I would work on it. That afternoon, my mother called me at work to request that I tell my father about the car.
Let me back up a step or two.
My father was a powerful man. He stood only about 5’10 but his rounded chest hid his 220-pound heft. He experienced many ups and downs to that point from plucking chickens for a living to his position as Captain of the State Police. I learned much from his past experiences and I tried to show my maturity by demonstrating that I’ve listened to (and heard) all of his stories and warnings. But my father was not a car person and only tolerated my love of all things automotive.
I called Dad. I explained that I had purchased a car and that I wanted to have it brought home. He immediately went into defensive position.
What did I pay for it? How could he complain about a $250 car that I had an MG expert look at?
Did I have a notary sign the proper documents? Yes…the seller and I found a notary and that’s where the money changed hands.
How was I getting the car moved there and how much did I pay for it? I hired a rollback truck to haul the car about 10 miles for $10 (this still astounds even me).
He had no more questions. He said, “bring it home.” And so I did.
I arrived just seconds before the car. My father walked out of the house with his stern look of disapproval. I had nothing but a shi---, er, crap-eating smile on my face.
The poor little car was off-loaded and parked in front of the house. And then my father took charge.
He moved the car to the backyard. We immediately put it up on cinderblocks and took off the tires. We surveyed the car to find out what our next steps should be.
We removed a wasp’s nest. We removed the old carpeting and seats. Replaced the battery and transmission. Replace a burned valve. Replaced the carpeting and various other old pieces.
We eventually got it running. Those moments working on or driving that car with my father will always stay with me. My father passed away a number of years ago but I still have that car.
The car still talks to me just like it did when I first saw it that December afternoon. It yells from its shed (which itself cost a few times more than all of the money I’ve put into the car) to take it out and drive it around. It’s currently on its third “restoration” since I’ve owned it. And I plan to drive it around in memory of my father. While it was my first car, it was his last.
If you see a faded orange MG puttering around with its driver smiling ear-to-ear, give me a thumb’s up!
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