Jil McIntosh

Gas taxes: who will pay to repair our roads?

  In a recent issue of AutoWeek magazine, Kevin A. Wilson -- possibly the most observant and common-sense auto writer on the continent -- brought up a point I'd not considered: as gasoline consumption drops, who's going to fund our roads?

Gas taxes don't just sit in the general coffers; they're used to build and maintain roads. If there's no money for maintenance, no one fixes the cracked pavement. Our roadbeds collapse and our bridges fall down, and eventually, the highway system deteriorates to the point that it starts destroying our cars.

As Wilson points out, cars that get better fuel economy use less gasoline, and electric cars don't use any liquid fuel at all. Less gas = less tax money = who's going to foot the bill for our roads? It's not justification for buying a gas guzzler by any means, but right now, while we're on the cusp of dramatically reducing our fuel consumption, we'd better spend just as much time figuring out how the infrastructure is going to be financed. A car that gets 60 mpg isn't much good if there's no place to drive it.

Another low-fat potato chip comes to showrooms

In the news: Chrysler has launched the Aspen Hemi Hybrid. The Dodge Durango version will be coming, too.

So this is what Chrysler has chosen for its first entry into the hybrid market. Not a juiced-up version of the Caliber, or an auto-stop Sebring, or even a big vehicle that would make sense, like a work truck, which companies and contractors are going to have to buy even if gas goes to four bucks a litre. No, this technology goes into a giant SUV that's already a low-volume model and undoubtedly will continue to be, even with the $1,000-per-year fuel savings that the company claims it will provide.

I really hate to rag on the domestic automakers, because I want to see North America with a solid manufacturing base -- it benefits all of us, no matter how far removed we are from the auto industry. But they just seem to miss the point so often. This hybrid is just one more low-fat potato chip: not as bad for you as a regular potato chip, but if you really want to lose weight, reach for an apple or figure out if you're actually hungry instead. We've got the technology. Let's use it for good, not stupid.

Those were the days ...

That's me, age 13, on my mother's new car, a 1972 Plymouth Scamp. (She just about had a bird when the photos came back from the drugstore.) I learned to drive on that car when I was 17, and not long afterwards, it became the first car I owned. Less than a year after I learned to drive, believe it or not, the city of Toronto gave me a taxi driver's license.

I was thinking about that Plymouth the other day, and the cabs I drove in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when I was assessing a brand-new car and marking against it because it had very few storage cubbies.

How times have changed. My Plymouth had a glovebox and an ashtray, and that was it. With the cabs, we'd sometimes buy plastic consoles that sat on the transmission hump. They could be a pain if someone wanted to sit in the middle, though, because most cars had front bench seats.

Cars didn't have cupholders back then, save for the inside of my glovebox's metal lid, which had a couple of indentations to hold a mug if you stopped at A&W for a root beer. I don't remember people drinking anything when they actually drove. We did in the taxis, because there wasn't time to stop. Coffee shops used styrofoam cups, not paper, and we'd wedge them between the dash and the windshield. Some guys bought cupholders that hung off the windowframe, but they were more trouble than they were worth. We'd put a lid on the cup and then tear out a hole so we could drink on the go, and sometimes passengers would marvel at such a great idea. Now the lids come with the holes already scored.

Cars didn't have door pockets. They didn't have a mirror on the passenger door, but they did have vinyl roofs that were definitely not the stylist's finer moment. If you ordered a rear defogger, it was a fan in the parcel shelf that blew warm air on the window, very noisily. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven the day I got a taxi that had air conditioning, power windows and power locks. It was like driving a Cadillac. And those were back in the days when the only thing better than a Cadillac was a Rolls Royce. Good heavens, I feel old.

A discussion with GM's Larry Burns

On Canadian Driver today, I have an interview with Larry Burns, vice-president of research and development at General Motors. A fascinating man, and with quite a bit to say on the future of transportation, including the work his company is doing in that direction.

While the issue of oil dependency and future technologies comes with as many opinions as there are molecules in hydrogen, he presented a number of issues I hadn't considered before. I don't know if I came away sold on all of them, but I'll say this -- I'm putting a lot more thought into the total effect that any form of transportation will have, even when it's one that I think is a solid one. I'm still a fan of diesels, for example, but Larry gave me a lot to think about when he told me that they may not be the way to go. There are a lot of people who'll tell you that "this" is the answer. I'm more interested in those who say this might be it.

The story's available here.

Long-term oil solutions: why bother?

In the news today: U.S. Senator Peter Domenici of New Mexico has introduced legislation that he says will dramatically increase domestic production of oil and natural gas, "in order to lower prices and make America less dependent on foreign sources of oil."

The bill will allow oil exploration and extraction in such places as Alaska, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans at the edge of the Outer Continental Shelf, and development of oil shale in Colorado, Wyoming and Utah.

According to a press release, "By expanding production offshore and in Alaska, the legislation will produce up to 24 billion barrels of oil -- enough to keep American running for five years with no foreign imports."

In case that number got by you, I'll repeat it. Five years.

"The bill I'm introducing today will produce up to 24 billion barrels of oil through common sense measures to open up areas offshore and in Alaska for exploration," Domenici said.

Yes, you read that right. He actually said common sense measures. Apparently, in Domenici's world, it makes perfect sense to drill oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and irreparably change it for the sake of five years' worth of fuel.

Back to the press release: Domenici pointed out that had President Clinton not vetoed exploration in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in 1995, when oil was $19 a barrel, America would currently be receiving over one million barrels a day from Alaska.

Damn that Clinton. If only he'd given more consideration to people and less to those stupid wolves and caribou, we'd be able to drive our SUVs anywhere and anytime we please. What, didn't Bill even stop and question why Ford calls it an Explorer?

Betcha can't drive just one ...

This is a low-fat potato chip.

It's the Cadillac Escalade Hybrid, but it just as easily could be the Chevrolet Tahoe Hybrid, or the Lexus RX400h, or the upcoming hybrid SUVs from Dodge, or full-size hybrid sedans like the Lexus LS600hL or GS450h.

All of them use hybrid systems to improve their fuel mileage and reduce their emissions, and that's a good thing. But all of them have hybrid systems inside very large, very heavy (and, so far, very expensive) vehicles. And I'm betting that the majority will carry one or two people at the most, and maybe the odd bit of cargo that won't come close to the vehicle's capacity.

Hence, the low-fat potato chip, a food-like object that could only be invented in North America: when confronted with the problem of excess weight and poor dietary health, we buy versions that are slightly less bad for us, rather than reach for an apple or even question if we're hungry at all. Likewise, rather than buy a smaller vehicle, or walk more, or combine our trips so we drive less, we buy the large-by-huge SUV with the slightly better propulsion system. All the taste, a bit less fat, and the smug feeling that yes, we're making the planet a better place, one battery-powered gargantua at a time.

Airbags: They help, but they can harm

The weather's getting nicer in my neck of the woods, and that means that people are shedding their winter boots in favor of lighter footwear, including sandals.

That also means that I've already seen my first teenage passenger riding the oh-so-cool way, with shoes off and feet up on the dash. My blood runs cold every time I see teenagers foolish enough to do this, and parents behind the wheel dumb enough to let them.

Here's the reason: behind that dash panel is an airbag. Hit something, and that airbag inflates within about 40 milliseconds. In effect, that bag is coming toward you at the rate of 150 to 250 miles per hour. (In metric, 240 to 400 km/h -- or, for short, damn fast.)

Imagine putting your legs out in front of you, and then ramming them into a wall at 150 mph. That, in effect, is what the airbag will do. If you're lucky, it'll only break your legs. If you aren't, it'll push your thigh bones through your pelvis. You might walk again, but don't count on it.

Sure, I was young once, and I rode with my feet on the dash. I was also stupid as hell back then, and my dash didn't contain the equivalent of a shotgun shell.

Chances are good these drivers will never hit anything, and their teenage passengers will hop out, all in one piece, and life will be good. But as they say, it only takes a second for a crash, and it doesn't even have to be your fault. It will, however, be your burden.

How about giving us what we really want?

I noticed a press release from Chrysler yesterday. In the US, the company is launching a campaign with the tag line of If you can dream it, we can build it.

Let's see what the release says people are dreaming about:

As a chassis rolls out of the plant and down the road, all kinds of people in all kinds of places start adding what they want on a vehicle including MyGig™ with navigation, dual DVD system and Swivel ‘n Go™ seating system.

Now, maybe there are a few people who are dreaming about twin movie screens and minivan seats that face backwards. But I suspect that even more people want things that are even simpler. Things like better interiors, with more care spent on fit-and-finish, and less cheap-looking plastic. Better fuel economy, especially in excessively thirsty vehicles like the Dakota and Durango. Less-expensive versions of utility machines, such as pickup trucks. And possibly most important of all, a good-quality, inexpensive subcompact that can compete with vehicles like the Toyota Yaris and Chevrolet Aveo -- a segment Chrysler has promised us (with a Chinese-built car) but has yet to enter.

I want to see Chrysler do well, because a strong, mostly-domestic automaker is good for our economy. But strong companies start with strong foundations. It's fine to have the odd gimmick, but only when it's added on to a well-built, good-looking, fuel-efficient, realistically-priced vehicle with a reputation for bulletproof quality and reliability. That's my dream, Chrysler. Now build it.

Simple is good

This is the dash of the Mercedes-Benz GL-Class, which begins my rant for the day: why does expensive need to mean complicated?

I'm not singling Mercedes out here, not by any means -- it was just the picture that was handy. I could have selected a vehicle by almost every automaker out there, because almost all of them are guilty.

I remember the days when an expensive car had pretty much the same controls as a cheaper car; they were just better quality. Now, an expensive car practically guarantees that you've got to memorize a manual the size of an encyclopedia, and chances are good that there will be a few controls you'll eventually forget how to use.

In many cars, if you want to change the heater vent mode, or switch your stereo, you've got to page through a series of computer screens to get to the one you want. On many cars, there are rows upon rows of identical buttons. On one truck I drove, I counted all the buttons, starting at the driver's armrest and going over to the passenger's door. There were 83 of them. That's not a misprint: eighty-three buttons. On a vehicle that many people drive at 120 km/h.

And on top of that, so many of these systems are absolutely non-intuitive. Why is it that one manufacturer's navigation system is simple enough that I can use it without a manual, and others require me to all but take a course in how to work it? Why can't the engineers grab someone from the front office, sit them down cold in front of it, and then, if they can't work it right off the bat, make it easy?

The funny thing is that I've driven a few high-end sports cars, the type that'll do 300 km/h without breaking a sweat. And it seems that the faster they can go, the simpler their controls. So why is it that a car that's meant to be driven on a racetrack, alongside other trained drivers who are concentrating equally on the task, is simple to use, and one that's meant to be driven in rush-hour traffic looks like an airplane cockpit?

Here's the deal: if it's something I do infrequently, such as setting the rolling locks, then hide it away in a vehicle information centre (that is, in turn, easy to figure out). If it's something I'm going to be changing regularly while I'm driving, like the heater mode or the stereo volume, make it a honkin' big dial in the middle of the dash. A safe car isn't just the one with sixteen airbags. It's the one that lets me work the controls while keeping my eyes on the road.

Something new: glossaries

I'm slowly compiling glossaries that will help explain some of the terms related to new and old cars. Bear with me, as it's an ongoing process, but you can find them through the new links to the right. I've tried to keep the definitions as simple as possible -- cars are complex and the last thing you need is an equally confusing description!

Time Marches On

This is my pride and joy, my 1947 Cadillac known affectionately as Lucille. She's one of a few older vehicles I've owned, along with the 1949 Studebaker I still have, and long-departed models including a 1948 Chevrolet and 1962 Pontiac Acadian. I learned to drive on a 1972 Plymouth Scamp, and there was one at the Antique Automobile Club of America's show last year, so I guess that qualifies these days, too.

I love old cars dearly, but I'll say this: I'm realistic, too. Whenever I take Lucille out and park her somewhere, I'm guaranteed that someone will come up and say, "They don't make 'em like that anymore."

And my immediate reply is, "That's not a bad thing."

I don't know what it is about old cars, but they sure bring out the rose-colored glasses in a lot of people. Save for the odd Amish wannabe, I can't think of too many people who would prefer shovelling coal into the furnace over tapping the thermostat, or hauling ice to the icebox instead of opening the refrigerator, or biting on a bullet as opposed to surgery in a modern hospital. But mention automobiles, and as far as these people are concerned, there hasn't been a single improvement in the industry since Henry Ford brought out the Model T.

Too many people in the old-car hobby are blinded by nostalgia. Sure, I make my living with new cars, but that's not the reason why I think they're so much better. It's because they are.

People rap on Lucille's thick fenders and say, "These new cars just crumple up when you hit them." Well, that's because they're supposed to; they absorb the crash energy instead of passing it through to the occupants, unlike the the old cars where you hosed the blood off the dash and sold 'em to the next guy. People say you can't fix a new car in your garage anymore, and that's true, but you're also not doing the numerous repairs that older cars needed, like tune-ups twice a year. And as for their longevity, well, most old cars had a three-month warranty. Some manufacturers now guarantee their vehicles for ten years. 

And as for the hobbyists who say all new cars look the same ... if you've gone to the trouble of learning that a groove in the bumper differentiates a 1946 Olds from a 1947, but you'll proudly proclaim that you can't tell a 2008 Buick from a BMW, that's just wilful ignorance.

Don't get me wrong -- there's nothing fundamentally wrong with nostalgia. When the time machine's invented, you can put a martini in my hand and ship me back to the Las Vegas strip, circa 1960, with a ticket for a Rat Pack show. It'll be great fun, and yes, pick me up at the door in whatever land yacht is available. But when I finally come back home in the middle of winter, you can leave that lovely model's vacuum wipers, manual choke, four-wheel drum brakes, single-chamber master cylinder and bias-ply tires back in the garage where they belong.

From the sublime to the ridiculous

Today, in Geneva, Infiniti has unveiled its latest FX model, which should arrive in North America this June. It has technology. Oh, man, does it have technology.

It watches the road ahead and hits the brakes in case you're too busy sipping your coffee to notice that the car ahead of you has stopped. It warns if you're drifting out of your lane -- a common enough occurrence with people on cell phones -- and if you don't listen to it, it'll get its point across by jerking the wheel. And it'll keep its distance from other vehicles when the cruise control is on, so you don't have to go to the trouble.

But this is the one that really gets me: it features the "industry's first appliance of Distance Control Assist." According to Infiniti, it helps reduce the stress of driving in heavy traffic by intuitively helping to release the throttle and apply the brakes to maintain a safe distance from the vehicle ahead.

Here's my advice: if you're that stressed that you can't drive your own car in traffic, do the rest of us on the road a favor and take the friggin' bus.

Sustainable transportation: Lots of little steps

I picked up a copy of The Oprah Magazine the other day in a waiting room. A number of celebrities had been asked what would make the planet a better place. Along with world peace and happiness, one woman said, "A Prius in every driveway."

I almost threw the magazine across the room.

Few things anger me more than the simplistic answer, endlessly parroted. It's not just hybrids, although they have a cheering section all their own. Depending on who you ask, the solution to our transportation woes is ethanol, or hydrogen, or plug-in electrics, or bicycles, or the bus.

I used to believe that, one day, there would be a single perfect solution that would replace petroleum overnight. Now I realize it's going to be a combination of solutions, each with pros and cons carefully weighed -- and not all of them are necessarily going to have four wheels.

We need to look at plug-in hybrids for those who commute shorter distances, and flexible gasoline-electric architecture (such as that used in the Chevrolet Volt) for those who can't easily get to an electrical outlet. We need to realize that some people can fit their family into a Smart, and some need a minivan.

We also need everyone to get on board. A politician can talk sustainable transportation all he likes, but as long as he allows developers to build houses on cul-de-sac mazes and put big-box stores in the middle of parking lots, he's an ass. City planners need to add bicycle lanes and give public transit a higher profile. And parents need to stop bemoaning the quality of the air while they're queuing up to drive Junior five blocks from school to home.

The solution isn't going to be a Prius in every driveway. It's going to be a Prius in this driveway, a diesel-powered sedan in that one, a bicycle in that one, and the last house on the block won't even have a driveway because the homeowner can walk to work. As long as we think there's only one piece to the puzzle, we haven't a hope in hell of solving it.

My big brother's watching

This is SmartAlert. It's a new system that Ford and Lincoln dealers in the U.S. will be selling to customers, at a cost of about $1,000 plus a monthly subscription fee. Ford calls it an "onboard, intelligent communication service that connects (customers) with their car or truck." I call it the end of the old-fashioned private eye.

SmartAlert knows where the vehicle is. That's no big deal; systems like GM's OnStar have been around for years. What SmartAlert does is tell you what it knows. It'll send email, phone and text messages to warn you if your car's being moved without authorization (a good thing, granted), if someone's driving it faster than a pre-set speed limit (also a good thing), where a thief has taken it (ditto), and a report of exactly where it was, when it was there, and how long it stayed.

That sound you just heard was Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade crying in their beer. Who needs the guy in the fedora slouched in his car, camera at the ready, to catch one's husband meeting up with his mistress?

Frankly, I sometimes wonder at the things people find intrusive. A police camera on a crime-ridden corner that might film a shooting or a drug deal? We can't have that -- it's an invasion of privacy. A red-light camera at the intersection that could photograph dangerous drivers? We can't have that -- you have no right to send a ticket to the car's owner after the fact. An onboard system that'll track your every movement, send email reports, and file a monthly statement telling you exactly where your car was every minute of the day? Hey, that's technology! Here's my thousand bucks -- sign me up!

Sometimes it's the little things

When you walk around a new-car show, it's the big stuff that draws your attention: flashy paint, big wheels, all-new models.

But sometimes, the tiniest thing there could be the next wave of the future.

Case in point: this is the Hummer HX concept, which I saw at the Detroit Auto Show in January. It's a throwback to the Volkswagen Thing, with removable doors, roof and fender flares, and it's the work of three designers young enough to get carded when they go for a beer.

It might be the basis of an open-air, entry-level model to compete with the Jeep Wrangler, but that won't be its legacy. Instead, these designers might have changed the whole way we look at car stereos. In short, the HX doesn't have one.

It's got a full speaker system, though, and a jack to accept your iPod or other music player, and it's absolutely bloody brilliant. The CD player is going the way of the eight-track; who wants to carry a stack of slippery jewel cases when you can tote thousands of songs on something the size of a pack of gum? A great many people, me included, use the stereo as little more than a means to connect a digital player to the speakers.

Looking into my crystal ball, I see a world where this configuration will be the default, and a stereo -- with AM, FM, satellite, CD or whatever -- is an add-on option. Out of everything unveiled at Detroit in 2008, I'm betting that this is the one that counts.

In today's paper ...

My column in the Toronto Star deals with all the stuff carmakers are putting in their vehicles to save us from ourselves. You can find it here. And if you disagree, please promise you won't call me from your car to complain.

Don't start something with me

Here's how you start my 1947 Cadillac: You insert the key into the ignition switch on the dash, and then you press a starter button.

Here's how you start a 2008 BMW 5 Series: You insert the key into the ignition switch on the dash, and then you press a starter button.

You'd think we would have come further than that in 61 years.

Thus begins my rant for the day: why do so many automakers feel a need to answer questions that no one asked? Did BMW have customers calling and sending emails, complaining that it was too much trouble to turn a key and would you please add a starter button?

Sure, proximity keys are cool, in a power-trip kinda way. You walk up to your car, and it recognizes you from several steps away and obediently pops its locks (and if it's expensive enough, it can also move the seat and set the stereo to your preference). From there, since the automaker figures it's too much work for you to then pull the key out of your pocket, you simply press a button, the engine springs to life, and away you go.

The fact is, I like putting the key in the ignition. For one thing, I know exactly where it is. It's not digging into my leg through the pocket of my jeans, or thrown in the cupholder where I'm likely to forget it, or in this coat pocket, or ... maybe this coat pocket? For another, I'm not likely to start the car, remember something I should have grabbed in the house, go back in, come back out, and drive off with the key on the back steps. Don't laugh; people do it more frequently than you think, and once you turn the car off at your destination, it won't start again.

I'll also be more likely to remember to actually shut the car off. I still remember the night I came home with a Nissan Altima Hybrid, which uses a button to start and stop the engine. The problem is that, because it's a hybrid, the engine shuts off when you drive slowly into the driveway. So I think I can be forgiven because I forgot to turn off an engine that wasn't running anyway. Just before I went to bed I looked outside and noticed headlights, and went out to find the engine running. Night had fallen, the automatic headlights came on (because the car wasn't shut off), the battery ran down, and the gasoline engine came on to charge it. There's a drawback to having a car smarter than you are.

Back in 1949, Chrysler came out with an all-in-one key system that eliminated the starter button. It was hailed as a revolutionary breakthrough, and became almost universally adopted within a few years. No one wanted to be stuck pushing an old-fashioned button. I wonder what those drivers would think of us today.