March 1st, 2010 • by David Zatz
Olivier Francois today announced his new vision for the Dealer of the Future.
“The new dealership will be solid, strong, unique,” he said. “In an era of flash, it will stand out. A cozy, intimate, inviting place which serves as an office and meeting spot for representatives and customers, without the clutter of cars that can’t be driven.”
Signage will be clarified with dealership services being featured alongside the brand names, in new, easily recognized block lettering.
Along with the new Project Deuteronomy dealerships, Chrysler will debut its new “Floating Air Power” styling, to be implemented across all product lines, and its new, simplified lineup. “We have too many brands,” said CEO Sergio Marchionne. “Henceforth, Ram trucks will be moved out to separate dealerships where possible, and the core Dodge brand will be cars-only.”
Cars are to be made in shades of gray and black, with offerings including Brilliant Black, Antique Silver, Dark Titanium, Silver Steel, Dark Charcoal, Graphite Metallic, Mineral Gray, Dark Graystone, and Extremely Dark White.
“One color is good enough for Steve Jobs and Sergio Marchionne,” Ralph Gilles pointed out. “What’s more, Ford became highly successful selling cars largely made by the Dodge Brothers, all painted black.”
Olivier added, “The Chrysler brand has been irrevocably tainted. When customers try to show off their new Chrysler, neighbors invariably whine about bailouts or Fiat parts. We have decided to do the ultimate retro step and bring Chrysler back to its roots. This will also end the confusion about Chrysler-the-company versus Chrysler-the-brand, and allow us to tap many beloved heritage names, such as Barracuda, Valiant, and Volare. We are bringing back Plymouth, and to minimize costs, it will simply replace the Chrysler brand.”
The phase in will take several years, during which cars will be called Chrysler Plymouth, Chrysler, and Plymouth. The VIN code will not change. The Chrysler Town & Country will be renamed Plymouth Voyager, the 300C will become the Fury, and the Sebring will become the Valiant. In its final months, the PT Cruiser will be officially re-acronymed to Plymouth Truck Cruiser.
Editor’s note: There is a reason this story is on the weblogs, not the news page… it’s being posted a month early.
July 6th, 2009 • by David Zatz
I’ve been prepping my Valiant for a long cruise. Scott S. and I (well, mainly Scott) took the dash apart and fixed the wiper linkages, and then I took the seats out and took out the carpet.
(By the way, the key to removing filth and cigarette smell is to hose off the carpet, scrub it with dishwasher soap and a GI brush, and then hose it off thoroughly again. This, of course, means completely losing the backing, which you could try taking off carefully before getting anything wet. At least, that’s what the guy across the street told me, and he seemed to be right.)
The main thing that occurred to me, yet again, is that the guys who designed the Valiant’s interior appeared to have absolutely no relationship to the guys who designed the engine. Much of the interior seems to have been designed thoughtlessly, and to have been assembled somewhat thoughtlessly as well. The sound insulation comes off of the interior of the firewall rather quickly, and in some places it’s very hard to get back up.
Some of the panels really, really don’t fit together well. People now figure if they can see a gap, there’s a problem. Take a look at a 1974 Valiant interior – a good, close look – and you’ll see problems that make any new car look like the very best in comparison. The sill plates have quarter inch gaps, as do some of the plastic trim pieces. Screws and screw holes don’t match up. (Let’s not even get into the number of different types of fasteners.)
I know there are reasons for much of this. It was hard to belt out 200,000 cars per year back then without some issues and shortcuts. Materials science was not nearly as advanced as it is now. Some solutions simply hadn’t been developed yet, and by 1974 I’d imagine some of the machinery was more than a little worn. Chrysler had not been able to keep their plants up to date, either, after being far too ambitious for too many years with regard to product coverage, and having spent a good deal on niche vehicles like many of the muscle cars, commercial trucks, and such – vehicles loved now, but most likely terrific losses at the time.
Still, taking apart and putting together my Valiant reminded me of why I was so impressed the first time I worked on my 1993 Sundance. We’ve come a long way in terms of gaps and fit… and dashboards that come apart.
But we’ve also lost ground in some ways. Taking apart a car now is far, far harder – not because the pieces don’t come apart as easily (some don’t). It’s partly because they hide all the screws and fasteners (in an futile attempt to gain Consumer Reports‘ respect?), partly because cars are more complex inside, and partly because there are fewer gaps. Mainly, though, just like the guys who designed the Valiant’s steel dashboard, the guys today don’t design cars to be taken apart – certainly not without special tools. So, while swapping out the wiper linkage on a Valiant may be a serious day’s work, so is swapping out the evaporator on just about any modern car.
There’s something wrong with that. We can do better.
But at least the holes line up. At least, they do before I take things apart.
