The new Mazda MX5 is the sports car I always wanted. It's a small, sexy, sure-footed thrill machine that easily and completely outwits all those huge, over-embellished, slow-witted American muscle cars. The only problem is, I wanted the MX5 way back in '75. Things have moved on since then. There's a wide range of well-balanced sports cars vying for the enthusiast's attention. Some of them are even American. And none of them are as dangerous as Mazda's diminutive roadster.

Endless reviews praise the MX5's purity of form, clarity of purpose and banquet of sensations. None mention the pint-sized roadster's lack of "compatibility". In other words, when the MX5 collides with something, the something's driver gets out and says "Dang!" whereas the MX5 driver… doesn't get out. No wonder the website's safety section begins with "Beyond the safety benefits of having a car that allows you to react quickly to avoid hazardous situations…" and touts "systems that help make it easier to avoid accidents in the first place."

So Delphi is bankrupt. The automotive parts manufacturer will now use the courts to reduce their labor costs, so they can make a profit and stay in business. We're talking about trimming workers' wages from $60 per hour to $10, eliminating $400m dollars in annual payments to idled employees, slicing pensions, closing a couple of dozen factories, that sort of thing. Considering the union's complete intransigence on these issues, Delphi's move into Chapter 11 is entirely sensible. From GM's point of view, Delphi has let slip the dogs of war; dogs that will rip The General to pieces.

Yesterday, we learned the true cost of GM's Delphi-related pension obligations: eleven billion dollars. The figure makes The General's $2b FIAT payoff seem like a tip. It makes the $2.4b GM has burned through this year seem like an ink stain on the corporate ledger. It makes the $800m pissed away in the Fuji deal seem like change lost down the back of the sofa. Of course, pensions are paid out over time, and The General's lawyers are busy preparing to argue that GM doesn't owe Delphi a dime. But they do, and the hit will hurt.

Every time there is an oil crisis, four things happen. First, citizens are criticized for their wasteful ways. Second, they are exhorted to conserve our precious, finite resources. Third, alternative fuels take center stage and receive a major cash injection. And fourth, the oil industry finds new ways to find, pump, and refine the liquid gold. Crisis over, everyone goes back to business. Makes sense to me.

It never ceases to amaze me how little Americans learn from history–- or hysteria. History lessons do not draw an audience, though. No media outlet is going to predict life returning to normal when they can release The Day After Tomorrow. By the time the oil crisis is over, some new apocalypse will be taking shape; most people will not even recognize that they were duped into thinking the world is running out of oil.

In a news article entitled "UAW, GM near deal on Health", Detroit News reporter Daniel Howes claims that the United Auto Workers and General Motors are about to sign agreement that will trim $1b off The General's health care payments. The doyen of Detroit sums-up the current state of play in his usual comprehensive and no-nonsense style, but a thorough read of his report reveals that his premise is based entirely on rumor. And the rumor is based on hope. And the hope is false.

It's easy to understand why even seasoned journalists would give voice to such illogical optimism. While we've been charting and predicting GM's demise for some time, the actual implications of that cataclysm are so enormous they defy rational exposition. When a GM lawyer enters federal court holding the General's bankruptcy petition, the entire US automotive industry will change forever. Initially, everyone will suffer. It's no surprise that industry insiders hope against hope that the main players will see sense soon enough to dodge the bullet that will kill the status quo.

Explorer? I just met her. And you know what? I like her. I know: falling in love with a 14mpg SUV at this precise moment in time is like getting engaged to the boss' daughter a week after the old man's been indicted by the SEC. Still, Ford's provided plenty of justification for the love that dare not speak its name. Less poetically, they're giving them away! Arrive at your local Ford dealer on a rusty bicycle with a note promising to pay a hundred bucks a week, and I reckon they'll hand you the keys to a new Explorer in less time than it takes to pump $50 worth of premium down its steel-lined gullet.