Yesterday, Ford announced that its Focus “is officially the world’s best-selling passenger car,” with 1,020,410 units sold worldwide in 2012. That according to registration data compiled by Polk.

“Wrong” Toyota said today.

Toyota’s spokesman Ryo Sakai told Reuters that Toyota sold 1.16 million Corollas in 2012 and that “Toyota still sees the Corolla as the world’s most popular car”.

Last year, Ford got into similarly hot water by quoting a report by HIS Automotive, setting off an intense discussion about the finer differences of models, body styles and name plates.

TTAC obtained a spreadsheet from Toyota’s car counting department that shows the Corolla ahead of the Focus any way you look at it.  The Toyota Sedan alone racked up 1,083,610 in sales, handily beating the 1,020,410 of the Focus. Various other Corolla versions bring the name plate total to 1,160,764.

Would one count the many derivatives and other model names under which the Corolla is sold around the globe, the total would grow to 1,381,842 units.

I recently inherited a Nissan Cube from my brother. When I tell people this, they have two distinct reactions. For anyone who isn’t into cars, it’s: “Your brother died?” Car people, however, usually respond with: “You have a Nissan Cube?” This is the same reaction that non-car people tend to have when I explain my brother did not die, but rather moved to Los Angeles, where his soul will.

People just don’t like the plucky little Cube, whether it’s my friends (“Why do you still have that thing?”) or my neighbors, one of whom left a note under the wipers asking me to move it away from the unrestricted street parking spots in front of his house. Truly. This actually occurred. Perhaps the worst reaction is from other Cube owners, who occasionally wave, reminding me that I can be seen driving the thing.

As you can imagine, I’m not the Cube’s biggest fan either. There’s a fuzzy piece of shag carpeting on the dashboard (the “Cube pubes”) that seems like it might keep sunglasses from sliding around, until you turn it over to reveal a warning label that says – truly – “Caution: Do not place anything on this product.”

The headliner is rippled, presumably after the designer got high (this part is definitely true) and, faced with the munchies, decided to pay homage to the Lays potato chip (this part is probably true). The rear is asymmetrical (see: the designer got high). There’s a cupholder to the left of the steering wheel. And, five carwashes later, my Cube still smells like my brother’s dog no matter how many times I tell my passengers “it’s probably you.”

But can we all agree it’s better than a Toyota Corolla?

I talked my brother into the Cube three years ago when his budget for a new car was around $15,000. He has since upgraded to a Nissan Xterra, apparently eager to reclaim some of the manhood he lost driving the Cube. But as I reconsider the situation, I don’t think I would’ve done it any differently. Except maybe I wouldn’t have left those retaliatory death threats under my neighbor’s windshield wipers.

At $15,000, you have two basic choices when shopping for a nearly new, reliable, fuel efficient car. You can go the boring route and buy a Civic, a Corolla, a Focus, or some sort of Hyundai that vaguely resembles some sort of Kia. Or, you can go the interesting route, which involves the Kia Soul, the Scion xB, and – of course – the beloved Cube.

For my money, it’s the Cube every time.

My thought process is quite simple, which won’t surprise regular readers. As mentioned, the two cars cost about the same, provided we assume ego damage can’t be measured financially. Fuel economy is also the same, in part thanks to the Cube’s smooth, spry CVT. Whrrrrrrrrrrr. (Before you say anything, consider this: the warranty on Nissan’s CVTs was extended to 10 years or 150,000 miles. That means I will probably get at least two transmissions for free!)

So what distinguishes the Cube from its dull sedan rivals? For one: it’s more practical. Put the seats down and you can get whatever you want in the thing. Based on the smell, for instance, mine once hosted a competition to see how many dogs can fit inside a Nissan Cube.

But most importantly, the Cube is unique. If you’re like most car enthusiasts, you probably spend a lot of time complaining about a) speed cameras, and b) how boring you find cars like the Corolla. The Cube is the antidote: it is decidedly not boring and – for those of you who don’t like the CVT – yes, there was a three-pedal version.

Same fuel economy, same price, more practical, more unique. Sounds great!

Except, the simple reality is, it just doesn’t sound so great to most drivers, even if they say it does. One of the universal automotive truths I’ve discovered in the last few years is this: people talk about how they don’t want to be just like everyone else. People complain about how everyone else is just like everyone else. People say they’re going to be different from everyone else. And then people go out and by the same car as … everyone else.

In other words, the Cube is the car for those few drivers who actually want to break the mold set by everyone else. Maybe that’s why other Cube drivers wave: to celebrate the fact that we think differently from everyone else. In exactly the same way.

Doug DeMuro operates PlaysWithCars.com. He’s owned an E63 AMG wagon, road-tripped across the US in a Lotus without air conditioning, and posted a six-minute lap time on the Circuit de Monaco in a rented Ford Fiesta. One year after becoming Porsche Cars North America’s youngest manager, he quit to become a writer. His parents are very disappointed.

That I do agree with other’s criticism of the fact that the Toyota Corolla has become too appliance-like over the past decade, has me looking back on earlier iterations of the model with increasing fondness.

While there were indeed some memorably fun-to-drive FWD versions—the FX-16 for one (and some may include the NUMMI Nova Twin-Cam, although it wore a “Bowtie”)—there was, and is just no comparison to the “FTD Factor” intrinsic in the earlier RWD models. That “factor” was very present even in the little 1972 1200 Coupe I owned (and “boy-racered” to the degree that my budget and skill set allowed) back in the late ‘70’s.

(In my “Dealer Days” during the same time period, a very large Japanese-Hawaiian coworker had a wagon version of the same car. He had done some fairly extensive performance work on the little one-point-two, but visually it was bone-stock—right down to the wheel covers—and was wearing machine-gray paint that worthily complemented its “sleeper” image. It was quite a sight seeing him jammed into the confines of that tiny interior, racing towards or away from the employee parking lot, exhaust cackling a “mini-me” performance tune, as he heeled-and-toed or speed-shifted the little drivetrain into submission!)

The first experience I had with driving one of these earlier RWD Corollas was when I first started working at that Toyota dealership. We had a small rental fleet of 1977 Coupes, equipped with the legendary 2-TC 1600 engines, three-speed automatic transmissions, and precious little else in the way of upgrade options (I remember they were equipped with vinyl flooring—no carpet!) They were really the all-time perfect rental cars: stripped of any unnecessary equipment, and virtually indestructible! I know this because our crew of lot attendants and trainees—with our potentially hazardous combination of youthful exuberance AND inexperience—certainly couldn’t destroy them!

That bit of ancient history leads us into our present subject: what appears to be the 1981 construct of the same vehicle. The condition of this one illustrates my point on the Corollas of this time period—in a truly exaggerated fashion! Physically beaten—and rusted where not beaten—but still on the road.

The owner has probably been considering sending it to the wrecker for some time—no doubt just waiting for the catastrophic mechanical failure that will finally lead to its being euthanized. My experience with the mechanical integrity of these units says these types of failures can be a long time in coming. While their simplicity and rugged design are the main contributing factors to this, the FTD feature tends to be endearing enough so as to influence the owner in ways otherwise contradicting objective reasoning. “Yeah, she’s a little tired looking, but what a RUNNER!”

About the only thing in the mechanical realm that gets to be a consistent problem with these ‘rollas, at this point, is the A.I.R. injection componentry within the emissions control system. I mean, the stuff was all built to last; but we’re looking at a thirty-year-old vehicle here, and these components can’t be expected to last forever. Functional replacement parts—whether new or used—can be scarce, and expensive. I have found that a little “Yankee Ingenuity” can go a long way when replacement parts can’t readily be had, though.

Hopefully, the owner of this example continues to be “unreasonable”, letting his or her road-going derelict “freak flag fly”.

Phil has written features and columns for a number of automotive periodicals and web-based information companies. He has run a successful Auto Repair Business in the past for many years (See “Memoirs of an Independent Repair Shop Owner” on this ttac site). He can be contacted through this very site, or http://www.linkedin.com/

These F-words were brought to you by Ford. Yesterday, Ford’s 350 millionth vehicle rolled off the lines. It was a Ford Focus, and an occasion to celebrate an even more auspicious record: The Ford Focus “is the world’s best-selling car for the first half of 2012,” says a Ford press release. Media from Associated Press to Autoblog obediently announced the record. The record went down in a hail of protests.

The Wall Street Journal deemed it below its ethics to parrot a press release and asked questions. Answers in hand, they write:

“The company announced on Friday that through seven months of 2012, the car had sold 522,000 units around the world, making it the best-selling single nameplate vehicle, ahead of the Toyota Corolla and Volkswagen Golf. Outselling the Corolla, which similarly is a model sold around the world, would be a great accomplishment for Ford.

But according to Toyota, the Focus actually hasn’t outsold the Corolla. Through that same seven-month period, it said it has sold 722,000 vehicles. Ford, when notified about the difference, said they made a mistake and issued a new press release, saying they actually sold 489,616 units in a six month period – not seven months – and the Toyota Corolla had sold 462,187 units. They also, in the new release, attributed those numbers to IHS Automotive, an independent auto research and forecasting firm that tracks data like global sales.”

That should settle it, no? No, says the WSJ.

Toyota says it sold 603,840 in that same six-month period. Which would give the Corolla a slight lead of 114,224 units over the Focus. IHS and Ford overlooked what is familiar to TTAC readers: The Corolla goes by different names in different countries, where it is known as the Matrix, Corolla Axio, Corilla Fielder, Corolla Rumion, and we possibly missed some.

Even if you only count global sales of the Corolla sedan and Auris hatchback, the two body styles available on the globally-sold Focus, that would give 524,000 units to the Corolla, which would still be ahead of the Focus, says Toyota.

Ford should know better than to rely on IHS Automotive. Its predecessor, IHS Global Insight, once received the nickname “Global Oversight” in the business for consistently erroneous numbers. In November 2009, IHS Global Oversight infamously crowned Volkswagen as the World’s largest automaker. A month later, Volkswagen ended the year correctly in place 3.

IHS concedes that its worldview is a bit blurred, as its numbers cover only 90% of the world and “the 10 percent that we miss out on may be in countries where Toyota is strong,” Christopher Hopson of IHS told the Journal.

In the end, muses a gracious Wall Street Journal, “it’s fair to say both companies are selling a lot of cars, even if no one can agree on how many.”

Bloomberg, after first buying into Ford’s 489,616 Focus vs. 462,187 Corollas story,  has second thoughts.  In a new story, the wire correctly reports that Ford and Toyota  “are each saying they produce the best-selling car in the world in the first half. Their definitions are the key.”

PS: Flagwavers, take note: The 350 millionth Ford and allegedly best-selling Focus rolled off the assembly lines in Thailand, at Ford’s Rayong plant.

The dream is always the same.

The day is ending. Cool evening breezes riffle across the sun-scorched furze and set dried leaves a-rustling in the trees, their sibilant hiss like the restless fluttering of a thousand small birds. Long and dappled shadows stretch flickering fingers across the hot tarmac of the final corner.

There is a crowd and they are silent, expectant and indistinct: faces like the smudged soft-focus colours of an impressionist oil-painting amongst the flapping flags. Insects hop and buzz in the long grasses; gradually, slowly, their hum is blended, enhanced, and finally supplanted by a rising crescendo.

The pack is coming, and Kaida is leading them.

She awakes to heavy rain drumming on her roof and splashing muck up onto her flanks. It’s barely dawn, the sky dull and sullen. Today it will clear, but brighten only to the dingy grey of an old bedsheet and no further.

Kaida feels her age. Shocks blown, bushings cracked, headliner sagging, once-beige paint fading and blistered. A crack bisects her grimy windshield, her headlights are yellowed and an inexpertly repaired wound is now an obvious and unsightly scar. Her heart is clogged with the plaque of neglect and she is shamed to see that where the water flows beneath her, it shimmers with a rainbow of dropped oil.

Soon, her current owner will call upon her and, with a single cough, she’ll rise gamely to battle the mid-morning traffic. Until then, she rests.

Chapter One – A Journey

Kaida was born in the way of all mechanical things. One moment a pile of assorted components, the next a whole. An unsmiling salaryman examines her, checking his notepad, oblivious to her questions.

“Where am I?”

“Who are you?”

These and other soundless queries go unanswered as she joins the long queue exiting the factory’s womb and makes her way into the holding yard. There are others here, like her and yet not; their vacant, placid stares indicating a will to wait ’til the end of the world if need be.

Kaida is different, eager and antsy. Perhaps a fragment from a long-forgotten warrior’s katana has found its way into the steel that makes her chassis. Perhaps the factory worker that assembled her powerplant momentarily felt his fingers dance with the genetic tug of an ancestry of craftsmen; a family born and raised beside the heat of some hillside forge.

Whatever the case, she feels like a horse in a herd of cattle – packed tightly in the immense rectangular Ro-Ro vessel that will take her East to the West. In the damp gloom belowdecks, cars shift unhappily on their suspensions as the carrier shatters the Pacific with its bluff, broad prow. Kaida sleeps, and dreams.

California is sunny and bright with the raucous calls of circling gulls. They shit on the gathered rows of cars like endless squadrons of grey-on-white B-17s, layering guano on every imaginable shade of dirty, once-bright paintwork. Most don’t notice. Kaida hates it.

Then the railway. Endless swaying from depot to depot as the train snakes its way deep into the heartland. Shunting, rattling, delays and dust: the suffocating heat of a Texas rail-spur; the industrial despair of a rustbelt ghost town. And then, one day, the train moves on, but Kaida stays behind.

Loaded up front in a truck transporter, the driver figures her gold colour will hide any rock chips, tucking a black-on-black MR-2 safely underneath. They pull out on the interstate and Kaida gets her first glimpse of the American road.

It’s broad and smooth, an unbroken line stretching out to the horizon, and beyond. It speaks of freedom, sings of adventures to be had, whispers promises that are only the more enticing for all their vagueness.

She sits up high, watching cars stream past, loaded up with people and things. A lone motorcycle blurts its baritone raspberry. A dog barks at her from the open bed of a pickup truck. Endless fields spread out on either side as the traffic thins. A big country, wide open with potential.

At the dealership, a crowd gathers. Not for Kaida, or her other hum-drum travelling companions, but for the MR-2. Salesmen squabble over who will be first to try out the mid-engined car, right up until a florid manager arrives.

The law is laid down: no joy rides. Cleaned up and rolled right into the showroom for the weekend. The MR2, a green Camry, and – he points at Kaida – that one.

The lot boy – with his usual careless hurry – scrapes her belly while careening over a speed-bump, jams her transmission into park from a roll, and then proceeds to drop the wash-mitt on the ground and not bother to rinse it off. By five o’clock she’s backed into the far corner of the show-room, scarified and somewhat non-plussed by the rough treatment.

A small showroom, in a small dealership, in a small town, but it does have a crown jewel: a bright red twin-turbo Supra. It squats smack-dab in the middle of the showroom, reducing everything that surrounds it to mere background noise. Even the MR-2 shrinks by comparison; a minor noble in the presence of the king.

That night, Kaida neither sleeps nor dreams. She is in the company of greatness; titans with whom she will soon be sharing the road. She awaits the dawn anxiously, patiently, nervously, quietly.

Saturday is sunny, and the sales staff come trooping spiritedly out of the morning meeting, amped on caffeine and spiffed with cash, ready to greet, grin and grapple, shake hands and cajole. By eleven, four names are scrawled on the board in bright marker, and a jocular, festive mood fills the air. It’s going to be a good day.

Richard Hedley buys Kaida at 11:30, without test-driving. She is the last car to sell that weekend – he has that effect.

Chapter 2 – Richard

He comes in a cab on the Monday morning. No trade-in, his previous car has died on the hoist and been sent off for scrap without a twinge of regret at anything other than the expense of the tow-truck. The salesman flattens out his old license plates, bolts them on, and off Richard goes, without even adjusting his mirrors.

Mr. Hedley teaches, or rather, he lectures. Every day, he looks out at a herd of upturned, bovine faces and quietly despairs. His tone is dry, his tie knotted carelessly, his endless sports-coats frayed not by poverty, but ennui.

Like all kids, his students are no fools. They feel the waves of contempt radiating off this disheveled man and reflect it right back to him with surly unruliness. In the very first week, Kaida is awakened from a pleasant afternoon nap in the teacher’s parking lot by the cold sharpness of a key scoring a jagged line down her flank.

When he sees the damage, “Dickheadly” doesn’t utter a single staccato curse, nor clench his fist or jaw, nor harbour sudden red-tinged fantasies of revenge. He just sighs: in a sea of disappointments that laps at the shore of his life, this is but a minor wave.

The years pass and Kaida trundles back and forth from high school to home via the liquor store and the library. Her unpatched wound turns orange with iron oxide and her corners collect the scuffs and scrapes of an incautious parker: the kind who doesn’t leave notes.

The miles mount slowly, both in tally and in the speed at which they’re traveled. Mr. Hedley is as bumbling a driver as he is a wooer, cautious to a fault, yet not without a certain self-centered recklessness. Her tires wear and crack, her brakes began to squeak, but she is yet in her prime. Tucked away in the driveway at night, she dreams of hot tarmac and the sprint for the finish line.

For Richard, the same can not be said. He has swollen noticeably around the middle and sagged everywhere else. His life has become a sea of beige: beige textbooks, beige folders, beige papers, beige desk, beige trousers, beige meals, beige car. The only colour left in his life is the red to be found in his glass on a Friday, Saturday and Sunday evening. But then, she comes.

She is an English import, but not in an unapproachable, prim-and-proper sense. Miss (definitely not Ms.) Simmons is a South Counties maid, dark-haired, red-cheeked, plump in all the best places and merry-eyed. She teaches well. She likes a laugh. She likes a drink. She touches his arm when she talks, and laughs, and winks, and swirls away in a cloud of vanilla scent.

It takes a month to rouse himself from his long-habitual stupor. He drives faster to work and slower away from it – Kaida notices and is glad.

He becomes gradually less rumpled, less weathered. His shoes shine and his shuffle becomes a stride. His colleagues notice, and they smirk behind their hands– Miss Simmons touches everyone’s arm when she talks.

The road home leads past a little corner lot, coloured triangular flags fluttering in the breeze like the twinkling of a fish-lure above the hook. He’s passed this way for years, never noticing, but on this day a gleam of red catches his eye, and before he realizes it, he is turning in.

The red turns out to be a BMW 3-series cabriolet – “a real pussy-magnet” the salesman leers, with the sort of offensive manner that he knows is expected of him. A deal is struck. Papers signed.

Richard rolls out of the lot in a fog, out past the school, past the mill, past the liquor store, on past his house, out and down to the main drag where milling crowds fill the sidewalks in the warm air of the coming summer holidays. He sees her there, and she is with another.

To his credit, Richard doesn’t just sigh. He curses, and pounds the steering wheel, and speeds off into the night, eventually slinking home in the early hours of the morning to open a cupboard, crack a seal and pour himself out a cup of oblivion. In her new home, Kaida sleeps beneath the fluttering pennants, and dreams of apexes.

Chapter 3 – Michelle

Michelle Montgomery has made a mistake. His name is William (never Bill or Willy) and he is three. He is a bright boy, bright like his father and occasionally possessed of the same saturnine temperament.

Of course, William’s father has other qualities as well: narcissism, promiscuity, and violence. All of these dangerous little facets once seemed attractive to Michelle, and just because a hard truth has finally been exposed to her does not mean she’s learned anything from the experience. The pair of them are alone, except when she is not.

She has a job, which is something. It pays less than you’d expect, but it’d be enough if the money was well-managed, which it isn’t.

If this was another sort of story, Michelle would be a kind of heroine, struggling and sacrificing. As it is, she is only half as bad as William’s deadbeat father: deeply inconsistent, one moment smothering, the next coldly distant; as apt to throw a tantrum as her child – and she pinches.

She rolls into the corner lot in a dying Chrysler Intrepid with a cash-loan from her estranged mother that is just about enough to work out a skinny deal. The same salesman that talked Richard into his new BMW walks out to greet her with a lizard’s smile and a wolfish gaze that slowly devours her still-slim, denim-clad figure.

His lascivious smile lasts through the introductions, through the test-drive, all the way right up until negotiations. As they sit down, William, who has been fairly disinterested in the proceedings up to this point, contrives to get himself stung, grabbing a wasp that has been buzzing and batting futilely against the window.

The tiny office instantly fills with a piercing howl, a screaming roar made to rattle fillings and liquefy the brain. The salesman looks at the once-pretty girl, the grimace on her lined, exasperated face. She clutches at the squalling brat, his open mouth like a red wound, and the salesman feels his testicles retract back up into his stomach.

Paperwork never happened so fast. Kaida finds herself crammed full of stroller, child seat, boxes and bags and clothes and stuffed-toys and all manner of detritus. William recovers his composure in the first mile.

Michelle drives fast but not well. She leans forward over the wheel and lurches out into traffic, stomps on the brake pedal at the last minute, chatters on her phone and never, ever, signals before turning.

William is a little boy, and that means dirt. He kicks the back of the front seats and drops crumbs from crackers and cookies, spills juice in sticky puddles everywhere. Kaida’s interior takes on a musty fug of spoiled milk and fast-food wrappers.

There are boyfriends, most worthless, all temporary. One begs the keys “for a job interview” and ends up backing Kaida into a post. Hard. He slinks back at night, tosses the keys on the dresser and is gone in the morning. Michelle doesn’t even notice the damage until weeks later: she is trying to load the groceries and the trunk won’t open.

Her parking-lot struggles do not go unnoticed; he is tall and rangy, dark-haired and loose-limbed with a dangerous confidence. Kaida receives a close-fisted thump on the rear and her trunk springs open. Michele throws her head back and laughs, baring her throat. He smiles too, a glittering, toothy grin.

William, now six, looks solemnly out at the old familiar dance and briefly locks eyes with the cold, predatory gaze of the stranger. He is a bright boy, and he can see hard years ahead. But then, steel doesn’t sharpen against cheese: eventually, he’ll be fine. Kaida will not.

Michelle’s moves in, and as her stranger snaps up every aspect of her life, it becomes evident that there is no need for her aging set of wheels. Kaida will have to go, and after three weeks on craigslist, off she does.

Chapter 4 – Michael

Michael has just turned twenty-three and is coming to the bewildering realization that the world does not, in fact, owe him a living. This state of affairs is in direct conflict with his what his parents and teachers have been telling him for years.

He works as a picker at a warehouse, packing things in boxes, up and down through the aisles. The pay is okay. The hours are good. They don’t seem to mind when he makes a mistake.

The ladies that work the returns section of the warehouse love him, and why wouldn’t they? He’s always quick with a quip, affable; long-haired and lean with a languid smile.

He wires in a sub, replaces Kaida’s stereo with a Sony Xplod. On evenings, Mike drives out to the dyke with Tim-bo in the warm summer evenings and gets high as a kite to the thump of the bass and the sounds of Kaida’s trunk rattling and buzzing away.

He has a loose plan to pay back his parents for the car, but somehow it never happens. The summer seems to stretch on forever, and by the time the leaves start changing, he’s pretty much where he’s always been: not ahead, not behind, takin’ it easy.

Winter, and a cold one. There’s a new guy on shift, olive-skinned and silent; Mike invites him out for beers but he smiles shyly and mumbles something about his family. Whatever.

Tim-bo’s already half-cut by the time Mike finds a parking spot for Kaida and stumbles into the bar, eliciting complaints from those near the door as the icy blast swirls round their feet. Catch-up time – two quick shots take the edge off, maybe a brief step outside to blaze?

He nearly slips on a patch of ice coming back out, but catches the arm of a passer-by and hauls himself back up. The stranger pivots angrily and before Mike can murmur his usual easy-going thanks, a fist lashes out. The punch does little damage, but the fall…

Mike is ok. He’s ok.

Michael, on the other hand, Michael the little boy that once built a vinegar-and-baking-soda model of all the volcanoes of Japan; the boy that kissed Susie Jensen underneath the soccer field bleachers and then ran to tell Tim what kissing girls was like; the boy that once cried himself to sleep over the injustice of a dead hamster: he’s gone. All that’s left is Mike, good old, slightly dopey Mike.

Oh, and he can’t drive any more.

Chapter 5 – Trevor

Kaida is sold to Brent. Brent is a juggalo, and I hardly need tell you what the next two years are like.

Brent finally trades her to Kym for a laptop, but Kym doesn’t drive and Kaida sits outside on deflated tires in the heavy rain. Eventually, Kym’s roommate agrees to pay for the privilege of driving across town and promises to cover the cost of any parking tickets or breakdowns. Kaida is weary, but her dreams are as vivid as ever. In them, she is something more than the fading hulk that rises daily to travel across town, battling stop and go traffic.

Then, one day, Trevor arrives. He is slim, bespectacled, his face slightly scarred by long-forgotten teenage battles with acne. Kaida is yet again on the block, this time for just seven hundred dollars. Trevor will pay five hundred and five hundred only, but not because he’s cheap.

Kaida returns his gaze and for the first time, meets someone who knows what she knows. Someone who looks past the decrepitude of years of abuse, past the once-beige paint job and her rusting quarter-panels and her automatic transmission, past her weak four-cylinder engine and her soggy suspension and her ratty interior and her decaying steering and her mushy brakes and somewhere, far off, as though at a great distance she hears him say, “I’m looking to buy a race car and I can only spend five hundred bucks.”

A race car.

Eiplogue –

In the paddock, Kaida sleeps. She is painted in full race livery: her flanks read, “Rolling Road-block Driver Training” on one side and “Team Borolla” on the other. Her sagging front seats have been replaced with salvaged Recaros out of some VW product and her once-leaking engine boasts the least-likely turbocharging setup you could ever wish to see. It looks like Frankenstein’s duodenum with a tumourous snail hanging off it.

But she is ready. Ready for tomorrow’s battle. In the morning there will be smoke and noise and fire and paint-swapping and black-flagging and wheel-to-wheel combat of a ferocity unseen since the hippodromes of Rome. Her unlikely foes lie to the right and left, E30 BMWs, hacked-up Miatas, Volvos, Buicks, Lincolns, a Citroën.

Tomorrow, the fray. Tonight, Kaida sleeps.

And dreams.

Welcome to Car Fight, the comparison test with no basis for comparison. In this edition, we join Editor-In-Chief Bertel Schmitt and Editor-at-Large Ed Niedermeyer in sunny Southern California, where they’re arguing over which sedan makes a better $35k-ish commuter chariot, the 2012 Hyundai Azera or the 2012 Toyota Camry Hybrid.

Niedermeyer: Well, Bertel… you asked for it. You were the one who thought your overpriced, buzzy little hybrid could take on my BuickBimBap on the uncompromising streets of L.A. You picked this Car Fight, and now you’re going to lose.

Let’s be clear: you’re pitting a midsized sedan with some overly-complex gubbins against a purpose-built, full-sized cruising machine. My V6 has nearly 100 horsepower on your hybrid. I could chauffeur three NFL linemen in comfort, you’d be hard-pressed to accommodate more than three cheerleaders. Oh, and did I mention that my car features the best application yet of Hyundai’s “fluidic sculpture” design language, while yours has… hybrid badges?

Sure, my Azera is a few grand more expensive, and no, it doesn’t get hybrid fuel economy, but this is no contest. Just admit that you wish you’d asked Toyota for an Avalon and lets be done with this.

Schmitt: Three NFL linemen? My ride has space for four Japanese cheerleaders. Actually, more, but I don’t want to be pulled over with a car full of lithe ladies. Lose weight, or lose money at the pump, as your kimchee-kruiser demonstrates. I drove my cheerleaders from L.A. to San Diego and back, and I still had half a tank. I bet they gave your car that “fluid” design because of how quickly fuel flows in that thing.

Have a look at this: With a bunch of cheerleaders in the car, and going down I5 with the A/C on full blast – those cheerleaders are hot – the mpg was a little shy of 40. Some hypermiler before me had 46.7 mpg. Probably driving alone. It’s lonely at the top.

And yours? No wonder they hide this god awful mileage deep in the instrument clutter of the Azera. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Ed? Do you hate polar bears?

And what’s that? An anatomically correct exhaust pipe? You car is sucking gas so quick it can’t even digest it properly. Give it up, Niedermeyer. I’ll buy my cheerleaders sushi while you head to the gas station. You will give up after you see the bill.

Niedermeyer: …

Schmitt (a week later:): Ed? Hello? Hello?

Niedermeyer: … 

Schmitt (yet another week later:): Ed? Eeeeeeeeeeehed?

No answer. Ed must be speechless.

I am forced to finish this car fight single-handedly. It’s too bad, because there is one area where Ed could have gained points. And that is …

The trunk.

Measured using TTAC’s new (and for all reviewers mandatory) trunksizing metrics, the Hyundai Azera  has trunkspace big enough for one overweight editor-in-chief plus three spooning cheerleaders, American. (Cheerleaders not in picture, they ran away.)

The Camry trunk on the other hand only has room for one skinny editor-at-large, end even that is a bit cramped. Azera 4, Camry 1. But then, if you need to lug around all that junk in the trunk, get a truck.

Finally, the coupe de grace: The talking navigation systems.

Sure, both struggled with Los Angeles and the chore of pronouncing “continue on South Sepulveda Blvfftbr… then make a right onto  West Cen-tineeeeela Avbzzt.” The Camry however has a nice human voice that seems to have charming pronunciation problems. The Azera has a computer voice straight from Mars.

Too bad that yellowbelly Ed went AWOL and is unable to defend his ride.

I felt great in mine. Prepared for a pokey hybrid, I was pleasantly surprised by the on-ramp prestige the 2012 Toyota Camry Hybrid delivers. After one week in the car, I had fallen in love with it, and I was sad to see it go.

If you have the extra $$$$ for the Azera and the gas station attendant, with whom you will become quite familiar, by all means, go for it. If not, take the hybrid Camry.

The 2012 Hyundai Azera was supplied by Hyundai with a full tank of gas. It was delivered to the airport by a rather attractive attendant, dressed all black with pink accents.

Prudent Toyota handed over the keys to the 2012 Toyota Camry Hybrid on their parking lot. Adhering to Japanese customs, the car was returned with a full tank of gas. After one week, it cost Bertel $39.50

I also drove the car around the block a few times.

Fujita is a friendly man. When his eyes sparkle behind his rimless glasses, a laughter is quick to follow. This is the second Corolla in his career. He also led the development of the previous generation, “in its Japanese and South American version.” (Hint, hint.)

“Customers are different in each region,” says Fujita, and the Corolla will be adapted to these different tastes and requirements.

Asked how many Corollas exist in parallel in this world, Fujita says that there are “many Corollas, but the differences are small.”

Fujita confirms that this is the new generation Corolla which will eventually appear in the rest of the world once he and his colleagues are done with the adaptions.

One of the most obvious engineering requirements for the JDM variant was issued by the Japanese government. To qualify as a (lower taxed) compact car, vehicles must measure less than 4.7 m (15.4 ft) in length and 1.7 m (5.6 ft) in width. The new Axio complies with this requirement, while providing more space on the inside.

“U.S. customers think bigger is better,” says Fujita. Stateside, there won’t be a “honey, I shrunk the Corolla.” Fujita indicates that the increase in length will most likely translate into more trunk space, the cabin will be “almost the same.”

Fujita is a tease. He says that he cannot talk about the U.S. model because it still is in development, under a different Chief Engineer. Then he adds that the different Chief Engineer sits in the office next to him and that they are in constant communication. Occasionally announcing that the U.S. model is top secret, Fujita keeps talking.

The U.S. customer will not get the rounded windshield that provides the feeling of even more interior space in the new JDM Corolla. Forget about a wagon version in the U.S.

“I love technology” says Fujita, as he treats the new Corolla to a list of features that hitherto were only available in higher end Toyota and Lexus models. Will the new features survive the journey across the Pacific?

Fujita says that he can’t disclose details, and that the new ventilated driver’s seat may come to the U.S., or may not, depending on the colleague next door and the U.S. supplier. The chances of the automatic high beams coming to the U.S. currently are low. That feature is better suited to the “winding roads in Japan,” says Fujita. The U.S. engine will be a 1.8 liter, the CVT will stay at home in Japan. The new idle stop system also won’t make it across the Pacific, it is mated to the CVT.

What will never ever make it into a Corolla, at least as long as Fujita is in charge, is an instrument cluster in the middle.

“I don’t like it,” says Fujita, “and Corolla customers the world over don’t like it either.”

The ergonomics people tried to convince Fujita that sideway glances of the eyes are quicker and less distracting than up and down movements of the eyeballs, but the Corolla’s Chief Engineer is not buying it.

The new Corolla will not appeal to would-be car racers and horse power worshipers. The car is a crowd pleaser, more than a million change hands each year. Ever since I was on the launch team of the Golf in 1973, I developed great respect for mass market cars and their creators. Designing a supercar is easy, which explains the high numbers of people who dabble in it. The development of a mass-market car that is consistently successful over many generations is a demanding discipline that is mastered only by a chosen few.

With that thought in my head, I drive Fujita’s creation until I get lost on the way to Tokyo’s new Dinosaur bridge. I make a U-turn and head back. The turn is easy, the car’s learning curve is flat. To avoid complaints about different Corollas, I will leave the true driving impressions to Messrs. Dykes, Karesh, or even Baruth when the U.S. version will reach the U.S. shores two years from now. Or thereabouts.

Toyota provided the car and the engineer.

When a new generation of the world’s best selling car, and of the best selling cars of all times (accounts differ) rolls off the line at its factory, then this is usually a big deal. This time, it’s a smaller deal. The 11^th generation Corolla that started production today at Toyota’s new plant near Sendai in Japan’s tsunami-ravaged north, is a little shorter than its predecessor. It breaks a tradition of carbloat.

Nevertheless, the new Corolla offers more. It offers it on the inside.  Despite the fact that the car has lost two inches outside, the rear passengers are presented with an inch and a half in legroom. The turning radius also has shrunk a bit, which is appreciated in those tight Japanese parking lots and cramped garages.

In Japan, “Corolla” slowly morphs into a brand in its own right, with “Toyota Corolla” branded dealer channels and multitudes of Corolla models. Today, I saw a new JDM Corolla Axio (the sedan) and its station wagon sibling, the Corolla Fielder. Don’t run to your dealer just yet to buy the car that Toyota has shrunk. That 11h gen Corolla is for the Japanese market only. The Corolla Axio that took the stage today was in some kind of beige – not a derogatory color in Japan. In any case, it wasn’t beige, it was “melo shilubar,” or “mellow silver” in English (who said Japanese is hard?)

Toyota CEO Akio Toyoda today dashed hopes, voiced by a reporter of a Sendai newspaper, that the new gen Toyota built near Sendai will be an export hit: “The Corollas destined for foreign markets are produced at the Tokuoka and Higashi Fuji plants.” To lift spirits in Sendai, Toyoda promised that “some may be shipped to New Zealand.”

Akio Toyoda today added two important tidbits to the storied history of the Corolla:

• The official total of all Corollas made worldwide stands at 39 million as of today, Toyoda said. Not “over 40 million sold as of 2007,” as Wikipedia claims.  39 million as of today. Source: The boss himself.
• The first car Akio Toyoda paid for himself “was a pre-owned 4^th generation Corolla 1600 GT,” Akio Toyoda admitted today. Just one of the guys.

The 2012 Yaris! It’s a car! That might sound like the strangest marketing claim for a new car ever, but if you dig deeper it is Toyota’s attempt at saying “OK, we get it.” Why? Because Toyota, like most manufacturers, has had trouble staying on message with basic transportation. Need proof? Look no further than the Corolla. The Corolla was a small, cheap and cheerful vehicle that has since grown into a 15-foot long sedan that weighs almost 3,000lbs and can reach $20,000 with options. No matter how nice a Corolla might be, cheap to buy it isn’t.

It’s a hatchback!

Part of getting back on message with the Yaris was simplifying the lineup by ditching the sedan leaving the 5-door Michael Karesh snagged back in February, and the cheapest Toyota in America: the 3-door hatchback I had for a week. Why no sedan? Toyota tells us it accounted for less than 30% of sales so it had to be euthanized in the name of progress. Further simplifying things, there just two trims for the 3-door hatch (L and LE) and three for the 5-door (L, LE and SE) reducing the possible number of configurations from 25 in 2011 to 9. Yep, 9. In addition, there are essentially no options on the Yaris, you pick the number of doors, manual or automatic, select from 8 available paint colors, cruise control and away you go for $14,115 to $17,960. Never before has buying a Toyota been this simple.

It has a steering wheel!

There may be a color palate to choose from on the outside, but inside all 3-door Yaris models get the same grey-on-black interior thanks to Toyota’s streamlining. Plastics are as hard as you would expect in a car that starts under 15-grand, but the doors and dash do get a thin coating of squishy soft-touch plastics (it’s the grey part in the picture). Compared to the outgoing Yaris, the 2012 is positively normal with the instrument cluster returning to a normal position in-front of the driver. Keeping costs in check, the only model that sports a tachometer is the “sporty” 5-door SE model Michael reviewed. Our tester, as with the rest of the lineup gets a round blank spot that illuminates at night to remind you that you didn’t pop for the SE. Our LE tester had the only two options going: cruise control for $250 (available only on 3-door LE models with the automatic) and floor mats for $180. So what’s the difference between the L and LE? The LE buys you a standard automatic transmission, body colored mirrors, a better radio (L and LE both have standard USB/iPod jacks), a driver’s seat with 2 more directions of motion, a 60/40 folding rear seat (the L’s rear seat folds flat as one unit), audio controls on the steering wheel, chrome door handles, Bluetooth speakerphone, power windows and remote keyless entry. The price for these jewels? $1,510.

Click here to view the embedded video.

It moves!

The Yaris has an engine! The 3-door and 5-door Yaris share the same thoroughly modern 1.5L four-cylinder engine with variable valve timing. The 106HP come to the boil at 6,000 RPM but despite this, it isn’t as “peaky” as many small engines. Torque is rated at 103 lb-ft at a lower 4,200 RPM. I’d like to say this makes the Yaris quick off the line, but the lack of a tach really hampered my fun with the 5-speed manual. Adding insult to injury, our LE tester mates the modern engine with an ancient 4-speed automatic. The lack of cogs is the most likely reason the Yaris misses the 40MPG mark with the 5-speed manual posting 30MPG city and 38MPG highway and the automatic dropping to a ho-hum 30MPG city and 35MPG highway according to the EPA. I experienced an average of 31MPG on my daily commute. If these numbers bother you, then you’re missing the point of the Yaris which strangely enough isn’t to be the most efficient small Toyota, but the cheapest to buy.

It Turns!

Out on the road the Yaris’s short 98.8-inch wheelbase, light curb weight of 2,300lbs and somewhat stiff springs combine to make for a choppy ride on washboard pavement. All 3-door Yaris models come with 10-inch vented discs up front, drum brakes out back and 175 width, 65 series tires on steel wheels. Despite being shod with tall all-season rubber, the lightweight Yaris handles surprisingly well with a well-balanced chassis, direct (albeit numb) steering and a tight 30-foot turning radius. Thanks to the fairly wide stance and “wheels in the corners” design, the 3-door is actually a willing companion when the going gets twisty. Because the chassis is a willing dance partner on windy mountain roads, the budget nature of the braking system becomes more obvious than in the previous generation with smoke and fade following a session of aggressive corner carving. While I doubt many shoppers will feel the need to push their subcompact to the limits, beware that the chassis writes checks the brakes can’t cash.

There’s competition!

While many Toyota shoppers are brand monogamists who won’t so much as look at another woman car, the Yaris is positioned as an entry-level vehicle hoping to attract the younger generation and train them to be a lifelong Toyota customer. While it’s easy to compare the 5-door Yaris to the slick 5-door Hyundai Accent with its refined interior and more efficient and powerful drivetrain, it has a few too many doors. Indeed, all the competition save the Fiat 500 and Golf have too many doors. Compared to the Golf (starting at $17,995) the Yaris’ cheaper interior and old-school cog swapper can be forgiven because of the low sticker price, and compared to the Fiat, the Yaris is simply more car. In many ways the Yaris’ fiercest competitor is in the family: the all-new Prius c. Based loosely on the unholy marriage of a Yaris and a Prius to begin with, the baby Prius starts at $18,950 and with a solid 50MPG average (as tested by TTAC) vs the Yaris’ 30MPG average (as tested by TTAC), it wouldn’t take long to save the $3,325 difference in MSRP.

I started scratching my head about the Yaris at the release event for the Prius c a few months ago and after spending a week in the Yaris I’m more confused then when I started. It’s not the Yaris’ fault. It’s a cheap car that fulfills the mission of cheap and cheerful transportation with a totally unexpected dose of fun and simplicity. The problem is Toyota makes a much better car; the Prius c. With 50 MPG on tap and $4.40 gasoline in Northern California it would only take 55,500 miles to break even. If you’re worried about a loss of fun, despite the 200lb heavier curb weight of the Prius c, it handles almost as well as the Yaris and the hybrid drivetrain actually helps solve the braking complaints. If you’re in the market for a compact car, it seems the Yaris is really only a good option if you really want a new car but can’t stretch yourself to the Prius c or one of the other more premium subcompact options.

Toyota provided the vehicle, insurance and one tank of gas for this review

Specifications as tested

0-30: 3.05 seconds

0-60: 9.0 seconds

1/4 Mile: 17.02 seconds @ 79.5MPH

Average economy: 30.5MPG over 689 miles

A few days ago, 24/7 Wall Street published yet another list of the best selling cars of all times, kicking the perennial Ford F-Series to second place. We usually stay away from these lists, they just produce flame wars, especially when the methodology remains as dubious as in “we looked at best-selling car data from a number of sources.”

However, powered by the Huffington Post et al, the list went viral. And there you have it: “Toyota Corolla becomes world’s most popular car with one sold every 40 seconds.”

Toyota took that to heart today and added a second shift to its Blue Springs, Mississippi plant. It makes the Corolla in America. And yes, in the press release, Toyota confirms that the Corolla is “the world’s best-selling car of all time.”

The Blue Springs plant has an annual capacity to produce 150,000 Corollas. According to our monthly sales snapshot, the Corolla disappointed in January, whereas the new Camry is selling well. In 2011, Corolla U.S. sales had been down 9.7 percent. (With the Ford F series solidly in number 1.) So why a second shift?

(Allegedly) Best Selling Cars Of All Times

If you consider the fact that 240,000 Corolla/Matrix were sold stateside in 2011, and if you recall that there had been a rumor that Toyota could stop all Corolla exports from Japan due to the Godzilla yen, you may wonder whether that has something to do with it. Also, the current E140 generation of the Corolla is getting mighty long in the tooth – time for a new one? The always well-informed Kaizen Factor says:

“Nah. The North American Corolla appears one year later than its Japanese Corolla and European Auris siblings, and the latter isn’t expected to be unveiled until this September’s Paris Auto Show. “

I’ll ask tomorrow at the Toyota results conference in Tokyo. Not that I expect any answers .

TTAC Commentator threeer writes:

A recent ”New or Used” got me thinking. I’m facing a (sort of) similar situation regarding an upcoming vehicle purchase…for my 67 year old mother. A brief background…

My mother counts everything these days by the number of years on the calendar, and expects that the next car she buys will be her last ever. She keeps her vehicles for 8-10 years, always buys new and has generally owned Toyotas (1981 Corolla, 1993 Camry, 2003 Corolla…her current vehicle). Mom is ueber-practical when it comes to cars, and hasn’t dared let herself consider anything remotely upscale in her recent automotive purchases. I dread the thought of her going to another Corolla, though potentially, a decked-out Camry SE wouldn’t be the worst thing to spend the next 10 years in. She once longed for an Audi, and has on a few occasions mentioned that for the same cash she put down on her (then) new Corolla, her workmate bought a nicely-equipped used Mercedes…and recently, a close relative of ours also went the used route and bought a CPO E-class, so she is aware of the value of depreciation…I’m just not sure I can convince her of that route. Plus, she is very much a ”drive and forget it” kind of car owner…problematic or reliability-challenged cars would only serve to frustrate her down the road. Me personally, I’d like to see her splurge a little with her last whip and enjoy some of the good life for having worked her tail off and for having given so selflessly of herself to the rest of the family.

So B&B…I ask you…if it were YOUR 67 year old mother, what would you recommend around the $25k mark (push $30k, but that would be a tough sell) that doesn’t scream ”refrigerator on wheels” but is still reliable enough to run 8-10 years and isn’t a land yacht (she is large car adverse and more than likely a tad technologically challenged!). Something with a touch of class and buttoned-down road manners (again, see the ”no land yacht” clause!). New is preferred, but I could maybe, maybe swing her over towards something no more than two years old.

Enough criteria to make your head spin? Over to you all…

Steve Answers:

I’m not sure if I would even bother with a new car purchase.

If memory serves me correct, you are a long-time TTAC reader whose mom has a 2003 Corolla with about 90k and leather seats.

Unless the vehicle has been in some type of severe accident that bent the frame and/or your Mom is simply uncomfortable driving the vehicle, I would just let things be.

Why? Two reasons. These cars tend to be highly reliable and your mom is not an enthusiast. Folks who aren’t into cars shouldn’t waste $25,000 on ‘appliance transportation’. They need to get from A to B in a good, safe, comfort appliance… and Toyota Corollas tend to offer a very long and good life in that regard.

Get the vehicle maintained to the T. Have it detailed, touched up, let her even put in a ‘car scent’ if she is so inclined. Spend $25,000? No way. Wait until the vehicle reaches 15 years or 150k miles…unless your mom lives in a locale where ‘rust’ is a big issue.

Five years from now she may want to consider a Corolla, Matrix or Camry. Today though I think her friends and other influencers may just be creating ‘friction through fiction’.

Keep the car… and let her go on a few ‘practical‘ cruises with her friends… if they still have the money.

Sajeev Answers:

Getting something that’s both nice and cheap is tough. Town Cars and premium GM W-bodies (i.e Buick, Olds, Pontiac) used to fit the mold. Not so much anymore.

The Mehta family went this route exactly 25 years and 2 days ago via Fox Body Lincoln Continental…and we never looked back. Today, much like yesteryear, my Mom drives a CPO Lexus GS430. Your Mom is a perfect candidate for a Lexus ES, certified pre-owned or not. It’s still a Toyota, it’s not a Camry to people outside of the autoblogosphere, and there will be a comfort level for her because of the familial relations. And ladies the age of our mothers will admit they want to own a Lexus.  If you offer it at the right price to make them comfortable.

You can go to a non-Lexus brand and get the same (or more) car for less money, within your 25k budget. The Lincoln Zephyr-MK-Fusion thing is nice enough, especially with heated/cooled seats. Cadillac CTS or a fully loaded, $40,000 when new Taurus Limited? Sure, why not! The perks to every automaker’s fascination with entry level luxury cars is there are plenty of “duds” that don’t touch the 3-series, C-class and even the Lexus ES in terms of resale and popularity. Still, your Mom is the ideal candidate for the ES.

While Steve has a good point, I think buying something nice for your Mom is always the right way to go. She did so much for you, more than likely.  Provided you stay the hell away from out-of-warranty modern European sleds with some of the most fragile and costly components known to man, you can’t possibly go wrong.

Need help with a car buying conundrum? Email your particulars to sajeev@thetruthaboutcars.com , and let TTAC’s collective wisdom make the decision easier… or possibly much, much harder.

Danny writes:

I am looking to buy an RX-7 (FC) convertible. I currently own a hand me down 2000 Honda Accord V6 from my mother in law. this car drinks WAY too much gas. 20 dollars in 89 octane gas DAILY! my commute is about 50 miles round trip. but I always loved Mazdas my dad had a 1984 323 with a 1.3, a 929 with the V6. I grew up playing with FDs in Gran Turismo. now that I can buy a cheap used car I was thinking about an FC convertible. BUT the major problem that I have is my job, I work for a Chevy dealership as a salesman. The GSM and the SM fired a guy who bought a Toyota Corolla S brand new.

I don’t wanna lose my job but I LOVE the FC and will not buy anything else, I know rotaries are as unreliable as an iron duke but that doesn’t matter. I have access to a repair shop so free labor is there. the parts might be a problem, though i think there are plenty of them in my local junk yard. so please help me figure out my dilemma I Don’t want to drive that POS accord in the summer heat, because it has no A/C, brakes are almost shot.

Sajeev answers:

So let me get this straight…your POS Accord drinks too much gas and you want to replace it with the bastion of efficiency, reliability, and cost effectiveness: an old RX-7? Really???

You just complained about getting kicked in the stomach, and subsequently ask to get kneed in the nuts. Because someone who doesn’t want to fix a somewhat old Accord (even with free labor) and wants to buy an ancient RX-7 is asking for said attack on one’s crotch. I would say that you should wear a cup, but that won’t help. The knee will hit with way too much force to your crotch. I mean wallet.

I like the part where you mentioned your dealership fired someone for buying a Corolla. While owning a Corolla is (often) punishment in itself, getting fired over it is a good reason to get a lawyer. Obviously you have to document every interaction where said employee was harassed for their car. Print out emails, wear a wire, write a journal with all the details, etc. That could be kinda fun. And hey, we all know that salesmen do have fair bit of downtime after the holidays!

I’m not kidding, after getting fired for a similarly idiotic reason a few years back. Plus, now I know what to do. And I might even have fun with it, if it happened again. Regarding your severely misguided passion for RX-7s, I suspect you’ll only learn from your mistakes by burning your hand on the waffle iron.  Enjoy the pain, but try to find a kevlar-reinforced cup.

Steve answers:

At first I thought you were plain nuts. But then I saw your French email address and figured that unreliable cars may just run in your blood.

Yes, the Accord is a truly terrible vehicle… if you’re one of those who fears ‘overquality’. What you need is a car that has the turn stalk on the wrong side, a powertrain that’s guaranteed to break sometime around Bastille Day, and an interior that biodegrades over time.

I do know of at least 3 Peugeot 405′s that have remained untouched since I harvested them for parts back in the late 90′s. But you are hungering for power instead of pauper. What can moi offer you?

Well, I took my family to a bowling alley earlier today, and there in all it’s glory was a red 1975 Ford Granada with the Cleveland V8 engine. The vinyl red interior is still completely intact and the manager told me that it’s only been sitting there for four months.We call that ‘free pickins’ here in Georgia; especially since cars older than 1986 don’t require a title here.

This would the perfect car to bring to your dealership. Just rip off the Ford emblem, replace the ‘Granada’ emblem with ‘Grand Am’, and you’re set. Now onto the RX-7.

They’re cheap at the auctions. Dirt, dirt, cheap. You can get an inoperable one for around $1000 and then buy a nice spare engine at car-part.com. Ummm… well… forget that actually . There are no replacement engines for the last Gen RX-7. Murilee and his damned LeMons racers destroyed them all.

I’ll tell you what though. Go to Carmax and tell them of all the woes this cretinous Honda has inflicted on you. Whatever they offer, I’ll beat it by $200. Between now and then, look at Craigslist and keep abreast of what salvage auctions such as Copart and Insurance Auto Auctions have to offer you.

Good luck!