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2017 Chrysler Pacifica First Drive

I know this is supposed to be a shameful secret, but I like minivans. I like the way the kids can enter and exit easily with the sliding doors. I like the comfortable ride they provide on road trips. I like the way I can reconfigure the interior seats to haul groceries, furniture, and kids. For decades, the minivan has been maimed by its uncoolness. Sales of the family movers have tapered to about 500,000 units per year while American families have shifted their allegiance to crossovers and SUVs. But America loves a redemption story, and I believe the minivan can be redeemed. Chrysler does too. At a time when the company is shedding vehicles from its lineup – so long, Chrysler 200 and Dodge Dart – its executives aren't paying any attention to whatever conventional wisdom suggests the minivan segment has foundered and reached its end. Instead, Chrysler just spent $2 billion to overhaul the architecture for its minivan. Enter the 2017 Pacifica, an all-new vehicle that immediately replaces the Town & Country and eventually will replace the Dodge Grand Caravan. It couldn't have come at a better time. Consumer Reports recently named the outgoing Town & Country one of its "Ten Worst Picks" among 2016 vehicles, an eyesore for the company that pioneered the minivan segment. Enticed by a slew of standard features and heavy incentives, I happen to own one of those disparaged Town & Country vans. Other than a transmission that always seems to be searching for the right gear, I've got no substantial complaints about the car. While it'd be a reach to say that any minivan is attractive, the new design makes the Pacifica the best of the bunch. But my ownership experience made me curious about how the new Pacifica would fare, whether Chrysler's billions were invested well and mostly, whether the Pacifica would truly feel like an all-new vehicle or whether it had merely been incrementally advanced. Navigating the roads in the rolling hills of Southern California last week, it didn't take long to find out. A revised 3.6-liter Pentastar V6 engine delivered 287 horsepower and 262 pound-feet of torque, making the climbs up California's hills effortless. Likewise, the new nine-speed automatic transmission never strained or felt clunky, like it has in other recent products like our long-term Jeep Cherokee. The harmonious combination of the upgraded engine and transmission felt like the single-biggest differentiator between the old and new minivans.

Moon landing anniversary: How Detroit automakers won the space race

America's industrial might — automakers included — determined the outcome of the 20th centuryÂ’s biggest events. The “Arsenal of Democracy” won World War II, and then the Cold War. And our factories flew us to the moon. Apollo was a Cold War program. You can draw a direct line from Nazi V-2 rockets to ICBMs to the Saturn V. The space race was a proxy war — which beats a real war. It was a healthy outlet for technology and testosterone that would otherwise be used for darker purposes. (People protested, and still do, that money for space should go to problems here on Earth, but more likely the military-industrial complex would've just bought more bombs with it.) As long as we and the Soviet Union were launching rockets into space, we were not lobbing them at each other. JFKÂ’s challenge to “go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard,” put American industry back on a war footing. We were galvanized to beat the Russians, to demonstrate technological dominance. (A lack of similar unifying purpose is why we havenÂ’t been to the moon since, or Mars.) NASA says more than 400,000 Americans, from scientists to seamstresses, toiled on the moon program, working for government or for 20,000 contractors. Antagonism was diverted into something inspirational. The Big Three automakers were some of the biggest companies in the moon program, which might surprise a lot of people today. Note to a new generation who marveled when SpaceX launched a Tesla Roadster out into the solar system: Sure, that was neat, but just know that Detroit beat Elon Musk to space by more than half a century. This high point in human history was brought to you by Ford ItÂ’s hard to imagine in this era of Sony-LG-Samsung, but Ford used to make TVs. And other consumer appliances. Or rather Philco, the radio, TV and transistor pioneer that Ford bought in 1961 — the year Gagarin and Alan Shepard flew in space. Ted Ryan, FordÂ’s archives and heritage brand manager, just wrote a Medium article on the central role Philco-Ford played in manned spaceflight. And nothingÂ’s more central than Mission Control in Houston, the famous console-filled room we all know from TV and movies. What we didn't know was, that was Ford. Ford built that. In 1953, Ryan notes, Philco invented a transistor that was key to the development of (what were then regarded as) high-speed computers, so naturally Philco became a contractor for NASA and the military.

Junkyard Gem: 1976 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham Hardtop Coupe

Even after OPEC served notice that cheap oil would no longer be a given and notorious eco-fanatic Richard Nixon decreed a national 55 mph speed limit, plenty of Americans continued to buy enormous coupes equipped with big-displacement V8 engines and cubic yards of cushy upholstery as the early Malaise Era ground on during the middle 1970s. In 1976, Ford offered the Lincoln Continental Mark IV, the Mercury Marquis Brougham, and the Thunderbird. The General had too many such cars to list here, including the Buick Electra and Olds 98 Regency Coupe. Chrysler was right there in the battle for Broughamic supremacy that year, with the New Yorker Brougham at the very top of the company's prestige ziggurat. Here's a raggedy-but-still-opulent New Yorker Brougham Coupe, found in a Denver car graveyard during the winter. Just look at that spacious Whorehouse Red™ interior and its pillow-topped Corinthian Leather split-bench power seats! I admire this luxury so much that my band in the late 1980s recorded a hymn to the Chrysler New Yorker. This car appears to have the $598 (about $2,750 in 2020 dollars) St. Regis option group, which included a "boar-grain" padded vinyl roof and opera windows. A few years later, Dodge offered a full-sized model called the St. Regis. The New Yorker Brougham was the most expensive model offered by Chrysler in 1976 (the Imperial went on hiatus for the 1976 through 1980 model years, only to return as a much more modest car). The buyer of this car got rung up for at least $7,269 (about $33,520 after inflation).  Curb weight wasn't quite as high as this car's imposing bulk might suggest: 4,752 pounds. That's a bit less than a new Dodge Durango today. A junkyard shopper scored the engine, which would have been a 440-cubic-inch (7.2-liter) V8 rated at a startlingly low 205 horsepower and all the torque in the world (actually, 320 lb-ft). Numbers like that prove that we now live in the Golden Age of Car Engines; even the base V6 in the current Charger makes 292 horsepower out of half the displacement of the 440. Even in a car this swanky, any kind of an audio system cost extra (contrast that to 2020, when even the humblest econoboxes have standard-equipment Bluetooth-ready rigs with many speakers). A plain old single-speaker AM radio cost $99 ($457), while the top-of-the-line AM/FM/8-track set '76 New Yorker buyers back $375 ($1,730). This is the AM/FM stereo radio, which cost $197 ($908). Not legal for sale in California.