2002 Dodge Durango Slt Plus Sport Utility 4-door 4.7l on 2040-cars

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Are supercars becoming less special?

There's little doubt that we are currently enjoying the golden age of automotive performance. Dozens of different models on sale today make over 500 horsepower, and seven boast output in excess of 700 hp. Not long ago, that kind of capability was exclusive to supercars – vehicles whose rarity, performance focus, and requisite expense made them aspirational objects of desire to us mortals. But more than that, supercars have historically offered a unique driving experience, one which was bespoke to a particular model and could not be replicated elsewhere. But in recent years, even the low-volume players have been forced to find the efficiencies and economies of scale that formerly hadn't been a concern for them, and in turn the concept of the supercar as a unique entity unto itself is fading fast. The blame doesn't fall on one particular manufacturer nor a specific production technique. Instead, it's a confluence of different factors that are chipping away at the distinction of these vehicles. It's not all bad news – Lamborghini's platform sharing with Audi for the Gallardo and the R8 yielded a raging bull that was more reliable and easier to live with on a day-to-day basis, and as a result it went on to become the best-selling Lambo in the company's history. But it also came at the cost of some of the Italian's exclusivity when eerily familiar sights and sounds suddenly became available wearing an Audi badge. Even low-volume players have been forced to find economies of scale. Much of this comes out of necessity, of course. Aston Martin's recent deal with Mercedes-AMG points toward German hardware going under the hood and into the cabin of the upcoming DB11, and it's safe to assume that this was not a decision made lightly by the Brits, as the brand has built a reputation for the bespoke craftsmanship of its vehicles. There's little doubt that the DB11 will be a fine automobile, but the move does jeopardize some of the characteristic "specialness" that Astons are known for. Yet the world is certainly better off with new Aston Martins spliced with DNA from Mercedes-AMG rather than no new Astons at all, and the costs of developing cutting-edge drivetrains and user interfaces is a burden that's becoming increasingly difficult for smaller manufacturers to bear. Even Ferrari is poised to make some dramatic changes in the way it designs cars.

The last time Dodge recycled the Demon name, it was for a Miata fighter

We and the rest of the automotive world are eagerly awaiting the reveal of the Dodge Challenger Demon. And why wouldn't we be? It's going to be a Hellcat, but with less weight, bigger fenders, more performance, and more Vin Diesel. This isn't the first time we've been excited about a Demon from Dodge, though. Ten years ago, Dodge had another demonic car, but it was very different from the new one. The Demon of 2007 was a lithe little roadster that looked primed and ready to take on the Miata, as well as the now-departed Solstice and Sky twins. The Demon was just under an inch shorter than the MX-5 and the Solstice, and it packed a 172 horsepower 2.4-liter four-cylinder that fell right between the Miata's 170 and the Solstice's 177 outputs. Dodge's estimated the curb weight, which for a concept is largely theoretical, also slotted between the two cars at 2600 pounds. That was about 150 more than the Mazda, and about 200 less than the Pontiac. The pitch perfect specifications were presented in a crisp two-seat roadster wrapper. In many ways, it looked like a baby Viper, with a menacing crosshair grille, slanted headlights, and fat rear fenders. The Demon's line's were brutally simple and geometric, too. They didn't seem far removed from the first-generation Audi TT. The interior was also plain and simple. The key highlights were a horizontal aluminum accent that ran the width of the dash, echoed by an aluminum-covered center console. The instrument cluster was uncluttered, with just four gauges, and the only controls were some climate knobs, a double-DIN head unit, and a six-speed manual. It turns out that the 2007 Demon didn't drive very well, though. You see, we actually drove this concept back in the day, and like many concepts, it still had a long way to go to be production ready. The gearbox would grind, the ride quality was terrible. However, the interior was roomy, and the engine sounded suitably grumbly, if a bit coarse. At the time, we said Dodge should absolutely build the little roadster. In retrospect, the company probably made the right decision not to invest in the Demon. The small rear drive sports car segment was, and still is, an extremely niche market. It would have been a big investment for little return, something FCA today is trying to avoid. This is all before taking into account the fact that the recession was just around the corner. In the end, we can't be too sad though.

Auto Mergers and Acquisitions: Suicide or salvation?

We love the Moses figure. A savior riding in from stage right with the ideas, the smarts, and the scrappiness to put things right. Alan Mullaly. Carroll Shelby. Lee Iacocca. Andrew Carnegie. Steve Jobs. Elon Musk. Bart Simpson. Sergio Marchionne does not likely view himself with Moses-like optics, but the CEO of Fiat Chrysler Automobiles recently gave a remarkable, perhaps prophetic interview with Automotive News about his interest and the inevitability of merging with a potential automotive partner like General Motors. Marchionne has been overtly public about his notion that GM must merge with FCA. For a bit of context, GM sold 9.9 million vehicles in 2014, posting $2.8 billion in net income, while FCA sold 4.75 million units and earned $2.4 billion in net income, painting a very rosy FCA earnings-to-sales picture. But that's not the entire picture. Most people in the auto industry still remember the trainwreck that was the DaimlerChrysler "merger" written in what turned out to be sand in 1998. It proved to be a master class in how not to fuse two companies, two cultures, two continents, and two management teams. Oh, it worked for the two individuals at both helms pre-merger. They got silly rich. And the industry itself was in a misty romance at the time with mergers and acquisitions. BMW bought Rolls-Royce. Volkswagen Group bought Bentley, Bugatti, and Lamborghini, putting all three brands into their rightful place in both products and positioning. No marriages there, so no false pretense. Finally, Nissan and Renault got married in 1999. A successful marriage requires several rare elements in this atmosphere of gas fumes and power lust. But a successful marriage requires several rare elements in this atmosphere of gas fumes and power lust, the principle part being honesty. Daimler and Chrysler lied to each other. The heads of each unit, the product planners, and finance all presented their then-current and long-range forecasts to each other with less-than-forthright accuracy. Daimler was the far greater equal and no one from the Chrysler side enjoyed that. The cultures were entirely different, too, and little was done to bridge that gap. Which brings me back to the present overtures by Marchionne to GM. "There are varying degrees of hugs," Marchionne stated in the Automotive News piece. "I can hug you nicely, I can hug you tightly, I can hug you like a bear, I can really hug you." Seriously?