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GMC doesn't care if it's Mt. McKinley or Denali

GMC is getting a mountain of free publicity from President Obama's decision to rename the former Mt. McKinley back to Denali in Alaska. The truck-and-SUV brand is happy to see the moniker of its high-end trim in the news, but doesn't intend to change any marketing because of the switch. "It had no impact or change on our strategy," a GMC spokesperson told the Detroit Free Press. The brand doesn't expect sales to change, though the frequent use of the word Denali in the news in a positive light amounts to free, albeit temporary, advertising for the company. Denali is the word for the nation's tallest mountain in the Koyukon Athabascan language, and it means "the high one." In 1896 a prospector rechristened the peak Mt. McKinley to support presidential candidate William McKinley. He won the election, but was assassinated in 1901. The title stuck, and the site officially got the name when a national park was created there. Since then, there has been a push to return to the original moniker, and according to the Free Press, the park became Denali in 1980. Now, the peak has followed suit. GMC started using Denali to denote the top models on the 1999 Yukon. Today, it's available as an upmarket alternative on most of the brand's lineup. Related Video: News Source: The Detroit Free PressImage Credit: Copyright 2015 Jeremy Korzeniewski / AOL / GMC Marketing/Advertising Weird Car News GMC Truck SUV Luxury gmc yukon alaska denali gmc denali

WI dealer under fire for selling new GMC to dying, blind 89-year-old WWII vet [w/video]

You know, people, getting through this life from one end to the other in one piece really does require just one rule: don't be a prick. If you ever find yourself in a situation of dubious moral standing, take a step back and ask yourself, "Am I being a prick to any person or thing?" If the answer is "yes," then stop what you're doing, apologize and go home. One dealership in Wisconsin could possibly have benefitted from that course of action when it reportedly helped David McMurray con his elderly and disabled parents into buying a brand-new $42,000 GMC Terrain for his use.
According to local news reports, a representative from Palmen Motors visited Harold and Christen Thomsen's home to collect signatures for a loan agreement three weeks before the 89-year-old, legally blind Harold passed away. The World War II veteran was on morphine and in hospice when he signed for the GMC, and his 90-year-old wife suffers from dementia. Even so, upon being discovered, the dealer initially said everything was done "legally." According to Barb Tinkler, McMurray's sister, the sale was a scam that remained hidden until he was busted for an unrelated criminal charge.

Meet Alex Archer, the engineer behind GM's power-sliding center console

In 2009, a GM manager complained to a 59-year-old GM technician about the hassle of retrieving items from a pickup truck bed after driving shifted the cargo. In two days, the tech had come up with the ideas that, ten years later, would debut as the MultiPro tailgate. The engineering teams kept the tailgate secret in part by hiding mock-ups in a locked storage closet in GM's Vehicle Engineering Center in Warren Michigan for two years. A piece in the Detroit Free Press reveals that another storage closet in Warren would play the same role in a different cloak-and-dagger operation, this time for the power-sliding center console in GM's new full-sized SUVs. During a meeting in early 2017, bosses gave the job of the console's creation to 24-year-old design release engineer Alex Archer, just two years out of Stanford University with a degree in engineering and product design.  This time, the catalyst for the feature was an internal GM think tank called co:lab, where employees suggest ideas. Execs gave Archer the task because "They needed someone willing to ask a lot of questions," her 36-month mandate to produce a six-way console that could be a standard cubby or a gaping maw able to swallow four gallon jugs or hide a secret compartment. Clearly, she succeeded. It took Archer and the team nine months to devise a prototype, another six months to get the green light for production. As with the tailgate, the team working on the console grew to include designers, production engineers, and suppliers. Archer, now 26, shepherded the process, and her name is on the patent. "It took a ton of people, I'm just somebody who stuck with it the whole time," she said. GM like her work well enough to produce the "Day in the Life" segment above, five months before the world would hear about the console. Archer's path to engineering was as unlikely as getting the job for the console. She had entered Stanford with plans to be a doctor. But an innovation class during her freshman year, and a sophomore summer spent helping her grandfather rebuild a 1937 MG engine recharted her course. Her grandfather told her, "You know, you could be an engineer for a car company." Consumer reaction to Archer's work won't be far off, the SUVs slated to hit dealerships soon. Meanwhile, she's busy on something that could be just as intense as the console: Restoring a 1955 Packard Clipper in her garage. Head to Freep to check out the story of Archer and the console. Related Video: