1964 Chevy Impala Convertible Original 58,59,60,61,62,63,64,65,66 on 2040-cars

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China's rise, global restructuring wither GM's Korea division

An article in the Daily Kanban suggests the sun is setting on GM Korea, and it could already be well into dusk. GM Korea came about when General Motors, along with co-investors SAIC and Suzuki, bought Daewoo Motors from parent company Daewoo Group in 2001; it had a previous tie-up with GM, a joint venture that ended in 1992, although Daewoo cars were based on GM cars until 1996. Over the decade following the purchase, it became such an important part of operations that it was renamed GM Korea in 2011, "to reflect its heightened status in [the] global operations of GM." Just two years later, the printed rumors were that the subsidiary responsible for a fifth of Chevrolet's global production could be shutting down. The division's sales were down almost 21 percent through November of last year, counting domestic South Korean sales, exports, and CKD – Complete Knock Down – products. That makes the labor strife, already an issue for four years, even more acute, reports say the subsidiary will lose $36 million a year if it can't get the job and wage cuts it wants, and government concessions can't make up for the losses. And it gets worse, so head over to Daily Kanban to read the rest of the story.

GM’s move to Woodward is the right one — for the company and for Detroit

Back in 2018, Chevy invited me to attend the Detroit Auto Show on the company dime to get an early preview of the then-newly redesigned Silverado. The trip involved a stay at the Renaissance Center — just a quick People Mover ride from the show. IÂ’d been visiting Detroit in January for nearly a decade, and not once had I set foot inside General MotorsÂ’ glass-sided headquarters. I was intrigued, to say the least. Thinking back on my time in the buildings that GM will leave behind when it departs for the new Hudson's site on Woodward Avenue, two things struck me. For one, its hotel rooms are cold in January. Sure, itÂ’s glass towers designed in the 1960s and '70s; I calibrated my expectations accordingly. But when I could only barely see out of the place for all the ice forming on the inside of the glass, it drove home just how flawed this iconic structure is.  My second and more pertinent observation was that the RenCen doesnÂ’t really feel like itÂ’s in a city at all, much less one as populous as Detroit. The complex is effectively severed from its surroundings by swirling ribbons of both river and asphalt. To the west sits the Windsor tunnel entrance; to the east, parking lots for nearly as far as the eye can see. To its north is the massive Jefferson Avenue and to its south, the Detroit River. You get the sense that if Henry Ford II and his team of investors had gotten their way, the whole thing would have been built offshore with the swirling channel doubling as a moat. This isnÂ’t a building the draws the city in; itÂ’s one designed to keep it out. Frost on the inside of the RenCen hotel glass. Contrasted with the new Hudson's project GM intends to move into, a mixed-use anchor with residential, office, retail and entertainment offerings smack-dab in Detroit's most vibrant district, the RenCen is a symbol of an era when each office in DetroitÂ’s downtown was an island in a rising sea of dilapidation. Back then, those who fortified against the rapid erosion of DetroitÂ’s urban bedrock stood the best chance of surviving. This was the era that brought us ugly skyways and eventually the People Mover — anything to help suburban commuters keep their metaphorical feet dry. The RenCen offered — and still offers — virtually any necessity and plenty of nice-to-haves, all accessible without ever venturing outside, especially in the winter, but those enticements are geared to those who trek in from suburbia to toil in its hallways.

Artist imagines eerie world where cars have no wheels

The wheel ranks right up there with the telescope and four-slice toaster in the pantheon of inventions that have moved humankind forward. But what if a circle in three dimensions had never occurred to anyone, and we all had just moved on without it? Perhaps we'd be driving around in Lucas Motors Landspeeders with anti-gravity engines. Or maybe we'd have the same cars we do today, just without wheels.
That's the thought experiment that seems to have led French photographer Renaud Marion to create his six-image series called Air Drive. The shots depict cars throughout many eras of motoring that look normal except for one thing: they have no wheels. The models used include a Jaguar XK120, Cadillac DeVille (shown above), Chevrolet El Camino and Camaro, and Mercedes-Benz SL and 300 roadsters.
Perhaps one day when our future becomes our past, you'll be able to walk the street and see with your own eyes the rust and patina of age on our nation's fleet of floating cars. Until then, Monsieur Marion's photographs will have to do.