1971 Ford Thunderbird Landau on 2040-cars

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Question of the Day: Worst year of the Malaise Era?

The Malaise Era for cars in the United States spanned the 1973 through 1983 model years, and featured such abominations as a Corvette with just 205 horsepower (from the optional engine!) and MGBs with suspensions jacked way up to meet new headlight-height requirements. There were many low points throughout this gloomy period, of course. The horrifyingly low power and fuel-economy numbers for big V8s during the middle years of the Malaise Era make a strong case for 1974 or 1975— the years of Nixon's resignation and the Fall of Saigon, respectively— as the most Malaisey years. But then the GM-pummeling debacles of the Chevy Citation and Cadillac Cimarron could make an early-1980s year the low point. 1979, the year of the ignominious Chrysler bailout? You choose! Related Video:

Long winter means most automakers won't curb summer shutdown

A lot more happened during this latest brutal winter than days of snow and Netflix binges. Automotive sales took a battering. After all, going out car shopping when it's eleventy-billion degrees below zero isn't a good time.
Because of this Old Man Winter-induced sales slump, inventories are abnormally high as we head into the summer car buying season. That's led some analysts to predict that automakers will be more inclined to idle factories this summer, in a bid to trim some of the built-up inventory. Traditionally, American manufacturers offer up a two-week break in the middle of summer, although the burgeoning sales of the past few years have seen this practice become less popular.
"We're likely not going to see an acceleration this year," Jeff Schuster, a senior vice president at LMC Automotive, told The Detroit News. "We'll see production increases in 'pockets' but I don't know if it will be as widespread as in recent years."

Project Ugly Horse: Part VII

Devils, Details and Weight Reduction
There are many things I could call this exercise. A party is not one of them.
I've spent three days crammed in the axle well of this 1989 Mustang with nothing to keep me company beyond a trouble light, a DeWalt drill on the very last of its legs and billion razor sharp, red hot slivers of metal with an affinity for my most sensitive of regions. My joints are raw from crawling around on the concrete. I'm half deaf from the shriek of the spot weld cutter and the boom of the cold chisel and hammer.