Car Guys vs. Bean Counters - Bob Lutz [49]
The surprise came in the form of an advance concepts group led by Mark Reuss, serving as president of GM North America as of this writing. Mark, captivated by the idea of Solstice, decided that, rather than an engineless design study, the little two-seater would be a fully functional, drivable car. With only four months left before the January 2002 Detroit show, it was a nearimpossible task. But the fact that it was accomplished, with a real, stamped metal body, a fully functional interior, and a four-cylinder, rear-wheel-drive powertrain which, at the time, didn’t exist in the GM inventory, was a stunning demonstration of a capability in the company that the media and analysts would continue to deny. It was thrilling to be able to reveal the little car personally at the Detroit show, where it was voted “Best Concept.” It served to put the outside world, and me, on notice that great things could be expected. Media acclaim was huge and justified.
But transformations in mentality and focus are not created overnight by one single car, no matter how strong a signal for change it sent out. An early setback came in the form of the GMC XUV, one of the proposals I had initially wanted to kill. This was a curious beast. Riding on the chassis of GM’s midsize SUVs (Trailblazer and Envoy), this proposal, on the longer wheelbase, was the unfortunate child of one of GM’s intellectual edicts: 40 percent of all future products were to be “innovative,” an all-new vehicle type, not a GM version of something someone else had already successfully launched. But, while the thought and desire were laudable, it was the pernicious GM philosophy of setting numerical targets for everything that caused trouble. Instead of a free-flowing system where creativity came naturally, GM had a rigid, highly analytical planning structure that struggled to meet the “40 percent rule.” Consequently, some really unfortunate projects consumed resources because they helped meet the goal.
The XUV, in short, was plain weird. With the overall profile of an SUV, it possessed a movable center partition that could be placed vertically behind the front seats. With the rear two rows of seats removed, it possessed a load floor, not unlike that of a midsize pickup. But what about the roof? That was the “big idea,” a 1960s Studebaker station wagon redux: on top of what would normally be the roof was mounted a large cassette (making the vehicle look strangely high and pinheaded) containing a mess of connected slats not unlike the front of an old rolltop desk. At the touch of a button, the roof over the rear two-thirds of the vehicle would slide open, enabling the owner to transport trees as well as grandfather clocks in a vertical position.
My instincts said, “This thing is salesproof,” and I suggested cancellation. It was then that the vehicle line executive set his analytical machine in motion. I was invited to a meeting presided over by a young woman of enviable intellect. In one hour and with countless PowerPoint slides, she showed me overwhelming numerical evidence that this vehicle, the unique XUV, would be good for at least 90,000 units per year, maybe even 110,000! The resulting profitability would be huge! And these 90,000 units were necessary to “fill” the second assembly plant, which, if I insisted on cancellation, would be gravely underutilized! The unabsorbed fixed cost would then have to be allocated over the existing midsize Chevrolet and GMC SUVs, thereby damaging their financial performance.
Although still skeptical, my “newness” to GM’s vast analytical prowess thoroughly intimidated me.After all, with