NSU Ro 80 – how many fingers am I holding up?

By the 60s the German company NSU had moved from motorcycle production into moderate success with small cars such as the TT and the Prinz. NSU had taken the logical first steps by basing much of its car’s engineering on its motorcycle heritage. But now it wanted to be a bigger player in the car game, and NSU needed a new engine for larger cars. The solution came in the form of a revolutionary design by Felix Wankel. The engine, which was eventually named after its inventor, used no pistons and had fewer parts than a traditional gasoline engine.

NSU was excited about this powerplant and installed the first version on its Prinz-based Spider in 1964. Happy with the high power and small size of the Wankel engine, NSU made plans for its first executive sedan, what would become the Ro 80.  Designer Claus Luthe, who would later go on to sketch classics like the first BMW 3-Series and the E28 5-Series, created an aerodynamic design far ahead of anything else coming out of the 60s.

The Ro 80 was released in 1967, and it gained acclaim, including the European Car of the Year award. But almost immediately NSU's fortunes took a turn for the worse.

NSU didn’t solve all of the Wankel motor’s initial problems before the car went into production. The cars broke down constantly. NSU didn’t fully anticipate this problem because the first Wankel car, the Spider, had sold in very low numbers. About three times more Ro 80s were sold in its first full production year than total Spiders made during its entire four-year run. And unlike the Spider, which was a car for playboys, the Ro80 was marketed to executives who expected reliable motoring.

At a time when NSU needed to cover the considerable development costs of the Ro 80, it was paying a hefty price in warranties. Dealership mechanics who didn’t know how to fix this new type of engine just replaced it with a brand new one. It was rumored that instead of waving at other Ro 80s, owners would hold up fingers to passing Ro 80 owners representing how many engines they had.

The mounting costs were too much for the relatively small NSU, and in 1969 it merged with the Volkswagen group to become know as Audi NSU Auto Union. The Ro 80 lasted until 1977, and when the car was retired, so was the NSU name. The car that was shaped like a torpedo had an engine that sank the company.

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Oakland Pontiac – the only fortunate one on the list

Pontiac was created in 1926 to help bridge the gap between the Chevrolet and Oakland brands of General Motors. Although Pontiac was considered its own brand, its single car lineup and seamless relationship with Oakland meant it really just held the low-price rung on Oakland’s ladder.

The six-cylinder Pontiacs became so popular for their value that it overshadowed the rest of Oakland. By 1932 the entire Oakland lineup had been replaced with the Pontiac name.

This is possibly the most cheerful story because the Oakland brand ended in name only, but Pontiac’s fortunes didn’t last forever…



Pontiac Aztec – horses don’t make good cars

If the Edsel failed because of a grille that looked like a horse collar, then the horse-faced Aztec was a guaranteed loser.

The concept for the Aztec had some appeal, but after enough engineering and accounting tweaks, the round a futuristic styling became ribbed and ugly. At its launch in 2001, the crossover SUV was marketed to younger people with an active lifestyle. Unfortunately, the never-get-you-laid styling was a hard sell. It also didn’t help that there was not much distinction from the minivan-based drivetrain.

This was the car that had the most debate in our office about making the list. There were some that felt there was more to the downfall of Pontiac than just the Aztec. After all, the Aztec was gone five years before the Pontiac brand disappeared.

In the end we decided that the Aztec was like taking a jackhammer to Pontiac’s foundation -- making it almost impossible for the brand to build a sold future. Once known as GM’s performance division, Pontiac continued to lose face every time the Aztec claimed a podium finish on lists naming the ugliest cars. The affects of this Aztec ensured that great cars like the G8 would never get the chance they deserved.

Pontiac soldiered on in a sort of punch-drunk haze until 2010.



Renault Alliance -- the Franco-American bore

The Renault Alliance is a French design built in an aging United States factory… In hindsight we all should have seen this bomb coming.

The Alliance was basically the North American version of the Renault 9. Where the 9 was a somewhat attractive car in Europe, items like the U.S.-spec bumpers doomed some of the style to get lost in the translation.

Plus, Renault’s partnership with the American Motors Corporation did not make for the best tie-in. The AMC factory in Kenosha, Wisconsin was hopeless outdated, so the car’s long-term durability reports were best described as sub-par.

Renault has never been known for its reliability in the U.S.  Its attempt at mass production in North America came at a time when imports from Japan provided a level of quality that overshadowed these Ameri-French cars. The Alliance was far from the success Renault needed, and it had to dump more money into its partnership with AMC. This led to cutbacks in France, and this contributed to the assassination of Renault’s chairman, Georges Besse. After Besse’s death, Renault pulled out of the U.S. market to focus more on domestic issues.

The Alliance was a large failure. It wasn’t reliable enough to be a good import, and wasn’t American enough inspire sales through patriotism…in other words, game over.



Rover 75 -- comfortably numb

Although a stiff breeze could have blown away the entire Rover Group in the late 90s, the Rover 75 makes the list because of who stood behind it: BMW.

In the 1990s BMW needed more production capacity, and it also needed to stabilize its business so it wasn’t as heavily depended on the Deutsche Mark (this was before the Euro was introduced.)   This led the German company to buy the Rover Group in 1994. It not only included prized brands like Range Rover and Mini, but it also had plenty of capacity at its British factories.

The main car business at Rover needed a big shot in the arm, and BMW decided a brand new premium model could fix everyone’s problems. BMW would help Rover build an executive-level sedan. This car would have a plush feel that would also serve as a good alternative to the sports-minded cars that came from BMW. The result was the Rover 75, a car that was as comfortable and posh as a sitting room armchair.

The 75 was a good idea, but it met a tough reality. Although it was built in England, the British were not too thrilled about the car. BMW had failed to recognize that Britain likes their home-grown cars to be innovative. The public didn’t remember stale cars like the Morris Marina (mentioned above) as much as they clamored for the clever packaging of the original Mini, multi-valve engine in the Triumph Dolomite Sprint, or Ferrari Daytona-like styling of Rover SD1. The Rover 75 was comfy, not modern.   Also, Rover was never a prestigious brand outside of Britain. So it not only found few takers around Europe, but it was hard for it to ever command a premium price.

BMW made a large investment in Rover with the 75, but the car went largely unloved and deeply discounted. And if BMW couldn’t make Rover profitable, then no one else would ever want to throw money at it again. BMW soon sent Rover to the wolves.

An ironic twist is that the when Chinese company now known as SAIC picked up the carcass of Rover, they used the Rover 75 for their projects because it was one of the few platforms that Rover owned. This means the car the killed Rover is the basis for the car that is currently reviving the MG brand in England.



Studebaker Avanti – your savior is your killer

By 1962, Studebaker was getting stale. The once cash cow Lark was now being overtaken by the larger domestic brands beginning to make smaller sedans. It needed something to get people back in the showrooms, and a sports car was the easiest way.

Everything seemed perfect - a new lightweight car with a distinctive shape. Studebaker even set a land speed record to promote it. The orders started pouring in, but Studebaker didn’t know how effectively build the car.

The company chose to make the bodies out of fiberglass, which was still a complicated and expensive process at the time. The Chevrolet Corvette had been the only other car to be mass-produced using the plastic body panels in production, and at this point Chevy had been doing it for less than a decade. Studebaker’s fiberglass bodies were not fitting correctly, and Studebaker did not have the cash to weather the storm of upset owners and canceled orders.

The car that was supposed to save Studebaker became the final nail in its coffin. The Avanti was dropped from Studebaker in 1963, and all car production ceased within four years.



Yugo – we’re ending with an easy one

There is a big difference between inexpensive and cheap. Malcolm Bricklin has become infamous for providing the North America with plenty of automotive examples of the second description. It had been about a decade since Bricklin made the U.S. laugh at his SV1, so he went looking for his next automotive joke.

The Yugo was imported from the Zastava Automobile Company of Yugoslavia. When the first cars hit the North American shores in 1985, the 15-year-old Fiat design on which they were based meant the car was already out of date.

The Yugo was the cheapest new car in North America, and the build quality proved it. Eventually the best use for the little hatchbacks was art projects rather than transportation.

By the early 1990s, it didn’t matter if Yugo was going to try and overcome its failing U.S. emissions standards, because the factory was being bombed in the now war-torn Yugoslavia. Zastava would eventually rebuild and produce cars again for Eastern Europe, but after its first car’s reputation in North America, the Yugo brand was forever finished in the U.S.