Now, before I go any further, I’d just like to say that I generally try to avoid discussing automotive styling. This is because automotive styling is highly subjective, which means that talking about it can really piss people off. For example: a lot of people really like the original Oldsmobile Aurora, whereas I always felt it looked like the kind of thing you might draw if you were holding a pen with your toes. But you can’t say this kind of thing to Oldsmobile Aurora owners, because it will cause them to fly into a rage, and then they’ll take even longer to write out checks when you’re standing in line at the grocery store.

I also try to avoid discussing automotive styling because my opinions tend to go against the mainstream. For instance: I really like the Ferrari FF. Seriously. I think it’s handsome, and bold, and muscular, and well-proportioned. This is in direct contrast to, say, you, who probably feels that the Ferrari FF looks like the kind of thing that even the Japanese would be embarrassed to display at the Tokyo Motor Show.

So styling is a bit of a sore subject, and I try to steer clear of it whenever possible. But I’ve decided to break my silence today, this one time only, to address something that really needs to be discussed: the corporate grille.

Before I get into the GX460 situation, I’d like to start with a little history lesson on the corporate grille. Founded just a few short years ago, it offers American food and a large selection of wine, beer, and liquor, along with several high-definition TVs that ensure you’ll never miss a big game.

Oh no! Wait! That’s the Corporate Bar and Grill, a local neighborhood tavern in Silver Spring, Maryland, that – according to at least one Yelp user – “smells like paint thinner.”

The history of the automotive corporate grille is much different, and I think we can all agree that no matter how I explain it, several commenters will point out that I got it wrong. So I will instead settle for a quick definition: the corporate grille is what happens when a car company decides that each of its vehicles must have the same front end, regardless of a car’s size, shape, market position, or the fact that slapping on such a grille might make the car look like an indignant microwave.

Now, I think we can all agree there have been many successful corporate grilles, and I’m sure that’s what draws automakers to keep creating them. For instance: consider how you see BMW’s twin kidneys, and you immediately think “jerk.” That is brand recognition. Or how you see Dodge’s crossbars, and your first thought is “multiple gun owner.” Or how you see Kia’s “Tiger Nose” and the first words out of your mouth are: “Damn it! Why does Enterprise always give me a Kia?!”

But there have been many occasions where the corporate grille has done more harm than good. I am thinking here of that time Subaru tried to install a giant circle with two wings on the front of each of its cars, in spite of clear opposition from those of us with eyes. Or the time that Mazda gave all of its cars an enormous grin, which – in states with two license plates – included one large, center-mounted aluminum tooth.

And now we have the Lexus “spindle.”

Before I tear into the spindle and suggest that we will someday look back on it as the beginning of the downfall of civilization as we know it, I would like to point out that I actually like the spindle. It looks excellent, for example, on the GS and IS. Disagree if you want, but I think these cars are gorgeous. And I’m certain of this viewpoint because I saw these vehicles in person several months ago on an all-expense-paid Lexus press trip.

But here’s the thing: the GS and IS are sedans. The grille works perfectly on those cars because it gives them this sporty, edgy look, as if to say: “I’m the first Lexus you can drive without prescription bifocals!” They look cool. They look exciting. They look fun.

But the GX460 isn’t a sedan. Instead, it’s a large, ungainly SUV now fitted with what I wouldn’t describe as a spindle, but rather an Angry Hourglass. In fact, I think that’s what I’ll call it. The Angry Hourglass.

The major problem here is that the GX460 wasn’t designed with this grille. The current model came out in 2010, and back then it featured a normal grille, like every other Lexus. But then Lexus decided that it must update every one of its vehicles to include the Angry Hourglass, so they facelifted it. The result is an SUV that’s 90 percent normal, staid, suburban child transport vehicle, and 10 percent angry 1990s video game boss.

And that brings me to my point. Automakers: you don’t need a corporate grille. The GX460 was doing just fine before they tacked on the Angry Hourglass. And Subaru seems to be doing great, despite giving up on that bizarre circle thing. I think we can all agree that this proves a corporate grille is less effective than, say, a bunch of TV ads that show young people kayaking.

The simple truth is this: just because it looks good on one model, or two models, or even five models, doesn’t mean it looks good on the entire lineup. The Lexus GX460 is proof. And now, here I sit, awaiting death at the hands of the Angry Hourglass.

-@DougDeMuro

1) Worst suggestion.
2) I’d buy it if I could find it.
3) Biggest surprise.

The first category was hard, because everyone found a LOT of really bad suggestions (some of which were unintentional). But the winner of the prized Hummer bedsheets is Noah Wheeler, who found a great eBay listing for one of the worst cars in existence, the 1983 Zimmer Golden Spirit. Interestingly, our runner-up, Wilson Elias, would’ve been the winner, but he didn’t provide a listing for his 1982 Pontiac Phoenix suggestion — merely a photo. This could be because there is not one single 1982 Pontiac Phoenix left on earth. Honorable mention goes to John Bradley, who found a local Chrysler TC by Maserati that only cost $1,500. Ouch.

The second category (the Jeep baseball hat) goes, hands-down, to Tim Brown, who suggested a Lamborghini LM002. My initial plan was to simply buy one of these without doing a big thread, but I later discovered they simply do not exist on the used market, and even if they DID exist, you’d never be able to maintain one.

The final prize, the Cadillac Escalade towel, is awarded to JQJ, who brilliantly recommended a 2004 Ford F-750 with six doors that was located in Florida. Now, I know there were some great suggestions out there for this one (Noble, Rossion, Panoz, Morgan 3-Wheeler) but I had to award it to JQJ because not only does this vehicle include smoke stacks, lifted suspension, a matte finish, and like a dozen lights on the roof, it also has 290,000 miles on the odometer, according to the seller – who, by the way, wants $45,000 for it. Runners up here include Ben Pugliares, who suggested the Lancia Delta Integrale (which I hadn’t realized is legal!) and AlmightyPants, who came up with the Citroen DS – a car that would be tons of fun to write about every week.

As for the search itself, it’s coming along just fine. I’ve narrowed it down to about 20 unique cars, all of which are very cool – think Aston, Bentley, Ferrari, Lamborghini, Lotus, Morgan, Noble, Pinzgauer, Porsche, Rolls-Royce, Unimog, etc. In other words: all exotics in some way, shape, or form. I submitted one car to a pre-purchase inspection last week, but unfortunately it failed – so I have another scheduled for this week on a different car. The process has been filled with several interesting stories, and it’ll be fun to explain everything when the decision is made and the car is here.

Thanks for playing, everyone, and enjoy the holidays. I’m looking forward to a fun 2014 with whatever car it ends up being!

I’ve also decided to create a contest on Twitter for people who would rather come up with some more… interesting suggestions (You can find me here). Here are the rules:

The contest ends Sunday, December 14, at 11 a.m. my time. As you can see from the photo below, there are three categories and – for the lucky winners – three distinct, incredibly valuable, highly sought-after prizes.

The categories and prizes are:

1. Worst suggestion. Jalopnik’s own Michael Ballaban may have won this earlier today by suggesting the 2014 Toyota Corolla, but I’m leaving it open in case someone feels brave enough to try and take him down. Here, too, it’d be nice if you submit a link along with your suggestion. For instance: we all know a 4-cylinder Isuzu Amigo is a bad idea. But you can’t just say that. You have to find one. Preferably with 1990s-style pastel lettering on the side.

The prize here is a set of Hummer H2 bedsheets, which I bought last year for thirty bucks at a rest stop in Tennessee. I’m not kidding. They have never been used, much like a Hummer H2 off the pavement. (Ba-dum tshh!)

2. Best car I’d buy if I could find. What’s the best suggestion of a car that would be perfect to write about, if only I could find one? The key here is to find some car that would be really, really, almost absurdly cool, except that it’s really hard to find. Note that this means the car actually has to be really hard to find. You can’t just suggest the Honda Pilot. Those are everywhere. My neighbor has one of those. You’ll need to try harder.

The prize here is a Jeep baseball cap, which I received for free at a Jeep press event. I would make a joke here about Jeeps never being used off the pavement, but there are a lot of Jeep people on this site, and many of them have guns. So with that in mind, let me say that this hat would be perfect for hunting.

3. Biggest surprise suggestion. The goal here is to come up with a suggestion that surprises me. Something I hadn’t considered. Something I didn’t know existed. Something so exciting and unusual that merely seeing it might cause me to make a verbal utterance of surprise, despite the fact that I’m sitting here by myself. That’s when you’ve really succeeded.

The prize here is a Cadillac Escalade beach towel, which I have used many times. In fact, I might be currently wrapped in it as I write this, unless you find that creepy, in which case I am definitely not currently wrapped in it, but man is it soft. BONUS: I will wash this before I send it to you. CAUTION: I may use it again after I wash it, if I run out of towels.

In terms of the Twitter contest, I am the overall judge and jury, which means I could award the prizes to my mother. Unfortunately, much like the rest of my Twitter followers, she also generally ignores me. So that’s unlikely.

So now: let’s get started! Bring on your suggestions, bring on your tweets, and for God’s sake, someone please get these Hummer H2 bedsheets out of my house.

-@DougDeMuro

I find this highly unusual considering the buyer and I have the same bank, a fact I’ve brought up with them repeatedly. But they’re undeterred. They will probably call before I finish this column and ask for my favorite movie villain.

And it’s not like I can refuse to answer any of their questions. Oh, no. I’ve tried. “Sir,” they’ll say, “We’re going to need the password to your wireless Internet so if we’re ever in the Atlanta area we can come by, sit on your porch, and surf our favorite Tumblr blogs without using the data plan on our phones.” And If I balk at this request, if I even hesitate for a moment, they’ll reply: “I’m sorry sir, but are you telling me you think you can find some other poor sap to pay forty grand for a used Cadillac station wagon?”

And they make a good point. There isn’t a huge market for this car. But damn, there should be, as I’ve discovered over the last six months behind the wheel.

Now, before I go any further, I think it’s important to mention that I’ve created a little farewell video to my Cadillac. It’s located here, and also at the bottom of this column, and it covers a lot of highly important Cadillac-related questions you might have, such as: Is your haircut really awful in real life? (This is the kind of highly important Cadillac-related question I expect to receive from the buyer’s bank.)

But while the video touches on performance and drivability, I’m going to discuss a few of the car’s finer points right here in good, old-fashioned, traditional print. Prepare yourself.

Cost

Let’s start with cost. Although the selling prices of these cars are pretty public, you might be curious what I spent to run a CTS-V Wagon for the past six months. The answer to this can be defined technically as “very little,” unless of course you add in fuel costs, in which case the technical definition changes to “HOLY CRAP WHY THE HELL DID I BUY THIS THING? IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH IT? LIKE MAYBE THE FUEL TANK IS LEAKING?”

Actual repair costs were relatively small. I had to patch a tire ($25), get an oil change ($52), and – here’s the kicker – replace one flat rear tire for a whopping $470.34. So my lesson to you future CTS-V Wagon owners is for God’s sake don’t poke holes in your tires.

Depreciation was a little more expensive. It’ll total around $4,000, which sounds like a lot until you realize that I drove the thing 12,000 miles in the last six months, including 6,300 miles to California and back in August. So here’s another lesson for future CTS-V Wagon owners: if you want to save your money, don’t drive your CTS-V Wagon. And especially don’t put gas in it.

Why I’m Selling and What’s Next

You may be wondering why I’m selling the V Wagon. This will especially perplex regular readers, who know its departure leaves me with just a Nissan Cube and an unreliable SUV, both of which are highly prized by middle-aged women, but not as appreciated by, say, the kind of person who reads Jalopnik.

And it’s true. With the V’s departure, my life won’t be quite as exciting as it is today, what with all the pushing down my foot and listening to the transmission shift for me. But my reasons for selling are nuanced and complicated and highly intricate, and also my accountant called and said: “Doug, you idiot! You need to sell this thing by the end of the year if you want to deduct any expenses from your taxes.” And boy, do I ever!

So the V Wagon has to go. But there’s good news: selling the V Wagon frees one of my rutted, alley-access parking spaces for something else! Something similarly exciting! Something fast! Something unique! Something… with a manual.

But I’d rather discuss that potential something tomorrow, when I’ll be devoting an entire column to it. So, spend the next 24 hours brainstorming. I, meanwhile, will spend the next 24 hours bracing for your suggestions the only way I know how: vast skepticism. (This is primarily directed at the guy last time who suggested I purchase a 25-seat troop transporter.)

Overall Impressions

To know me is to know I love cars, and at last count I’ve had more than two dozen. The CTS-V Wagon is easily in the top three.

Yes, it has flaws – they all do. The visibility is so bad that driving it feels like getting behind the wheel of a standard, normal vehicle, except with a blanket over your head. And there are a few obvious spots where they cut corners to save money, in true General Motors fashion. But I highly recommend the V Wagon to anyone looking for a fun, unique vehicle to haul stuff. For more on that, here’s the farewell video:

Now if you’ll excuse me, the bank is calling to ask how I’ve arranged the furniture in my living room.

-@DougDeMuro

I haven’t always been interested in safety. In fact, just a few short years ago, I owned a Lotus Elise, which is among the most dangerous cars manufactured in the modern era. Many people are surprised to discover how unsafe the Elise is, considering it shares its orange color with safety devices like the traffic cone. What they’re forgetting is that it also shares the traffic cone’s size.

Yes, the Elise can be pretty scary. You discover this every time you get inside one, when you go to give the door a nice, hearty tug, only to discover that a nice, hearty tug will detach the door from the car, pull it off its hinges, and send it flying into a field located somewhere in the American Midwest, where your toddler will find it and use it to put himself in grave danger. This happens because a Lotus Elise’s door weighs about as much as a credit card, and you get the feeling it would provide similar protection in the event of a crash.

Unfortunately, things don’t get much better once you’re inside. Fire up the engine and you immediately realize that only two inches separate your head from camshafts, and cylinders, and manifolds, and various other extremely hot things that move incredibly fast. This isn’t a problem in most mid-engine cars, but then you remember: those two inches were engineered by the British.

So then you get on the road and you’re once again reminded of how fragile the Elise is when everything starts to squeak. Go over a bump? *Squeak!* Make a hard turn? *Squeak!* Park the car, turn it off, and walk into a store where you won’t buy anything, because it’s not like you could possibly fit it in your Elise? *Squeak!*

Of course, a lot of cars squeak. I once had a Volvo 850 Turbo, for instance, and it seemed like the factory’s entire quality control process involved two Swedish kids jumping on the hood and trunk like inebriated Boston sports fans just to make sure the suspension squeaked enough. And believe me, it did.

But the Elise squeaks because it’s primarily held together with epoxy, which is really just a fancy way of saying “glue.” This means when you go to your Lotus dealer to complain that your Elise is squeaking too much, they consult Technical Service Bulletin 222-A, which states, and I am paraphrasing here: “Send the service department porter to Hobby Lobby for a little Elmer’s.”

So there are a lot of potentially unsafe things about the Elise. Those light doors. The epoxy-bonded chassis. The close proximity of the entire powertrain to your face.

But the most dangerous thing about the Elise? That would be lifted pickup trucks.

For those of you unfamiliar with lifted trucks, I must come right out and say: Ha ha ha! That’s because you undoubtedly live in Europe, where you are subject to high taxes, tiny diesel hatchbacks, and that currency where you can spend your entire vacation budget in four days because it’s easy to forget how much coins are worth. (I would never make this mistake, of course; I am way too intelligent. But I could see how it might happen, and on a completely unrelated note, I am very glad that Europe has a lot of ATMs.)

We Americans are very familiar with lifted pickup trucks, largely because we all know at least one person who has one. This is a person we would never invite to a party; a person whose lifted truck parked outside a restaurant we were considering would cause us to eat somewhere else. We don’t like this person, but we know him, and we occasionally laugh about his Facebook statuses with our friends.

So why is a lifted pickup truck so dangerous? I’ll tell you why.

Here’s how it works: to create a lifted truck, you take a normal truck (which was developed for agricultural purposes but is now primarily used to see over minivans in traffic) and you put a “lift kit” on it. I am not an expert on lift kits, but based on my personal observation, they offer sizes like “six inches,” or “eight inches,” or “tall enough to provide storm shelter for a herd of Black Rhinoceros.” That one’s a big seller here in the South.

The result is simple: once the already-huge truck is lifted to an even huger height, it goes from “somewhat unsafe” to “incredibly scary.” Not for the people in the truck, mind you. For the people in Lotus Elises, and – if the truck gets high enough – even for people in normal cars, whose head is now directly in line with the truck’s front bumper.

When I worked at Porsche, German employees would visit and routinely muse at the height of these trucks. “Zis would never pass inspection in Germany!” they’d say. “How could zey ever be allowed to drive zese trucks?” (Note my liberal use of “z” instead of “th,” which proves that I could not possibly be making up these German people.)

At this point, I would explain to my foreign colleagues that most US states don’t have strict vehicle inspections. Yes, it’s true that an automaker must sell a car with certain safety equipment by federal law – but then we, as Land-of-the-Free consumers, are allowed to a) immediately remove it, and b) lose it when it comes time to sell the car.

The result is that there are thousands of these lifted pickups cruising around with bumpers at eye-level for anyone driving a vehicle smaller than a midsize SUV. This is very dangerous, and I think you should send a letter about it to your Congressman, right after you get your toddler to stop sticking that fork in the electrical outlet.

-@DougDeMuro

Of course, the LA Auto Show isn’t really over. Only the press days have passed, which means the show is now filled with normal residents of Los Angeles, people just like you and me except occasionally they see minor celebrities at the airport.

The auto show world depends on these people: good, hardworking Americans who take time from their busy schedules just to see the latest models; who stand in line for hours to get tickets; who believe an unlocked car is an invitation to steal the radio buttons. Salt of the earth folks, really.

But if you’re not in LA, you may have already forgotten about this year’s show. Fortunately, I’m here with my usual auto show retrospective to remind you of the many highs and lows from Los Angeles. Here goes:

Porsche started things off by revealing a new crossover, the Macan, its latest in a series of models designed to piss off the kind of people who haven’t purchased a new Porsche since the 944, yet still complain about the brand’s direction on Internet forums.

Nissan debuted several eye-grabbing new models in LA, including the sporty Juke NISMO RS (211 hp). The latest Juke slots above the Juke NISMO (197hp) and the regular Juke (188hp), proving that even a frog-shaped compact crossover can learn a lesson or two from the Porsche 911.

Nissan also showed off the seriously cool Sentra NISMO Concept, a high-performance sedan released to collective gasps from assembled automotive journalists who could’ve sworn Nissan stopped making the Sentra six, maybe seven years ago. According to Nissan’s press release, “we also still make the Quest, you know.”

Chevrolet rolled out the Sonic Dusk, a new trim level that features dark wheels primarily aimed at addressing rental car agency complaints about the amount of time spent wiping off brake dust.

Chevrolet also rolled out the all-new Suburban to the excitement of precisely no one in eco-obsessed Los Angeles. There were, however, restrained smiles of delight from tudor-style homes in Connecticut, where wealthy Protestant families might finally replace the 1995 model they’ve been using to haul their boat to the lake for the last two decades. For its part, Nissan responded to the new Suburban by reminding shoppers “Hey everyone, we still build the Armada. It has a V8 and everything.”

Hyundai says it’s going to release a hydrogen-powered SUV, the Tucson Fuel-Cell, sometime next year. We can only imagine the mental anguish this new option will cause all 19 nationwide Honda FCX Clarity drivers as their leases expire.

Lincoln revealed the handsome new MKC crossover, which will undoubtedly turn around the Lincoln brand, and if it doesn’t, then the next one will.

In “you must be dreaming” news, Kia showed off a new sedan called the K900, which will compete in the fast-moving “full-size sedan” segment that currently consists of old people deciding between the Hyundai Azera, the Toyota Avalon, or just keeping their 1998 Buick LeSabre for a few more years. Upon seeing the K900, Nissan PR staff issued a press release insisting that “The Maxima is still for sale. Really, it’s around here somewhere.”

Jaguar showed off an all-new F-Type Coupe, which boasts handsome styling, V6 or V8 power, and a larger rear end where Jaguar can store ever-increasing amounts of trunk money.

Subaru used this year’s LA Auto Show to roll out the gorgeous Legacy Concept, which features a beautiful coupe-like profile and flared fenders. Unfortunately, the Legacy Concept will reportedly stick to Subaru’s typical concept car strategy, meaning its primary purpose is to show attendees precisely what the next Legacy could look like, but won’t.

Ford showed off the all-new Edge Concept, which offers start/stop technology in an apparent bid to piss off any remaining customers who haven’t already been angered by SYNC and MyFord Touch.

The new long-wheelbase Range Rover LWB is a high-end luxury SUV designed to attract wealthy new buyers to the brand. Of course, they will all leave the brand upon discovering that they’ll be spending half their lease driving an LR2 with “LAND ROVER SERVICE LOANER” window decals.

Mercedes really stole the show with this year’s Vision Gran Turismo Concept, a crazy looking futuristic coupe with a teardrop shape and huge wheels. While the Vision GT doesn’t have an engine, Mercedes told journalists to pretend it has a 577-horsepower turbocharged V8. Upon realizing this is a potential strategy, Mitsubishi told journalists to pretend that its cars compete with Ford, Honda, and Toyota.

Oh, and I almost forgot: Chevrolet also rolled out the new Colorado pickup, which will be highly exciting to city-dwelling plumbers in about four years, once used models reach $10k. Reached for comment, Nissan said: “I think we still build the Frontier, but let me check. I know we build the Titan.”

And there it is, ladies and gentlemen: the Los Angeles Auto Show. If you’re thinking of visiting, just remember: it’s never too early to start a collection of radio buttons. Oh, and be sure to check out the Nissan Murano which, I’m told, is still available as a new car.

-@DougDeMuro

However, I recently laughed in the face of these petty challenges when I decided to take my CTS-V Wagon to the Atlanta Dragway in rural Commerce, Georgia, for the weekly “Fast Friday” amateur drag racing event. (Motto: “Beat your friends on Friday; beat your wife on Saturday!”) This, to the best of my recollection, is what happened.

First of all, I should mention right away that we didn’t have just one CTS-V Wagon. In fact, we had two CTS-V Wagons. The other was driven by my friend Dieter, who declined to let me print his full name since he also has an automatic, and he’s afraid of what you might do to him. Interestingly, a third CTS Wagon passed as we pulled out of my driveway to leave for the dragstrip, marking the largest number of CTS Wagons together in one place outside of the “Unsold Inventory” lot at GM Headquarters.

Our group also consisted of a few other interesting cars. I brought my Nissan Cube, largely because I feel that vehicle’s drag racing potential is too often ignored by most traditional automotive news outlets. We also had a 2005 Toyota Corolla, a stick shift Infiniti G37S, and a Lexus CT 200h, which is a handsome little hatchback that sort of looks like a Mazda3, except with the fuel economy of a Prius and the acceleration of tree growth. In other words: we were those assholes who slowed down the guys with built Camaros that run sevens.

Except, fortunately, there wasn’t really anyone to slow down. We did this only a few weeks ago, which meant it was pretty cold. (“Good for performance,” said a guy who was running a Nissan Titan that appeared to be completely stock, except for a six-inch lift.) As a result, the stands were empty, the crowd was thin, and the announcer – who told me last year that I was “late for soccer practice” when I showed up with my E63 AMG wagon – was nowhere to be found.

This meant we had the strip primarily to ourselves. We took full advantage of this fact by racing, over and over, in every automotive combination you can possibly think of. Cube versus Corolla? Done. V Wagon versus V Wagon? Of course. G37S versus lifted 1970s Chevy pickup flying the rebel flag? Obviously. CT 200h versus newly-planted sapling in the parking lot? Do you even have to ask?

We did this for hours and hours. I only drove three or four times, but the whole experience gave me some insight into the drag racing community; insight that I will now share with you, a typical car enthusiast who has not yet visited the dragstrip because when your wife hears “drag racing,” she thinks about Chip Foose driving one of those Top Fuel cars that shoots fire. And that insight is: bring an automatic.

That’s right! You guys have made fun of me for weeks, months even, for getting an automatic V Wagon. But it turns out that automatic is actually better for the dragstrip. While a stick shift guy has to sit there and think about the clutch, and the gear lever, and the RPMs, and the launch, all I have to do is throw my car in “Sport,” push the pedal, and collect my time slip at the end. An idiot could do this, a fact of which I’m certain, because I personally did it several times.

So automatic is definitely the way to go. Never mind that 99.9994 percent of my driving isn’t on the dragstrip: I now feel vindicated.

Speaking of automatics, I know you’re all wondering what it’s like to drag race a Nissan Cube, so here’s a general overview. First, you line up at the lights with an almost incredible sense of self-consciousness; the same sense you might get if you were a black teenager and you just walked in to Barney’s. This stems from the fact that you know every single person in the stands is wondering why the hell some dern cityfolk brawt out one of dem Korean box cars. Also, you know they have guns.

Next, you summon your inner-NHRA competitor. You press the gas and brake at the same time; you intently watch the lights; they turn GREEN!; you release the brake; your tires chirp… and you roll away at the same velocity as a funeral procession. The whole thing actually ends up being very pleasant, and you really get to know the dragstrip, since you see it go by so slowly. Also, you are constantly worried the Cube might simply explode, since the tires are flat-spotted and the oil hasn’t been changed since 2011.

But you’re probably more interested in the Cadillac. Before we get into this, I want to mention that Dieter has an aftermarket air intake on his car. I hold this and solely this responsible for the fact that he beat my best time by more than half a second. It can’t possibly be that he’s a better driver than me, since I’m an excellent driver, and I know this because I only crashed two of my five Porsche company cars. (That’s less than half.)

Anyway: in the end, Dieter’s best time was just a hair over 12 seconds – 12.06, if I remember correctly. My car was good for 12.6 seconds with me in the driver’s seat, though my friend Mark managed to get it down to 12.5. The times, though, weren’t as important as the sheer enjoyment of lining up at the lights, pushing the pedal down, hearing the V’s supercharger whine and its V8 roar to life, listening to it go through the gears, and then, at the very end, looking in the mirror and reminding myself that I’m sitting in a station wagon.

The Cube’s best run, meanwhile, was just a hair over 17 seconds. We repeatedly tried to break into the 16s, but eventually the self-consciousness got to us and we gave up. Maybe next time we’ll come back with rebel flags. Rebel flags… and an oil change.

-@DougDeMuro

This article originally appeared on Jalopnik.

Fortunately, today’s myth is less controversial and far more informational. That’s because it involves serious automotive insider knowledge that comes from me, a serious automotive insider who once passed an entire 40-hour work week playing web-based Flash games. And what’s the myth? Well, it has to do with the executive demo.

Before we get started, I think it’s important to explain exactly what an “executive demo” is. Here’s what happens: you go to your dealership and find a car on the lot that isn’t quite new, but has, maybe, 5,000 miles on the odometer. You ask the salesman why there’s a car that’s so new, with so few miles, on the used car lot. And he says: “Please don’t disturb me while I’m playing Flash games.”

No, what he says is that this car is an “executive demo.” In other words, it’s a car that was used as a company vehicle by someone at the corporate office; someone so high up that he had a free car; someone so high up that he got free gas; someone so high up that he would never dream of, say, using his company car to teach people to drive a stick shift, which is something that I certainly never did in my company cars, if anyone from my former employer is reading this.

This is exactly what happened when I bought my Cadillac. The first owner listed on the Carfax was a “corporate fleet” with a “corporate title,” which meant it was originally owned by GM. This, by the way, is the only way they could sell new CTS-V wagons: to GM employees who received a sizable discount.

When I asked the salesman about this, his response was simple: this car was an “executive demo,” driven by the kind of General Motors executive who is incredibly careful; an executive who would never do a smoky burnout; an executive who was probably a little old lady hired specifically to drive to and from church, just to be sure the car can operate under such peaceful conditions. Little did he know that he was talking to someone with considerable experience tying a mattress to the top of a Porsche Cayenne, not that I ever did that in any of my company cars, if anyone from my former employer is reading this.

I was reminded of all this executive demo stuff the other day as I browsed YouTube. There, I came across a video where Matt Farah spends what looks like the better part of a weekend doing burnouts in a Shelby GT500. For those who can’t watch the video, I’ll sum it up like this:

Matt Farah driving and reviewing the GT500: 80 percent
Matt Farah enveloped in an enormous cloud of tire smoke: 20 percent

I mention this because, in the video, Matt Farah is almost certainly driving a press car – which is owned by a “corporate fleet” with a “corporate title,” if you ask Carfax. In other words: at this very moment, that car is probably sitting on the lot of Anytown Ford, where the sales staff is telling people that Bill Ford himself drove the car, but only in the occasional parade, where he would throw Gobstoppers to underprivileged Detroit-area schoolchildren while trying to keep the needle below five miles per hour.

All of this makes me think about the space shuttle. You may be familiar with the space shuttle, as it earned quite a lot of fame during its career as a shuttle … for space. Occasionally, it was also transported on the back of another, larger aircraft, like a mama bear giving a piggyback ride to her cub after her cub had just finished a journey … to space. But the space shuttle was also the cause of the most notorious executive demo in history.

As I recall, this is what happened: a space shuttle was recently towed through the Los Angeles area for some reason, possibly as a prop for the next Armageddon movie, where Bruce Willis comes back from the dead to strangle anyone caught humming “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith. Specialized trucks did most of the towing, except for one short stretch when the shuttle crossed over the 405 Freeway. That part was done by a 2012 Toyota Tundra.

That’s right: a 300,000-pound, 184-foot interstellar flying machine was towed by a Toyota Tundra. And not just any Tundra: one that’s owned by a “corporate fleet” with a “corporate title.” Now that’s something I actually never did in my company car.

I can only guess where this Tundra is now, but I bet the owner occasionally says to his passengers: “Is it just me, or did you feel the transmission slip?”

Nah, probably not. I’m sure that Tundra doesn’t have any problems. I’m sure that Tundra is in excellent shape. After all, it was only driven carefully, to and from work, in warm weather, by some bean-counting vice president. Just like all executive demos.

This story originally appeared on Jalopnik.

-@DougDeMuro

For this, I apologize. I apologize to anyone who wants to buy an old SUV and actually take it off-road, since you’ll now be competing with leagues of wealthy men who take investment advice from Jalopnik. I apologize to all the Hummer H2 owners I offended with my column about how stupid they look. And I especially apologize to the Hummer H2 owners who took time out of their busy weightlifting schedule to send e-mails calling me a “dooshbag,” only to receive no reply in return. Really, guys, I’m sorry.

Fortunately, today’s article covers a side of the SUV world I think most Jalopnik readers will enjoy. And that is: the death of the SUV.

As usual, I think it’s important to address your thoughts before I get started. If I had to guess, I’d say your thoughts are something along the lines of: You idiot! The SUV will never die, no matter how many positive articles Jalopnik writes about station wagons! Unless, of course, you’re a Hummer H2 owner, in which case you’re thinking: You dooshbag! You wouldn’t understand the Hummer H2, because it’s for REAL MEN. Then you spit out some chewing tobacco.

But I believe the SUV will die, and I’m here to explain exactly why.

To do that, let’s go back to the 1950s. You may remember the 1950s, but probably not, according to Jalopnik’s demographic research. You’re much more likely to remember the 1980s, or possibly the 1990s, which were a lot like the 1950s except with considerably more narcotics.

Fortunately, I recently became an expert on the 1950s, thanks to one of those Buzzfeed articles entitled something like “30 Ways to Tell You Grew Up in the 1950s.” (Reason 22: Check your birth certificate.) As you might expect, this article didn’t get very many Facebook shares, though I’m told Buzzfeed received numerous telephone calls asking how to print it.

Anyway – as I understand it, this is what the 1950s were like:

[SETTING: A medium-sized house with a well-manicured lawn. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The women are vacuuming.]

Son: Good morning, pop!
Dad: Good morning, scout!
Mom: Hello, dear!
Dad: Betty, please don’t speak unless I address you.
Son: Dad, are the Russians gonna get us?
Dad: Not if we get them first, son.

There were also station wagons. Lots and lots of station wagons. Kids were driven to school in station wagons, they learned to drive in station wagons, and they had their first unplanned pregnancy in station wagons. Everyone had a station wagon. It was Jalopnik heaven.

Now, the station wagon love continued through the 1970s until all those kids who spent all that time in station wagons grew up and had kids of their own. Suddenly, the realization struck them: they didn’t want to drive their kids around in the same cars that mom and dad drove. They didn’t want station wagons. They wanted something different.

Enter the minivan. The Chrysler minivan, as I recall, came out in the early 1980s, at which time it was purchased by every single family in America, all of whom wondered: Why isn’t there a door on both sides? They would also eventually wonder: “Why do I only get 20,000 miles out of each transmission?” but that came later.

Of course, the minivan was intensely popular throughout the 1980s and early 1990s. We all grew up in them. Some vans had wood on the sides. Some vans had rear air conditioning. Some vans had second-row captain’s chairs. And all vans had potato chip crumbs lodged between the seats.

And then something happened. All those kids who spent all that time in minivans grew up and had kids of their own. Now they didn’t want to drive the same cars their parents drove, which eliminated the minivan, and they certainly didn’t want to drive the same cars their grandparents drove, which eliminated a) station wagons, and b) General Motors.

The result, of course, was the SUV boom, and the creation of a clear automotive truth: nobody wants to drive what their parents drove. We started buying the Ford Explorer, then the Toyota 4Runner, then the Jeep Grand Cherokee. Some people were so desperate for an SUV that they even bought the Oldsmobile Bravada. The minivan was effectively dead. The wagon was, too. All because no one wanted to drive the same car as their parents.

And now, here we are. The SUV fad has lasted for a while, but today’s children are starting to grow up. They’re starting to have kids of their own. Are they going to reject the SUV just because it’s what their parents drove? I certainly think so, which is why I’m predicting the SUV will die in the next ten years – just like the minivan, and the station wagon before it.

But just to be sure, I thought about my friends – nearly all of whom are recent college graduates rapidly approaching that age where they start popping out children. They’re the next generation’s automotive bellwether; the predictor of what we’ll be driving in the future; the keeper of the automotive flame. And after exhaustive study examining their tastes, I believe I have it; I can safely reveal the car of choice for the next generation. And it is… a used Honda Civic.

I think I’d rather have the minivan.

This story originally appeared on Jalopnik.