| Written by Ted Craig, on 06-17-2010 02:28 PM |
I’ve often been accused of being an old fuddy-duddy, a
curmudgeon, hard-hearted, unbending – the list goes on. Most of it’s untrue. I love new stuff and think I’m open to new ideas. I cry at the movies and change my opinions all the time depending on input from others. I think my problem is that I don’t express myself well enough, although people have said, “You tell it how it is…” That’s OK if you share my view. Not so much if you don’t.
That’s why I love this country and think the right to be able to prattle on in this column is an enormous privilege given to few. Try some of my more outrageous comments in North Korea – I don’t think so!
Someone said to me that I came across as unfeeling in my last column. I didn’t mean to offend anyone in our broad audience. I was talking about the oil leak in the Gulf, and that’s what it is – it’s not a spill, and some thought I made light of the size of this monster. I am well aware of the fact that this is the greatest environmental disaster to hit America and we will be suffering its consequences for years to come but that shouldn’t alter our quest to become independent for energy sources. We have to do it better and this should provide a tremendous learning curve for all involved.
To infer that only BP is to blame and they should be boycotted will only shoot the consumer in the foot. Oil companies are famous to look for even the slightest reason to raise prices and this would be manna from heaven for them. This could have happened to any one of the other companies operating down there with equally disastrous effects. The government safety oversight was as equally lax no matter what platform they were auditing. So culpability is to be shared, accepted and learned from if we are to move on from this with the American consumer as the payor.
BP will be made to pay, along with other suppliers, probably after lengthy and expensive court battles. And who do you think will finally foot that bill? Add that to the congressional “who-shot-John” tally. Don’t worry, we’ll add that to the Federal deficit and pay later.
This column is typically written a week or so ahead of publication so there’s sometimes a time lapse for comments on current events.
This thing has grown to
proportions never-before considered and I hope it’s capped soon. I do feel sorry for the wild life at every level of the food chain and we can only see a minor fraction of what’s affected. The real shame is that the Gulf is part of America’s food bowl so we won’t get to have any or, if we do, the prices will be through the roof. I have no idea what happens to these species if they skip a generation.
Of course, the livelihoods of fishermen and tourist-dependent businesses should become the ward of BP and it would probably behoove the other companies to make a contribution as they are associated within the public relations orbit, anyway.
Finally Mother Nature might lend a benevolent hand and find a way to ease the burden, going forward. Perhaps she could burn a little midnight oil contemplating that one. I dread to think of an earthquake under there.
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| Written by Tony Moorby, on 05-19-2010 02:20 PM |
I’ve recently been bragging about the weather in Middle Tennessee, only to have been proven wrong by Mother Nature, herself.
Firstly I said it hardly snows – wrong – we got twelve inches in a matter of a couple of weeks.
Then a couple of weekends ago we had a deluge, the like of which I’ve never seen in sixty-one years on this mortal globe.
It rained, not just your normal spring shower and a thunder clap or two – this was a constant drenching downpour for forty-eight relentless hours.
In parts around our house that amounted to an unprecedented 15 to 18 inches or enough to last us till the end of July!
My house sits on a rise in the property but still the sodden earth leached into the basement and the main garage.
Luckily, when we built the house, we installed drains that run to low points away from the house so what came in left just as quickly with no damage. To say that I was fortunate smacks of British understatement.
Twenty-two people have lost their lives, so far, in direct or flood-related incidents.
Tennessee is “The Volunteer State”, a nickname garnered over many years for the spirit of the people here, ready, willing and able to shun their own deficiencies and make sure everyone else is OK first; the spirit of the Civil War and The Alamo still walks with grace here – head held high and independent of outside concerns.
I know of many a home kitchen working overtime producing green bean casseroles for the neighbors while waiting for FEMA or an insurance company to show a similar interest.
Corporations as well as country music icons have lost fortunes, not only in dollar terms, but priceless collections of instruments, memorabilia, music records and all that was considered kitsch in the past, which is now realized as a valuable legacy of American life.
The monolithic Opryland Hotel and home of the newer Grand Ole Opry now looks something more akin to SeaWorld.
This temple of the Country Music faithful is sadly awash in the detritus from the Cumberland River mixed with the gaudy accents of its glitzy past. It may be Christmas before they can invite another guest to share their famous southern hospitality.
The complex is massive – it probably covers two zip codes. The adjacent Opry Mall which replaced the once-famous Opryland Theme Park as a tourist destination now shares its water with piranha fish escaped from a huge aquarium in the complex. They’ll take a bite out of the local economy!
It’s sad to see the work of a lifetime, from a simple sofa to a family photo album unceremoniously dumped at the street-end of the yard waiting to be collected by someone who has not the slightest inkling of what it took to achieve this tiny piece of the American dream.
Most of this stuff is uninsured as this deluge had had no precedent, flooding areas previously thought to have been far removed from the potential reach of flood waters.
Pretty malls have acquired strange and out-of-place sculptures of cars in odd positions, dumped on top of one another by a fierce and unthinking force.
Then there’s the remaining mud and goo and the stench of rotting, unknown things.
Maybe more rain will wash things back to new again – ironic, that.
The charlatans will be out in force, promising to put things right so long as they get their money up-front – good luck with that! The looters have already made their presence felt. We should bring back the stocks on the village green to deal with these low-lifes.
The amazing thing is that this devastation, slap bang in the middle of the country, hardly made a blip on the television radar and nary a word in the national press there only being room to recognize that some celebrity had lost a spouse to another dalliance!
We’ll shrug it off. We
always do and make the most of the good spirit that
prevails right now before we start shaking our fists at bad motorists again. I promise I won’t mention Mother
Nature again for a long while.
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| Written by Tony Moorby, on 04-28-2010 08:52 AM |
“Create your own visual style…let it be unique for yourself and yet identifiable for others.” Orson Welles was referring to the visual arts, but could have equally been talking about branding and product imaging.
We all work in a business that epitomizes the importance of style and memorable features; after all, if two cars did exactly the same thing, in exactly the same way, at exactly the same cost, you’d buy the better-looking of the two. To your eyes, that is. Thank goodness we all see things differently.
I remember, as a kid in the fifties, being stultified by my father’s ability to name the make and model of every car that passed. He even knew the sound they made. Eventually, when I got into the car business I could echo his talent.
Thinking back, it wasn’t such a gift. If you had the vaguest interest in cars you could identify a car by the sound its starter motor made. And a Vauxhall Viva could not have been more different than an Austin Mini in looks, style or utility. Here, Mustangs stirred the senses in the same way as Corvettes, but the differences were endless. One man’s meat, another man’s poison…
I rejoice every day at being involved in a business which results from so much genius. From an initial vehicle concept, designing the machines and spaces to build the vehicles, planning their interiors to accommodate so many considerations, using new, fabulous technologies, finally to the genius of marketing and distributing the product by businessmen and women who take it personally, putting everything they own behind the idea selling something that came from the mind of someone else. I know of no other business that demands so much talent from start to finish and to do it every day. Think of the dealer –
architect, lawyer, accountant, advertising maven,
marketing guru, engineer, inventory manager, human resources specialist, deluxe salesman, charity donor,
community leader, copywriter and fashionister and fortune-teller! And that just gets him to Monday lunchtime. This is not just a talent – it’s pure genius and these people are in every Main Street in America.
We have the pleasure in dealing with products that range from the utilitarian to the downright sexy. Although I have to say that some of the designs we see today are pap for the masses, hardly promoting the classics of the future. Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes a classic but the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia is exhibiting The Allure of the Automobile, hinged around eighteen of the world’s absolutely finest cars from the Golden Age of automobile design. Art Moderne-spawned cars from the thirties are on display like a 1937 Hispano-Suiza and a Bugatti Type 57S which, to me, is as sensual as a reclining nude!
Also showcased are cars from the fifties and sixties like the understated elegance of a 1961 Aston Martin DB4GT Zagato in contrast to the classic clarion call to luxury provided by the 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham. This is a must-see exhibition if one bone in your body has any predilection for cars.
I was fortunate to have been invited to a preview of what the show was to be and how it was to be laid out in the museum and was witness to the stunning amount of work that goes into mounting such an exquisite undertaking. And we have one of our own to thank for sponsoring and underwriting the endeavor – Manheim Auctions, under the tutelage of Dean and Christine Eisner, is the main promoter.
Dean’s an interesting character. In a well-earned, privileged place as Manheim’s CEO, he wears his position with understated (a Cox trait) sensitivity. He lets others take the spotlight, but they move at his persuasion. He’s a dexterous and talented leader. On top of that, he’s a decent chap and nice to be around.
While I was there, an exhibition of works by Leonardo Davinci was on display but it had closed – a situation that I bemoaned to one of the museum’s curators. He quietly showed me to a private door and said, “It’s all yours!!” There I was to see art and engineering at its zenith. Pure genius.
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| Written by Ted Craig, on 04-05-2010 09:07 AM |
Old Man Winter sure is taking his cruel time in his northerly retreat this year. It seems as though he’s had his gnarly-
fingered grip on everything
forever. I bragged earlier that here in the mid-south we hardly ever get snow.
Well, the Old Man saw to it that his hoary breath spread
almost 12 inches. I know, I know, you’re saying that poor old Baltimore got 56 inches but all things are relative – a half an inch here in Nashville ensures that kids get to spend the day in bed and the automobile bodyshops enjoy a welcomed income spike. Winters here
normally afford cool, crisp, cerulean blue skies and nary a breeze. This year has offered nothing more than a morose, gray, November-like overcast at best, and biting, windy, rainy or snowy days and slithery ice storms at worst.
The stunning spectacle of an ice storm is a meager reward for the devastating and expensive damage it affords. Bucolic and pastoral snow scenes give a mere teasing glimpse, soon to be followed by messy, dirty, salt-ridden roads – a right mess.
The sight of a blue sky was as rare as finding a nice used car at a decent price this winter. Everyone knows that new-car sales are slow, so the generation of trade-ins hasn’t provided the sufficient stock to keep up with the demand of people shifting their car dollars to used ones. The fleets have maintained a vice-like grip on what they’ve got and the daily rents are
getting the equivalent of blood from a turnip. Repos are not in the abundance of yore, as those people that could fog a mirror have already croaked on the monthlies. Cash for Clunkers took 750,000 units out of
circulation, of which about only 20 percent were worthy of the scrap heap – the rest would have provided great fodder for the buy-here, pay-here community (for the newly dispossessed) and auctions were stripped of a
potential stipend, too.
Inventory that was bought 90 days ago in a heady frenzy that prompted price rises across the board are now back in circulation trying to find a new home. Buyers, now a little more sanguine in their valuations, are standing around like Scrooge with their hands in their pockets and that’s not in an effort to stay warm. It’s going to take more than one lump of coal on this fire to stoke a strong spring market.
Tax time looks like it’ll come and go this year without so much as a blip on the volume radar. It feels as though it’ll be like this, surges and back in prices and volumes, until we get decent distributions of new cars. There are some signs that there’s a little more confidence in showrooms. General Motors and Chrysler are now eager to get their presence back in ‘the Motor Mile’, reinstating many well-deserving dealers. Now, I understand that the franchise system could do with a bit of a pruning. If sensitively done it can ensure the health of the species going forward. Slash and burn techniques only
ensure an early demise.
One can’t help getting the sense that there was some
political pushing and shoving going on here. The franchise set-up that took decades to
mature wouldn’t do well if cut to the root. The new guys at the helm probably realize that to
replace this system would take a much more benign and long-term approach to protect their own interests.
Some well-learned lessons for everyone.
As I sit here slaving over a hot lap top, the sun’s coming and the weather man predicts 80s by the end of the week. And whilst I don’t have “…a host of golden daffodils…” in the yard, I do have the odd clump here and there and very welcome they are too. Let’s hope the spring market gives everyone a much-overdue lift.
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