「A Pity That That Wasn t Done」を編集中

<br>Once upon a time, it was conventional Detroit wisdom that small cars such as the 1954-1962 Metropolitan simply weren't salable in the United States. The time was the early postwar period, and the reasoning went like this: Gasoline had always been plentiful and relatively cheap, as it still was. Ditto the supply of good used cars. What customers there were for tiny imports like French Renaults, German Volkswagens, and British Hillmans were dismissed as a lunatic fringe too insignificant to bother with. Not that there hadn't been attempts at getting Americans to think small. There was the "cyclecar" craze around the time of World War I, though it didn't last long. The Depression spawned the tiny American Austin and its somewhat more stylish successor, the American Bantam, but they, too, were hardly rousing sellers. Cincinnati appliance magnate Powel Crosley, Jr., gave it a shot with a two-cylinder minicar in 1939, followed by a larger, more "adult" four-banger after World War II.<br><br><br><br>But apart from 1946-1948, when a public deprived of cars by four long years of war literally lined up to buy anything on wheels, the little Crosley didn't sell either. So when George Walter Mason, the burly cigar-chomping president of Nash-Kelvinator Corporation, decided to market what would ultimately be called a "subcompact," he seemed headed down a well-worn path to nowhere. But Mason loved small cars, and he was convinced that one tailored to American tastes and driving conditions would not only be salable but could even turn a profit. The demographics of the time tended to bear him out. Prosperity seemed unlimited in the booming postwar economy, prompting the middle class to begin its historic migration to the suburbs. For millions of such folks a second car was no longer a luxury but a necessity, making the [https://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&gl=us&tbm=nws&q=prospects&gs_l=news prospects] for smaller, more affordable models look rosier than ever. Learn how Mason came upon the idea of a small car for the American market on the next page.<br><br><br><br>European imports for the most part, they'd been literally driven into the ground by Mason himself. His interest reflected more than just demographics, though; Mason was alone among his peers in foreseeing the tough new competition that would ensue between the independents and the Big Three once the sellers' market abated, which it did around 1950. But because all were prospering at the time, his call went unheeded. Consider for a moment that Mason's proposal would have created a mini-GM holding something like 15 percent of the American car market. Packard would have contributed its traditional name prestige and engineering prowess; Hudson an image of performance and innovation; Nash its know-how as the most efficient outfit in the industry and, again, a penchant for innovation; and Studebaker a fine dealer network plus a respected line of trucks. Even better, both Packard and Nash were sitting on substantial cash reserves. Mason's dream would be realized, but only halfway.<br><br><br><br>Packard ended up buying a weakening Studebaker in 1954, thus incurring a huge debt it could ill afford by that point, while Nash merged with a faltering Hudson that same year to form American Motors. Just four years later, all but the Studebaker nameplate would be gone. Finding no safety in numbers as he looked toward the 1950s, Mason concluded that the key to Nash's survival was to outflank his competitors, especially the Big Three, with products the big boys hadn't thought of. Again Mason was ahead of his time, for he was thinking of what we'd now call "niche" vehicles. The first fruits of this strategy appeared in 1950: the slick Anglo-American Nash-Healey sports car and the compact Rambler. The latter was a solid if initially unspectacular seller, accounting for some 31 percent of total Nash output in 1951, its first full year of production -- a performance that undoubtedly strengthened Mason's belief in the salability of a still-smaller model.<br><br><br><br>Find information about how the dream became reality by continuing to the next page. He failed to stir much interest until he went to Nash-Kelvinator, where Mason sat up and took notice. So did his assistant, George Romney. Nash nevertheless approached the idea with all due caution, perhaps because Flajole's car was as small as the fast-failing Crosley. The result, dubbed NXI for Nash Experimental International, was sent on a cross-country tour in 1950 and paraded before specially invited audiences in key cities. Romney was on hand at each stop to gauge reaction. Altogether, some 235,000 people saw the NXI, and no less than 90 percent said they liked it. Still, these tryouts prompted a number of modifications to Flajole's design. The tiny Fiat engine, for example, was judged totally inadequate for American speeds and driving conditions. The prototype's buckets hadn't played well,  [https://wikifad.francelafleur.com/Utilisateur:SusieRotz854526 Titan Rise Male Enhancement] many people saying they'd prefer a bench seat (presumably to permit three-abreast travel, tight though that would be).<br>