OLDSMOBILE IS COMPLAINING that sales just ain’t what they used to be.
Well, let’s see. There’s a sameness to most cars today. You’re sitting next to one at a stoplight. What kind is it? A Mercedes? A Dodge? Oh, it’s an Avalon? Who makes that?
Image seems to have disappeared. And Oldsmobile is a pack leader in disappearing image.
Remember when Olds had the Rocket 88? The word “Rocket” really drew a dynamic picture. Owning one was a status symbol.
Then things changed. Rocket 88 gave way to Delta 88. We had Cutlass, which had a certain panache, and Calais and Cierra, which didn’t. But now, here’s Alero. Who chose that name? Alero isn’t as bad as Catera or Denali, but then what could be? Another Oldsmobile sub-brand is Aurora. It’s lyrical but delicate, and that has to cut into sales.
If Oldsmobile wants to recapture market share, marketing expertise has to back up engineering expertise. A venerable rule of salesmanship says that a product is what it is, plus what the prospect thinks it is. Perception of Alero isn’t within light-years of the perception of Rocket.
Add to the mix advertising that’s about as distinctive as “Yes, we have no bananas” and the negative combo is complete. Remember “This is not your father’s Oldsmobile,” which suggested you’re driving an ancient stolen car? Not much has happened since. The budget is $300 million. OK, quick: What’s Oldsmobile’s selling proposition? If you guess it’s a frog sliding down the window of an Alero or the “Intrigue Virtual Mystery Tour,” you’re as out of touch as the advertising is. What, from that $300 million, would persuade you to head for the showroom?
The combination of weak advertising, weak image and weak car names is deadly. Imagine a car called Ciera with its parent company having a Sierra truck. What’s next, See-Era?
I’m picking on Oldsmobile, but that marque isn’t alone. The Chrysler brands are in free fall. Early in the model year, advertising for a whole batch of cars centers on rebates, an indication of buyer indifference.
So what’s the answer? Go back to Rocket, the way Chevrolet has resuscitated Impala? Oh, sure, names wear out, but sometimes the manufacturer thinks it’s worn out before it actually is. Ford has had Mustang since 1964 and the name still has guts. Cadillac dropped Fleetwood, a name that reflected the top of the line. Lincoln dropped the Mark series, which puzzles me. Buick dropped Roadmaster, which during its reign was king of the road. Chevrolet dropped Caprice, and people still ask the dealers why.
So Oldsmobile isn’t alone. Kia has a car called Sephia, which sounds like a disease. Ford has Probe, which sounds like a step in diagnosing the disease. GM has Jimmy, which sounds like a toy. Toyota has Previa, which sounds like it’s been released too soon.
The Japanese cars seem to be the victim of dropping a letter from the name’s spelling. What if Acura were Accura and Galant were Gallant? Would that damage the image? If Sentra were Sentry, would prospects rebel? If Altima were Ultima, it wouldn’t be as high in the alphabet but it might have a stronger image.
And a domestic manufacturer, Pontiac, has a new model called Aztek. Why the “k” instead of a “c”? For that matter, why the design of that automobile?
Here’s one named Tiburon. That’s OK, but Tiburon means “shark” – which strikes me as a far more salesworthy name.
Some names defy analysis: Passat. Jetta. Bravada. Integra. Cirrus. Stratus. Breeze. Aspire. These are a little out of focus. Yeah, that’s one too – Focus.
The name “Grand” hasn’t just survived; it prospers to the point of total confusion. Jeep has Grand Cherokee. Dodge has Grand Caravan. Mercury has Grand Marquis. Pontiac has Grand Am and Grand Prix. Suzuki has Grand Vitara, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Isn’t that mutuality of names just grand?
Do all those Grands cause confusion? Well, maybe not as much as New York street names. One manufacturer has the Park Avenue and another has a Fifth Avenue. Hey, guys, Eighth Avenue is still available, and they have movie houses that show racy films. Let’s suggest it to Madison Avenue, which may be the breeding spot for some of these outlandish car titles.
Even the giants stumble. Rolls-Royce maintains its Silver series, which had its glory days with Silver Cloud and Silver Spur. It now has the Silver Seraph. Huh? Verbally, the name sounds not like a celestial being but a typeface.
Some still have “bite” – Viper. Tracer. Mystique. Blazer. Silverado. Firebird and Thunderbird (is that one still alive?). Mountaineer. Ram.
The most bewildering aspect of car-appellation is that it’s not accidental. These names are probably the result of months of brainstorming. How many of them would have survived a generation ago, when car manufacturers were more in touch with their market…and tailored model names to what turned on potential buyers, rather than to a peculiar but yet unused mix of letters?
You may argue that a car’s label isn’t of such major consequence. OK, let’s argue. I opine that the selection should suggest one of three “buyer incentive virtues” – power (Thunderbird, Cobra, an “X” something), status (Imperial, Royale) or exclusivity (Mark XI). Being able to name your car with chest thrust out is simple child psychology. Next to a home, cars are the most expensive purchase a person will make. Positioning, or lack of it, is welded to the name. That’ll be $300 million, please.
Having cast those pearls, I’m off in my Stanley Steamer to get a price on the newest Nash Rambler.
Network
