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Comeback

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I am a born and bred Detroiter, having lived in that town for all of my childhood until I finished college. As all Detroiters of the 50's, my life was intertwined with the automobile industry. Every school child took the regulation trip to the automobile plant to see how our wonderful American cars were built. This was combined with a trip to Dearborn and the Ford Museum centered around the God of automobiles, inventor of the very frest one: Henry Ford. My father was, as an advertising executive, involved deeply in the industry, and he knew personally many members of the Ford and Chrysler family. My cousin in Grosse Pointe grew up with Anne Ford and was invited to her debutante party there. My first job, while still in college, was modeling cars; I went out to the Ford Motor Plant test track and watched with excitement as the designers pulled the cloth off the newest Ford much as people pull the cover from a new portrait of a king off, and I was thrilled to see the new car for the first time, take it out on the track, and pretend I was a test driver, while photographers clicked away. The story and my photo appeared in a Parade Magazine, and with my pay - $700 I bought my first car, a Chevy.

Every January we bought a new car. As in the fashion industry, those involved throw out their last season's clothes and wear the new models; you wouldn't think of wearing last year's dress if you're a designer. We Detroiters wouldn't think of driving last year's car around the next year, it just wasn't done. And therein lies the problem. Detroit carmakers, knowing their cars only had to last a year or so, made them to last a year or so. No one worried that a fan belt would wear out or an axle would rust; they wouldn't get that old. We liked antique cars, of course; my fianc spent the entire summer before our wedding renovating an old Model A Ford. But those were for show only.

When I moved to the East Coast I drove my Chevy on the turnpike, and experienced my first breakdown: a worn wheel bearing. I'd never heard of such a thing, and when I got to New York, sold the car. When I later bought a Pontiac station wagon I discovered transmission fluidall over the road and the driveway, all the time. My transmission fluid leak could not be repaired, and so I carried gallons of the stuff around with me in the car to have on hand, until I finally, in disgust and sadness, sold the car and bought a BMW. The BMW is 10 years old, with 140,000 miles on her, and drives as beautifully as the day I bought her.

Detroit can make this kind of car. They can make fuel-efficient, electric, solar powered cars, if we give them one more chance. It was a good idea to kick out the ceo of General Motors; he didn't get it. He was behind in every way. He didn't know we need our cars for years and miles. The new people put there by Obama's government will understand that Detroit will shape up with the right people who have the vision to lead Detroit automakers into the future. I cry when I see my poor, sad, struggling city that will die a terrible death unless we let it keep, and improve, the auto business. Give them one more chance and they'll come through, I'm sure. They took Motown, our greatest gift to the music industry, away and set it down in LA, so all we have left is our cars. We can do it; give us one more chance.in every way.

Learn more about this author, Julie Hatfield.
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