It’s been a heady year for keeping track of the global auto industry. The General Motors and Chrysler bailouts and bankruptcies, the return of Fiat to the U.S. market (and as savior of Chrysler), not to mention the sales struggles of Toyota, Honda’s hybrid problems, the zany Porsche-VW takeover tango, and the overall sense of gloom and doom that’s settled on carland. Oh sure, the electric vehicle realm is hot and heavy, and cash for clunkers saved the U.S. economy, but for the most part, despair and turmoil have been the order of the day.
During all this, I’ve regrettably neglected France. An easy thing to do, as French cars haven’t been sold in the U.S. since the 1990s. France is essentially two car companies, Renault and Peugeot. Renault is wedded to Nissan, so the tendency is to talk about the two automakers in the same breath. Peugeot, on the other hand, is more like the VW of France (in fact, it’s second only to VW in terms of European car companies—a distant second).
Peugeot has endured its own troubles during the great automotive downturn of ’09. It received a bailout from the French government and canned its controversial CEO, Christian Streiff, who was well known for lasting on 100 days at Airbus before he ended up out of the plane business and in the car game (just as Airbus is no Boeing, Steiff is no Alan Mulally, former Boeing CEO and now CEO of Ford). Several years ago, Peugeot was making noise about retuning to the U.S., but with declining sales at home—it sold less than 2 million vehicles in 2008 and is doing worse in 2009—that ambition seems to be off.
Which is too bad, as Peugeot builds cars that are both compact and full of Gallic flair. (It also owns Citröen, a few classic examples of which can still be seen prowling various American urban enclaves.) They don’t look American, they don’t look Japanese, and they don’t look German. Many are designed for fuel-efficiency and could probably develop a devoted following in the U.S., especially since the domestic market is more up-for-grabs, with the shrinking of GM. Exchange rates could be an issue, but if Fiat CEO Sergio Marchionne is right and a global carmaker needs to produce 5.5 million cars annually to be profitable, then Peugeot needs to at least reconsider seizing an historic opportunity to make a run at the world’s biggest market, the U.S.
People like me remember the 1970s and ’80s, when our roadways featured a greater variety of imported automobiles. These days, “import” really just means German or Japanese. And unfortunately, many, many German and Japanese cars are just kind of boring. The presence of Fiats and Peugeots could heighten our appreciation of our homegrown product, which even though beleaguered, still has the power to captivate (I’ll put a Corvette up against a Maserati any day, and I challenge BMW to ever create anything as cool as the Ford Flex).
Although I guess there is the small matter of Peugeot getting its house in order. However, Fiat could still be in the market for a partner, assuming it doesn’t manage to get back into a deal to acquire Opel, GM’s main European brand. That would get Peugeot, in some shape or form—potentially—back in the U.S.A.
.
During all this, I’ve regrettably neglected France. An easy thing to do, as French cars haven’t been sold in the U.S. since the 1990s. France is essentially two car companies, Renault and Peugeot. Renault is wedded to Nissan, so the tendency is to talk about the two automakers in the same breath. Peugeot, on the other hand, is more like the VW of France (in fact, it’s second only to VW in terms of European car companies—a distant second).
Peugeot has endured its own troubles during the great automotive downturn of ’09. It received a bailout from the French government and canned its controversial CEO, Christian Streiff, who was well known for lasting on 100 days at Airbus before he ended up out of the plane business and in the car game (just as Airbus is no Boeing, Steiff is no Alan Mulally, former Boeing CEO and now CEO of Ford). Several years ago, Peugeot was making noise about retuning to the U.S., but with declining sales at home—it sold less than 2 million vehicles in 2008 and is doing worse in 2009—that ambition seems to be off.
Which is too bad, as Peugeot builds cars that are both compact and full of Gallic flair. (It also owns Citröen, a few classic examples of which can still be seen prowling various American urban enclaves.) They don’t look American, they don’t look Japanese, and they don’t look German. Many are designed for fuel-efficiency and could probably develop a devoted following in the U.S., especially since the domestic market is more up-for-grabs, with the shrinking of GM. Exchange rates could be an issue, but if Fiat CEO Sergio Marchionne is right and a global carmaker needs to produce 5.5 million cars annually to be profitable, then Peugeot needs to at least reconsider seizing an historic opportunity to make a run at the world’s biggest market, the U.S.
People like me remember the 1970s and ’80s, when our roadways featured a greater variety of imported automobiles. These days, “import” really just means German or Japanese. And unfortunately, many, many German and Japanese cars are just kind of boring. The presence of Fiats and Peugeots could heighten our appreciation of our homegrown product, which even though beleaguered, still has the power to captivate (I’ll put a Corvette up against a Maserati any day, and I challenge BMW to ever create anything as cool as the Ford Flex).
Although I guess there is the small matter of Peugeot getting its house in order. However, Fiat could still be in the market for a partner, assuming it doesn’t manage to get back into a deal to acquire Opel, GM’s main European brand. That would get Peugeot, in some shape or form—potentially—back in the U.S.A.
.
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