Chevy Cruze In The Vega Shadow

OTR had quite an affair with the Chevy brand into young adulthood, including a '57 Chevy Bel Air and a '68 Camaro. It came to an end when he bought a '71 Chevy Vega, arguably in the bottom three pieces of junk ever produced by the American auto industry. Under that modest design and spiffy concept rested an engineering and performance nightmare wrapped in paper-thin sheet metal. The engine warped into an oil burner in a matter of weeks. The dealership was embarrassed and spent thousands to make things right while the corporate suits at General Motors wrote nice letters. As months turned into a year and two, there was no end to breakdowns, recalls, and repairs.

One would expect forty years, billions in bailouts, and a union takeover at Government Motors to make a difference, but this post by Instapundit's Glenn Reynolds seems to tell a different story. It involves the new compact GM Chevy Cruze, labor problems, and new cars needing repair before they leave the factory. And just where is the factory? It's the infamous Lordstown, Ohio, plant well-know for its rebellious UAW workers and product sabotage in the 1970s collective referred to as the "Lordstown Syndrome." Readers should have no problem guessing where the Vega was built. Taxpayers--and United AutoWorker employee/owners--should hope Lordstown does a better job with the Cruze. Their first nightmare merely cast a long shadow. A second nightmare will likely put them out of business.

Postscript: Lucky for OTR, his dad retired in 1973, freeing up one of the reliable family cars at the home place. OTR swapped the Vega Nightmare--good for a few miles around town--for the '68 Camaro. He drove it hard and fast for four carefree years. When it came time for another car, General Motors lost out to a Volkswagen Scirocco. OTR will never own another General/Government Motors product. Ever.

Labor Day And The American Dream

Labor Day comes Monday, but I figured addressing the theme today would make sense as most of us will be enjoying the day with family and away from the Internet. My most memorable Labor Days occurred in the '50s and '60s when I attended the big day-long picnic sponsored by the paper mill that employed my home town. Three to four thousand people attended those picnics and enjoyed carnival rides, swimming, softball, races, airplane rides, and a playground filled with wonderfully dangerous equipment that could never be built today. It all ended with a movie under the stars at the drive-in theater next door.

Although many of the kids I played with those days ended up working at the mill, I imagine a number of them went on to college and enjoyed the greater incomes and opportunities it afforded. In the long run the college graduates made the right decision. Today, the mill employs only a shadow of its former workforce, perhaps fewer than a third when compared to its post World War II heyday. The picnic is a shadow, too, and now held at a mediocre site. The union wages may still be good, but the jobs are few, and the quality of life is wanting in the region now entering its sixth decade of decline.

In my life, I've always made a point to family, friends, and colleagues that all work is honorable. Every employee, from minimum wage to executive salary, contributes to achieving organizational success. That college diploma stills determines in large part where one will fall on the earnings scale; however, the formula may be changing. In fact, opportunities to develop skills beyond the campus have never been greater. Simply put, the American Dream may be closer to more employees than ever. That should make a lot of people very happy, even in the midst of our economic downturn.
If we could just find a way to resurrect a good liberal arts curriculum in high school, I would be very pleased. Tomorrow's happy workers should at least know about the American Experience and its precedents that enabled them.

William McGurn has more to say on work and dreams in his column at The Wall Street Journal's Opinion Online.