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I was dropping off my daughter at a piano lesson the other night, when I pulled into her teacher’s driveway. Aha! I thought. He’s bought a new car; the old Subaru wagon is gone. And what’s this in its place? A Chevy TrailBlazer? In my surprise, I even asked my daughter, who had her earbuds in and her iPod on, “Now, what Subaru buyer in his right mind goes out and buys one of those?” Then I looked closer: the car was not a TrailBlazer but the new Subaru Outback. “Man, it’s gotten large!” I exclaimed. So large, I’d evidently mistaken it for a bulky, truck-based SUV that was canceled a couple years back. Suddenly, I realized what Subaru meant not long ago when it said it was going to meet the market where it lived and “mainstream” the brand; the new Outback is one early example.
Then I remembered how much I hate it when brands mainstream themselves.
I like Subarus (I’ve even loved a few), and to be fair, the company is hardly alone in devolving its products for American consumption, mostly by making them bigger (hello, Volkswagen). But the confusing part of Subaru’s decision to bulk up yet again for the American market (its cars have been growing larger for years) is that it came just as the fellas from Ota, Japan, enjoyed some of their greatest success ever in this country, running against all the falling indicators and downward trends to keep sales nearly flat in superstinky 2008 and increase sales in comatose 2009 while expanding market share to record highs. So, to recap, company finally gets successful and then decides it needs to be even more successful, so it changes the winning formula. New Coke, anyone?
Let it not be forgotten that one of Subaru’s core virtues for decades was sensible size. One of its many key identifiers was that its models looked unique. Back in the day, Subaru ads would even boast about how ugly its cars were. Maybe that would be going a bit far today, but let’s pause to note the striking realignment of message—defiantly unstylish and small to bland and pretty darned big.
Now, surely Subaru’s plans for automotive fatness in 2010 and beyond were hatched before the great recession sent buyers running their way—my theory, at least, is that the firm was among the prime beneficiaries of our troubled economy; many buyers who could still afford fancier cars went looking for something more low-key in which to ride out the storm. With the bottom falling out, at a time of terrible unemployment and financial uncertainty, there was a moment when it became uncool to show up in something fancy, even if you could afford it. Fortunately for Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and the other luxury brands, that moment seems to have passed, even if the economy remains a roiling cauldron of scariness.
But the question remains, why does it so often seem as if good is never good enough? What was it that packed Subaru off to find the mainstream, when it might instead have doubled down on the winning left-of-center formula that had, after more than forty years, finally seen it become a full-fledged fixture of the American highway? What was wrong with reasonably compact, dynamic cars that made all kinds of fiscal conservatives—from vegan, crystal-wearing, lesbian Pilates instructors to college professors to thrifty American Legionnaires—feel good about themselves? Was Subaru getting tired of them as customers? Or is it that, like our piano-teaching friend, they’ll just stick around as the company sets off in search of the people who didn’t like Subaru the way it was?
Getting bigger didn’t work for Scion. The Toyota sub-brand quickly grew a rabid following from nothing with a lineup of slow, small, low-power models. Even if it wasn’t exactly the hip youth brigade that Toyota had intended, Scion’s owner body, many in their sunset years, were zealous converts. That is, they were, until Toyota told us the market told them they’d sell more Scions if they gave their humble machines an increase in engine capacity of more than 50 percent along with a 600-pound weight gain and a 4-mpg fuel economy loss. Then it was: whoops, where did all the people go?
A friend recently lamented to me that the Panamera Turbo we were riding in wasn’t true to the Porsche brand. Wrong you are, I said. Because nowadays, big, fat things that weigh two and a half tons but go really fast and handle surprisingly well for their size are the brand. Delightful, lighter-weight confections like the Cayman and the 911 GT3 RS are now the exceptions, not the rule.
Of course, Porsche insisted that it had to build the fatso Cayenne and the Panamera double-wide because that’s what its customers wanted. And it has certainly sold a lot of them, although perhaps this is a good time to note that it was only after formerly single-minded Porsche started chasing the “mainstream” market and growing its capacity exponentially that the legendary firm, which had been hugely profitable and strongly at the helm of its own destiny for more than half a century, almost went broke and then completely lost control of its affairs. (Hello, Volkswagen!) Nice one, right?
Increased turnover is great and all, but if there weren’t so many lard-ass sedans and SUVs for Porsche to be imagineering, maybe the 250-hp, 2.0-liter, 2000-pound 911 that the company’s gifted engineers are undoubtedly capable of designing would be here already.
So, carmakers, do us a favor. Don’t ever say you’re just giving the customer what he wants. Remember, Ford asked the customer what she wanted before giving us the Edsel—the first acknowledged product of intensive automotive market research. Come to think of it, that’s also what Pontiac said when it brought us the Aztek.
Myself, I’d bet my last euro that Ferdinand and Ferry Porsche never came to America in the late 1940s to ask people how they’d like a hunched-up little sports car with a 40-hp air-cooled noisemaker stuck where the trunk ought to be. I’m also pretty sure no customer ever told Subaru to build a car with a farty-sounding flat four, ungainly lines, four-wheel drive, and microbial performance because that’s what 1970s America would want.
The fact is, the customer doesn’t know what he wants, and when he does, he’s probably wrong. Listen to the customer and you’re not much different than the parent who asks his three-year-old what time he’d like to go to bed. Tell us you’re just doing what the banks, the capital markets, and your volume-dependent compensation packages want, and at least we’ll believe you.
I find this to be extraordinarily poignant writing, and must disagree with Mel and Michael’s comments.
Here in the Northeast there is also universal consensus that the new OB is much too “large”, which of course means too tall, given its length and weight are essentially unchanged. I’ve made my living selling used Subies to New Englanders for more than a 1/4 century, and NEVER have I witnessed such disdain for any of their “evolutionary” steps. The raised unibody now sits awkwardly on its driveline, and is sufficiently compromised such that the now too “soft” rear end needs to be stiffened with a rush-to-market fatter anti-swaybar!
More telling is the fact that almost NO owners of the well-optimized previous gen (’06-’09) OB are trading their beloved OBs for the ungainly newcomer, as it’s almost impossible to find anyone naive enough to do so! Hence the dearth of product in the used markets.
The new OB is selling briskly ONLY to cross-shoppers from other makes of SUVs who are chasing better fuel eco and simply can’t appreciate the compromises in the now-mushy handling on balloony tires, and 2WD owners finally getting on the AWD bandwagon.
It’s also interesting to note that the lower SEDAN version (aka Legacy) has much better chassis dynamics, doesn’t look so goofy, and yet still maintains a sufficiently high ground clearance, making a pretty decent snow plow! But alas, it constitutes a much smaller percentage of sales here in 5-door country.
Will the aversion to the fat new OB result in long-delayed tear-eyed trades of venerable ’06-’09 OBs and Legs to the continuing (’08-?) Impeza Hatch/Wagon? Possibly, somewhat because of the common misconception that the smaller Imp gets better fuel eco, too, but any such migration will be tempered by the highish wind and road noises at elevated speeds (similar to ’00-’04 Leg/OB) due to a relatively poor Cd, and the fact that Imps are ugly in most colors, and of course only carry 1/2 the cargo.
This is a miserable state of affairs I believe prompted by “Toyatoization”, and makes me wish Ford would spend the money to stick AWD in the Mazda3, for example, or Nissan not make the Juke such a joke.
I shed a tear when Subie dropped the venerable ’06-’07 Legacy SE and LTD Wagons (lower OBs on 17s that were essentially Japanese Avants), but soon I must steel myself to probably end a career as the previous OBs age past their prime….
I concur that Mike E. is misreading the reasoning for the improved sizing of the new Subaru Outback. The Subaru is shorter, taller, 2″ wider, longer wheel base for improved passenger room, smoother ride, less road noise, improved gas mileage. Yet it only gained 29 pounds in weight. I have not considered Subaru in the past, because of it’s cramped interior and frameless windows, but am now very satisfied to be a new owner of a 2011 Outback! Keep it up Subaru and by the way, keep smiling all the way to the bank with your success!
P.S. Maybe Mike E. should drive a new Subaru Outback for 1-2 weeks and then compare it to that Chevy Trailblazer that he thought it was.
JK, Porsche nearly went out of business every time they tried to kill off the 911 and very nearly hit the wall when the 964 had all of its teething problems in 1990-92. Not that it matters, C
Odd that you’d pick on Subaru’s Outback. The “new” one (MY2010 and forward) is actually 0.8″ shorter than the previous version. Granted, it is also 2″ wider and 2.5″ higher…but it only put on about 29 lbs in the process. The 2.8″ longer wheelbase combined with the shorter OAL should mean better dynamics as a counter to that very modest weight gain.
Now if you’d gone after the behemoth that the Accord has become–THAT I’d understand! Its bloated dimensions have made me drop it from my shopping list of potential replacement vehicles despite driving Accords (& being very happy with them) for better than 15 years.
I agree with Michael E. that the sales success occured after the redesign of the Legacy and Outback models for the 2010 model year in 2009. In fact, when the Forester was redesigned for 2009 model year, it was made bigger as well. So Jamie Kitman’s argument that going bigger isn’t the solution doesn’t hold water. Subaru did lose sales to other manufacturers because the customer perception was that the Subaru was too small, especially for rear seat passengers. In fact , that’s what the magazine reviews (including Automobile Magazine) said about Subaru, so they can’t be faulted for “listening”. Maybe Jamie Kitman should check a back issue of Automobile Magazine…
Mr. Kitman, if you will refrain from using pejorative words like “fatso” to describe vehicles, we shall refrain from commenting on your honker, proboscis, schnozzola, beak, snout, etc.
We get the point.
Thank you.
Josiah M.
I think you’re misreading Subaru’s sales numbers. Yes, they increased their sales in 2009 and bucked the industry-wide downturn, prior to the arrival of the more “mainstream” Outback. But it was precisely their effort to become more mainstream that led to their sales increases. The reason they sought to become mainstream is because a few years earlier – in the mid 2000s – their sales were not living up to company expectations.
Subaru’s sales success in late 2008 and 2009 was largely due to the Forester, which was arguably their most mainstream model to date. The more “traditional” or “quirky” models – the Legacy and Outback – were in decline, despite the fact that many held them in high regard. Owners and potential buyers alike complained that they were too small, too pricey and too thirsty, and Subaru listened. Since their 2010 redesign, the Legacy and Outback have skyrocketed in sales.