Sometimes it’s the little throwaway paragraphs that tell you the most. TTAC pounced on this one:

Renault-Nissan announced today in Detroit that its Decherd, Tenn., plant will build Mercedes-Benz 4-cylinder engines for Infiniti and Mercedes-Benz starting in 2014.

I’m not quite sure which is the more startling news: that Daimler is outsourcing engine production to the States — yes, they build Benzes in America, but we’re talking mostly the M-Class, which hardly seems suited to a four-banger — or that Infiniti, which hasn’t had a four in a car since the demise of the G20 a decade ago, has decided that they need one.

Deep speculation: Mercedes, for CAFE reasons, may want to bring the B-Class to the States for the first time. The current B-Class is offered with an optional CVT; your current go-to guys for CVT-related technology are Nissan and Audi, and Daimler would rather suck smart cars through a straw than buy anything from the VW Group. So when this new four comes out of Decherd, the engines bound for Benzland will be fitted with the appropriate hardware for a CVT, which might even be one of Nissan Jatco’s.

As for Infiniti, they presumably don’t need a four in the G: they’ve already conjured up an entry-level G25 with a small V6. The question then becomes “What would BMW do?” The Bavarians have already shown the way: they’ve brought out a 1-series just below the 3, and are reported to be working on a small FWD car. Besides the Mini, I mean. Since the Nissan Bluebird/Sylphy is about due for a rework … but maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here.

The day I arrived on the dealer’s lot to test-drive Gwendolyn for the first time, she wouldn’t start: battery deader than Nehru suits. (A condition I subsequently attached to the purchase contract: new battery.) As it happens, whichever lot lizard had exited it last had left the lights on; the car presumably emitted a couple of feeble beeps, which evidently went ignored.

But that’s Infiniti, which circa 2000 was anxious to impress you with its subtlety. BMW, at least once upon a time, did things differently:

[S]hould you commit the grievous error of removing the key from the ignition while the lights are on, rather than a warning beep or chime, the car lets out a noise used in science fiction movies to signal a warp core breach. It would probably cause a U.S. Navy veteran to look around for the button to SCRAM the reactor. It triggers, even after a decade, the same reflexive spinal-level twitch you’d get from the sound of a running Husqvarna being lobbed into a playpen.

Which is, if you ask me, something else Nissan’s BMW-wannabe division should adopt from der Vaterland.

Please allow me to quote myself:

Communications from Infiniti to yours truly have always been somewhat obsequious, the presumption being that an owner of one of these glorified Nissans somehow expects this sort of thing, or at least will respond to the corporate up-suck.

Especially, you know, after a two-page service invoice, which says up in the corner:

note: Infiniti may call and/or send you a C.S.I. survey. If for any reason you can not answer ***Excellent*** on the phone survey or the written survey please contact us!!

LeeAnn, of course, is onto this sort of scheme:

[T]he main thing is, and I learned this from a few In The Know people, unless you give the superlative answer to all questions, it doesn’t count. It goes all null and void and you might as well have accused them of sleeping with livestock or being politicians.

And indeed I have gotten better-than-decent service from this dealer, five years running, but I really dislike the idea that I’m contributing to some form of grade inflation. I’ve already blown off the phone survey; let’s see if they send me a letter.

The Debbie Wasserman Schultz drive-American debacle generated all manner of tweetage, and a quip from the Instant Man:

Even worse, it’s a Japanese car that, though it’s built in America, is built in a right-to-work state!

This is a slight misquote of Moe Lane, who actually said this:

Seriously, Debbie? If you’re going to fulminate about Republican Presidential candidates driving foreign cars, don’t own a Nissan, OK? Particularly since the only places where they’re made in the USA are in right-to-work states.

Lane is quite correct here. Schultz’s Infiniti FX35 sport-utility, however, was assembled in Nissan’s Tochigi plant; the only Infiniti ever built in the US was the first-generation QX56, which was spun off Nissan’s Armada and built alongside it in Canton, Mississippi. (The current QX56 is a vaguely-Americanized Nissan Patrol, built in Kyushu.) Some lower-end Nissans are actually assembled in Mexico.

I’ve actually owned Japanese cars made in the US — by UAW members, yet! — but creatures of that ancestry are few and far between.

Oops, sorry: I meant the Grand Am. I never could figure out what Pontiac, GM’s former “We Build Chevys With Plastic Body Kits Excitement” brand, was doing in those last few years, though it clearly wasn’t enough to spare them the axe. It seems clear, though, after looking at where their buyers ended up, that the standard image of Pontiac driver as boy-racer was fuzzy at best:

How did over ten percent of GM’s “driving excitement” brand end up at the its truck brand (GMC)? How did over 14 percent of buyers replace the brand that brought us the GTO and G8 for the mainstream, thrill-free anonymity of Honda and Toyota? How on earth did Dodge, the remaining brand that most resembles Pontiac, only manage about 3%?

And is this conclusion inescapable?

[A]re automotive brands not as important as people make them out to be?

The answer, I think, is that an individual brand loses its importance once it strays too far from its intended purpose. About ten years ago, Nissan’s Infiniti division was foundering, mainly because no one was quite sure what they were selling other than really-expensive Nissans. Eventually they figured out what they wanted to be — the Japanese BMW — and recast the G from a pleasant little front-driver to a reasonable facsimile of the 3-series. (The I, an overdressed Maxima in the manner of the Lexus ES, a tarted-up Camry, was banished forthwith.) Ironically, BMW is now kicking around the idea of a line of FWD cars, and not necessarily to sell as Minis either.

To this day, General Motors hasn’t figured out all its brand positioning. Chevrolet, of course, is pitched to Everyman, and GMC to the guy who thinks he’s a trifle too good to drive Everyman’s truck. It seems clear, though, that the Chinese are calling the shots at Buick — not surprising, since they buy more of them than we do — and Cadillac is still trying to reestablish itself as a creditable luxoboat. (Which is more than Lincoln is doing; except for the ancient Navigator, they have nothing that wouldn’t be equally at home in a Mazda dealership these days.)

This may be why I like that Dodge “Never Neutral” tag. It doesn’t seem to say much, but the implication is crystal clear: “We’d say ‘Badass’ if only they’d let us.” Of course, since their volume vehicle is the Grand Caravan — well, what the hell, it’s about time someone built a badass minivan, right? If they can pull that off, they can be the new Pontiac, especially since they won’t have Chevy constantly nudging into their territory.

As seen here in December ’08:

I note with some amusement that Nissan charges more for the driver’s side blade than for the passenger’s side, no doubt because it’s six inches longer; apparently Rain-X does not. Amount pocketed / not spent [choose one]: about $9. I have no idea what kind of warranty coverage I have on these, but geez, they’re just wiper blades, they’ll be gone in a year or two.

For “a year or two,” read “25 months.” I bought the same Rain-X blade — 24-inch on the driver’s side, 16-inch on the passenger’s — and curiously, the price for the pair has dropped by a third in the interim.

Perplexed, I dialed up Amazon, which didn’t have the 16-incher, but they ask $9.99 for any size through 22 inches, $11.41 for the 24s. There exist higher grades, which command higher prices, but they aren’t strictly comparable. The Infiniti store charged me $9.72 for each blade. Plus tax, of course, but no shipping, and in fact the parts guy went out and installed them for me. The invoice says clearly “$15.50 list,” so I’m wondering if maybe I’m getting some sort of break for giving them $6000 in service business in five years.

I have spoken before of my fondness for Infiniti’s junior crossover, the EX35, which isn’t anywhere as overwrought as its FX37/56 sibling, and which has fewer SUVish pretentions. Still, the jacked-up silhouette remains, and cargo space is sacrificed in both EX and FX for the sake of styling. Fercrissake, whatever happened to good old wagons?

The answer, of course, is that nobody will make any for us because we keep buying either SUV or SUV Lite. I saw an utterly lovely Mercedes-Benz C240 wagon (with 4Matic, yet) in None More Black at the supermarket today; I actually dawdled my way out of the store in the hopes of getting a chance to bounce a couple of questions off the driver.

And for once, my timing was impeccable. Said she: “It’s exactly the right size.” I gauged the cargo space as she loaded up the groceries: this would work, I said to myself. And then came the Crushing Blow: “They’re not sending us any more of them, though.”

Figures. A sensibly-sized wagon with all-wheel drive, a smallish V6 (I at first thought this would be a 2.4-liter I4, but apparently Daimler had given up on the idea of badging to match the engine displacement by the time they mailed out this model), and no pseudo-badassery. And no takers: when the C-class was revised for 2007, the Germans decided that it wasn’t worth the bother shipping us any more small wagons, especially if they can talk us into the EX-ish GLK-class crossover.

Which leaves me with one actual wagon on the For Consideration list: Hyundai’s i30. I find the idea of trading an Infiniti I30 for one of these most amusing, but in the States, Hyundai has designated this model as the not-so-funny Elantra Touring. It’s a hair smaller than the C-class Benz, probably costs way less to support, and neatly sidesteps the “What the hell business do you have driving a Mercedes?” question.

Well, isn’t this lovely:

Today, Nissan recalled 25,024 cars in Japan because some of their accelerator pedals have caught the stickyness sickness, and may not want to come back to idle once you take the foot off the gas.

Cefiro, Bluebird, Sunny, Primera and Tino models built between October 1998 and August 2002 are affected by the recall, Nissan said today in a recall notice posted on the Japanese Transport Ministry web site.

Don’t recognize any of those nameplates? I do. The Nissan Cefiro of this era was sold over here as the Infiniti I30/Nissan Maxima.

The I30 I own, a 2000 model, was built in late 1999.

Will there be an American recall? Too early to tell.

Motor Trend (January) reports the following gee-whiz feature on the 2011 Infiniti M37/M56:

Inside, the M offers Forest A/C, which provides humidity control, a breeze mode that alternates airflow for a more natural feeling, and auto recirculation that detects dust and foul odors, then switches to the recirc setting.

There needs to be a toggle on that auto-recirc function. What happens if the foul odors are detected inside the vehicle?

Infiniti continues to look for ways to lure people into its dealerships for service. Last time out, it was a straight cash bribe of $50. Now it’s a drawing for:

• Thirty-nine months with a G37 convertible, including all maintenance, and a lackey to wheel the machine to and from the dealership for you.
• Two-year Elite Maintenance Service Plans (200 of them).
• $50 Service Reward Cards (500 of them).

There’s also a coupon for a 5-percent discount on any service, though the fine print notes ominously, “Offer may not apply to vehicles requiring adhesive wheel weights.”

Elite Maintenance, at least if you get the G37, is defined thusly:

Infiniti Elite Schedule 1 maintenance plan consists of seven (7) types of maintenance services and seventeen (17) types of maintenance inspections including thirteen (13) oil changes and seven (7) four (4) wheel tire rotations (excluding G35 and G37 models) for thirty-nine (39) months or 45,000 miles, whichever occurs first; maintenance offered once every (3) months during covered thirty-nine (39) month period or every 3,750 miles whichever occurs first. Major 30,000 mile service schedule and Tire Road Hazard Protection also included.

It’s just a damn shame they couldn’t get themselves to spell out “forty-five thousand.” And anyway, this schedule is mostly consistent with their recommendations over the years. They’re not going to rotate the G’s tires, though: must be those wicked adhesive wheel weights.

I can’t see owning, or leasing, a G37 droptop, though. The retractable hard top has to go somewhere, and in the process of going there takes up almost all the available cargo room: you could stash a candy bar back there, maybe, if it were, say, 2.3 Musketeers. For the World Tours, this is decidedly suboptimal.

It has been 2550 miles since Gwendolyn’s last spa day; I don’t think I’m going to hit 1200 miles between now and the end of September, when registration for the drawing ends.

Well, not really. But play along with Francis W. Porretto here:

1. Michael Anthony (if you’re too young to remember the old TV show The Millionaire, look it up) has come to your home and offered to buy you the car of your choice, no matter what that car might be or cost. But there are conditions:

• It has to be in current production;
• You have to foot all running and maintenance expenses;
• It will be the only car you’ll get to drive or use in any way for the next ten years, no matter what happens, where you might need to go, or why.

What would your choice be?

2. Defend that choice, with specific reference to your circumstances — and remember that you’re not allowed the use of any other car, including that of your spouse if you have one.

3. Now describe a set of circumstances you could plausibly face in which, no matter how carefully you chose your new car, you’d rather have some other car for those conditions.

Under present-day circumstances, I think I’d opt for Infiniti’s small crossover, the EX35. Justifications:

• It’s essentially a wagon version of the G sedan, a highly-covetable little darb in its own right;
• It still drives like a G, apart from a couple extra inches of height, separating it from the general run of SUVs that aren’t really SUVs;
• It should fit nicely in my existing garage;
• Operating expenses would likely not be much different from what I’m spending now on Gwendolyn. (The EX will burn a tad more fuel, but most repairs will be covered under warranty for four years.)

The EX is not a particularly good off-road vehicle, though, so were I to move way out into the sticks, I’d be better served by something with more rock-hopping capability.

Gwendolyn had a spa day today, so I got some seat time in a 2008 G35x sedan, the all-wheel-drive version of the G, and, well, it seemed like any other G I’ve driven, though I’m not quite sure what I might have been expecting: I took some corners a little faster than I might have otherwise, just to see if it made any difference, and it didn’t seem to. And traffic being what it was, I kept the speed down, which I suppose depends on your definition of “down.” Let’s say I didn’t spend much time in the top half of the speedometer. The G is still a tad snug, although the seats and the wheel are accommodating; on the upside, the control panel is a couple of orders of magnitude more comprehensible than some others I’ve seen at this price point (lower 40s).

Incidentally, I took the opportunity to apply for Infiniti’s $50 service rebate, having run the tab all the way to $71 and change for a fresh fill of 5W30, a new oil filter, a few more psi of nitrogen, a tire rotation, and a less-perfunctory-than-usual wash. And this explains much about how I got seat time in the G35x in the first place: feeling that this was a quick once-over, I didn’t bother to reserve a loaner when I called in the appointment last week. When I arrived at the dealership, though, the usual pre-8 am crowd was conspicuous by its absence, and eight members of the loaner fleet sat quietly along the wall, evidently going nowhere. No wonder Nissan is paying people to get dealer service: nobody’s coming in. I just hope they have a similar offer when the hyperexpensive 120,000-mile service comes around.

Automakers are suffering because they can’t sell any cars; auto dealers are suffering because, well, they can’t sell any cars. Dealers, however, have alternative revenue streams, which the manufacturers will help them tap. Witness this mailing:

As a loyal customer, we know you are passionate about maintaining your vehicle with Infiniti expert service.

To thank you for your commitment, we are offering you a $50 rebate on your next Infiniti service visit.

And there’s a simulated $50 bill tucked into the fold.

There’s just one issue for me: I don’t happen to need $50 worth of service right this minute. (At 116,250 miles, the next service interval, it’s time for an oil change, and that’s it; the tab doesn’t approach $50.) The sensible thing to do, therefore, would be to hold it for the hyperexpensive 120k service, but that’s not happening before the end-of-March deadline.

Here’s what’s on the 120k Premium Maintenance list:

• Replace engine oil and filter
• Lubricate all locks/hinges
• Replace automatic transmission fluid
• Replace climate-controlled seat filter (M45/M35/Q45, if so equipped)
• Replace differential oil
• Replace engine air filter
• Replace engine coolant/flush system
• Replace engine drive belts
• Replace in-cabin microfilter
• Replace manual transmission oil
• Replace radiator cap
• Replace transfer case oil (4WD/AWD)
• Replace wiper blades
• Rotate tires (except G35 Coupe, Sport)
• Optional: flush automatic transmission (flush with ATF)
• Inspect the following:

__ All lights
__ Axle & suspension parts
__ Brake lines & cables
__ Brake calipers, pads, rotors
__ Brake light & cruise control switches
__ Drive shaft boots (4WD/AWD)
__ Exhaust system
__ Front suspension ball joints
__ Fuel lines/connections
__ Fuel tank vapor vent system hoses
__ Headlights/adjust if necessary
__ Propeller shaft (4WD/AWD)
__ Steering gear and linkage
__ Steering linkage ball joints

The tire store will give me a free rotation, so that can be eliminated; I don’t have AWD, so those items are irrelevant; I replaced all the belts at 90k, so they should be okay; all the expendable brake parts have been done within the last 24 months and there are no obvious signs of problems.

I would, however, like some input into this mysterious “climate-controlled seat filter” on the higher-end models. I can think of some things related to seats that really ought to be filtered, you know?

Once again, white is the most popular car color in America, though I’ve never seen an explanation for this quite so eloquent, or quite so pretentious, as this Infiniti ad (for the G coupe) in a late-2005 InStyle:

Colorless? Or is it the most essential color? Maximizing minimal. Screaming quietly. Reveling in less. Pure. Stripped bare. Proud. Fresh. Fashionably optimistic. Elegant with a vengeance. Untainted. Unflawed. The most colorful color in any palette is … White.

And I look at my white Infiniti, and I think “Christ, this thing gets dirty fast.”

In the two and a half years since Gwendolyn’s arrival, I have generally preferred to replace those parts that needed replacing with Nissan’s actual replacement parts from the lone Infiniti dealer in town, reasoning that (1) they seem to know what they’re doing, (2) the Infiniti store is a tad closer to me than the nearest Nissan shop, and (3) there’s no reason to think I’d get any break on the price by buying the parts from said Nissan shop.

I have deviated from this scheme exactly once: when I had all the dampers replaced. At the time, I said this:

A set of fresh factory struts, installed by fresh factory-trained techs, would run close to two thousand dollars. This struck me as excessive, and eventually I addressed myself to Monroe, which sells zillions of aftermarket shocks, and who, I discovered, had come up with the struts for the contemporary Nissan Altima, suggesting to me that they might have some idea about how to hold up the corners of other Nissan products. Of their three lines, only the topmost, the Sensa-Trac, is offered for the Maxima and its Infiniti sister; it’s nearly as pricey as the factory strut, but can be installed by mere mortals.

I am a fair shadetree mechanic, and by “fair” I mean better than “poor” but not as good as “good”; I can handle some things, but installation of struts is well above my pay grade. I farmed out this job to my preferred tire store, and pocketed / failed to spend [choose one] a thousand dollars or so.

I wasn’t expecting a similar compromise yesterday, but I had noticed some graunching noises from the wipers, accompanied by some streakiness, and I decided to buy new blades. (I have discovered that I can change blades in mere seconds, but fitting new inserts kills the whole afternoon. Maybe I’m closer to “poor” than I’d like to think.) The Infiniti parts guy looked at the shelf and said sadly that yes, we have no bananas Nissan-branded blades in these sizes in stock at this time; could we interest you in a Rain-X replacement?

They could, I decided. He brought the impostors out to the car, which duly impressed me inasmuch as it was 29 degrees and the wind had picked up a howl on the way down from Nunavut, and once assured that they did in fact fit Nissan’s wiper arm, we had a deal. I note with some amusement that Nissan charges more for the driver’s side blade than for the passenger’s side, no doubt because it’s six inches longer; apparently Rain-X does not. Amount pocketed / not spent [choose one]: about $9. I have no idea what kind of warranty coverage I have on these, but geez, they’re just wiper blades, they’ll be gone in a year or two.

Mark Alger details his Hierarchy of Vehicular Needs:

I prize (in this order), comfort, wide field of vision, visibility, crash-survivability, winter traction, and cargo capacity over fuel economy.

Which got me thinking: what criteria drew me to my present set of wheels? Expediency was certainly a factor, since my previous set of wheels had been rendered inoperable and, in the judgment of some auto-insurance type, unfixable, but there were thousands of cars for sale that June day in Oklahoma City, and Carmax would happily have trucked one up from elsewhere had I asked, so there had to be something drawing me to this particular car.

The first order of business was size, and there were two sets of dimensions to consider:

• Many people seeing me seated assume I’m six-five or six-six, until I stand up and reveal myself to be more of a point guard than a power forward: six feet even, with a 28-inch inseam. So I could give a flip about legroom; I just want to make sure I don’t scrape my scalp against the headliner.
• The garage at Surlywood was built in 1951 — three years after the rest of the house — and was not ideally suited to the longer, lower, wider stuff that Detroit ground out later in the decade. The previous owner drove a Nissan Maxima, so I would consider no vehicles that substantially exceeded its size.

Beyond that, I was looking for some measure of reliability, since I was buying used, and I didn’t like the machine-gun slits that passed for windows in some recent models. I ignored utterly the crash-test results — having just had a crash, I was in no mood to contemplate the likelihood of another — and I paid only perfunctory attention to fuel economy, inasmuch as all the cars under consideration were what the EPA terms “mid-size,” and that commonality of size suggested to me that gas consumption was likely to be about the same with any of them.

What sealed the deal, though, was a piece of cheap metal: the badge. As I explained at the time:

As a practicing plebe, I’ve always felt that if you want a Camry, you should buy a Camry, and forgo the big L badge. But there’s another side to this story: suppose, just suppose, that the guy who buys the Lexus, knowing he paid the big bucks, actually does a better job of taking care of his pricey little beastie?

And the other side of that coin: the Lexus dealership, by repute anyway, is going to be more anxious to curry the favor (possibly even the favour) of its customers than is your average Toyota store.

Which explains why I have an Infiniti I30, which, were it not for the badge and some glitz and 100 lb of sound insulation and a whole lot of manufacturer obsequiousness, would have been, yes, a Nissan Maxima. It’s something of a tradition around this house.

“Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price,” as seen on new-car Monroney stickers, has apparently been downgraded from a suggestion to a convenient fiction. Get a load of this:

A friend was looking at the M45 Infiniti last week 10/27, sticker $52K+, dealer says lets start at 42K, gives her max on trade-in 16K on 2004 Infiniti(shocked), financing is 0.9% for 60 months but then dealer mentions we now have cash pricing available!? If you pay cash, we will take up to another 8K off financing price. You have 5 days until the end of the month to decide. ($52-10-16-8 = $18K).

Geez. Maybe I should go look at that year-old G35 again.

Gwendolyn’s lack of thirst was diagnosed as ignition problems (P1320, for you fans of OBD II codes); the fix was to replace the spark plugs (which I was going to do anyway) and the ignition coils. Unfortunately, there are six of each, and, this being a sideways V6, you can bet that three of them are a wicked sumbitch to change out. Each coil is around a hundred bucks, and the standard plugs are tipped with rare and precious Unobtainium, so this is a serious hit to the wallet; on the other hand, I’ll have no problem blowing off the plug service at 120k, since it’s only 14k away. I am still somewhat perplexed by the notion that using less fuel — last tank was 23.2 mpg, about 10 percent better than seasonal around-town norms — somehow constitutes a “malfunction,” but it does change the emissions pattern, and inasmuch as the new ozone rules are likely to mandate closer inspection of vehicle emissions, I’ve got to implement the fix.

For the day, they handed me the keys to an FX35, a sort-of-SUV built up on Nissan’s FM platform. Curiously, its dynamics, over my usual Bad Road course, were almost identical to what I experience in my own car, which took some doing considering that this particular FX, a 2005 model, was rear-wheel drive (an AWD version is also available) and Gwendolyn is a front-driver. Truth be told, I’d rather have the smaller EX, if only because it’s not so tall as the FX. Not that I’m inclined to go car-shopping after paying the repair bill, of course.