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imports continue to pursue new niches. When gasoline prices hit $2 a gallon in 2000 and soared even higher in subsequent years, it was Toyota and Honda who were ready with hybrid gasoline-electric vehicles. Ford, run by an environmentalist, delayed plans to introduce its own hybrids and, in fact, sold off its electric car company. At the end of 2002, Honda even had sold the industry’s first hydrogen fuel-cell car to the governor of California, well before Detroit companies expected to have such vehicles available, despite their vows to beat the Japanese with better hydrogen fuel technology.
    Why have the imports been able to prevail even at a time when the country has never been more patriotically inclined? That is a third reason for foreign manufacturers’ success in the United States: the impact of the new global economy. In the 1990s, products from all parts of the world flooded American stores. At the same time, American manufacturers stumbled over themselves to open new factories in Mexico, Brazil, China, Thailand and in Eastern Europe, seeking to lower costs in order to compete. Joint ventures, too, became the order of the day, involving German banks, British telecommunications companies and all manner of Asian firms. American companies had become more international and seemed to show no loyalty to American consumers or workers. Americans began to show little loyalty back, whether it was a TV set or a DVD player or an automobile. To most car buyers, Toyota and Honda’s Japanese heritage mattered less and less. To some it was even an advantage, because Japanese cars had come to symbolize quality. The same was true for European companies. As this mind-set change took shape, the import manufacturers took steps to ingratiate themselves with the people where they did business. In 1985, foreign manufacturers had factories in just a handful of American states, including California, Ohio and South Carolina. By 2003, Alabama alone was home to investments by Toyota, Honda, Mercedes and Hyundai, earning it the nickname “Detroit South.” (Or, as David G. Bronner, the colorful head of Alabama’s pension system and the chairman of US Airways puts it, Detroit is now known in his region as “Alabama North.”) Import companies have established operations in a handful of states.
    Of course, American consumers do not inherently dislike Detroit. In fact, they have shown a willingness to try just about anything innovative that General Motors, Ford and Chrysler can unveil. After the September 2001 terrorist attacks, Americans responded in record numbers to the Big Three companies’ offers of zero percent financing on cars and trucks. Chrysler’s PT Cruiser became an instant hit when Chrysler introduced it in 2001. The Ford Thunderbird made heads turn when it finally arrived in showrooms in 2002, months behind schedule. The Chevrolet Corvette, 50 years on, has legions of enthusiastic fans. Detroit can still summon its clout and its magic on occasion.
    But GM, Ford and Chrysler suffer from a handicap that the imports do not. They are inconsistent—inconsistent in terms of quality, reliability, durability and styling—and as a result, they repeatedly leave their customers heartbroken, because it shows that the Big Three do not understand them and do not genuinely respect them. Detroit, deep down, has bought into the iconography that it has nurtured over the years. Its executives seem to truly believe that only they know what American buyers want. Because Detroit has dominated the industry for its first 100 years, American car company executives feel they are the best arbiters of the industry. They think they know far more than their customers about the vehicles that these customers drive. They are convinced that should they stumble, as all companies are wont to do, consumers will be forgiving and return to Detroit anyway. Even in the face of vast research to the contrary, Detroit for years has convinced itself of the notion,