Pleasure versus credit: the debate that is changing cars

There is a secret in the automotive industry that nobody likes to talk about openly. We all – journalists, bloggers and manufacturers alike – continue to live in a world that no longer exists.

We still attend new car launches, solemnly discuss suspension settings, argue about steering feel and, with straight faces, debate how eagerly a car dives into a corner. Somewhere in the middle of all this, an engineer proudly announces that body rigidity has increased by 17%, and journalists nod knowingly, as if we were talking about the launch of a space station.
And then you, the readers, open the article and ask three questions in the comments. For example, "How much will it lose in value after three years?", "Will spare parts be available for it?" and "Will the gearbox fall apart after the warranty expires?" And you know what? You're right. Because motoring journalism today resembles music critics discussing the depth of a new jazz album while the public listens to a playlist called "Music for Cleaning the House".
Over the past twenty years, we've grown accustomed to thinking of the car as something more than just a means of transport. Every car had character. Some cars were loved for their thrilling handling, others for their charisma, others for their mad engines, and others simply because they were damn good-looking. But the world around us has changed.
Today, cars are increasingly bought not by enthusiasts but by people who have no interest in technology whatsoever. They don't care how many seconds a crossover takes to reach sixty. They will never discuss weight distribution across the axles, let alone read about the finer points of a new platform. For them, a car is not an object of passion. It's... well, let's say, a fridge. Only on wheels.
Read any of our test drives. Part of the material is devoted to how the car handles, how the suspension is tuned, how responsively the engine reacts and what the driver feels through corners. Though let's be honest: for most of its life, that car will spend its time in traffic jams, outside shopping centres, queuing for a car wash or parked outside a nursery school.
We continue to test cars as if the reader, after work, is off to tackle a mountain pass somewhere in the Alps. When in reality, he just wants to know whether the pram will fit in the boot and how much a replacement front bumper will cost after a botched parking manoeuvre outside the supermarket. But that's not a criticism of the readers – it's a criticism of us.
Perhaps motoring journalism is stuck in an era when the car was a dream? When people knew body codes, argued about engines and could tell the sound of an inline-six from a V8 with their eyes closed. Today, it's all different. A person chooses between a mortgage, a holiday, a kitchen renovation and a new car. And increasingly, the car loses out.
So the buyer walks into the showroom not for emotions. He comes for peace of mind. He doesn't need the most thrilling crossover. He needs one that won't turn his life into a reality show called "The Hunt for an Original Sensor". But we still continue to rave about cars that nobody buys. Look at how much attention sports saloons, expensive coupés and exotic new models receive. Yet people buy something entirely different.
Not dream cars. Not cars for pleasure. But cars that can be serviced without pain, sold on profitably after a few years and left in the driveway without fear. The funniest part is that manufacturers understand all of this perfectly well. That's why, at new model presentations, they now talk less and less about driving dynamics and more and more about finance packages, warranties, digital services and cost of ownership.
But perhaps we're wrong. Perhaps all of this is professional deformation on the part of people who spend far too much time at launches and in test cars. Because readers continue to argue about design, criticise new Chinese models, admire engines and prove to one another in the comments that cars used to be better. Which means the car still remains something more than just a list of options and a monthly payment.

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