Toyota recently announced an upcoming EV model they are calling the “bZ4X”. That model name caused me to do a double-take! My first thought was that “bZ4X” looks more like one of those auto-generated passwords of random lower- and upper-case letters and numbers. Second thought was, does BMW know about this? Buried within that model name is BMW’s Z4 sports car.
The ‘alphabet soup’ of today’s automotive model names borders on the impossible to comprehend, a trend I’ve observed for years and which is only growing worse. I grew up during a great time period in automotive history: muscle cars were kings of the asphalt jungle, American luxury cars were at their peak, and European imports provided a splash of sporting style to fill a gap that American car makers were only starting to tackle. We identified most cars only by their model names.
On my daily walk to school, I could spot them from 50 paces: Malibu; Grand Prix; Mustang; Fury; New Yorker; Galaxie; Thunderbird; and perhaps my favorite sounding name, Coupe DeVille. I wasn’t yet of driving age, but I could picture myself behind the wheel of my first car, cruising into the high school parking lot, and asking the boys, “how do you like my Cougar/LeMans/Barracuda?” Will tomorrow’s teen excitedly exclaim to their friends “hey, check out my new bZ4X”?
Let’s acknowledge that even in the 1960s, “foreign cars” as we called them were already using numbers for model names. The first import car I owned was a Fiat 124 Coupe. My dad had bought a new Renault 16. A neighbor had a Mercedes-Benz 240. BMW logically assigned its numerical model names. A 7-series sedan was larger and more luxurious than a 5-series sedan, which itself was bigger and pricier than a BMW 3-series. But European car companies didn’t use numbers exclusively. There were plenty of imports with real words for model names: Civic; Corolla; Bavaria; Fulvia; Midget; and most popular of all, Beetle.
Domestic auto makers moved toward greater use of alphanumeric model names awhile later. Cadillac abandoned DeVille and Eldorado and adapted CTS and STS. Chrysler dumped Sebring and Concorde in favor of the (ahem) distinctive model names 200 and 300. Import brands were not immune. BMW’s logic used to be, well, logical. Today, a 3-Series shopper must decide among the 330i, 330i xDrive, 330e, 330e xDrive, M340i, M340i xDrive, M3, M3 Competition, and M3 Competition xDrive. (Those are just the 4-doors. The renamed 2-doors, now the 4-Series, offer an even more confusing confluence of body styles, engines, and performance levels.)
Acura, born in 1986, was launched with two model names, Legend and Integra. As time went on, their marketing folks abandoned such well-known words. Today’s Acura showroom offers the ILX, TLX, NSX, RDX, and MDX. Most egregious of all is Infiniti. Their model lineup is heavy on the Q: Q50, Q60, QX50, QX55, QX60, and QX80. (And note the popularity of the X in all these modern examples.)
Not all is lost. Acura’s relaunched Integra is the latest in a two-decade-long retro trend to resurrect the fabled model names of old. The New Beetle, Challenger, Camaro, Thunderbird, Mini, Wagoneer, Supra and Hummer are marketing ploys to remind the public of the long-lost glory days. Does that mean that Dodge will resurrect the Omni GLH? I’m not holding my breath.
Do you miss the model names of old, or do you think we just need to get used to all the alphanumeric scrabble that makes up today’s model name choices?