Chrysler, as its own ads suggest, has been through the wringer. First it was taken over by Mercedes-Benz, then the Cerberus private equity group, and finally, after a detour into bankruptcy, Fiat. Out of this chaos drives the reformed Chrysler 300, a car burdened with delivering a smash hit for a company that desperately needs one.
I’m in Detroit to drive the new 300 and find out how Chrysler’s Italian reinvention has affected its flagship car. When the last 300 debuted in 2004, it was a Jurassic Park moment, the resurrection of the brash, old-school American sedan. That 300 was big and affordable, and, despite gruesome interior plastics, infused style into a market filled with amorphous front-wheel-drive boxes.
Rolling down I-94 toward downtown, it’s obvious that Fiat devoted some resources to turning the 300 into a cohesive package. I’m driving a V-6 300 Limited, and the new interior is more like an Acura than a Kia. The materials are upscale — an 8.4-inch touchscreen dominates the dash, and a giant sunroof suffuses the interior with an airy brightness.
The pride and optimism exuded by this new 300 are in stark contrast to the view outside the windshield in Detroit. Chrysler is wearing its scars like a badge of honor, but at this point bragging about Detroit is like boasting about your uncle appearing on A&E’s Intervention. Let’s be clear: This isn’t the sort of pre-gentrification blight that’s ripe for colonization by adventurous yuppies. Detroit, these days, looks more like the set of a zombie movie — streets empty, houses boarded up, even the late-afternoon sunshine somehow amplifying the sense of doom.
Somewhere around Woodward Avenue, a morbid idea occurs to me: Are there houses here that could be had for less than the price of this car, which stickers for $35,730? I pull over and fire up a real estate app on my phone, setting the maximum to $30,000. One house icon pops up on the screen. Then another. The map blooms with houses. It seems that essentially every house in this area costs less than a Chrysler 300.
Suddenly I’m overcome with the urge to get out of here. Not because I’m scared — although honestly, I am — but because I feel like an asshole. The new 300 is more reserved than the last one, but it’s still a vehicle that wants to be noticed. And on this street, where nobody has a new car, let alone one with 20-inch wheels and Audi-style LED lights, it feels like I’m rubbing people’s noses in it.
There are lots of reasons for the prevalence of four-figure houses in this zip code, but none more central than the decline of the U.S. auto industry. In fact, this slick Chrysler owes its existence, in part, to a staggering piece of managerial ineptitude across town at GM. A few years back, GM had a deal to buy Fiat, but when it got cold feet in 2005, it had to pay $2 billion to kill the deal, helping Fiat pay for its substantial stake in Chrysler. So if you like the new Chryslers, tip your hat to GM.
Back on the highway, I summon all 292 horses in my bid to distract myself from the bleakness. This new V-6 is strong enough that I don’t automatically pine for the Hemi, but this car deserves a V-8 for the soundtrack, if nothing else. A car like this needs to rumble.
The speed limit here is 70 mph, and the highway goes through some contortions on its way out of the city, so you can run 80 while actually having to steer. The 300’s appetite for corners belies its size. Cars that drag themselves around by the front wheels just don’t have this kind of poise.
The 300, despite its European stewardship, is an American throwback — a car that recalls a bygone era when a guy would drive home in a new domestic sedan, park it in the driveway, and take pride in what he’d bought. But things change. Market share shrinks, factories close. The 300 is built in Canada, and even if it weren’t, would that matter for Detroit? In a place where asking $7,000 for your house is an act of audacity, a comeback depends on more than one car, or one company.
Chrysler flirted with disaster and found salvation — at least temporarily. Let’s hope the same will be said of Detroit.
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It might seem difficult to build a car more outrageous than the Lamborghini Murciélago, but that was the challenge for Lambo’s new flagship, the Aventador. With 691 horsepower pouring out of a screaming new 6.5-liter V-12, Lambo’s latest bundle of insanity has the power (and 217 mph top speed) to back up its extro-verted sci-fi bodywork. Thanks in part to a carbon-fiber monocoque, the Aventador is also 200 pounds lighter than its predecessor. Yours for $393,695.
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This article originally appeared in the July 2011 issue of Men’s Journal.
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