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Question of the Day: Most heinous act of badge engineering?

Badge engineering, in which one company slaps its emblems on another company's product and sells it, has a long history in the automotive industry. When Sears wanted to sell cars, a deal was made with Kaiser-Frazer and the Sears Allstate was born. Iranians wanted new cars in the 1960s, and the Rootes Group was happy to offer Hillman Hunters for sale as Iran Khodro Paykans. Sometimes, though, certain badge-engineered vehicles made sense only in the 26th hour of negotiations between companies. The Suzuki Equator, say, which was a puzzling rebadge job of the Nissan Frontier. How did that happen? My personal favorite what-the-heck-were-they-thinking example of badge engineering is the 1971-1973 Plymouth Cricket. Chrysler Europe, through its ownership of the Rootes Group, was able to ship over Hillman Avanger subcompacts for sale in the US market. This would have made sense... if Chrysler hadn't already been selling rebadged Mitsubishi Colt Galants (as Dodge Colts) and Simca 1100s as (Simca 1204s) in its American showrooms. Few bought the Cricket, despite its cheery ad campaign. So, what's the badge-engineered car you find most confounding? Chrysler Dodge Automakers Mitsubishi Nissan Suzuki Automotive History question of the day badge engineering question

Junkyard Gem: 1991 Geo Metro LSi Convertible

Americans lost the ability to buy a new Detroit-made convertible starting in the 1977 model year (unless you count aftermarket conversions), not regaining it until drop-top Chrysler K-Cars showed up in showrooms in 1981. This gave convertibles a certain magical quality that lasted for quite a while here, and so it seemed to make sense for GM to offer an open-air version of the Geo Metro. Here's one of those cars, spotted in a self-service yard in northeastern Colorado. The Metro was really a second-generation Suzuki Cultus, successor to the 1985-1988 Chevrolet Sprint. While a four-cylinder engine became available in the later Metro (which got Chevrolet badges when the Geo brand got the axe in 1997), all Chevy Sprints and early Metros got this 1.0-liter three-cylinder engine. You're looking at 55 Suzuki horsepower here. The XFi version of the Metro (not available with a convertible top) managed to get better than 60 highway miles per gallon with an engine rated at 49 horsepower. There was an automatic transmission available… for 465 bucks (about $993 in 2022 dollars). That would have added nearly 5% to the cost of this $9,740 car ($20,805 today) and killed the fuel economy, so nearly all Metro buyers got their cars with three pedals. Do you like simple instruments in cars? You'll love the Metro! This one is good and rusty, with some really scary corrosion underneath. I think it sat in a field, buried to the axles, for many years. However, the bra tells us that it once had an owner who loved their then-shiny red convertible. No 1991 competitor could offer a new convertible with a price tag even close to that of the $9,740 Metro LSi. Oh, sure, a ragtop version of the wretched Yugo was available in 1990 and maybe 1991, but that doesn't count. A new Miata cost $13,800 that year, with a Mazda-based Mercury Capri going for $12,588. The 1991 VW Golf Cabriolet cost $16,175, and prices for convertibles just got higher with other competitors. This content is hosted by a third party. To view it, please update your privacy preferences. Manage Settings. How much? No way!

Junkyard Gem: 1998 Suzuki Swift, Schnorchel Edition

To enable the use of internal-combustion engines underwater, German submarines during the later years of World War II used a pipe system swiped from the Dutch to suck in air and spit out exhaust. This rig was known as the Schnorchel, and a similar setup can be used on modern trucks to keep the engine from inhaling water or dust during river-fording or off-roading. In fact, you can buy a new Ford Bronco with a factory schnorchel (or snorkel, if you prefer the English spelling) right now. Purchasers of new Suzuki Swifts, however, had no such factory — or even aftermarket — option, and so the final owner of today's Junkyard Gem had to fabricate one using hardware-store components. Yes, this is a fully functional air-intake snorkel, made from PVC pipe and entering the engine compartment via not-so-precision holes sliced through the fender and inner fender. Once in the engine compartment, the pipe connects directly to the engine's throttle body. Sure, for serious underwater use you need to waterproof the distributor plus any sensitive electrical components, not to mention find some way to keep water from getting into transmission vents and the like. We can assume, however, that this snorkel wasn't intended for sustained underwater use. Other limitations of the Swift as an off-road machine, such as suspension design, ground clearance, and lack of four-wheel-drive, may have become apparent once the snorkel was installed. There are some wheel flares installed, to enable the use of oversized wheels and tires. The Swift is the same car as the Suzuki-built Geo Metro, which became the Chevrolet Metro starting in the 1998 model year. Known in its Japanese homeland as the Cultus, these cars were sold in every far-flung corner of the world. It appears that you could buy a new Cultus (with Margalla badges) in Pakistan as recently as a few years ago. This isn't the first interestingly modified second-generation Swift I've found in a Denver-area car graveyard in recent years. Perhaps the "Slokyo Drift" 1996 Swift was modified by the same person. There's just something about a tiny, fully depreciated car that inspires creativity. The 1998 Geo Metro was available with either a 1.0-liter three-cylinder engine or a 1.3-liter four-banger, but every new Swift sold here that year was a big-block car with the 1.3 and its 70 horsepower. This one even has the five-speed manual transmission, for added driving fun. Just 166,280 miles on the clock.