Building a supercar is easy. Even if you've got zero experience in car-building, you can have your family name festooned across the back of a mid-engined track monster in a few easy steps. Step one is cash, and lots of it. You'll need this to license an engine from Audi
or Mercedes. Step two is to hire an engineer, preferably one with several decades of experience at a major automaker. Sure, he'll cost more than a recent graduate (remember step one), but he'll know which hoops to jump through and which to set ablaze. Optional step: You might want to change your name to one that ends with a vowel. Pagani and Ascari sound good. Gumpert, not so much.
Building a minivan, on the other hand, especially for us American types and our super-precious children, is the most difficult feat in all of car-dom. Think about it. After more than two decades of trying, both Ford
and General Motors threw in the towel.
They simply couldn't compete with Chrysler
and its omnipresent Grand Caravan. Which, when you stop and think about it, is crazy, especially considering how very competitive GM and Ford
are with every other niche Chrysler
occupies. Speaking of niches...
Hyundai, the new king of inserting itself into every single segment extant (including ultra-high-end, chauffer-driven luxury yachts-hi, Equus) cannot build a competitive minivan for the North American market. Sure, Kia
makes the Sedona, but when's the last time you saw one of those? What about Volkswagen, the mighty global giant with its umpteen brands, legions of engineering doctorates, and gazillions of Euros stuffed into Swiss banks? Nope, it can't sell minivans in the U.S. either, so it rebadged a DODGE CARAVAN
as a VeeDub and called the mashup Routan. Go figure.