they fool themselves .”
"So consumer research "Is f or the birds I Okay, we send out some dame with a clipboard who asks a guy coming down the street what he wants in his next car. Right away he thinks he'll impress her, so he lists all the square stuff like reliability, gas mileage, safety, trade-in value. If it's a written quiz, unsigned, he does it so he impresses himself. Down at the bottom, both times, he may put appearance, if he mentions it at all. Yet, when it comes to buy-time and the same guy's in a showroom, whether he admits it or not, appearance will be right there on top .”
Brett stood, and stretched. "You'll find some who'll tell you that the public's love affair with cars is over. Nuts! We'll all be around for a while, kids, because old Joe C., with his hangups, is still a designer's friend .”
He glanced at his watch; there was another half hour until he would meet Adam Trenton en route to the proving ground, which left time to stop at Color and Interiors. On their way out of the dining room, Brett asked the students, "What do you make of it all .”
The curiosity was genuine. What the two students were doing now, Brett had done himself not many years ago. Auto companies regularly invited design school students in, treating them like VIPs, while the students saw for themselves the kind of aura they might work in later. The auto makers, too, courted students at their schools. Teams from the Big Three visited design colleges several times a year, openly competing for the most promising soon-to-be graduates, and the same was true of other industry areas-engineering, science, finance, merchandising, law-so that auto companies with their lavish pay scales and benefits, including planned promotion, skimmed off a high proportion of the finer talents. Some including thoughtful people in the industry itself -argued that the process was unjust, that auto makers corralled too much of the world's best brainpower, to the detriment of civilization generally, which needed more thinkers to solve urgent, complex human problems. Just the same, no other agency or industry succeeded in recruiting a comparable, constant flow of top-flight achievers. Brett DeLosanto had been one. "It's exciting," the bright-eyed girl said, answering Brett's question. "Like being in on creation, the real thing. A bit scary, of course. All those other people to compete with, and you know how 3 good they must be. But if you make it here, you've really made it big .”
She had the attitude it took, Brett thought. All she needed was the talent, plus some extra push to overcome the industry's prejudice against women who wanted to be more than secretaries. He asked the youth, "How about you .”
The pensive young man shook his head uncertainly. He was frowning. "I'm not sure. Okay, everything's big time, there's plenty of bread thrown around, a lot of effort, and I guess it's exciting all right"--he nodded toward the girl" just the way she said. I keep wondering, though: Is it all worth it? Maybe I'm crazy, and I know it's late; I mean, having done the design course and all, or most of it. But you can't help asking: For an artist, does it matter? Is it what you want to give blood to, a lifetime .”
"You have to love cars to work here," Brett said. "You have to care about them so much that they're the most important thing there is. You breathe, eat, sleep cars, sometimes remember them when you're making love. You wake up in the night, it's cars you think about-those you're designing, others you'd like to. It's like a religion .”
He added curtly, 11 If you don't feel that way, you don't belong here .”
"I do love cars," the youth said. "I always have, as long as I remember, in just the way you said. It's only lately . . .”
He lef t the sentence hanging, as if unwilling to voice heresy a second time. Brett made no other comment. Opinions, appraisals of that kind were individual, and decisions because of them, personal. No one else could
"So consumer research "Is f or the birds I Okay, we send out some dame with a clipboard who asks a guy coming down the street what he wants in his next car. Right away he thinks he'll impress her, so he lists all the square stuff like reliability, gas mileage, safety, trade-in value. If it's a written quiz, unsigned, he does it so he impresses himself. Down at the bottom, both times, he may put appearance, if he mentions it at all. Yet, when it comes to buy-time and the same guy's in a showroom, whether he admits it or not, appearance will be right there on top .”
Brett stood, and stretched. "You'll find some who'll tell you that the public's love affair with cars is over. Nuts! We'll all be around for a while, kids, because old Joe C., with his hangups, is still a designer's friend .”
He glanced at his watch; there was another half hour until he would meet Adam Trenton en route to the proving ground, which left time to stop at Color and Interiors. On their way out of the dining room, Brett asked the students, "What do you make of it all .”
The curiosity was genuine. What the two students were doing now, Brett had done himself not many years ago. Auto companies regularly invited design school students in, treating them like VIPs, while the students saw for themselves the kind of aura they might work in later. The auto makers, too, courted students at their schools. Teams from the Big Three visited design colleges several times a year, openly competing for the most promising soon-to-be graduates, and the same was true of other industry areas-engineering, science, finance, merchandising, law-so that auto companies with their lavish pay scales and benefits, including planned promotion, skimmed off a high proportion of the finer talents. Some including thoughtful people in the industry itself -argued that the process was unjust, that auto makers corralled too much of the world's best brainpower, to the detriment of civilization generally, which needed more thinkers to solve urgent, complex human problems. Just the same, no other agency or industry succeeded in recruiting a comparable, constant flow of top-flight achievers. Brett DeLosanto had been one. "It's exciting," the bright-eyed girl said, answering Brett's question. "Like being in on creation, the real thing. A bit scary, of course. All those other people to compete with, and you know how 3 good they must be. But if you make it here, you've really made it big .”
She had the attitude it took, Brett thought. All she needed was the talent, plus some extra push to overcome the industry's prejudice against women who wanted to be more than secretaries. He asked the youth, "How about you .”
The pensive young man shook his head uncertainly. He was frowning. "I'm not sure. Okay, everything's big time, there's plenty of bread thrown around, a lot of effort, and I guess it's exciting all right"--he nodded toward the girl" just the way she said. I keep wondering, though: Is it all worth it? Maybe I'm crazy, and I know it's late; I mean, having done the design course and all, or most of it. But you can't help asking: For an artist, does it matter? Is it what you want to give blood to, a lifetime .”
"You have to love cars to work here," Brett said. "You have to care about them so much that they're the most important thing there is. You breathe, eat, sleep cars, sometimes remember them when you're making love. You wake up in the night, it's cars you think about-those you're designing, others you'd like to. It's like a religion .”
He added curtly, 11 If you don't feel that way, you don't belong here .”
"I do love cars," the youth said. "I always have, as long as I remember, in just the way you said. It's only lately . . .”
He lef t the sentence hanging, as if unwilling to voice heresy a second time. Brett made no other comment. Opinions, appraisals of that kind were individual, and decisions because of them, personal. No one else could
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