Think that old car you’re driving isn’t making a statement? Think again.

by Tom Mason

Lance Armstrong is the antithesis of an automobile driver. In a typical week, the five-time Tour de France winner burns up about 1000 kilometers on his Trek Madone bicycle. In the process he’s developed a heart that runs at 32 beats per minute at rest and a physiology that allowed him to survive a virulent cancer that ravaged his body seven years ago. Everything about Armstrong’s lifestyle screams “park your car and ride a bike” – hardly a candidate to be poster boy for a major automobile manufacture.

And yet he is. Lately the American ubercyclist has replaced Australian macho outback guy Paul Hogan as the principal spokesicon for Subaru. The move seems counterintuitive, says car marketing expert Bob Green. “There was a time when you wouldn’t have put a cyclist in a commercial selling cars.” Times change. Armstrong has been recruited as a car salesman because Subaru has figured out something critical to the psyche of automobile buyers. Hundreds of thousands of people identify with their cycling hero on a gut level , and the vast majority of those people buy cars.

Green spends a lot of time thinking about what motivates people to buy cars. In addition to being a high performance race car driving instructor at the Skip Barber Driving School in Lakeville, Connecticut, he is a professional marketing and technical consultant to the auto industry, working with everyone from Ferarri to Suzuki over the years. A couple of times a month he drives his bright red Dodge Viper to M.I.T. to take part in a Chrysler-funded program called the Car Research Consortium that seeks to make cares safer to drive and more beautiful at the same time.

On a fundamental level, every fully-functioning car does the same thing, says Green. The differences from brand to brand are usually dictated by motorists’ sense of self image. The HumVee and the Jeep Liberty, for example, cater to some well-heeled drivers’ desire to be the “king of the jungle.” Most people who buy these behemoths aren’t planning a trip to Mongolia or training for the Baja 1000. “They are never going to drive them the way they see them being driven in the ads. They are driving them to make a statement: ‘I can go anywhere, any time I want to.’ The cars are appealing to people’s sense of wanderlust.”

Wanderlust is a powerful emotion. So is pride, and nostalgia, and love of family – all sentiments that car companies are building in as options through the design and advertising process, says Green. People don’t buy a BMW Z4 or a Chevy Cavalier . They buy an emotion. “Driving is probably the third most time-consuming activity most of us do. Sleep, work, drive. People’s most private moments come while driving. The car is a self-centred environment.”

The 40-something guy behind the wheel of his 1969 Camaro SS may by trying to recapture a bit of his childhood, but he is also saying: “I’m a collector who appreciates the finer things in life.” The lady in the Ford Focus is making a statement too – one that says: “I’m frugal. I’m looking for the cheapest car I can buy.” The Porche driver thinks he’s cool, says Green. “He’s usually saying that he’s a better driver than everyone else.”

Car companies have gotten sophisticated in figuring out the emotional triggers that drive their customers. Elaborate customer profiles and car shows – the automotive equivalent of the free sample – are the tools of the trade. Car buyers exhibit a huge level of brand loyalty that makes it easy to figure out who is buying what, says Green.

New car designs are driven not so much by considerations like function and practicality as by the car companies’ desire to lock up as many niches in the market as possible. That’s why Porche is currently marketing a four-wheel-drive SUV, and Chrysler has introduced the radically conceptual Crossfire. “Everybody likes a light, nimble vehicle that’s fun to drive,” says Green. “That’s the bottom line.” Beyond that, it’s about image. We try on cars like we try on cloths.

It’s not an exact science. Occasionally, car companies still miss the mark. The Dodge Neon was originally marketed for the carefree, unattached under-30 market until the company realized that senior citizens loved them. People are complex packages and car marketers are far from understanding completely what makes them tick. Green meets people every day who go against type when it comes to the cars they drive. “I have a friend who drives a mid-1970s Olds station wagon. He loves it.”

Originally published in Progress, 2004