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The Internet wants you to buy a Scion FR-S or Subaru BRZ. It needs you to buy one so that it can buy one used. In five years. Or ten. After the depreciation hits. After the injector-seal issues are fully worked out. After the secret to wringing real power out of that feckless little opposed-cylinder noisemaker is discovered. After they get that promotion to Manager of Cellular Accessories at Best Buy. Hurry up and buy one already, won't you? The third owner of your car's waiting for you.

The only problem is that you're not buying, are you? You're not alone, in the not buying. The sales numbers aren't what Subaru and Toyota hoped they'd be. Everybody knows why, or thinks they do. Not enough power. Not enough reliability. Needs to be bigger, or smaller, or lighter, or more robust, or less like a Miata, or more so.

There are theories out there, man, good ones. I can't believe that Subaru hasn't taken a random kid off the forums and made him the product planner for the next generation, the way aliens took a kid from the arcades and made him defend their planet from evil in The Last Starfighter.

No, the numbers aren't great, but you can't say that I'm not doing my part to encourage people to buy the little Subaru that could (easily out-drag a Chevette Diesel, nine times out of ten). A few days ago, I fired up my brand-new Accord V6 Coupe and drove it 40 miles to my friend Albert's house. Albert and I raced BMX together for years. He's an avid videogamer, a tiny bit of an otaku. Drives a Mk4 GTI, which is continually broken. Wants an FR-S or BRZ. I agreed to be his taxi to the dealers and possibly help him negotiate a deal, if it came to that.

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"You know," I opined as we pulled up to the Scion dealer, "you should consider an Accord V6 Coupe such as this one. It will rip the lungs out of an FR-S. You just saw how easily it accelerates to triple digit velocities while staying quiet enough to hear the Fleet Foxes on the touchscreen stereo."

"Ugh," Albert frowned, "this is such a family car."

"You just say that because it has a child seat in it, and the child seat is approximately the size of the Tirpitz."

"I don't want a fail-wheel-drive family car. I want an FR-S." I thought back to my days selling cars and wished that I could have dealt with guys like Albert every day. Imagine the pleasure of having customers who knew what they wanted. Our salesperson, however, wasn't quite as grateful as I would have been.

READ THIS: Accelerated Depreciation - Boxster vs. Mustang vs. FR-S

"I see you're interested in the FR-S," he said. "Let me tell you, it runs like a thirteen in the quarter-mile. It's as fast as my Corvette." This seemed like two lies in a row, so I asked him, "What year is your 'Vette?"

"Eighty-seven. It don't run right now." So it was only one lie, then. As he pulled a black FR-S out of the line of two FR-Ses and three million unsold xB box-wagon things, he said, "Let me tell you about the paint protection we put on every one of these. I was a detailer and trust me, without PaintPlate this thing will rust almost immediately." I checked our immediate vicinity to make sure we weren't being Punk'd.

"Look at these seats," our salesman beamed, pointing at the red-trimmed buckets. "It's French stitching or some shit." As Albert pulled out of the lot, I mentioned that we were also considering the Subaru BRZ. "Those ones," he reassured me, "get the weak engines. They basically make the bad ones the BRZ. And you know why? That's because Toyota is more powerful than Subaru." I briefly envisioned two robots battling in Tokyo for the right to badge the more powerful GT86s as they rolled off the end of the line and onto the dynos.

When Albert said that he still wanted to try a BRZ, the salesman and his manager were low-pressure about the whole thing. Neither was a hard-nosed closer of old. But they hadn't told us a single thing about the car that was true, and they hadn't given us a single reason to choose the FR-S over a Genesis Coupe or Mustang or Aventador, for that matter.

They didn't sell us.

Had we been looking for a Camry, we'd no doubt have been given 10 reasons to choose the Toyota over an Accord or Fusion—but when it came to selling the FR-S, they mostly focused on the PaintPlate and forgot the car that it was so diligently protecting.

Photo by Matt Tierney

The Subaru dealership was next. I decided to pretend that neither Albert nor I knew anything about the car. Our salesman was an earnest man in his forties. He had a lot to say about the BRZ. Unfortunately, none of it seemed to be terribly relevant, or accurate.

"The biggest thing about this car," he said, thumping the desk, "is safety. Subaru builds this car to be the very safest." The very safest what? The very safest boxer-engined two-door coupe under $40,000?

"Plus it's plenty fast," he said, "designed to handle like a race car. You'd better let me drive it first, because it is some machine and you want to be careful." Then he proceeded to demonstrate the features of the BRZ Limited. One feature in particular: the graphic EQ on the stereo. While the XM station blared Metallica, he spent five minutes fiddling with the EQ before giving up and saying, "It isn't supposed to sound bad like it does, but we'll fix it before you take delivery."


Then it was drive time. As promised, the salesman drove first. He waggled the BRZ back and forth on the road a few times. From the back seat, I pretended to have hit my head sharply against the window, so he slowed down and started trying to demonstrate the dual climate control. "No car this size," he said, "has ever had dual climate control like this."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like, you know, capable of being dual." Then he pointed at the "VSC Sport" button behind the shifter. "That's one hell of a button right there," he said. "It, ah, um,"

"Increases the intervention threshold for the stability control?" I suggested.

"That's certainly one of the things it does. Feel the power," our salesman said. I'd had enough at this point.

"Oh, come on," I moaned. "My Accord would bend this thing over the sink and take what it wanted without pity, accompanied by the roar of two i-VTEC cams coming onto full song."

Photo by Brian Blades

"There is no Accord, ever," I was assured, "that could go this fast." I sulked in the back seat until the test drive was over. Again, there was no pressure whatsoever; just a free brochure and a business card. The closest we came to being "sold" in the conventional sense was when our salesman caught me reading the sticker on an Outback. "You need to look at one of those today," he declaimed. "I got some incentives that expire this week. Why don't you take one around the block and let me work up some numbers on your Honda."

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"Don't you have numbers on the BRZ?" I asked.

"Not to worry, just come back on that whenever you feel like." I got the feeling that, had Albert demanded to buy the little coupe that afternoon, it would have been a junior-prom-night's worth of hassle just to close the deal—on his part. Once it was determined that we weren't serious Outback customers, we were shown the door and given a heartfelt suggestion to enjoy the rest of the day.

On the way back to Albert's house, I gave the Accord full steam ahead and made a point of chirping the front tires in third gear. "Wouldn't you rather have something like this?" I plaintively inquired. "Look how much room we have."

"I want," Albert reinforced, "a GT86. The only question is whether it's FR-S or BRZ."

"I think you should make sure you get a good one, there seems to be some variation."

"I'd also like it," Albert replied, "if somebody really wanted to sell me one."

He had a point. We deliberately left the trade at home to slow the process a bit, but it hadn't been necessary. Two dealerships took Albert in as an "up" and demonstrated no product knowledge of, very little genuine enthusiasm for, and no willingness whatsoever to actually sell him an "86." Could it be that the reason for the slow sales of the Toyobaru isn't the car itself, but the fact that it's sold through two dealer organizations that survive on an entirely different kind of automobile? What could a Porsche dealer do with the FR-S on its floor?


It doesn't really matter. Albert's going to buy one even if he has to buy it at a big-box retail store. Which makes me wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be a better idea to do just that. Forget the dealers. They don't want it. Put it in Wal-Mart, back next to the lawnmowers and the Jeff Gordon steering-wheel covers. Knock two grand off the price and watch 'em sell. In the modern era, these cars are purchased by people who know the full story on them before they ever leave their homes.

Our Subaru salesperson said as much during the test drive: "I learn something new about this car from each of the customers who buys one."

If Subaru and Toyota are in a position where the most knowledgeable advocates for their product are the buyers themselves, why not deal the dealers out for once?

Originally posted at

From: Road & Track

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