Stellantis' new twin-turbo Hurricane HO engine, right, and twin-turbo Hurricane SO, left.
In terms of marketing, how important is a vehicle’s engine?
Years ago, there was a TV commercial with the catchphrase, “That thing got a Hemi?” At the time, Dodge pulled the storied Hemi name — a symbol of Chrysler Corp. power and performance from the 1950s to the early 1970s — from the history books and slapped it onto a newly designed truck engine.
To this day, a Hemi — available in several displacements and power levels — automatically ups the street cred of the vehicle it’s in.
Engines speak volumes, literally and figuratively. Automakers use them to distinguish their vehicles from the competition, and they charge more money related to status and power.
The number of pistons matters, as does being supercharged or turbocharged. Over a century or more, buyers have been conditioned to care — and care passionately — about what’s under the hood.
A Dodge/SRT Viper naturally has a V-10, while the famous supercharged General Motors 6.2-litre V-8 is in the new Cadillac Escalade V and the CT5-V Blackwing. Any Mercedes-Benz AMG model has some kind of high-thrust turbocharged engine. Ford has its Coyote, Terminator and Ecoboost. And have you heard the rumour that Stellantis’ new Hurricane inline six-cylinder engine will replace some versions of the Hemi V-8?
Engines do matter.
One reason is that automakers are not shy about charging significant premiums for their higher-output offerings. That Cadillac Escalade V is pushing $180,000 in Canada. The normal price for an Escalade without the supercharged engine is about $93,000 to $124,000, including destination charges.
With those same automakers beginning to go electric, how will they continue to differentiate themselves under the hood? Or does it suddenly not matter?
The Tesla Model S Plaid is probably the quickest production car on the planet, but if its electric motors have cool names — Elon Rocket Boosters would be my suggestion — I’ve never heard what they’re called. Off the top of your head, can you name one electric motor in any EV? Me either.
The first sign that things would be different appeared when Porsche launched the Taycan EV and called the top model the Turbo S, a term used for the best turbocharged internal-combustion-engine models in the company’s lineup. That might have been intentional, but it’s a complete mislabel, perhaps because — to prove the point — Turbo S has brand cachet and the electric motors/drive system in the Taycan don’t.
It is costly to develop new vehicles with new electric powertrains, so it’s understandable that automakers would want to spread the technology across as many vehicles as possible. The danger? GM EVs using the Ultium platform, for example, will likely get the same nameless electric motors, regardless of brand.
The industry could possibly be at an inflection point. If electric motors are essentially anonymous, does it matter what brand develops the technology? For example, could BMW, Toyota, Mazda and Mercedes Benz share the development cost of a common EV platform or the motors? Some kind of tie-up seems possible. Moreover, is there an advantage for an automaker to develop an electric motor all by itself if customers are no longer told to that it matters?
But then how do the more premium brands fetch a premium price? By focusing on power and range. Take that Model S Plaid, the Taycan Turbo S and take Lucid Motors. Its 620-horsepower Air sedan costs $148,000, and the 1,011 horsepower model is priced at $230,000.
Perhaps what’s under the hood matters, just not as much as how well the vehicle performs. That’s one way brands can stand out without a Hemi, Coyote or a twin-turbo V-8.
