Flagships Are Failing

There was a time when a full-size luxury sedan didn’t need to explain itself. It didn’t need a marketing campaign about “lifestyle integration” or a 47-minute YouTube walkthrough of its ambient lighting presets.  It simply existed—long, low, expensive—and if you didn’t understand it, that was very much a you problem.  Today, that same segment feels like a group chat where nobody’s replying anymore.  But, once upon a time, these cars weren’t just exercises in engineering—they were declarations.

Take the BMW E38 7 Series, one of my father’s all time favorites.  This wasn’t just a sedan; it was the automotive equivalent of a perfectly tailored suit worn by someone who doesn’t need to check the mirror. Everything about it was right. The proportions, the stance, the way it carried speed without feeling like it was trying. It didn’t shout. It didn’t flex. It just was.  If you drive an e38, you immediately know that this is what a BMW is supposed to feel like. That feeling is like a drug to me, please don't send me to rehab.

While there are many great flagship full size sedans, there’s many that…aren’t.  BMW followed up it’s masterpiece e38 7-Series with the e65 7-Series.  The e65 7er answered the question, “What if we took everything people loved about the e38 and…didn’t do that?”  Chris Bangle, the e65’s designer, looked at one of the most universally respected designs of the modern era and said, “What if it had the rear end of a melted bar of soap and an infotainment system that required a minor in computer science to understand?”  And BMW, bless them, said “Perfect, Ship it!”

Early BMW iDrive wasn’t just unintuitive, it felt like a personal challenge to use.  Like the car was daring you to change the radio station without pulling over and reconsidering your life choices.  The e65 didn’t just lose the plot; it rewrote it in a font nobody could read. The BMW showroom I worked in had an iDrive simulator in it and guess how many people were able to operate it? Zero. Myself included. It was eventually unplugged and forgotten about.

Mercedes has a batting average similar to BMW’s when it comes to full size sedans. Their home runs are exceptional, their base hits are just sorta sad.  The W220 S-Class’s headlights borrowed, or perhaps inspired, the droopy, melted look found on the 996 Porsche 911.  Leaking air suspension, trunk mounted control modules that are prone to getting wet, and poor build quality plague them all.  It was a cost cutting fever dream born of the dark Daimler-Chrysler days that lowered the bar, poured concrete over it, and then emailed you a service reminder.  

But then-then-came the redemption.  

Mercedes woke up, kicked Chrysler out of bed, and remembered who they were.  They didn’t just fix the W220’s mistakes, they acted as if the W220 never happened.  Build Quality?  Off the charts.  Presence?  Back with a vengeance.  The W221 that debuted in 2005 feels like it was engineered by people who had something to prove-and then proved it.  You shut the door and the outside world simply ceased to exist.  Not metaphorically, but physically. A W221 is like being sealed inside a very fast, very expensive panic room.    

When a full size luxury sedan is right, it feels definitive.  In an instant, your perception of luxury shifts dramatically and you’re left with a lingering dopamine hit that few cars are able to replicate.  The original Lexus LS400, way back in 1989, is perhaps the best example of this.  60 designers, 1,400 engineers, 900 engine prototypes, 1.7 million miles of testing, and $1 billion in design costs resulted in a car that forced everyone off their laurels in a way that hasn’t been seen since.  The LS400 had the lowest drag coefficient of a production car at the time, the quietest cabin on the market, could outrun anything in it's segment, AND COST LESS.  I got a ride in one 30 years ago and I still remember it.  Keep in mind, I wasn’t even 12 years old. How's that for a core memory?    

But when they’re wrong, they crush your soul and your wallet, leaving both as dark and empty as interstellar space.  

The ones that missed, combined with the rise of the SUV, Cross-over, and now, the “Soft-roader”, is bringing about the end of an era.  Audi has announced the end of the A8 while Lexus is ending production of LS to the sound of crickets.    

I understand it, though, at least the A8.  The only thing I ever loved about the A8 was the fact that the Audi dealership I worked for tacked on an extra TWO HOURS of labor onto a brake job because…flagship…and it really boosted my commission check.  In my opinion, the A8 has always been mostly trash and deserves to die, but the death of the A8 will be the first domino to fall in what is a great category of car.  That is, when they’re actually great.  And that might only be half of the time…if we’re lucky.    

The fact that Toyota is following suit with their almost always great LS makes me think that the Porsche Panamera might be next.  Then there is Jaguar.  Is Jaguar even a car manufacturer any more?  I can’t imagine them building another XJ or XJL if they ever get their act together.

Has the world decided it hates astronomical depreciation? Do the rich people who buy massive luxury cars hate being looked down upon by peasants riding around in Honda CR-V's and Toyota Highlanders? Or are people's tastes shifting from flagship cars toward flagship SUV's like the Lamborghini Urus? Probably all of the above, and that makes me a bit sad, even if I'll never afford a new flagship sedan.

I know my father will be saddened when the well of heavily depreciated, massively sized luxury sedans finally dries up. I'll certainly miss riding around in the back of them.