Toyota Car Quotes

She already has a car.” “A Ford. That’s like Toyota’s worst enemy.

That is not my car!” “Correction. You used to drive a falling apart Toyota. B.A.” Had his lips just brushed her hair? She shivered. And though she knew better than to ask, she did it anyway. “Okay. You got me. What’s B.A.?” “Before. Adam. After Adam, you drive a BMW. I take care of what is mine. That Toyota wasn’t safe.” Figured that arrogant beast would define himself as the dawning of an epoch. “I’m not yours. It was too, and you can’t just go around stealing.” “I didn’t, and I filled out the paperwork myself.

You can start by wiping that fucking dumb-ass smile off your rosey, fucking, cheeks! Then you can give me a fucking automobile... a fucking Datsun, a fucking Toyota, a fucking Mustang, a fucking Buick! Four fucking wheels and a seat! And I really don't care for the way your company left me in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there. And I really didn't care to fucking walk down a fucking highway and across a fucking runway to get back here to have you smile at my fucking face. I want a fucking car RIGHT FUCKING NOW!

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing.

Eventually, though, I came to the conclusion that I was the male equivalent of a Toyota Camry. You know: No one ever says, "I have to have a Toyota Camry." But most people who spend some time in a Camry start to like it. "It's pretty reliable," they think. "It doesn't have a lot of problems, and it's not bad to look at. You know what? I'd probably prefer a nicer car. But I can live with a Camry.

Here's something that might not occur to you: If a state trooper sees a weird, patchwork Toyota Echo hurtling down 1-95, and it looks like half of a small country is immigrating to the States in this one little car, you might get stopped.

Josie’s house was near the edge of town, next to the used car lot. When a person was done with a car, and they didn’t need to pawn it, they would park it in the used car lot, open the door, and run as fast they could for the fence, before the used car salesmen could catch them. No one ever came to buy one. The used car salesmen loped between the lines of cars, their hackles raised and their fur on end. They would stroke the hood of a Toyota Sienna, radiant with heat in the desert sun, or poke curiously at the bumper of a Volkswagen Golf, nearly dislodged by potholes and tied on with a few zip ties. The used car salesmen were fast and ravenous, and sometimes a person who meant only to leave their car would leave much more than that.

My blender has a more powerful engine than my car, but my car doesn’t make smoothies as well. I drive a Toyota Starbucks Limited Edition.

He sent an older marine to supervise as I shopped for my first car so that I’d end up with a practical car, like a Toyota or a Honda, not the BMW I wanted.

Which means that when designing their self-driving car, Toyota or Tesla will be transforming a theoretical problem in the philosophy of ethics into a practical problem of engineering

She took several slow deep breaths, then, "Okay, what happened to my car?" "This is your car." "I may not know much lately," she gritted, "but I do know what I drive. I drive a falling-apart Toyota. A disgustingly powdery-blue one. With lots of rust and no antenna. That is not my car." "Correction. You used to drive a falling apart Toyota, B.A." Had his lips just brushed her hair? She shivered, and though she knew better than to ask, she did it anyways. "Okay, you got me, what's 'B.A.'" "Before Adam. After Adam, you drive a BMW.

We build cars, not intellectuals

Here’s something that might not occur to you: If a state trooper sees a weird, patchwork Toyota Echo hurtling down I-95, and it looks like half of a small country is immigrating to the States in this one little car, you might get stopped. Just FYI. In

It would be a very accurate historian who could pinpoint the precise day when the Japanese changed from being fiendish automatons who copied everything from the West, to becoming skilled and cunning engineers who would leave the West standing. But the Wasabi had been designed on that one confused day, and combined the traditional bad points of most Western cars with a host of innovative disasters the avoidance of which had made firms like Honda and Toyota what they were today. Newt

Which means that when designing their self-driving car, Toyota or Tesla will be transforming a theoretical problem in the philosophy of ethics into a practical problem of engineering.

Maybe you've been in love. I mean real love, the kind my grandmother used to describe by quoting the apostle Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, the love that is kind and patient, that does not envy or boast, that beareth all things and believeth all things and endureth all things. I don't like to throw the L-word around; it's too good and rare a feeling to cheapen with overuse. You can live a good life without ever knowing real love, of the Corinthians variety, but I was fortunate to have found it with Harold.

know I shouldn’t say it in this day and age but I’m absolutely useless without a man. There isn’t a moment I don’t miss Charlie. I never get anything right. I can’t work out the buttons on the TV remote control. Parking the car is a nightmare even though it’s only a Toyota Prius and it isn’t that big.

A Toyota. Hardly an optimal choice of car for any kind of thinking person, Ove had pointed out to him many times while they stood there at the dealership. But at least it wasn’t French.

Grinning, she hovered over him. Then, like a fist closing around a doorknob, her grin closed around him. With her lips, she turned the knob first one way and then the other: left, right, open, shut; left, right, open, shut. The knob did not squeak. In fact, Wiggs was unusually quiet. Now, falling into rhythm, she sucked the knob from its axle, sucked the axle from its door, the door from its hinges. Out onto the lawn, tempo increasing, she sucked up the flagstone walk, the rosebushes, the petunia bed, the sprinkler, the driveway, and the small Japanese car parked in the driveway: oh, what a feeling! Toyota! Wiggs moaned as the neighborhood disappeared. The towers of the city began to sway, and soon, the planet itself fell victim to the force, swelling at its equator, throbbing at its poles. It wobbled violently on its axis, once, twice, then exploded. The Big Bang theory, proven at last. Continuing to impersonate a black hole, she pulled in every drop and particle – she’d never had a man in such entirety – and it wasn’t until the final spasm had subsided and the cosmos was at peace that she loosened her grip and, lips glistening like the Milky Way, looked up to see – the legs of a third party standing there.

The last dealership had a Toyota Carina 1800 GT Twin-Cam Turbo and a Toyota Mark II. Both new, both with car stereos. I said I’d take the Carina. I didn’t have a crease of an idea what either car looked like. Having done that, I went to a record shop and bought a few cassettes. Johnny Mathis’s Greatest Hits, Zubin Mehta conducting Schönberg’s Verklärte Nacht, Kenny Burrell’s Stormy Sunday, Popular Ellington, Trevor Pinnock on the harpsichord playing the Brandenburg Concertos, and a Bob Dylan tape with Like A Rolling Stone. Mix’n’match. I wanted to cover the bases—how was I to know what kind of music would go with a Carina 1800 GT Twin-Cam Turbo?

If you program a self-driving car to stop and help strangers in distress, it will do so come hell or high water (unless, of course, you insert an exception clause for infernal or high-water scenarios). Similarly, if your self-driving car is programmed to swerve into the opposite lane in order to save the two kids in its path, you can bet your life this is exactly what it will do. Which means that when designing their self-driving car, Toyota or Tesla will be transforming a theoretical problem in the philosophy of ethics into a practical problem of engineering. Granted, the philosophical algorithms will never be perfect. Mistakes will still happen, resulting in injuries, deaths, and extremely complicated lawsuits. (For the first time in history, you might be able to sue a philosopher for the unfortunate results of his or her theories, because for the first time in history you might be able to prove a direct causal link between philosophical ideas and real-life events.)

When the attendant at Britz Rentals of Australia whipped around in our prepaid-in-full honeymoon car, my eyes grew wide and I knew we were in trouble. It was an SUV, yes, and a Toyota Land Cruiser at that--just as Marlboro Man had ordered. It was white and clean and very shiny. And painted in huge bright orange and royal blue lettering across the hood, the roof, all four doors, and the tailgate of the vehicle, were scrawled the enormous words: BRITZ RENTALS OF AUSTRALIA. I could see Marlboro Man’s jaw muscles flex as he beheld his worst nightmare playing out in front of his eyes. He could hardly even bear to gaze upon such an attention-grabbing abomination, let alone conceive of driving it all over an entire continent. Unfortunately, our last-minute attempts to trade to another vehicle proved to be futile; even if Britz hadn’t been completely booked that week, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Every single car in their fleet was smeared with the exact same orange and blue promotional graffiti. Having no other transportational alternative, we set off on our drive, a black cloud of conspicuousness and, in Marlboro Man’s case, dread following us everywhere we went. Being an attention-seeking middle child, I didn’t really mind it much. But for Marlboro Man, this was more than his makeup was programmed to handle. As far as he was concerned, we were the Griswolds, and the Land Cruiser was our Family Truckster. It was a pox on what might have been the perfect honeymoon. Except for my inner ear disturbance. And the vomiting. And the slightly marsupial undertone to the hamburgers.

Miraculously, thirty minutes later I found Marlboro Man’s brother’s house. As I pulled up, I saw Marlboro Man’s familiar white pickup parked next to a very large, imposing semi. He and his brother were sitting inside the cab. Looking up and smiling, Marlboro Man motioned for me to join them. I waved, getting out of my car and obnoxiously taking my purse with me. To add insult to injury, I pressed the button on my keyless entry to lock my doors and turn on my car alarm, not realizing how out of place the dreadful chirp! chirp! must have sounded amidst all the bucolic silence. As I made my way toward the monster truck to meet my new love’s only brother, I reflected that not only had I never in my life been inside the cab of a semi, but also I wasn’t sure I’d ever been within a hundred feet of one. My armpits were suddenly clammy and moist, my body trembling nervously at the prospect of not only meeting Tim but also climbing into a vehicle nine times the size of my Toyota Camry, which, at the time, was the largest car I’d ever owned. I was nervous. What would I do in there? Marlboro Man opened the passenger door, and I grabbed the large handlebar on the side of the cab, hoisting myself up onto the spiked metal steps of the semi. “Come on in,” he said as he ushered me into the cab. Tim was in the driver’s seat. “Ree, this is my brother, Tim.” Tim was handsome. Rugged. Slightly dusty, as if he’d just finished working. I could see a slight resemblance to Marlboro Man, a familiar twinkle in his eye. Tim extended his hand, leaving the other on the steering wheel of what I would learn was a brand-spanking-new cattle truck, just hours old. “So, how do you like this vehicle?” Tim asked, smiling widely. He looked like a kid in a candy shop. “It’s nice,” I replied, looking around the cab. There were lots of gauges. Lots of controls. I wanted to crawl into the back and see what the sleeping quarters were like, and whether there was a TV. Or a Jacuzzi. “Want to take it for a spin?” Tim asked. I wanted to appear capable, strong, prepared for anything. “Sure!” I responded, shrugging my shoulders. I got ready to take the wheel. Marlboro Man chuckled, and Tim remained in his seat, saying, “Oh, maybe you’d better not. You might break a fingernail.” I looked down at my fresh manicure. It was nice of him to notice. “Plus,” he continued, “I don’t think you’d be able to shift gears.” Was he making fun of me? My armpits were drenched. Thank God I’d work black that night. After ten more minutes of slightly uncomfortable small talk, Marlboro Man saved my by announcing, “Well, I think we’ll head out, Slim.” “Okay, Slim,” Tim replied. “Nice meeting you, Ree.” He flashed his nice, familiar smile. He was definitely cute. He was definitely Marlboro Man’s brother. But he was nothing like the real thing.

949. The most commonly stolen car model in the USA is Nissan Altima, in Canada – Honda Civic, in Australia – Holden Commodore, in Russia – Land Rover Freelander, in Saudi Arabia – Toyota Corolla.

They came in two teams, leapfrogging out of the city, Isaacs and Ireland in a plain Toyota van and Shapiro and Littell in a four-wheel-drive Subaru. Greg Isaacs got out of the lead car about twenty-five yards from the big gate and immediately started through the thick woods up the mountain. At thirty-eight he was in the best physical shape of the four CIA legmen, so he’d been volunteered for this part of the mission. The others waited on the main road, one car well above the gate, the other retreating to the highway at the bottom of the valley about four miles away. Isaacs carried a powerful pair of binoculars, a sound amplifier with a small parabolic pickup dish, and a walkie-talkie. The first hundred yards were relatively easy, but then the slope sharply steepened, and until he finally made it to the crest of the defile Isaacs wasn’t sure he could do it without mountain-climbing equipment. At the top he found himself at one end of a long ledge, the mountains rising in the back and a sheer cliff plunging five or six hundred feet in the front. A big house was perched at the edge of the dropoff about two hundred yards away. Isaacs raised his binoculars and saw McGarvey seated with another man on a veranda. Isaacs keyed his walkie-talkie. “I have him.

As long as Toyota is continually identifying “anomalies” in the manufacturing process, every single defect is seen as an opportunity to make the process better. There are, in effect, a set of rules that ensure that this happens. For example, an employee must never add value to a part until it is ready to be used in the next step of adding value. It must be done in the same way, every time. That way managers know, definitely, that the value-adding step worked with the next step in the process. That creates an environment of repeated scientific experimentation. Each time it’s done the same way constitutes a test of whether doing it that way, to those specifications, will result in perfection every time. For Toyota, the theory was embodied in the set of processes they developed to lead to defect-free manufacturing. Each activity can be seen as an individual if-then statement: “If we do this, then that will be the result.” Through this theory of manufacturing, the quality movement was born. As a consequence, the Americans took what they’d learned from their Japanese competitors to heart and the US automobile industry today churns out very reliable cars. Innovation, in a very real sense, exists in a “pre–quality revolution” state. 1 Managers accept flaws, missteps, and failure as an inevitable part of the process of innovation. They have become so accustomed to putting Band-Aids on their uneven innovation success that too often they give no real thought to what’s causing it in the first place.

Could the electric car follow the same path? Count Elon Musk among the believers. ‘‘At the beginning of last year [2015], we had fifty thousand cars in total on the roads worldwide, and then last year we produced another fifty thousand cars,” he said in January 2016. “So the total fleet of Tesla vehicles doubled last year. It will approximately double again this year.” We shouldn’t take Musk’s word for it, of course—Tesla’s 2016 production fell about twenty-five thousand cars short of doubling the previous year’s tally—but consider that many of the effects that spur demand for electric vehicles are only just starting to take hold. The decline of battery prices, which will make electric cars more affordable, is probably the biggest factor influencing demand, but there are others. For a start, many hundreds of millions of people still don’t know a thing about electric vehicles that aren’t golf carts or hybrids like the Toyota Prius.

He turned from Lashgarak Road onto Route 425, a paved two-lane road into the mountains, bordered by a guardrail and trees. A place of incredible beauty, with waterfalls tumbling from rocks to a gorge beside the road. About five kilometers up and above the tree line, the snow got deep enough that he had to stop at a turnoff to put on chains even with the rented Toyota RAV4’s all-wheel drive. He looked around at the mountains, stark and covered with snow. No one was following him on the road and only the occasional car or truck came the other way, down the mountain from Shemshak. He didn’t expect a lot of traffic heading up. It was late afternoon and there was no night skiing at the resort; not to mention the crisis. He didn’t need to check his iPad again to see where Zahra was. She had left her cell phone on, and his tracking software on the iPad showed she was about ten kilometers ahead of him up toward the Dizin ski resort.

About ten years ago, while visiting Japan, I toured a Toyota car manufacturing plant that was able to produce five hundred cars per day with only four hundred employees because of automation. I thought to myself, ‘Imagine if you could take this automation and productivity out of the factory and put it into our everyday lives?’ I believe this will increase our global economy by orders of magnitude in the decades ahead.

These mods made significant improvements to the cars – enough so that I changed my mind (another procedure altogether) every time I thought of selling the damn thing and buying a Toyota. I hope you benefit from this and preserve your ailing finances! Good luck!

I told you not to bother coming. Scott or Travis would have shown up eventually, and now you’re all here,” she grumbles. I see my dad’s head pop into the doorway opening. “Did Lloyd make it?” he asks, searching the driveway with his eyes. My car is actually my dad’s old car from when he was a teenager. He kept it all this time, first giving it to Scott, and then when Scott upgraded to a dependable Toyota he gave the little hatchback to me. I can’t afford to get a new car, but even if I could choose, I would still choose Lloyd. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and we talk about Lloyd more than is probably healthy. It drives my mother crazy. “Was there any doubt?” I say. “It’s going to take more than a little snow to keep that bad boy down.” Though a heat wave will do it from a cracked radiator, but we both choose not to mention it. My mother rolls her eyes. “Make yourself comfortable you two,” I say. “You’re in for a treat today.” My mother raises her eyebrows at my excited tone. “We’re racing to clear the driveway,” I say with a grin. “Etty, why do you do this to yourself? When have you ever won?” My mother shakes her head and gives me a pitying look. “I’m stronger than I look!” I argue. “I know honey,” she says. “But those boys double you in weight andstrength.” “I’m quicker,” I say, though with not as much conviction as before. She might have a point here. My dad looks amused by the whole thing. “I’ll go boil the kettle, get you some warm water for your tongue,” she offers before going back into the house. “Give ’em hell, honey,” Dad says, winking before closing the door.

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Car salesman turned governor. How it fried Dick Artemus to hear himself described like that--the snotty implication being that all car salesman were cagey and duplicitous, unworthy of holding public office. At first Dick Artemus had fought back, pridefully pointing out that his dealership sold only Toyotas, the most popular and reliable automobile on the face of the planet! A quality vehicle, he'd said. Top rated by all the important consumer magazines! But the governor's media advisers told him he sounded not only petty, but self-promotional, and that folks who loved their new Camry did not necessarily love the guy who'd sold it to them. The media advisers told Dick Artemus that the best thing he could do for his future political career was to make voters forget he'd ever been a car salesman (not that the Democrats would ever let them forget). Take the high road, the media advisers told him. Act gubernatorial.

Toyota has a rather unusual production process. If anybody on the production line is having a problem or observes an error, that person pulls a cord that halts production across the plant. Senior executives rush over to see what has gone wrong and, if an employee is having difficulty performing her job, she is helped as needed by executives. The error is then assessed, lessons learned, and the system adapted. It is called the Toyota Production System, or TPS, and is one of the most successful techniques in industrial history. “The system was about cars, which are very different from people,” Kaplan says when we meet for an interview. “But the underlying principle is transferable. If a culture is open and honest about mistakes, the entire system can learn from them. That is the way you gain improvements.

The Quiet Revolution Detroit, 1979. U.S. auto companies were being threatened by foreign competition, and the Motor City became a symbol of American industrial decline. Chrysler would be subjected to its first (but not last) government bailout; the Ford Motor Co. was about to lose $1 billion for that fiscal year, and at least as much again in 1980; and GM’s profits were expected to plunge by a breathtaking $2.5 billion. Meanwhile, Japanese automakers were gaining market share; Toyota would soon surpass GM as the world’s largest car company. (A similar scenario played out in other industries too, especially consumer electronics and the copier industry.) Then, as now, the convenient scapegoat was the rank-and-file employees—in Detroit’s case, the unionized workers whose relatively high wages and ostensibly poor work ethic were initially blamed for the automakers’ problems. Only as Japanese wage rates reached parity with those in the United States and Japanese automakers began hiring American workers for their U.S. plants did some Detroit auto executives begin rethinking the narrative of blue-collar failure.

Many major automakers have established research centers in Silicon Valley to work on autonomy, including Nissan, Toyota, Mercedes, Ford, and GM. The newcomers—Apple, Lucid Motors, Faraday Future, Byton, and Nio—have made autonomy central to their business models and established software development teams in California. Che He Jia and Singulato Motors are working on the technology in Beijing and Shanghai. In the meantime, other tech companies and start-ups, such as Uber, Lyft, Comma.ai, Nauto, Luminar, Aurora, Caracal, Starsky Robotics, and Zoox, are all chasing variations of the self-driving prize, be it for cars, buses, or trucks.

However, in a perverse twist on the modern take of the rich, our society gives those who have achieved the greatest success by work and diligence short shrift.We are not interested in emulating the Toyota-driving, modestly attired, bling-less entrepreneur or sales professional. Instead, we take as our role models celebrities and athletes, masters of the universe. Rather than attempt to find their luck, we have come to think that if we act like them, look like them, drive the cars they drive, we are glitteringly rich. In the process of buying into the marketing hype, of getting sucked into the brand advertising, we have frittered away our wealth. It’s not your fault, in a way, as some of the smartest people in the world seem to be working in marketing and advertising,

Engineers at Toyota joke that the only reason they put wheels on a vehicle is to keep the computer from scraping the ground.

There are other worlds beyond this world. There is other life beyond this life.” Attributed to Charles Fort Preface :: The Leviathan Tower The heat shimmered beyond the car window and the vehicles that surrounded Morishita Anri’s Toyota Yaris wavered in the heat.

The idea that a gun can “save” anyone in any situation has always seemed suspect to me. A gun is a passive instrument; it does what it’s told to do by a human. And humans make mistakes. I picture a home invasion, someone in bed, asleep, who wakes suddenly to find a stranger in the dark perched over the bed. How does the gun get into the homeowner’s hands? How does the safety get turned off? How does the bullet find its way into the target in those sheer seconds? Maybe it’s a quiet house; the homeowner is awakened, reaches under the mattress, silently gets out the gun, silently clicks off the safety, silently tiptoes downstairs. He can hear the thief, but the thief cannot hear him. Silently, he finds the thief holding a flat-screen TV and he shoots. Maybe it’s a movie theater. Guy walks in in the dark, starts shooting. Somewhere in the audience is another gun, a good guy. He shoots, too. Maybe it’s a hotel room. Guy starts shooting. A dozen people in the crowd have guns, but they’re good guys. Good guns. They start shooting back. How do you identify the good from the bad? The intentional from the accidental? Maybe it’s a sniper at a gas station. Someone with a Toyota has a gun. He’s a good guy. He shoots, too. Maybe it’s a kid, and another kid has a gun. A good kid with a gun. A good teacher with a gun. How do you know, how do I know, how does anyone know who is who, and which gun is which, in those panicky milliseconds? Where to run, how to hide? How does a plastic seat with a fabric top stop a bullet anyway? A car door? A locker door? A speaker? A particle board desktop? Doesn’t matter who’s good and who’s not. Bullets have no moral preference.

This is the Prius,” he said. The car he pointed to was a shell with wires hanging out. “It is an example of what they look like when we are done,” he said. This particular examination had proven exceedingly useful because when the second-generation Prius was released in the mid-2000s, some wondered whether Toyota had cheated on the fuel economy tests. Hillebrand’s team had showed that, if the company wanted to, it in fact could game federal evaluators. That was because the car could be programmed with advance knowledge of the curves, stops, and hazards that all automakers knew the test featured. So armed, it could adjust and conserve gasoline. Hillebrand’s team did not demonstrate that the Prius folks did cheat. But the opportunity to do so was sufficient. He sent word to the Environmental Protection Agency, which devised a randomized test that was harder to con.

Toyota: Oh, what a feeling... ...when you hit the brakes and your car doesn't stop.

I dumped the rental I’d gotten after trashing Samantha’s SUV for a cute little Toyota that liked to pretend it was a sports car. Blain, RJ (2014-05-11). Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (Kindle Locations 1364-1365). Pen & Page Publishing. Kindle Edition.

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Predictably, Katherine’s car was a leased Toyota Prius, what they call a hybrid, and, though I consider myself as sensitive to the assassination of our environment as anybody, Sean Drummond was not the least bit happy with this choice. The car didn’t even require a key to get started, just this stupid button you push, then you can’t even hear the engine, so after the fifth time I punched the button, Katherine said, “Stop that, Sean. The damned car is already started.

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We followed him to the cut bank of the river and watched as the underside of his truck suddenly became visible. The jump didn't get very far and, as anticipated, the wheels and most of the front of the Toyota sank into the soft mud of the Powder River effectively ending the vehicular portion of George's getaway.

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in.’ Kellock hauled his huge mass over the driver’s seat and across the gearstick to the passenger seat. Jarrett climbed in after him, first motioning the shotgun at Ellen and Pam. ‘We’ve leaving now. You two won’t try to stop us.’ Ellen said, ‘Don’t do this, Laurie,’ and Pam began to circle around him. In answer, he shot out the tyres of their car. They froze, their insides spasming, pellets and grit spitting and pinging. He said again, ‘You won’t stop me.’ Ellen glanced around at Pam, who gave her a complicated look. ‘We won’t stop you,’ she murmured. The Toyota threw gravel at them as it started away but it wasn’t speeding. It moved sedately through the trees, exhaust toxins hanging in the still air, and they heard it pause at the main road above, and turn right. Waterloo lay in that direction, where the land levelled out to meet the sea. But before that there were many other roads, and back roads, full

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An example is the campaign that Goodby, Berlin & Sil- verstein produced for the Northern California Honda Deal- ers Advertising Association (NCHDAA) in 1989. Rather than conform to the stereotypical dealer group advertising ("one of a kind, never to be repeated deals, this weekend 114 Figure 4.1 UNUM: "Bear and Salmon. Figure 4.2 UNUM: "Father and Child." 115 PEELING THE ONION only, the Honda-thon, fifteen hundred dollars cash back . . ." shouted over cheesy running footage), it was decided that the campaign should reflect the tone of the national cam- paign that it ran alongside. After all, we reasoned, the only people who know that one spot is from the national cam- paign and another from a regional dealer group are industry insiders. In the real world, all people see is the name "Honda" at the end. It's dumb having one of (Los Angeles agency) Rubin Postaer's intelligent, stylish commercials for Honda in one break, and then in the next, 30 seconds of car salesman hell, also apparently from Honda. All the good work done by the first ad would be undone by the second. What if, we asked ourselves, we could in some way regionalize the national message? In other words, take the tone and quality of Rubin Postaer's campaign and make it unique to Northern California? All of the regional dealer groups signed off as the Northern California Chevy/Ford/ Toyota Dealers, yet none of the ads would have seemed out of place in Florida or Wisconsin. In fact, that's probably where they got them from. In our research, we began not by asking people about cars, or car dealers, but about living in Northern California. What's it like? What does it mean? How would you describe it to an alien? (There are times when my British accent comes in very useful.) How does it compare to Southern California? "Oh, North and South are very different," a man in a focus group told me. "How so?" "Well, let me put it this way. There's a great rivalry between the (San Francisco) Giants and the (L.A.) Dodgers," he said. "But the Dodgers' fans don't know about it." Everyone laughed. People in the "Southland" were on a different planet. All they cared about was their suntans and flashy cars. Northern Californians, by comparison, were more modest, discerning, less likely to buy things to "make state- ments," interested in how products performed as opposed to 116 Take the Wider View what they looked like, more environmentally conscious, and concerned with the quality of life. We already knew from American Honda—supplied re- search what Northern Californians thought of Honda's cars. They were perceived as stylish without being ostentatious, reliable, understated, good value for the money . . . the paral- lels were remarkable. The creative brief asked the team to consider placing Honda in the unique context of Northern California, and to imagine that "Hondas are designed with Northern Californi- ans in mind." Dave O'Hare, who always swore that he hated advertising taglines and had no talent for writing them, came back immediately with a line to which he wanted to write a campaign: "Is Honda the Perfect Car for Northern Califor- nia, or What?" The launch commercial took advantage of the rivalry between Northern and Southern California. Set in the state senate chamber in Sacramento, it opens on the Speaker try- ing to hush the house. "Please, please," he admonishes, "the gentleman from Northern California has the floor." "What my Southern Californian colleague proposes is a moral outrage," the senator splutters, waving a sheaf of papers at the other side of the floor. "Widening the Pacific Coast Highway . . . to ten lanes!" A Southern Californian senator with bouffant hair and a pink tie shrugs his shoulders. "It's too windy," he whines (note: windy as in curves, not weather), and his fellow Southern Californians high-five and murmur their assent. The Northern Californians go nuts, and the Speaker strug- gles in vain to call everyone to order. The camera goes out- side as th

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Automakers typically offer deals in the summer to clear out inventory before cars from the new model year arrive in the fall. But July's discounts were unusually high. Incentives rose 8 percent - $216 per vehicle - over last July, according to Jesse Toprak, chief analyst for Cars.com. Incentives averaged $2,774 per vehicle, the most since August 2010. Toprak said Ford, Toyota, Volkswagen and Hyundai were the most generous. Chrysler saw the biggest gain in July, with sales up 20 percent to 140,102, led by the Ram pickup and the new Jeep Cherokee small SUV. Jeep sales rose 41 percent overall.

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It was while at the Toyota plant that he had a revelation. Toyota has a rather unusual production process. If anybody on the production line is having a problem or observes an error, that person pulls a cord that halts production across the plant. Senior executives rush over to see what has gone wrong and, if an employee is having difficulty performing her job, she is helped as needed by executives. The error is then assessed, lessons learned, and the system adapted. It is called the Toyota Production System, or TPS, and is one of the most successful techniques in industrial history. “The system was about cars, which are very different from people,” Kaplan says when we meet for an interview. “But the underlying principle is transferable. If a culture is open and honest about mistakes, the entire system can learn from them. That is the way you gain improvements.

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Toyota is smarter about defining the customer and thinking like the customer. In designing new doors for a car targeted largely toward women, Toyota engineers put on long fingernails to see how this would affect opening and closing the doors.

When everybody in the organization has been trained to employ the scientific approach to innovation as part of their daily work, we will have created a generative culture. We achieve this by practicing the experimental approach until it becomes habitual, part of our repertoire, using the Improvement Kata described in Chapter 6. That is what allows an organization to adapt rapidly to its changing environment. Toyota calls this “building people before building cars.”66

While he was in school, we needed to pay our bills. I had to get a job. I'd majored in music (piano). I had no business credentials, connections, or confidence, so I started as a secretary to a retail sales broker at Smith Barney in midtown Manhattan. It was the era of Liar's Poker, Bonfire of the Vanities, and Working Girl. Working on Wall Street was exciting. I started taking business courses at night and I had a boss who believed in me, which allowed me to bridge from secretary to investment banker. This rarely happens. Later I became an equity research analyst and subsequently cofounded the investment firm Rose Park Advisors with Clayton Christensen, a professor at Harvard Business School. When I walked onto Wall Street through the secretarial side door, and then walked off Wall Street to become an entrepreneur, I was a disruptor. "Disruptive innovation" is a term coined by Christensen to describe an innovation at the low end of the market that eventually upends an industry. In my case, I had started at the bottom and climbed to the top—now I wanted to upend my own career. No wonder my friend thought I'd lost my sanity. According to Christensen's theory, disruptors secure their initial foothold at the low end of the market, offering inferior, low-margin products. At first, the disrupter's position is weak. For example, when Toyota entered the U.S. market in the 1950s, it introduced the Corona, a small, cheap, no-frills car that appealed to first-time car buyers on a tight budget.

raising your prices can increase demand by appealing to a more attractive type of customer. Automobiles are a classic example of this type of price sensitivity: some cars are desirable because they’re expensive. The typical customer who purchases a Bentley Continental GT is very different from the type of customer who purchases a Toyota Camry.

The upshot of all this was that Boyd concluded that the Toyota Production System was another implementation of the principles he had associated with the Blitzkrieg. As odd as this may seem—a doctrine of war and a car manufacturing system turning out to be brothers under the skin—they both use time as their principle strategic device, their organizational climates share several elements, and they both trace back to the school of strategy whose earliest known documentation is Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.

crawl or pay the consequences. Going through the Caldecott Tunnel when none of the other drivers could see me is one of the most harrowing things I’ve ever done of my own free will. There was only one other car in the parking lot when we arrived at Paso Nogal: a battered but serviceable silver Toyota that looked familiar enough to have been made before I wound up in the pond. Walther was standing next to it, attention on the small glass vial in his hand. I pulled up beside him and killed the engine. He didn’t look up. I glanced to May. “Okay. That’s a good spell.” Even May looked impressed. “I didn’t realize it was that good.” “Well, drop it. We need to talk to him.” “Right.” She clapped her hands, bobbing her head a la Barbara Eden. The spell burst like a soap bubble, leaving

In Europe, with its astronomical fuel prices, Volkswagen could market diesel on fuel economy. In the United States, where gasoline was cheaper than diesel and much less expensive than in Europe, Volkswagen needed another pitch. Positioning Volkswagen as a car for environmentally conscious drivers seemed like a clever strategy from many angles. It provided a way to attack archrival Toyota, whose hybrid Prius had become a hit and shown that people would buy a car that lent its owners a green halo. Volkswagen was not in a position to offer competing hybrids, because it had been slow to develop any. But Volkswagen was already a leader in diesel.

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Automobile preference, it seems, follows a pattern similar to baby names. Just as Michael and David are popular names with all types of people, so, too, are Honda Accords, Ford Focuses, and Toyota Camrys. Indeed, the top five cars that YourMechanic services are exactly the same in both blue and red states and districts. But interesting differences appear beyond consensus top sellers. YourMechanic identified cars in each state and congressional district that were “unusually popular”—that is, which were overrepresented compared with the national average. So, for example, a Volkswagen Jetta is not a particularly popular car nationally, but in certain states and districts there are a lot of them. The red/blue divide manifests itself clearly when it comes to unusually popular vehicles. In the twenty-four states won by Mitt Romney in 2012, the most unusually popular car was American-made in three-quarters of them. Of the twenty-six states that Barack Obama won that year, the most unusually popular car was foreign-made more than two-thirds of the time. The Jetta is big in New Hampshire, for example. Two different Subarus, the Japanese automaker with the especially gay-friendly reputation, are unusually popular in Maine, Oregon, and Colorado. In contrast, the Chevrolet Silverado is the most unusually popular vehicle in Louisiana and Arkansas, with the Chevrolet Impala being particularly prevalent in Alabama, Tennessee, and South Carolina.

For instance, when we look at congressional districts held by Democrats in 2012, the most unusually popular car was—you guessed it—the Toyota Prius. This particular car sends a loud and clear message. As the conservative blogger Dan Pera articulated exquisitely about the Prius: “We all know it’s the car of choice of liberals everywhere. They are as much a political statement as anything. By driving one of these cars, these folks are saying ‘I care more about everything than you, and you hate the environment and support torture.’” The other nine vehicles that fill out the top ten list of most popular cars in Democratic congressional districts are, like the Prius, all foreign-made; none are pickups or SUVs.

The clientele of Twin Farms is more or less David Christiansen’s target audience. On a hazy May afternoon, I sit down with Christiansen in a glass-walled sales office at Walnut Creek Luxury Cars, a Northern California dealership where he is not a salesman but a “brand manager.” Our conversation is interrupted every few minutes by the guttural roar of a staffer firing up a Maserati Ghibli or Quattroporte to move it out of the showroom. He hardly notices, but I startle each time. I’m unused to such sounds, having arrived here in a Toyota minivan.

My surveys indicate that there is a significant correlation between income and satisfaction with life. In other words, earning more money may make you somewhat happier, but spending that money (particularly on cars) won't. If we make the appropriate statistical adjustments for income differences in life satisfaction, then we find that the average satisfaction among Toyota drivers [vs BMW] is higher. p173

The African business dynamics is still complicated as compared to the rest of the world, in America Tesla started making better cars, electric, to be used GLOBALLY competing with car makers like Toyota, Amazon was started to provide services GLOBALLY, Uber started to serve and compete with taxi's GLOBALLY. In Africa James started a chicken business to compete with his neighbor supplying eggs to the community near them, Jane started a clothing business to compete with another clothing business in her area of residence." Africa; Starting small, does not mean think small, and stay small.

GM, Ford, Toyota, and BMW have grown into global icons that design, build, and sell tens of millions of vehicles each year. Those car purchases have come to represent more than just an appliance; they convey independence and status, a symbol of the American Dream and, more and more so, the Global Dream.

It took Apple 42 years to reach $1 trillion in value, and 20 weeks to accelerate from $1 trillion to $2 trillion (March to August 2020). In those same weeks, Tesla became not only the most valuable car company in the world, but more valuable than Toyota, Volkswagen, Daimler, and Honda … combined.

The true account of what happened next has never been made public before. The official story the police released was that the Cal-ID, a new twenty-five-million-dollar Japanese computer the California Department of Justice had just bought, broke the case. Actually, the fingerprint Orange County found on the mirror in the orange Toyota was flown up to Sacramento, and with the computer’s help, all the Ramirezes on file were searched. They found the name of a Richard Munoz Ramirez—a tall, gangly El Paso drifter, thief, and sometime drug dealer with a record for small crimes, petty thefts, and stealing a car—which apparently was the December 1984 arrest Perez had told them about and the LAPD had never been able to find.

Number of movies starred in: 60 First car: Burgundy Toyota Corolla

Our expensive, inefficient health care system is also making us less competitive in an increasingly competitive world. Toyota rejected offers from Alabama and other states for extremely generous subsidies and tax breaks in 2005 that basically amounted to giving the company a free factory if it would locate there. A nearly free factory, Toyota concluded, was worth less than avoiding the continuing cost of health care for the factory workers. Health care costs the Detroit automakers more than the steel in cars.

Toyota enjoys a relatively stable environment. The car industry allows changes only once a year (a model year change) and usually, from one year to another, the vast majority of the components are the same. That is not the case for many other industries. For example, in major sections of the electronics industry, the life span of most products is shorter than six months. To some extent, instability of products and processes exists in most other industries. For example, Hitachi Tool Engineering is producing cutting tools, a relatively stable type of product, but fierce competition forces this company to launch new cutting tools, that require new technology, every six months. It is a Sisyphean task to implement Lean in such an environment.

Toyota enjoys a relatively stable environment. The car industry allows changes only once a year (a model year change) and usually, from one year to another, the vast majority of the components are the same. That is not the case for many other industries. For example, in major sections of the electronics industry, the life span of most products is shorter than six months. To some extent, instability of products and processes exists in most other industries. For example, Hitachi Tool Engineering is producing cutting tools, a relatively stable type of product, but fierce competition forces this company to launch new cutting tools, that require new technology, every six months. It is a Sisyphean task to implement Lean in such an environment. A second aspect of the stability required by TPS is stability in demand over time per product.

Do you have a driver's license?" "Of course," she said, not knowing if it was true or not. She was already sitting behind the steering wheel. He tossed her the keys and she turned the ignition as he climbed into the car. She pressed hard on the gas pedal and the car shrieked away from the curb. The back end fishtailed. She needed to get to school quickly and find some answers. She had a feeling that Catty wasn't going to last long in that place. The light turned yellow ahead of her. "Slow down!" Derek shouted as the car in front of them stopped for the light. She didn't let up. "You're going to rear-end it!" Derek cried, and his foot pressed the floor as if he were trying to work an invisible brake. She jerked the steering wheel, swerved smoothly around the car, and blasted through the intersection, ignoring the flurry of horns and screeching tires. Derek snapped his seat belt in place. "Why are you in such a hurry to get to school?" "Geometry test," she answered, and buzzed around two more cars. At the next junction she needed to make a left-hand turn, but the line of traffic waiting for the green arrow would delay her too long. She continued in her lane, and when she reached the intersection, she turned in front of the car with the right-of-way. Angry honks followed her as she blasted onto the next street. "We've got time, Tianna!" Derek yelled. "School doesn't start for another fifteen minutes." Would fifteen minutes give her enough time to get the answers she needed? She didn't think so. She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. The school was at least a mile away, but if she ignored the next light and the next, then maybe she could get there with enough time to question Corrine. She didn't think her powers were strong enough to change the lights and she didn't want to chance endangering other drivers, but she was sure she could at least slow down the cross traffic. She concentrated on the cars zooming east and west on Beverly Boulevard in front of her without slowing her speed. "Tianna!" Derek yelled. "You've got a red light!" She squinted and stalled a Jaguar in the crosswalk. Cars honked impatiently behind the car, and when a Toyota tried to speed around it, she stopped it, too. She could feel the pressure building inside her as she made a Range Rover and a pick-up slide to a halt. She shot through the busy intersection against the light. Derek turned back. "You've got to be the luckiest person in the world.

There was one month I’ll never forget, the worst month of my life. We were so broke that for weeks we ate nothing but bowls of marogo, a kind of wild spinach, cooked with caterpillars. Mopane worms, they’re called. Mopane worms are literally the cheapest thing that only the poorest of poor people eat. I grew up poor, but there’s poor and then there’s “Wait, I’m eating worms.” Mopane worms are the sort of thing where even people in Soweto would be like, “Eh … no.” They’re these spiny, brightly colored caterpillars the size of your finger. They’re nothing like escargot, where someone took a snail and gave it a fancy name. They’re fucking worms. They have black spines that prick the roof of your mouth as you’re eating them. When you bite into a mopane worm, it’s not uncommon for its yellow-green excrement to squirt into your mouth. For a while I sort of enjoyed the caterpillars. It was like a food adventure, but then over the course of weeks, eating them every day, day after day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ll never forget the day I bit a mopane worm in half and that yellow-green ooze came out and I thought, “I’m eating caterpillar shit.” Instantly I wanted to throw up. I snapped and ran to my mom crying. “I don’t want to eat caterpillars anymore!” That night she scraped some money together and bought us chicken. As poor as we’d been in the past, we’d never been without food. That was the period of my life I hated the most—work all night, sleep in some car, wake up, wash up in a janitor’s sink, brush my teeth in a little metal basin, brush my hair in the rearview mirror of a Toyota, then try to get dressed without getting oil and grease all over my school clothes so the kids at school won’t know I live in a garage. Oh, I hated it so much. I hated cars. I hated sleeping in cars. I hated working on cars. I hated getting my hands dirty. I hated eating worms. I hated it all.

The biggest advantage of working in small batches is that quality problems can be identified much sooner. This is the origin of Toyota’s famous andon cord, which allows any worker to ask for help as soon as they notice any problem, such as a defect in a physical part, stopping the entire production line if it cannot be corrected immediately. This is another very counterintuitive practice. An assembly line works best when it is functioning smoothly, rolling car after car off the end of the line. The andon cord can interrupt this careful flow as the line is halted repeatedly. However, the benefits of finding and fixing problems faster outweigh this cost. This process of continuously driving out defects has been a win-win for Toyota and its customers. It is the root cause of Toyota’s historic high quality ratings and low costs.

A few years ago, Dan and a research assistant went to a Toyota dealership and asked people what they would give up if they purchased a new car. None of the shoppers had spent any significant time considering that the thousands of dollars they were about to spend on a car could be spent on other things. ... Most people answered that if they bought a Toyota, then they would not be able to buy a Honda, or some other simple substitution. Few people answered that they wouldn't be able to go to Spain that summer or Hawaii the year after, or that they wouldn't go out to a nice restaurant twice a month for the next few years, or that they would be paying their college loans for five more years.

the vehicle handled like a sports car, drove as smoothly as a Rolls-Royce, held as much as a Chevy Equinox, and was more efficient than a Toyota Prius.

For the next two hours, he would toy with her, giving her a chance to repent. Whether she did or not made no difference. He fingered the knife in his pocket. The blade was sharp and tonight she would feel it. Her time would run out an hour before sunrise. As with the others, he would weigh down her body with a cement block. Barely alive, she would struggle against death as they all had. The water would fill her lungs. The last thing she would see on this earth would be his eyes, the eyes of her murderer. How long would it take before her family, her friends reported her missing? A day, possibly two? Surely no longer. Then the search would begin. He would watch the news reports, recording them all on his DVR. In a week or two, some tourist or jogger would spot a floater in the Potomac. All evidence washed away, she would be just another woman executed by the D.C. Killer. He would add her disc to his collection. He whiled away the time thinking about his first kill. She had lounged in her bath, thinking she was alone. When he entered the bathroom, she smiled. The expression on his face made her smile falter. He came at her, grasping her by the shoulders. He pushed her down, holding her struggling body under. Her eyes wide with terror, she tried to plead with her murderer, to ask her husband “Why?” He sank her body in the Potomac, the first victim of the D.C. Killer. The door opened. Shannon Miller stood in the breach, surveying the parking lot. Nervous, she started to go back inside, then changed her mind. She peered toward him, her eyes straining to penetrate the mist and gloom. He was a shadow, invisible to her. Seeing no threat, she stepped out, locked the door and hurried across the deserted lot to her car, a red Toyota with more rust than red. The tap-tap of her high heels pulsated on the cracked asphalt. The beat of her shoes matched the throb of his heart. He could hear her heavy, fearful breathing. He smiled. The moon scurried behind the clouds as if hiding its face in horror. He was an avenger, a messenger of God. His mission was to rid the nation's capital of immoral women. Fearing him, prostitutes now walked the streets in pairs. Even in their terror, they still pursued their wicked trade. At times he saw them huddled in groups of three or four. They reminded him of children in a thunderstorm. Like a spirit, he crept in her direction. The only light was cast by the Miller Lite sign and a distant street lamp. The light in the parking lot had burned out weeks ago, throwing it into darkness. He stalked her as a lion does its prey. He moved slowly, silently, low to the ground, keeping the car between them. His dark running suit blended with the night. He was the Dark Angel, the Angel of Death. In another life, he had passed over Egypt, killing the firstborn of those condemned by God. Her eyes darted in every direction, still she didn't see him. He was invisible. Her hands shook as she tried to get the key in the door. The 11 o'clock news reported that another one had been found. If he stuck with his pattern, the D.C. Killer would strike again tonight. By morning a woman would be dead. She prayed it wouldn’t be her. She fumbled, dropping the key ring. She stooped to pick it up, her head turning in every direction, her ears alert to every sound. Now, without seeing him, she sensed him. She lowered her eyes, trying again, successfully this time. She turned the key. There was a click. She sighed, unaware that she had been holding her breath. The dome light flashed as she opened the door. He was on her in an instant. Their bodies slammed against the door. The light blinked out. He held her in an iron grip with one hand over her mouth and the blade poking into her

A few years ago, Dan and a research assistant went to a Toyota dealership and asked people what they would give up if they purchased a new car. Almost no one had an answer. None of the shoppers had spent any significant time considering that the thousands of dollars they were about to spend on a car could be spent on other things. So, Dan tried to push a little bit further with the next question, and asked what specific products and services they wouldn’t be able to get if they went ahead and bought that Toyota. Most people answered that if they bought a Toyota, they wouldn’t be able to buy a Honda, or some other simple substitution. Few people answered that they wouldn’t be able to go to Spain that summer and Hawaii the year after, or that they wouldn’t go out to a nice restaurant twice a month for the next few years, or that they would be paying their college loans for five more years.

Here’s a little thought experiment: Let’s take three radically disruptive technologies and mash them together. Bitcoin. Uber. Self-driving cars. What happens when you mash the three together? The self-owning car. A car that pays for its Toyota lease, its insurance, and its gas, by giving people rides. A car that is not owned by a corporation. A car that is a corporation. A car that is a shareholder and owner of its own corporation. A car that exists as an autonomous financial entity with no human ownership. This has never happened before, and that’s just the beginning. Audience member gasps: "Oh shit!" I can guarantee you that one of the first distributed autonomous corporations is going to be a fully autonomous, artificial-intelligence-based ransomware virus that will go out and rob people online of their bitcoin, and use that money to evolve itself to pay for better programming, to buy hosting, and to spread. That’s one vision of the future. Another vision of the future is a digital autonomous charity. Imagine a system that takes donations from people, and using those donations it monitors social media like Twitter and Facebook. When a certain threshold is reached and it sees 100,000 people talking about a natural disaster, like a typhoon in the Philippines, it can marshal the donations and automatically fund aid in that area, without a board of directors, without shareholders. One hundred percent of donations goes directly to charitable causes. Anyone can see the rules by which that autonomous altruistic charity works. We are beginning to approach things we have never seen before. This is not just a currency. Now, let’s look at how the bitcoin community is addressing this incredible potential with their design choices and metaphors. Oh boy, it’s a mess.

Nowhere is our national schizophrenia more in evidence than in the ongoing debates over drilling for oil in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Many Americans want to preserve the wilderness characteristics of this landscape, but they also drive the very cars--GMC Yukons and Toyota Tundras being the most ironically named--that make new sources of Arctic oil appear to be necessary.

How do these dots connect? Technology begets technology. Just as the trottoir roulant built on Speer’s invention, DARPA learned from the original experiment by General Motors and RCA in autonomous cars, adding telemetry and computerized controls. Separately, car manufacturers like Toyota were building electronic and “drive by wire” technologies to replace mechanical linkages. Eventually, Google could incorporate all of this work, combine advanced navigation into a new kind of operating system, and develop and test its first fleet of self-driving cars. It’s easy to connect the dots in hindsight, but with the right foresight you can identify simultaneous developments on the fringe and recognize patterns as they materialize into trends.

It took Apple 42 years to reach $1 trillion in value, and 20 weeks to accelerate from $1 trillion to $2 trillion (March to August 2020). In those same weeks, Tesla became not only the most valuable car company in the world, but more valuable than Toyota, Volkswagen, Daimler, and Honda . . . combined.

For example, Twist is “call-ahead” software that sees where you are and knows where you are heading, as well as knowing the driving conditions en route. It sends a text message to your next appointment while you keep your hands and your mind on the road. Glympse, as we mentioned, is similar and lets you share your location with others—who just might rat you out when you speed. GasBuddy.com lets you find the cheapest gas near your location. Nooly Micro Weather reports uber-localized weather, within .4 miles of where you are and just 15 minutes into the future, preparing you for the fog bank around the next curve on a mountain road. As we write this, it is available as a phone app and the developer is working with Ford and Toyota for the app to be included in cars as they ship. The integrated, automotive Nooly will signal the car to turn on fog lights or the defroster a moment before the weather changes. Waze is a mobile app that lets drivers share updates on road conditions in near realtime. With a community of nearly 50 million members as of May 2013, it is perhaps the most robust source of user-generated road data in the world. Google acquired Waze in the summer of 2013 for just under $1 billion.

Myth #3: Kaizen Is Slow; Innovation Is Quicker Perhaps the most dramatic example of what can happen when innovation is used and abused is Toyota, a company that calls kaizen its soul. For most of its history after World War II, Toyota exemplified quality automobile manufacturing. Consumers bought Toyotas not for the styling or prestige but for their unparalleled reliability. But by 2002, Toyota management decided it was not enough to build the highest-quality and most-profitable cars—it wanted to be the biggest car company in the world. And the company succeeded. It built factories rapidly and added enough capacity to produce three million additional automobiles in just six years. But productivity came at a high price: Suppliers could not sustain the quality for which Toyota was known, and the new factories did not have the time to build a kaizen culture. The result was over nine million recalls and some well-deserved bad publicity. Here is an internal memo written before the crisis became public: “We make so many cars in so many different places with so many people. Our greatest fear is that as we keep growing, our ability to maintain the discipline of kaizen will be lost.” —Teruo Suzuki General Manager, Human Resources In time, Toyota recognized that abandoning kaizen drove the company away from a commitment to its core principles. Since the crisis, Toyota has slowed down production, given local managers in the U.S. more responsibility for quality control, and trained new workers in the kaizen culture. Toyota has returned to focusing on quality, not quantity, as its mission, with an emphasis on correcting defects in production while they are small and easily fixed. And Toyota’s reputation for quality has been restored. The company’s story is an excellent illustration of the ways in which kaizen builds habits that can last a lifetime and helps avoid the painful consequences of steps that may, in retrospect, have been too big for the individual or the work group to swallow.

In construction, there is huge pressure to freeze as soon as possible, namely because that’s when you can start pricing it. In manufacturing, it’s profit = price − cost. Toyota can only charge so much for a car before consumers refuse to buy it. In construction, because it’s a service model, price = cost + profit.