Automakers love to tell a good story. The rugged pioneers, the racing champions, the off-road warriors—these legacies shape how brands present themselves to consumers. But increasingly, those same brands are applying their historic credibility to vehicles that bear little resemblance to what made them famous. Jeep, once a go-anywhere off-road icon, now sells front-wheel-drive crossovers with aggressive cladding. Mustang, a name synonymous with tire-smoking V8 muscle, is now attached to an electric SUV. Land Rover, born from military-grade off-roaders, now prioritizes luxury over capability.

This phenomenon—let’s call it “trading on the name”—is a calculated move by automakers to cash in on the emotional weight of their brand heritage while selling vehicles that don’t live up to it.

The Jeep Problem: When “Trail Rated” is Just an Aesthetic

Few brands have built a stronger off-road identity than Jeep. The Willys Jeep helped win World War II, the CJ-5 became the blueprint for recreational off-roading, and the Wrangler remains the most hardcore factory 4×4 available today. But Jeep also sells the Compass and Renegade, small, front-wheel-drive-based crossovers that wear the Jeep badge yet have no real business being on a trail.

These models feature rugged styling cues—chunky tires, lifted-looking stances, even “Trailhawk” badging—but at their core, they’re urban runabouts, often with a single open differential powering the front wheels. The branding convinces buyers they’re getting a Jeep in spirit, but in reality, they’re getting a warmed-over Fiat platform with Jeep-themed trim.

The irony? Jeep’s actual heritage vehicles—the Wrangler and the Gladiator—are among its slowest sellers, while the watered-down crossovers make up the bulk of sales.

The Mustang Mach-E: Muscle Car in Name Only

Ford’s decision to call an electric crossover the Mustang Mach-E was controversial from the start. The Mustang name has, for nearly 60 years, been associated with rear-wheel drive, naturally aspirated V8s, and affordable performance. The Mach-E, while a competent EV, shares none of that DNA.

Sure, it has a “GT” version that’s quick in a straight line, but does that really make it a Mustang? Traditionalists would argue that a true Mustang needs a manual transmission, a roaring exhaust, and a chassis that begs for backroad hooning. The Mach-E, despite Ford’s insistence, is not a Mustang in anything but branding.

Land Rover: From Mud to Marble Floors

Land Rover built its reputation on vehicles that could cross the Sahara, climb rocky cliffs, and survive a lifetime of abuse. The Defender and Series models of old were famously agricultural—simple, boxy, and nearly indestructible. But today, Land Rover is a luxury brand first and foremost.

The modern Range Rover is more likely to be seen in Beverly Hills than the Kalahari. The latest Defender, while still capable, is packed with complex electronics, leather upholstery, and six-figure price tags. It’s no longer the simple, repairable tool that farmers and explorers relied on. Even the Discovery, once a rugged alternative to the Defender, is now a leather-lined SUV for suburban families.

Land Rover’s image is still built on adventure and capability, but its actual products are now tailored to a far different audience.

Why Do Automakers Do This?

The simple answer: profit.
The traditional enthusiasts—the people who care about off-road capability, naturally aspirated engines, and true performance—are a niche market. The mainstream buyer wants fuel efficiency, comfort, and technology. But they alsowant to believe they’re buying into something cool.

A front-wheel-drive Jeep Renegade lets a buyer feel like an adventurer without actually needing to go off-road. A Mustang Mach-E allows someone to tell themselves they’re driving a Mustang while enjoying the benefits of an EV. A modern Land Rover gives the illusion of ruggedness while delivering the experience of a luxury car.

Brand heritage is a shortcut to credibility—and automakers know that. By slapping historic names onto modern crossovers and electrified vehicles, they don’t need to build brand loyalty from scratch. They just need people to believe they’re buying into something bigger than an ordinary car.

Does It Matter?

For die-hard enthusiasts, yes—this practice feels like a betrayal. But for the average buyer, it’s mostly just clever marketing. And as long as the badge sells, automakers will keep trading on their names.

Maybe the real question is: at what point does the branding become so diluted that it loses its power altogether? If Jeep keeps making two-wheel-drive crossovers, if Mustang continues evolving into an all-electric sub-brand, if Land Rover becomes just another luxury SUV maker—what happens when people stop believing in the name?

You said:

Finish this article please. And put a slight comedic spin on it

ChatGPT said:

Trading on the Name: How Auto Brands Leverage Heritage to Sell Vehicles That Don’t Align With It

Automakers love a good story. Rugged pioneers, racing champions, off-road warriors—these legacies shape how brands present themselves. But increasingly, those same brands are using their historic credibility to sell vehicles that bear little resemblance to what made them famous. Jeep, once the go-to for off-roaders, now peddles front-wheel-drive crossovers with plastic fender flares. Mustang, a name synonymous with tire smoke and bad financial decisions, is now attached to an electric SUV. Land Rover, once a rolling toolbox, is now a rolling country club.

This phenomenon—let’s call it “trading on the name”—is a calculated move by automakers to cash in on the emotional weight of their heritage while selling vehicles that have about as much connection to their past as a frozen dinner has to home-cooked meals.

The Jeep Problem: “Trail Rated” for the Starbucks Drive-Thru

These models feature rugged styling cues—chunky tires, lifted-looking stances, even “Trailhawk” badging—but at their core, they’re urban runabouts, often with a single open differential powering the front wheels. It’s like wearing hiking boots to the mall. They look the part but aren’t built for actual adventure.

The irony? Jeep’s actual off-road legends—the Wrangler and Gladiator—are among its slower sellers. The masses want the idea of Jeep, not the reality of paying for knobby tires and solid axles.

The Mustang Mach-E: “Mustang” is Just a Vibe Now

Ford’s decision to call an electric crossover the Mustang Mach-E was controversial from the start. For nearly 60 years, “Mustang” has meant a rear-wheel-drive, gas-guzzling, manual-shifting, rebel machine. The Mach-E, while a competent EV, is about as close to a Mustang as a bottle of O’Doul’s is to a real beer.

Yes, it has a “GT” version that’s quick in a straight line, but does that really make it a Mustang? Traditionalists would argue that a true Mustang needs a roaring V8, a twitchy rear end, and a good chance of being crashed while leaving a Cars & Coffee event. The Mach-E, despite Ford’s insistence, is a Mustang in name only.

This raises a question: What’s next? A Ford Raptor minivan? A Shelby F-150 hybrid with an eco-friendly yoga mat interior? A GT500-branded Peloton? At this rate, Ford might as well start licensing the Mustang name to kitchen appliances.

Land Rover: From Safari to Suburbia

Land Rover built its reputation on vehicles that could cross the Sahara, climb rocky cliffs, and survive a lifetime of abuse. The Defender and Series models of old were famously agricultural—boxy, simple, and capable of being fixed with a hammer and some hope.

Fast forward to today, and Land Rover’s most popular vehicles are high-priced luxury SUVs that will absolutely not be crossing the Kalahari anytime soon. The modern Range Rover is more likely to be seen pulling up to a five-star hotel valet than pulling a stuck Toyota out of a riverbed. The latest Defender, while still technically off-road capable, is packed with complex electronics, leather upholstery, and a price tag that suggests it will spend most of its life at Whole Foods.

Land Rover still talks a big game about adventure, but these days, “off-roading” means hopping a curb at a ritzy private school pickup line.

Why Do Automakers Do This?

The simple answer: profit.

The traditional enthusiasts—the ones who actually want to crawl rocks, drift corners, or daily-drive something impractical—are a niche market. The mainstream buyer wants fuel efficiency, comfort, and Bluetooth that actually connects on the first try. But they also want to feel like they’re getting something exciting.

A front-wheel-drive Jeep Renegade lets a buyer feel like an adventurer without needing to own a single piece of camping equipment. A Mustang Mach-E lets someone tell themselves they’re driving a Mustang while enjoying the convenience of one-pedal driving. A modern Land Rover gives the illusion of ruggedness while delivering the experience of a high-end luxury sedan.

Heritage is a shortcut to credibility, and automakers know it. Why spend decades building brand loyalty when you can just slap a legendary name onto whatever happens to be rolling off the factory line?

Does It Matter?

For die-hard enthusiasts, yes. Seeing an iconic name slapped onto something uninspiring feels like a personal betrayal. It’s like finding out your favorite rock band now only plays acoustic folk covers. But for the average buyer? Not really. As long as the branding sells, automakers will keep playing this game.

But here’s the real danger: at what point does the branding become so diluted that it loses its power? If Jeep keeps making front-wheel-drive crossovers, if Mustang keeps getting attached to electric family haulers, if Land Rover keeps designing vehicles for hedge fund managers instead of adventurers—will people still believe in the names?

Or will we all one day walk into a dealership to find a Dodge Charger EV crossover with “Daytona” badging and realize that the car industry has officially given up?

Until then, buckle up for more brand-name cash grabs. Next up: a Ferrari minivan with a “Scuderia” package.

Hoopty