Since the Detroit Auto Show is all the way in, well, Detroit, I’m going to bring it to you. There are definite highlights and as always, to maintain the balance, some real stinkers.

Regular readers will have noticed I’m generally critical of American auto design, and after seeing what Lincoln had to offer at this show I have to report that hasn’t changed much.

When I was young, not even four feet high, I used to ride in my father’s 1965 Lincoln Continental. I have wonderful memories in that car: ice cream, my giant dog hopping out the back while moving, the beach, auto shows. I knew it was a special car back then, and as with many matters, my appreciation of it grew only as I aged.

If it weren’t for the overall ubiquity of the Town Car, I would say the Continental of yore is Lincoln’s most important car ever. John F. Kennedy was shot in one. It later became Nixon’s favorite limo once a top was screwed on. Its ride was cosseting, the novelty of suicide doors undeniable, and the top folded into the trunk of this 20-plus foot car.

It was certainly not a sports car, although its engine had an effect similar to what I imagine God’s foot kicking something might be. In essence, it was a car that carried a sense of occasion and cared about little else. Somewhat like a Jaguar Sedan – only more brawny – less sophistication, but equal arrogance.

Lincoln attempted a remake in 2002, complete with the chromed edge running along the shoulder of the car from the front all the way down the curve of the flank. It looked so perfect I was astonished. It made me feel the summer breeze I haven’t felt since I drove Presque Isle in Erie, PA, giant dog in the back (or not).

Lincoln didn’t make it. That hurts, because someday I would have bought it. What hurts even more is the “Continental” name, once as uniquely evocative as “Mustang,” has been dumped in favor of the ultra-trendy letters and numbers combination that BMW and Mercedes long ago defined as luxury monikers.

Lincoln is squandering their identity, which admittedly hasn’t been too strong of late. That’s not the point though. Lincoln was the last American luxury name to resist the alphanumeric system that has been the standard at Lexus, Audi, BMW, Mercedes, Infiniti, and most recently Acura and Cadillac.

So now, instead of saying Continental, I have to say MKS, or “the car formally known as Continental.” Ouch.

I still call Cadillac’s XLR the Evoq, as it was originally termed as a concept, because XLR is a rubbish name for a flagship car.

Say it with me – “MKS … XLR.” They don’t exactly roll off your tongue do they? Especially the former.

You might assume I’m feeling a bit overzealous about this change. I argue that it’s indicative of a larger problem at Lincoln. Put plainly, they’re lost. Even more worrisome? They seem OK with it (cue the frown).

It began with the introduction of the LS, supposedly the poster-child for New [read: Relevant] Lincoln. It was a capable car aimed straight at BMW, but never realized success because it didn’t match up in the right places. That’s fine, just improve the car. Make it better over time, with little details and mechanical updates that show the public you’re committed to the car’s future. Build its name. Don’t just give up and do something like the MKX.

Not to be mistaken for the MKS, the MKX is a sports utility vehicle and sedan crossover that’s aimed squarely at the suburban housewife market. It looks awful under any brand name, let alone Lincoln. It’s shapeless, over-chromed, and immediately leaves a dull impression.

“Oh look, it’s nothing. But it has a name … MKX … Hmm, lovely.”

The MKS is significantly better, but its core is back in 2002. What happened between then and now?

Imagine if the Chrysler 300C had to compete with a reinvention of Lincoln’s greatest car. Chrysler, I like your car as so many others do, but if Lincoln had made the right moves the 300’s sales track would not have been a clear shot into the sky.