I often issue disclaimers in these commentaries. Ahem, I have a disclaimer: If you drive an American car circa the past decade, you may want to stop reading now. OK.

You probably bought a crap car. Everyone told you it was crap, and yet you bought one anyway. So I am justified in laughing at you.

Regular readers may notice I am largely unimpressed with products the Big Three sling at us.

Many of Detroit’s offerings, barring achievements like the Chrysler 300C, Ford Mustang and upcoming Pontiac Solstice, are the most uninspired, boring, left-behind mockeries-of-humanity the highways have ever not kicked to the side of the road. If I were a highway, a lot of Chevy Monte Carlos would be bottoms-up in a ditch.

The Three wonder why their market shares are shriveling before the Germans and Japanese. Put out products that are more an affront than an offering and that happens. There’s so little identity to both the cars and images of American companies.

Not that Honda makes cars borne of seething, red passion. Really, on an emotional level, Hondas register somewhere near 1.2 out of 10. They are infinitely practical and reliable, and so, by default, should be boring. But not so, they are most always fun to drive.

That joy is obviously not an effect of vision-distorting levels of hugely powerful engines or even clever styling. Rather, everything works in sync, with the same feel of lightweight solidity. Turn the A/C knob, and then the steering wheel. Right or wrong, there’s a similar weight to those very separate controls. It’s as if the car is hewn from one piece.

American cars just don’t feel like that, like a labor of unwavering principles.

The commitment of time and engineering feels like it was sidelined in favor of money-saving shortcuts like the Ford Taurus. It really is beyond me how companies that have so much talent could be stifled successfully by shareholder demands. For too long, cheap feel has been justified by rebates and gimmicky marketing.

There’s evidence The Three are moving forward while treading water. The Chevrolet Equinox has met mild success – it’s a good starting block for what could become a respectable product.

But rather than nurture the new Equinox name and customer base, GM chooses to make a Pontiac look-a-like called the Torrent.

Never mind the dubious name, GM is apparently still stuck in the same short-term mind-set. This, despite advertisements claiming the company once hampered by bureaucracy and bean counters is preparing for a renaissance.

It’s the old formula, the one that produces cars and trucks of the same shapes and proportions with very little individuality.

When Honda came out with its CR-V mini-ute, it had a product much like the Equinox – solid, but a bit lacking.

Since its inception, the CR-V has continually improved and become a major breadwinner for the company. Beyond convincing consumers through trick advertising and rebates, the CR-V eventually gained recognition through word-of-mouth. Which would you take more seriously, your car-buff friend or an advertisement in Esquire?

And Honda hasn’t been forced to offer rebates or sell an Acura offshoot to meet the bottom line. It has something far more valuable than even a free car: image.

Companies like Honda and BMW don’t need a crutch like rebates to support themselves. They have adopted a long-term strategy of patient product development.

When a good car company introduces a car, it knows the car being unveiled is a rough draft. As with most crafts, nothing the automotive industry turns out is ever perfected.

I leave you with this statistic: Since 1981, the now-deceased Chevrolet Cavalier has donned three designs. In that same time, Honda designed 7 versions of its Accord.

Which company seems more committed to making a good product, and which seems like it sells rebates as much as cars?