Landau

Landau (pronouned lan-daw (U) or lan-dou (non-U))

(1) A light, four-wheeled, traditionally horse-drawn, two or four-seated (the original landau was for two passengers) carriage with a top made in two parts that may be let down or folded back, the two meeting over the middle of the passenger compartment; in four-seat versions, the front and rear passenger seats would face each other, an arrangement now often called “vis-a-vis seating”.

(2) By extension, a style of automobile based around the design of landau carriages, usually a limousine or sedan-like with a partially convertible roof arrangement, the most rearward part retractable.

(3) A model name for automobiles now with no precise definition but which is usually applied to vehicles with some variation in the treatment of the roof (though not necessarily a configuration).

1743 (1723 in the German): Traditionally thought named after the German city of Landau, where such carriages were first made and called landauers, following the model of the berliner, a carriage with origins in the city of Berlin.  The city of Landau in der Pfalz (Landach in the Palatine German and usually clipped to Landau) is an autonomous (kreisfrei) town in the southern Rhineland-Palatinate.  Land was from the common Germanic element land (land, territory (which obviously endures in English), from the Proto-Germanic landą, from the primitive Indo-European lend- (land, heath); it was cognate with the Proto-Celtic landā.  The origin of the second element is disputed.  The noun plural is landaus.

The Landau

Murkier still though is the opinion of some etymologists that the name of the carriage was really from the Spanish lando (a light four-wheeled carriage drawn by mules), from the Arabic al-andul and the claim by the Germans was just blatant commercial opportunism.  If one accepts the orthodox etymology, in 1723 when first displayed in the city of Landau, the description landauer meant one thing: a two-seater horse-drawn light carriage configured with four wheels on two sprung axles and with a fabric top which could be thrown back (ie lowered) to the rear.  It was a luxury vehicle and much admired but the reaction of customers suggested a larger market beckoned if a four-seat version was available.  Accordingly, production commenced on what was essentially two of the two-seaters joined together, the seats in the traditional (viv-a-vis) arrangement of two benches facing each other and the fabric roofs duplicated, one hinged from the rear, one from the from front and, when erected, meeting in the centre above the passengers.  Access to the compartment was provided by one or two side-doors, the upper section of which was a framed glass window which could be removed (and later even wound-down) and it is to these vehicles that the origins of the modern convertible may be traced, the sense being of something which easily may be converted from open to closed .  In the records of the time, there are drawings of these four-seat carriages with a single fabric roof (a la the two-seat original), hinged from the rear but it’s not clear how many, if any, were built.

Before there were landaus, another carriage had provided an entry in the etymological record.  Designed probably in the late 1660s by a Piedmontese architect under commission from the quartermaster-general to Frederick William (1620–1688; Elector of Brandenburg and Duke of Prussia 1640-1688), several of what came to be known as berliners were used by the elector to travel from Berlin to Paris, then a trip of 1,055 km (655 miles) and upon arrival, the elegant but obviously robust vehicles caused a sensation and immediately the design was copied by Parisian coachbuilders attracted by the ease of construction, efficiency of space utilization and critically, the economical use of materials which made them cheaper to build.  Lighter and with a lower centre of gravity which made them also safer, the French named them berlines in honor of their city of origin and quickly they began to supplant the less practical and frankly uncomfortable state and gala coaches which had been the definitive seventeenth century carriage.

The origin of the Berliner is undisputed but there have long been “alternative facts” contesting the genesis of the landau.  The orthodox history is that carriages in the style which came to be associated with the landau were first built in Landau and thus known as landauers, mentioned in Goethe's (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1749–1832) epic-length poem Hermann and Dorothea (1796-1797):

Constantly, while he thus spoke, the crowds of men and of women

Grew, who their homeward way were over the market-place wending;

And, with the rest, there also returned, his daughters beside him,

Back to his modernized house on the opposite side of the market,

Foremost merchant of all the town, their opulent neighbor,

Rapidly driving his open barouche,—it was builded in Landau.

Lively now grew the streets, for the city was handsomely peopled.

Many a trade was therein carried on, and large manufactures.

A barouche was a large, open, four-wheeled carriage and historians of the industry suggest Goethe was describing a landauer and Jane Austen (1775-1817) in Emma (1816) spoke of a “barouche-landau” which combined “…the best features of a barouche and a landau" although the blend was apparently “not a popular innovation” and noting this critique, Austen scholar Jennifer S Ewing, Library Director at Southern California Seminary in El Cajon, pondered whether the “… choice of carriage itself speak to the elusiveness of the Sucklings in Emma, always promised, but never realized?  Such is the way of modern academic deconstruction but carriages were important in Austen’s writings, the size and style of a man’s carriage used to establish the measure of his wealth and social distinction so she was a keen observer of such things.

A more dramatic story is that associated with the epic journey by Austrian Archduke Joseph (1678–1711; Holy Roman Emperor & King Joseph I of Austria 1705-1711) who in 1702 arranged a fleet of 77 coaches to carry him and his entourage of 250 from Vienna to Landau, there to take the command at the siege of what was then the a French border fortress.  It’s claimed the feat of moving the 250 men in 14 daily stages was so extraordinary that the coaches were forever associated with the town of Landau, the French soldiers also so impressed they took the name back to Paris.  It’s a romantic story but Goethe and Austen are more persuasive.

The theory of an Arabic origin of the name is interesting, the argument being the Arabic al-andul (litter, cars (and related to the Sanskrit hindola (a swinging cradle or hammock; an ornamental swing or litter in which figures of kṛṣṇa are carried during the Swing-festival in the light half of the month śrāvaṇa))) came into Spanish as lando (four-seat cart drawn by mules) from which it migrated in the form landau into English & French and was only then brought into German by popular etymological reinterpretation with the place name Landau and formed into landauer.  The Arabic derivation has the advantage that there’s no reliance of anecdotal tales of military adventure or historically dubious claims of manufacturing innovation but it’s wholly inconsistent with the chronology of verified evidence.  The word as the name of a carriage was documented in German in 1723 (and in English by 1743), but there's no trace in Spanish until 1830 and most etymologists think even then likely that it is more likely from the French than the Arabic.

Landaulet and Landaulette

The landaulette was a body style developed early in the twentieth century by car manufacturers and specialist coachbuilders, the construct being landau(l) + -ette (from the Middle English -ette, a borrowing from the Old French -ette, from the Latin -itta, the feminine form of -ittus.  It was used to form nouns meaning a smaller form of something).  A landaulette was distinguished by the compartment being covered by a convertible top while the front remained enclosed (although a landaulette rear-section was sometimes combined with the sedanca de-ville coachwork which had an open section also at the front (sometimes with a detachable top), leaving only a central portion with a permanently fixed roof.  It was once a very popular style used in taxis (in the days before air-conditioning) and was a feature of many parade limousines used for figures such as heads of state when they wished to be more visible to large crowds.  This use is now rare because of concerns about security, some of the old state-cars used in the wedding business, most brides concerned with matters other than assassination.  In the UK, historically, landaulette was used when referring to motor vehicles while the older landaulet was reserved for horse-drawn carriages.

Landaulet, the construct being landau(l) + -et (from the Middle English -et, from the Old French –et & its feminine variant -ette, from the Late Latin -ittus (and the other gender forms -itta & -ittum).  It was used to form diminutives (loosely construed) and was, after the first few years of the twentieth century, always the form used on the continent and refers to the same coachwork as landaulette.  Both words are now rare and it’s only specialists who are likely to apply them correctly.

Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100) Landaulet (long-roof).

Mercedes-Benz, at a leisurely pace, produced 59 600 Pullman Landaulets, twelve with a convertible top which covered the entire rear passenger space, the remainder with a shorter top which exposed only the rear-most seat.  Purchased usually for parade use or other ceremonial occasions, most were built with the six-door coachwork but there were a few which used the four-door body and the vis-a-vis seating.

Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100) one-off landaulet on the short wheelbase (SWB) platform.

The factory for decades provided the Vatican with papal landaulets, used in parades and sometimes they travelled with popes to foreign lands.  After the assassination attempt on John-Paul II, the concept was refined, the convertible top replaced with bullet-resistant clear panels and popes now less frequently appear in open-top cars.  Clockwise from top left: 300d (W189) papal throne, 300d (W189), 600 (W100), 300SEL (W109), S500 (W140), 300GD (W460), G500 (W463), ML500 (W166).  Just about everybody quickly dubbed the new cars "popemobiles".

Rolls-Royce Phantom V (1959-1968) State Landaulet by Mulliner Park Ward (MPW).

Twenty years after: Queen Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of England the UK and other places, 1952-2022) and Prince Philip (1921-2021) in Mercedes-Benz 600 Landaulet, Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, state visit, June 1965.  This 600 Landaulet is one of twelve "long roof" cars (often informally styled as the "Presidential") in which the folding fabric roof extended over the whole of the rear compartment.  The remaining 46 600 Landaulets were "short-roof" models where the metal roof extended further rearwards, the fabric over only the rear-seat area.

The 1961 Lincoln Continental (Secret Service code X-100) in which President John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated could be configured as (1) a four-door convertible or, (2) a landaulet with a solid top attached above the driver’s compartment.  It was sometimes also used with a protective Perspex shield for the rear compartment but, infamously, this wasn’t used on the day of the assignation.  After the events in Dallas it was modified to include much more protective equipment and returned to the Secret Service’s White House fleet.

X-100 unprotected (left) and with an array of some of the roof accessories which enabled it to be configured as a four-door convertible, a landaulet or a sedanca de ville (although it was never seen as the latter) (right).  Coincidentally (presumably), Lincoln's companion division, Mercury, in 1969-1970, sold a version of its full-sized Marauder two-door hardtop as the X-100, nominally a high-performance model but actually using an un-modified (360 horsepower) 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) version of the corporate 385-series V8.  Essentially, the X-100 was an attempt to be in 1965 what the "letter series" Chrysler 300s had been between 1955-1965 but the moment had passed and the days of the "banker's hot-rods" were done.  The X-100 was never replaced.

Rolls-Royce Phantom IV State Landaulet by Hooper.

A bespoke creation produced exclusively for heads of state and crowned royalty (the "crowned" bit an important status symbol in royal circles) and never offered for sale to the public (a distinction shared only with the Mercedes-Benz 770K (W150; 88 made 1939-1943) and the Bugatti Royale (7 made, 1927-1933), Rolls-Royce between 1950-1958 made only 18 Phantom IVs, one of which was a ute (a light pickup truck) used by the factory until it was scrapped.  The Phantom IV's other footnote in Rolls-Royce history is it was their first and last passenger car powered by a straight-8 engine.

Daimler DS420 Landaulet by Vanden Plas.

Vanden Plas made only two Daimler DS420 Landaulets but many have been converted by coachbuilders (and some folk less skilled), the results said to be variable.  Many of the converted landaulets were used in the wedding trade, there presumably being genuine advantages for brides with big hair.  The DS420 was in production between 1968-1992 and used the platform of the big Jaguar Mark X (1961-1970; in 1967 slightly revised and re-named the 420G), the sales of which had never met expectations, failing in the home market because it was just too big and in the US because the factory chose to use 3.8 & 4.2 litre versions of the XK-Six as the powerplant rather than the 4.6 litre Daimler V8.  The underpinnings of the Mark X (the advanced suspension design and the four-wheel disk brakes) were several generations ahead of the US competition but the XK-Six was underpowered and lacked the torque required in what was a heavy machine.  A 5.5 litre V8 version with a well-integrated air-conditioning system would likely have been a great success in the US.  However disappointing the Mark X might have been, the long and lucrative career of the DS420 meant that eventually, the platform proved one of Jaguar's most enduringly profitable.

Marriage of the Prince of Wales to Lady Diana Spencer, 29 July 1981 (left), marriage of Prince Andrew to Sarah Ferguson, 23 July 1986 (centre) and marriage of Prince William to Catherine Middleton, 29 April 2011.

Maintained in the Royal Mews, the state landau carriage was built in 1902 by Messrs Hooper for Edward VII (1841–1910; King of the UK & Emperor of India 1901-1910) and first used by him on the day of his coronation procession through London.  Extensively used since, it’s lasted well, unlike the marriages of some of the royal couples who have sat in it to and from the church.  Clearly not superstitious, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge choose the 1902 Landau although Prince Harry and Meghan Markle decided not to risk the curse, riding instead in one of the five Ascot landaus in the Royal Mews.

The fifth generation Ford Thunderbird Landaus, 1967-1971

1969 Ford Thunderbird Landau Coupé (429).

In what was a case study of supply responding to demand, the Ford Thunderbird which in 1955 had debuted as a two-seat convertible, was re-designed for 1958 as a four-seater, sales immediately rising.  Having already made the correct decision in 1955 to position the T-bird as a “personal car” rather than a sports-car and being rewarded with something which outsold the Chevrolet Corvette more than twenty-fold, it was obvious to rely on (what probably still is) the biggest “big-data” metric of all: what people are prepared to pay for.  Thus the T-bird continued successfully until 1966 as a four-seat coupé and convertible.  By 1967 however, Ford needed to consider not just the competing products of other manufacturers but also the corporation’s own proliferating range, the wildly successful Mustang and its new, up-market derivative, the Mercury Cougar, both of which (and not just at the margins) overlapped the T-bird’s lucrative niche.  Additionally, Lincoln had released a two-door version of the Continental so the T-bird needed somehow to appeal to those considering competitor vehicles yet try to avoid excessive cannibalizing sales within the corporation.

1967 Ford Thunderbird Landau Sedan (428).

Thus the fifth generation Thunderbird (1967-1971), the convertible gone (not to return until the one-off retro-car of 2002-2005), the coupé was joined by a four-door sedan, suicide doors added not just as a novelty but because, as had been the case with the 1961 Lincoln, the wheelbase was just a little too short comfortably to accommodate conventional hinging.  With Lincoln’s four-door convertible in its last days because of declining sales, no such T-bird was offered.  Quite how sincere Ford was in trying not to impinge on Mercury and Lincoln attracted attention even at the time.  The 1967 Thunderbird was the most expensive car on Ford’s list, attracting buyers who ticked much on the option list and they tended to leave the showroom costing much more than any other Ford or Mercury, the most expensive, the four-door Landau Sedan, sitting within a few hundred dollars of an entry-level Lincoln.

1969 Ford Thunderbird Landau Sedan (390) with vinyl roof removed.  In the quest for good taste, removing vinyl roofs from cars of that era is popular but on the four-door T-birds, they really need to be maintained.

By 1967, the US industry had long come to regard words like “landau” and “brougham”, once technical terms from coach-building, as just handy marketing terms, a brougham now something with more bling and a landau, usually a car distinguished often by sometimes oddly-shaped windows added to the C-panel and the increasingly bizarre ways in which vinyl would be glued to the roof and Ford wasn’t alone in adding fake “landau irons” (sometimes called “landau bars”) to cement the association.  Actually last used as a functional device for a convertible top in 1962 on the Mercedes 300d Cabriolet D (w189), they’d come to be adopted as a decorative flourish on C-pillars, thought to impart come link with the big cabriolets of the 1930s with which they were most associated.  On the two-door T-bird Landaus, that’s how they were used but on the four-door, they gained a new functionally: Disguising unfortunate styling.

The much admired “wrap-around” rear compartment: 1971 Ford Thunderbird Landau Coupé (429).

Just as the suicide doors had been a necessity, so too were the landau irons (which some coachbuilders insist should be called "carriage bars"), used to conceal the ungainly way the desired shape of the C-pillar had been achieved on a wheelbase too short, the vinyl roof another unavoidable trick to draw attention from what would otherwise have been obviously extraneous metal if painted.  The four-door T-birds are probably the only car ever made where a vinyl roof improved rather than detracted from the appearance and the fake landau bars helped too.  Some hearses are built with large expanse of something solid to the rear rather than glass and on those, fake landau bars are added as a flourish to reduce the effect of the slab-sidedness.  Ford’s aesthetic trick was clever but didn’t much help in the showroom, the four-door a slow seller which wasn’t replaced when the sixth generation was released only as a (very big) coupé which went on to great success.

The Ford (Australia) Landau (P5;1973-1976)

Even at the time, to many the Ford Landau can't have seemed a good idea.  Sales of large (compact in 1973 US terms) coupés had dropped precipitously since their brief burst of popularity and the only thing on the market which might have been a competitor, the Chrysler by Chrysler hardtop, had been dropped earlier in the year after eighteen months of disappointing sales.  Ford's own hardtop, debuting late in 1972 had come too late to enjoy much of the earlier fad which probably was a warning of sorts but it also meant there was a warehouse full of hardtop shells for which demand had almost evaporated.  Thus the Landau, a two-door version of Ford Australia's new LTD, a (much) stretched and (much) blingified Falcon, the parts-sharing meaning the Landau could be brought into production at modest cost; from the Detroit parts-bin came Mercury hidden-headlight assemblies and Thunderbird wheel-covers, the later marvelously intricate but so vulnerable to impacts with Australia's high kerb-sides they were soon replaced with units which protruded less.  Underneath lay the familiar combination of Ford's 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) Cleveland (335) V8 and FMX automatic transmission, the most notable mechanical innovation being the country's first locally produced (as opposed to assembled) car with four-wheel disk brakes, Ford even claiming the numbers of Landaus produced as counting towards the brakes being homologated for series-production racing, the rationale being the Landau's mechanical similarity to the Falcon GT hardtops used in competition.  It sounds improbable but that's how things used to be done.

The Landau's other "mechanical" difference from standard Falcon hardtops was some sheet-metal crudely welded into the rear-window apertures so a more "formal" roofline could be fashioned.  The welding seams were never finished to a fine standard because one feature of the LTD & Landau was a padded vinyl roof which, handily, covered the imperfections.  A padded vinyl roof is a really bad idea because it means a layer of porous foam rubber sits between the vinyl and the ferrous metal of the roof, the moisture accumulating and the rust soon starting, proximity to the coast and the tropics dictating how soon and ultimately to what extent.  It sounds improbable but that's how things used to be done.  Still, it was plush inside, lashings of (real) leather, much (fake) timber and four bucket seats (though despite the bulk of the thing the rear compartment was cramped and the cut-down windows made travel a claustrophobic experience) through the highlights were two real affectations, a twenty-four hour analogue clock and aviation inspired controls for the air-conditioning, recalling those installed rather more extravagantly on European machinery like the Facel Vega.  Just so people knew they were looking at something classy, pressed into the padded roof (about where the welding seams were being hidden) was a (wholly fake) coat of arms with lions rampant, two more escutcheons glued-on inside to comfort the passengers.

As a road car it was capable, even rapid by the standards of the time and the new brakes really were (pre-ABS) world class.  For commuting or touring it was a comfortable and effortless experience, at least for two although it could be hard to manage in urban conditions, the hardtop's already marginal rear-visibility further compromised by the loss of glass and the combination of the coupé's lowered roofline and almost flat rear window meant the rearward view was like looking through a slit.  That was unfortunate because the hardtops had been designed with series-production racing in mind so the rear fenders flared outwards allowing wide tyres to be fitted without modification to the bodywork.  Reversing a Landau could be a challenge but it was one not many took up, fewer than 1400 sold in a three-year run.  The timing of the release had been unfortunate for not only was it now in a dying market segment but within three months, the first oil shock hit.  The 351 V8, even it's more efficient (pre-emission control) form was always thirsty but in the Landau with all the luxury bits and pieces adding some 440 lb (200 KG) to the anyway hardly svelte Falcon Hardtop, it was worse.  When the P6 LTD was released in 1976, although one P6 Landau prototype had constructed for evaluation, the coupé was quietly dropped but now, the survivors are a collectable, one popular modification the removal of the vinyl roof and the proper finishing of the welded cover-plates.

1973 Ford Landau.  Ford added just about whatever could be added to justify the Landau's high price-tag.  The aviation-inspired sliding air-conditioning controls delighted many (although some dismissed them as "an affectation") and the turbine-style wheel-covers were imported from the Detroit parts-bin; while the intricate details were impressive, the "beehive" shape rendered then vulnerable to Australian kerbs and so much damage was reported they were soon replaced with flatter units.  The leather on the seats was real (and Australian grown) and the 24-hour clock was unique in the era but unfortunately, the budget didn't extend to real timber and the "woodgrain" on the instrument panel was plastic.

Zoozve

Zoozve (pronounced zooz-vee or zooz-vay)

The orthodox clipping of 524522 Zoozve (provisional designation 2002 VE68), a temporary quasi-satellite (or quasi-moon and technically an asteroid) of the planet Venus.

2024 (sort of): From an accidental coining by a graphic artist preparing a rendering of a stylized poster of the solar system, the asteroid's provisional designation (2002VE) misread and written as ZOOZVE (the text of the descriptors all in upper case).  Another suggested pronunciation is jeuj-vey (as in zhuzh) but zooz-vee & zooz-vay seem more mnemonic.  Zoozve is a proper noun; the noun plural is zoozves.  Although Zoozve is a unique object, in the solar system, doubtlessly there are many more quasi-moons and zoozve (with an initial lower case) may emerge as the generic term, thus the need for the noun plural.

The Poster.

Zoozve first came to wider public attention early in 2024 when the tale was revealed in a podcast produced by Latif Nasser (b 1986) of New York public radio station WNYC’s RadioLab.  The story was triggered when he first noticed a detail on a poster of the solar system: a moon of Venus called Zoozve.  There are many moons in the solar system but Dr Nasser holds a PhD from Harvard's History of Science department and knew the astronomical orthodoxy was that Venus “has no moons”, something some rapid research confirmed so he contacted Elizabeth Landau (b 1975), a member of the US National Aeronautics and Space Administration's (NASA) communications, his not unreasonable assumption being if anyone should know about what’s in space, it was the folk at NASA.  After consulting the charts, Ms Landau concluded there was such an object but that it wasn’t a moon; it was a quasi-moon which, discovered in 2002, after 2004 when its dual orbits were first tracked, enjoyed the distinction of being the first quasi-moon ever found.  What appeared on the poster as “Zoozve” was the graphic artist’s misreading of “2002VE”, a designation typical of the naming conventions used in astronomy.

Poster close-up.

The distinction between a moon and a quasi moon is the former have “a primary anchor”: Although the Earth’s Moon of course revolves around the Sun as well as this planet, the solar relationship is a by-product of Earth’s gravitational pull.  A quasi-moon is one with two distinct paths of rotation, one around its (temporary) planet and one around the Sun.  There are implications in that beyond the cosmic phenomenon being a scientific curiosity: quasi-moons eventually will become detached (astronomers seem to like “flung-off” which is more illustrative) which means they could become objects which could crash into Earth.  Zoozve is some 240m (785 feet) in diameter and the conventional calculation is an impact with Earth would release energy equivalent to some 69,000 A-bombs with the yield (15 kilotons of TNT) of the device dropped on Hiroshima in 1945.  Zoozve is in the last few hundred years of its eight millennia-odd attachment to Venus and modelling suggests it is unlikely to hit earth when it does become adrift but such calculations are acknowledged to be “ultimately imprecise” and, as mentioned, there are doubtless many more; the universe is a violent and destructive place.  Quasi-moons had been speculated to exist for almost a century before 2002VE was named and since then it’s been discovered Earth has a few of its own.

2002VE was discovered in 2002 by Brian Skiff (b 1953), a research scientist at Arizona’s Lowell Observatory in Arizona and because he made no attempt to give it a “proper” name, it was allocated the procedural 2002VE86 (“proper” names granted usually only after an object has attracted sufficient interest to generate academic papers).  Dr Nasser however was so charmed by the tale of 2002VE that he submitted an application to the Working Group Small Bodies Nomenclature (WGSBN) of the International Astronomical Union (IAU) the committee responsible for assigning names to minor planets and comets.  What he wanted was for 2002VE to become Zoozve but it transpired there were naming "rules" including:

(1) 16 characters or less in length

(2) Preferably one word

(3) Pronounceable (in some language)

(4) Non-offensive

(5) Not too similar to an existing name of a Minor Planet or natural Planetary satellite.

(6) The names of individuals or events principally known for political or military activities are unsuitable until 100 years after the death of the individual or the occurrence of the event.

(7) Names of pet animals are discouraged

(8) Names of a purely or principally commercial nature are not allowed.

(9) Objects that approach or cross Earth's orbit (so called Near Earth Asteroids) are generally given mythological names.

Mar-a-Lago, Palm Beach, Florida.

Because of 2002VE’s proximity to earth, the need to have the name rooted in mythology was obviously the most onerous hurdle to overcome and it is a common-sense stipulation, imposed to avoid controversy on Earth: Imagine the fuss if quasi-moon 524522 Lindsay Lohan ended up crashing into Trump Tower or Mar-a-Lago?  There would be litigation.

Added to which, the IAU have the reputation of being a bunch of humorless cosmic clerks, something like the Vogons ("...not actually evil, but bad-tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous.") in Douglas Adams’ (1952–2001) Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979-1992): they were the crew who decided Pluto should no longer be thought a planet because of some tiresome technical distinction.  Although lacking the lovely rings of Saturn (a feature shared on a smaller scale by Jupiter, Uranus & Neptune), Pluto is the most charming of all because it’s so far away; desolate, lonely and cold, it's the solar system’s emo.  If for no other reason, it should be a planet in tribute to the scientists who, for decades during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, calculated possible positions and hunted for the elusive orb.  In an example of Donald Rumsfeld's (1932–2021; US secretary of defense 1975-1977 & 2001-2006) “unknown knowns”, the proof was actually obtained as early as 1915 but it wasn’t until 1930 that was realized.  In an indication of just how far away Pluto lies, since the 1840s when equations based on Newtonian mechanics were first used to predict the position of the then “undiscovered” planet, it has yet to complete even one orbit of the Sun, one Plutonian year being 247.68 years long.  Unromantic, the IAU remains unmoved.  Still, there have been exceptions to the rule and it emerged some of the “rules” are actually “guidelines” and the WGSBN was so impressed by the serendipitous tale that a majority of the committee’s eleven voting members cast their ballots for Zoozve so, on 5 February 2024, Radiolab was able to announce the IAU officially had re-designated 2002VE as 524522 Zoozve.

Truly unique words (in the sense of one-off spellings) happen for many reasons.  Those intended for global use as trademarked company or product names really do have to be unique and sufficient different to just about every other word to ensure there are no legal maneuverings contesting their registration which is how we ended up with “Optus” (used since 1991 by the Australian telecommunications company (TelCo) which is now a subsidiary of Singapore-based TelCo Singtel) and Stellantis (a conglomerate created by the merger of the Italian Fiat Chrysler Automobiles (FCA) and the French PSA Group (comprising the Peugeot, Citroën, DS, Opel and Vauxhall brands)).  While on first hearing, to many, Optus and Stellantis probably sounded like mistakes, some words really were just the result of error.  Apron (an article of clothing worn over the front of the torso and at least part of the legs and donned by (1) cooks, butchers and others as protection from spills and (2) Freemasons as part of their regalia worn during their cultish rituals was from the Middle English naperoun & napron, from the Old French napperon, a diminutive of nappe (tablecloth), from the Latin mappa (napkin).  “Napron” became “apron” by the process of linguistic assimilation (ie “a napron” becoming “apron” because of the evolution of pronunciation.

Some become legion as accidental coinings only for it to turn out there’s a pedigree.  Warren Harding (1865-1921; US President 1921-1923), during the 1920 presidential campaign, used “normalcy” instead of “normality” after a George W Bush-like (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) mangling of the written text, something understandable because the section with the offending word was almost aggressively alliterative:

“America’s present need is not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.”

In saying "normalcy" he may have misspoken or perhaps Harding liked the word; questioned afterwards he said he found it in a dictionary which probably was true although whether his discovery came before or after the speech wasn't explored.  Although Harding’s choice was much-derided at the time, normalcy had certainly existed since at least 1857, originally as a technical term from geometry meaning the "mathematical condition of being at right angles, state or fact of being normal in geometry" but subsequently it had appeared in print as a synonym of normality on several occasions.  Still, it was hardly in general use though Harding gave it a boost and it’s not since gone extinct, now with little complaint except from the most linguistically fastidious who insist the use in geometry remains the only meaning and all subsequent uses are mistakes.

Homologate

Homologate (pronounced huh-mol-uh-geyt or hoh-mol-uh-geyt)

(1) To approve; confirm or ratify.

(2) To register (a specific model of machine (usually a car), engine or other component) in either general production or in the requisite number to make it eligible for racing competition(s).

(3) To approve or ratify a deed or contract, especially one found to be defective; to confirm a proceeding or other procedure (both mostly used in Scottish contract law).

1644: From the Latin homologāt (agreed) & homologātus, past participle of homologāre (to agree) from the Ancient Greek homologeîn (to agree to, to allow, confess) from homologos (agreeing), the construct being homo- (from the Ancient Greek ὁμός (homós) (same) + legein (to speak).  Homologate, homologated and homologating are verbs, homologation is a noun.

Once often used to mean “agree or confirm”, homologate is now a niche word, restricted almost wholly to compliance with minimum production numbers, set by the regulatory bodies of motorsport, to permit use in sanctioned competition; the words "accredit, affirm, approbate, authorize, certify, confirm, endorse, ratify, sanction, warrant & validate etc" are otherwise used for the purpose of agreeing or confirming.  It exists however still in Scottish law as a legal device, used (now rarely) retrospectively to declare valid an otherwise defective contract.  The best known application was to validate contracts of marriage where some technical defect in the legal solemnities had rendered the union void.  In such cases case a court could hold the marriage “. . . to be homologated by the subsequent marriage of the parties”.  It was a typically Scottish, common-sense application of the law, designed originally to avoid children being declared bastards (at a time which such a label attracted adverse consequences for all involved), vaguely analogous with a “contract by acquiescence” from contract law though not all were pleased: one dour Scottish bishop complained in 1715 that homologate was a "hard word".

Case studies in homologation

1962 Ferrari GTO.

In 1962, fearing the effectiveness of Jaguar’s new E-Type (XKE), the sleek lines of which made it look faster even than it was, Ferrari created a lighter, more powerful version of their 250 GT, naming the new car 250 GTO (Gran Turismo Omologato (Grand Touring Homologated)).  The regulatory body, the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (FIA) required a production run of at least 100 "identical" examples within twelve months for a car to be homologated for the Group 3 Grand Touring Car class but Ferrari built only 33, 36, 39 or 41 (depending on how one treats the variations and 36 is most quoted) 250 GTOs, thus the enduring debate about whether the thing violated the rules.

Ferrari GTO production numbers 1961-1964.

There was though some "wriggle room" in those rules in that "special coachwork" was permitted for racing variants of a homologated Group 3 model, but mechanical modifications were banned and while strengthening of a chassis, was permitted, weight reduction of the structure was not.  On any objective reading of the rule book, the fact the 250 GTO used a custom, narrow-tube frame unlike any other 250 GT, certification should have been denied until the requisite 100 had within twelve months been built.  However, the FIA was aware of the "Ferrari factor" in these matters.  Race organizers had much influence on the FIA's thought processes and they really wanted Ferraris on their grids because people paid money to see the things race so the GTO was granted homologation as a legitimate "development" the 250 GT Berlinetta SWB (Short wheelbase), the papers for which had been first issued in 1960.  It was as an appendage to this document that the GTO (as "a clause driving through a loophole" as one critic put it) competed between 1961-1964.  They’re now a prized item, one in a private transaction selling in 2018 for a reputed, then world-record, US$70 million which makes it the second most expensive car ever sold, topped only by the US$142 million paid in 2022 for one of the two Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR (W196S) Uhlenhaut gull-wing coupés.

1965 Ferrari 250 LM.

The FIA’s legislative largess didn’t extend to Ferrari’s next development for GT racing, the 250 LM. The view of il Commendatore was the 250 LM was an evolution as linked to the 250 GT’s 1960 homologation papers as had been the 250 GTO and thus deserved another certificate of extension.  Stung by the criticism that Ferrari were being afforded blatant favoritism (the FIA dubbed by some: "Ferrari International Assistance"), the FIA which pointed out 250 LM (1) was mid rather than front-engined, (2) had a wholly different body and (3) used a different frame and suspension.  Neither party budged so the 250 LM could run only in the prototype class until 1966 when it gained homologation as a Group 4 Sports Car.  Although less competitive against the true prototypes, it’s speed and reliability was enough for a private entry to win the 1965 24 Hours of Le Mans, a Ferrari’s last victory in the race until 2023.  One quirk of the 250 LM was that when the FIA ruled against homologation, the point of retaining the 3.0 litre displacement became irrelevant and almost all 250 LMs used a 3.3 litre engine so under Ferrari’s naming convention, the thing properly should have been called a 275 LM.  In February 2025, at RM Sotheby's Paris Auction, the Scaglietti-bodied 1964 250 LM which won at Le Mans in 1965 (and the only Ferrari from the era to compete in six 24 hour races) was sold for US$36.2 million.  The car had for decades been on display at Indianapolis Motor Speedway Museum, like the 1954 Mercedes-Benz W196R Stromlinienwagen (streamliner) which a few days earlier had fetched US$53 million.  

1969 Porsche 917.

In 1969, needing to build twenty-five 917s to be granted homologation, Porsche did... sort of.  When the FIA inspectors turned up to tick the boxes, they found the promised twenty-five cars but most were in pieces.  Despite assurances there existed more than enough parts to bolt together enough to qualify, the FIA, now less trusting, refused to sign off, despite Porsche pointing out that if they assembled them all, they'd then just have to take them apart to prepare them for the track.  The FIA conceded the point but still refused to sign-off.  Less than a month later, probably nobody at the FIA believed Porsche when they rang back saying twenty-five completed 917s were ready for inspection but the team dutifully re-visited the factory.  There they found the 25, lined-up in a row.  Duly the delegation granted homologation, declining the offer of twenty-five test-drives.

1969 Dodge Daytona (red) & 1970 Plymouth Road Runner Superbird (blue).

By the mid 1950s, various NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) competitions had become wildly popular and the factories (sometimes in secret) provided support for the racers.  This had started modestly enough with the supply of parts and technical support but so tied up with prestige did success become that soon some manufacturers established racing departments and, officially and not, ran teams or provided so much financial support some effectively were factory operations.  NASCAR had begun as a "stock" car operation in the literal sense that the first cars used were "showroom stock" with only minimal modifications.  That didn't last long, cheating was soon rife and in the interests of spectacle (ie higher speeds), certain "performance enhancements" were permitted although the rules were always intended to maintain the original spirit of using cars which were "close" to what was in the showroom.  The cheating didn't stop although the teams became more adept in its practice.  One Dodge typified the way manufactures used the homologation rule to effectively game the system.  The homologation rules (having to build and sell a minimum number of a certain model in that specification) had been intended to restrict the use of cars to “volume production” models available to the general public but in 1956 Dodge did a special run of what it called the D-500 (an allusion to the number built to be “legal”).  Finding a loophole in the interpretation of the word “option” the D-500 appeared in the showrooms with a 260-hp V8 and crossed-flag “500” emblems on the hoods (bonnet) and trunk (boot) lids, the model’s Dodge’s high-performance offering for the season.  However there was also the D-500-1 (or DASH-1) option, which made the car essentially a race-ready vehicle and one available as a two-door sedan, hardtop or convertible (the different bodies to ensure eligibility in NASCAR’s various competitions).  The D-500-1 was thought to produce around 285 hp from its special twin-four-barrel-carbureted version of the 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) but more significant was the inclusion of heavy-duty suspension and braking components.  It was a successful endeavour and triggered both an arms race between the manufacturers and the ongoing battle with the NASCAR regulators who did not wish to see their series transformed into something conested only by specialized racing cars which bore only a superficial resemblance to the “showroom stock”.  By the 2020s, it’s obvious NASCAR surrendered to the inevitable but for decades, the battle raged.

1970 Plymouth Superbird (left) and 1969 Dodge Daytona (right) by Stephen Barlow on DeviantArt.  Despite the visual similarities, the aerodynamic enhancements  differed between the two, the Plymouth's nose-cone less pointed, the rear wing higher and with a greater rake.  It's a persistent myth the wing height was dictated by the need to ensure the trunk (boot) lid could be opened; the height a product of the point at which "clean" air, undisturbed by the car's progress, could be found while the two vertical struts improved directional stability while inducing minimal drag.     

By 1969 the NASCAR  regulators had fine-tuned their rules restricting engine power and mandating a minimum weight so manufacturers resorted to the then less policed field of aerodynamics, ushering what came to be known as the aero-cars.  Dodge made some modifications to their Charger which smoothed the air-flow, labelling it the Charger 500 in a nod to the NASCAR homologation rules which demanded 500 identical models for eligibility.  However, unlike the quite modest modifications which proved so successful for Ford’s Torino Talladega and Mercury’s Cyclone Spoiler, the 500 remained aerodynamically inferior and production ceased after 392 were built.  Subsequently, Dodge "solved" the problem of the missing 108 needed for homologation purposes by later introducing a different "Charger 500" which was just a trim level and nothing to do with competition but, honor apparently satisfied on both sides, NASCAR turned the same blind eye they used when it became clear Ford probably had bent the rules a bit with the Talladega.  Not discouraged by the aerodynamic setback, Dodge recruited engineers from Chrysler's aerospace & missile division (which was being shuttered because the Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) was taking the US towards détente with the US & USSR beginning their arms-reduction programmes) and quickly created the Daytona, adding to the 500 a protruding nosecone and high wing at the rear.  Successful on the track, this time the required 500 really were built, 503 coming of the line.  NASCAR responded by again moving the goalposts, requiring manufacturers to build at least one example of each vehicle for each of their dealers before homologation would be granted, something which typically would demand a run well into four figures.  Plymouth duly complied and for 1970 about 2000 Superbirds (NASCAR acknowledging 1920 although Chrysler insists there were 1,935) were delivered to dealers, an expensive exercise given they were said to be invoiced at below cost.  Now more unhappy than ever, NASCAR lawyered-up and drafted rules rendering the aero-cars uncompetitive and their brief era ended.

1968 Dodge Charger (left), 1968 Dodge Charger 500 (centre) and 1969 Dodge Charger Daytona (right).

Before the missile engineers got involved, the path to specific aerodynamic efficiencies had an element of trial and error.  Ascetically, the 1968 Dodge Charger (left) was visually a great improvement on its slab-sided predecessor (1966-1968) and the recessed grill with hidden headlights was much admired, as were the buttresses which at the back created what Chrysler dubbed the "tunnel roof".  However, although always intended for the NASCAR ovals, once used there at speed, the drivers found the grill functioned just like the parachute the shape resembled, increasing fuel consumption and lowering top speed while the tunnel roof created buffering, causing instability.  Above 150 mph (240 km/h), the 1968 Charger not only didn't work very well but was dangerous.  That same year, the Charger 500 (centre) appeared with the recessed grill replaced by what was close to a flat surface which to some extent ameliorated the "parachute effect" but it was still not an ideal shape with which to penetrate the air while removing the buttresses smoothed things at the back which was good but at the now higher speeds, lift became a problem, something potentially more lethal even than the movement induced by the buffering.  The missile engineers' combination of the nosecone and big rear wing on the 1969 Dodge Daytona (right) solved all problems and on 24 March 1970, at Alabama's Talladega Superspeedway, a Charger 500 (DC-93) prepared by Chrysler Engineering to Daytona specifications (originally on the press fleet, it was a recovered stolen car!) set the then closed course lap record of 200.447 mph (322.5882 km/h).

Fully restored DC-93, the Dodge Charger 500 which in Daytona trim set the 200.447 mph (322.5882 km/h) at Talladega, March 1970.  The relationship between this thing and even the Daytonas sold to the public was an indication of how far NASCAR's definition of "stock car" had travelled since competition began in 1948.   

So extreme in appearance were the cars they proved at the time sometimes hard to sell and some were converted back to the standard specification by dealers anxious to get them out of the showroom.  Views changed over time and they're now much sought by collectors, the record price known price paid for a Superbird being US$1,650,000 for one of the 135 fitted with the 426 Street Hemi.  Despite the Superbirds having been produced in some four times the quantity of Daytonas, collectors indicate they're essentially interchangeable with the determinates of price (all else being equal) being determined by (1) engine specification (the Hemi-powered models the most desirable followed by the 6-BBL Plymouths (there were no Six-Pack Daytonas built) and then the 4 barrel 440s), (2) transmission (those with a manual gearbox attracting a premium) and (3) the combination of options, mileage, condition and originality.  Mapped on to that equation is the variable of who happens to be at an auction on any given day, something unpredictable.  That was demonstrated in August 2024 when a highly optioned Daytona in the most desirable configuration achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction at Monterey, California.  The price was impressive but what attracted the interest of the amateur sociologists was the same Daytona in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum at their auction held at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 Daytonas built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.  The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive.  That’s how the collector market now works.  

1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429.

Although sometimes difficult, NASCAR could however be helpful, scratching the back of those who scratched theirs.  For the Torino and Mercury Cyclone race cars, Ford was allowed to homologate their Boss 429 engine in a Mustang, a model not used in top-flight stock car racing.  Actually, NASCAR had been more helpful still, acceding to Ford's request to nudge the seven litre displacement limit from 427 to 430 cubic inches, just to accommodate the Boss 429.  There was a nice symmetry to that because in 1964, Ford had been responsible for the imposition of the 427 limit, set after NASCAR became aware the company had taken a car fitted with a 483 cubic inch (7.9 litre) engine to the Bonneville salt flats and set a number of international speed records.  The car used on the salt flats was one which NASCAR had banned from its ovals after it was found blatantly in violation of homologation rules related to bodywork so there was unlikely to be much leeway offered there.

1971 Ford Falcon GTHO Phase III.

Australian manufacturers were (mostly) honest in their homologation programmes, Ford’s GTHO, Chrysler’s R/T Charger and Holden’s L34 and A9X were produced in accordance both with the claimed volumes and technical specification.  However, although in total the numbers added-up, they weren't always so punctilious in the form the parts ended up in the hands of customers.  Ford's RPO83 (Regular Production Option #83) was a run late in 1973 of XA Falcon GTswhich included many of the special parts intended for the aborted 1972 GTHO Phase IV and although, on paper, that seemed to make the things eligible for use in competition, it transpired the actual specification of various RPO83 cars wasn't consistent and didn't always match the nominal parts list.  History has been generous however and generally it's conceded that in aggregate, the parts subject to the homologation rules appear to have been produced in the requisite number.  By some accounts, this included counting the four-wheel disk brakes used on the luxury Landau hardtops but CAMS (the Confederation of Australian Motor Sport, at the time the regulatory body) was in the mood to be accommodating.

No homologation issues: Here and there, between 1938-2003, Volkswagen produced 21,529,464 Beetles (officially the VW Type 1).