History of the Vixen 21 motor home

A great idea finally runs out of gas

A newspaper article reprinted in the July 1989 VixeNews?

By Scott Simons

Oakland (MI) Press Business Writer

Vixen Motor Co. was a start up company, meaning a brand-new one, starting from the ground up with the goal of turning a different idea into jobs and a viable product. Its founders were successful in attracting investors, who bet the fledgling company could shake off potential competition and meet optimistic sales projections.

Even after the company's demise, when fingers could be pointed at any number of people or circumstances, those investors insist the idea was right.

It was 1980 when William Collins scratched out his idea of a retirement home for himself and his wife, Nina. As director of product planning for American Motors Corp., after stints with General Motors Corp. and De Lorean Motor Co., it was only natural that his retirement would be on wheels.

But retirement was still years away, and Collins was looking for a vehicle, so to speak, to take him there. He enlisted the help of Robert Dewey, another auto industry executive, and the idea of a fuel-efficient, less expensive motor home was born.

The right time —

It was the right time. Gas prices were expected to sky-rocket, and the Vixen would become a vehicle for the first-time motor home buyers concerned about their travel budget. The founders enlisted the financial support of the state and Detroit police and fire pension funds, and the city of Pontiac agreed to be the company's home.

When it was over, the three together would have invested more than $35 million in the company. Pontiac was hurting because of the recession and its profound effect on the auto industry, and Vixen's market studies looked good to all who viewed them. In September 1982, company officials said Vixen would employ 200 people when production got under way two years later.

They would hire up to 400 workers within two years, and the first year's production in the new Silverdome Industrial Park would be 1,000 units.

In two years of official production which didn't start until 1986, 574 vehicles were built, of which about a third were recalled for a safety-related defect.

Even before one Vixen was built, city officials expanded the size of the plant by 25,000 square feet to 135,000 square feet because the market studies looked so good.

Right from the start, it appeared money was no object with this idea. "There were several phases in company history that had problems," Collins said. "We believed all the (independent ) marketing studies that showed we'd be at the break-even mark with 1,500 units. And we were spending money like that's what we were going to sell. It should have been 250 units a year."

Quality problems —

By 1986, with gasoline selling for less than a $1 a gallon, fuel economy was relatively unimportant. Happy campers were not interested in shifting the five-speed manual transmission. The company was overstaffed and the quality wasn't up to Collins' standards. "I don't know what we could have done differently," said Paul Carleton, a Pontiac economic development official who witnessed the birth and death of Vixen, as well as the rise of two industrial parks made possible by federal grants to aid the company's start. "They started with a good premise, but things went wrong that were largely beyond their control. Nobody expected gas prices to do what they did. We got blindsided."

The company won two prestigious design awards, by November 1986; Vixen had reached its peak of 145 workers. Already layoffs were occurring for short periods as a result of production problems. The original Vixen 21 sold for $34,900 and 150 were sold in the company's first fiscal year of production.

Embarrassed —

Besides not measuring up to sales forecasts, Vixen was further embarrassed when one of its vehicles broke down during the 1986 "one Lap of America" cross-country auto race. "The Vixen was not a motor home. It was for going to football games or cross-county travel, staying in a motel at night."

To meet that kind of demand, an XC model was designed, described by company officials as a "land-bound corporate aircraft." By mid-1987, just 52 dealers in 28 states had signed on, making it a double adventure for travelers who might not be able to locate parts or service in the event of a breakdown.

In August 1987, the plant closed for slow sales and the vehicle was redesigned. The newly designed vehicle, the Spirit Edition, along with its more modest business plan and change in management – Collins retired as chairman but stayed on as director – convinced Detroit and state officials to invest another $2.5 million , on top of the $28 million they already had spent on behalf of the company.

New management —

"We felt it would be easier to get the loan if there was new management," Collins said. The investors attached stringent production guidelines to the money, including the provision that Vixen's 247 suppliers accept a debt-to-stock conversion. Many were reluctant, but gambled the company as putting on a new face.

"At the onset, everything was peachy," said Jackie Graham, president of Al-Craft Industries Inc., of Troy, which supplied latch mechanisms and television brackets. "In the latter stages, they were not as prompt (with payments) and it became quite evident they weren't going to make it." Her company lost $31,000 of the $100,000 in parts delivered to Vixen. The new design proved fatal. The vehicle cost from $46,000 to $54,000, putting it in the price range of larger mobile homes. In addition, it no longer fit in most standard garages and fuel economy was lower. The company further restricted its market.

Deep pockets —

Although employment reached 88 workers in the second round, company officials were secretly looking for a deep-pockets company with which to merge. Production ceased for good in December so officials could work full-time at saving the company, and the skeleton crew was laid off. Concerned about the possibility of liability and warranty problems potential buyers were scared away. Finally, the investors had had enough. McTevia? was brought in to deal with the company's problems and failing that, its assets.

"We wanted to keep the burn rate to a minimum," state treasurer Robert Bowman said.

"The guidelines were admittedly stringent, but when they did not meet them — " Detroit pension officials declined comment. A Troy based investment firm signed a letter earlier this year, but later backed out for lack of financing. And after the liquidation auction was set, an eleventh-hour bid from Collins and a Beverly Hills, Calif., businessman was rejected by the investors. Now that the dust has cleared, the only winners were the liquidation companies that feasted on Vixen's remains, gobbling up leftover parts for future sale at inflated prices. And, possibly the city of Pontiac, which had a modern factory and two industrial parks, but plenty of vacant space.

Everyone else, including suppliers owed more than $2 million, lost. "Start ups are the toughest business in town," Bowman said. "Everyone feels Vixen is one of the greatest 'could-a-beens.' Who knows, maybe it will some day."

In the meantime, Collins likens himself to Preston Tucker, the man of automobile infamy. "He said, 'I told them I'd build 50 vehicles and I did.' Well, I did too. It's something that will stick with me the rest of my life. But life goes on."

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