Into the Auto Age-At Last

The first shiny new Russian passenger cars rolled off the assembly line last week at the great Fiat-built plant in Togliatti on the Volga. Thus the Soviet Union passed an important milepost on its slow and bumpy journey into the automotive age. The new auto, a four-passenger sedan, is based on the Fiat-124. Its Russian name is Zhiguli, after the rolling hills across the Volga from Togliatti, the city whose name was changed from Stavropol in honor of the late Italian Communist leader.

Since the 124 has already been in production for four years in Italy, the auto would hardly cause a ripple in the West. But in Russia, where there exist only about two million passenger cars, most of which are poorly finished and unimaginative, the Zhiguli is creating a sensation. In Moscow alone, there are 42,000 people on the waiting list for new and used cars of various makes. No new orders are being accepted. The Zhiguli will cost 5,500 rubles ($6,105), which is the equivalent of five years' wages of the average Russian worker.

Midi to Padded Jacket. In its reincarnation as the Zhiguli, the 124 has undergone considerable modification. Among other things, it has been given a sturdier suspension system to survive Russia's potholed roads, and a number of other features, such as a battery that loses little power at 58DEG F. below zero and warmed door handles, to cope with the bitter cold Russian winters. As an Italian journalist in Moscow put it: "A sexy Italian maiden in a midiskirt and high heels has been sent off into the Russian taiga with boots and padded jacket for a hard day's work."

It has taken quite a while to get the young lady on her way. Originally, the $800 million plant, which was built under Italian supervision and uses almost all Western machinery, was intended to produce 600,000 autos a year by 1970. Because of poor Soviet planning and an inexperienced work force, it will turn out only 20,000 cars by the end of this year, and will not reach full production until 1972.

Actually, it is just as well that the Zhiguli is not coming off the line in greater numbers, for Russia is still woefully unprepared for the impact of the auto. Soviet authorities frankly express their apprehensions. "By 1980, we will be struck by transport paralysis," says A. Zhukovsky, the chief of the Leningrad Transport Department. "Leningrad will have over a half million cars, while road construction is already twelve years behind present needs." Yevgeny Trubitsyn, Minister for Highway Construction of the Russian Republic, summed up: "We are just plain short of roads."

Grandfather's Speed. As yet, the Russians have not even begun to think about drive-ins, roadside restaurants or the other conveniences that are a part of the auto age in the West. In Moscow alone, a city of 7,300,000, there are only 19 repair shops, 105 gas stations and 32 parking lots. "When I need my car fixed, I have to call a plumber," laments one Moscow auto owner.

As a precaution against pilfering, gas is sold only in 21 gallon lots for prepur-chased coupons. Drivers frequently carry an empty vodka bottle, in the event the auto's tank is filled before one of the 21 gallon units is completely pumped in. Since the housing shortage places a higher priority on new apartments, virtually no garages have been built. Cars must be kept outside or put on blocks from November to March.

Roads are generally narrow, often pass directly through small villages, and have broken surfaces. They are a major cause of Russia's alarmingly high accident rate. The bad roads also make for ridiculously low-speed cross-country travels. According to Moscow's Economic Gazette, the average speed of autos in Russia last year was 18 m.p.h. "Our great-grandfathers traveled by troika from St. Petersburg to Moscow at about the same speed 200 years ago," commented the Gazette. The Soviet weekly further noted that seat belts are nonexistent, because Soviet light industry has yet to devise a buckle that works. There are also hardly any lane markings on the roads, because the chemical industry has so far been unable to invent a paint that will not fade away as soon as it is applied.

I Want a Car. To cope with these problems, the Soviets have a ten-year plan for major highway construction between cities. Moscow is working on the development of an electronic traffic-control system. Meanwhile, however, consumer demands for cars are skyrocketing. Russians are so auto-hungry that they will pay twice the list price to those who win new cars in the state-run lottery. A cartoon in the Soviet humor magazine Krokodil shows a swaddled infant in a carriage, howling, "I want a car!" at the sight of the new Zhiguli. Even when the Togliatti plant reaches full production, it is scarcely likely to meet the demand. According to one estimate, even if Russia should succeed in producing 7,000,000 cars a year, it would still take 18 years to provide one car for every one of the Soviet Union's 70 million families.

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