I want coffee and balloons.

When I was a kid, one of the most-looked-forward-to times of the year was September. Not because school was back in, perish the thought, but because the new model year was upon us.

In the 1950s and into the '60s, the introduction of all of the new cars generated an almost holiday like atmosphere and anticipation no manufacturer seems capable of today. It seems a pity and yet one more ball clumsily dropped by the North American automobile manufacturing community this carnival of new car introductions at the grassroots level no longer exists.

It was an occasion that brought thousands of people into dealer showrooms with little advertising expenditure other than announcing the date the cars would have their covers pulled off.

To add to the excitement, a great secret was made of the new car's appearance and, as teasers, the cars would often sit in the showroom for a couple of days fully covered and mysterious.

Then, the appointed day arrived, with free drinks and snacks and balloons for the kids. The showroom would be crowded with the curious and with great fanfare, the covers would be pulled off each model to a round of applause, the salesmen cutting through the crowds like sharks through a school of tuna, looking for sales prospects.

Today, millions of dollars are spent announcing new models that sort of wander into the dealerships like disorganized rabble. There is no anticipation or excitement generated, the cars just sort of show up.

Many are often so bored by seeing the vehicles in an unrelenting media barrage months before they are finally available that they don't even bother to take a look in a showroom.

For instance, I really liked the looks of the Chevrolet SSR roadster and could be considered a good candidate to buy one. But after seeing them at every show and having the die-cast model for two years, I haven't even stopped by the local Chevy dealership. The fact the same two trucks have sat for weeks on display at the front of the car lot shows that no one else is bothering either.

One has to wonder why manufacturers have let the new model introduction become such a costly, ho-hum affair. Instead of premiering a few newly redesigned models each fall, they scatter new models all through the year and by necessity spend millions upon millions of dollars telling us about each one.

I think one of the problems is advertising people don't realize, perhaps because they aren't old enough to remember, just how effective a sales tool the fall introduction period was.

Another lost advantage the American automotive industry had when I was a kid was product loyalty. I was from a General Motors family. Fords were not considered nor were Chrysler products. And while a move from a GM to a Ford may have been almost unthinkable, a move from a Chevrolet upward to a Buick and then, perhaps one day, to a Cadillac was a dream shared by any GM family.

The ladders were symbols of success in life -- and you knew the car companies were an integral part of your life. You almost felt your loyalty to them was returned.

But a succession of abysmal cars produced through the 1970s, '80s and '90s put an end to North Americans being loyal to the continent's car manufacturers. The owner of a foreign car, a person considered a bit mad in the '50s and '60s, evolved in the following decades from eccentricity to sensible and indeed, mainstream, as foreign cars proved their superiority to American rivals.

David Grainger owns an automotive restoration company