In what can only be described as a crushing blow to fans of corporate amalgamation and automotive brand graveyards everywhere, Stellantis Chairman John Elkann has announced that his company will not be merging with Renault. The collective sigh of relief from car enthusiasts was so powerful it temporarily altered global weather patterns.For those who haven't been keeping up with the increasingly complex family tree of automotive ownership, Stellantis is already the result of a corporate marriage between Fiat Chrysler Automobiles and PSA Group, creating a behemoth that manages 14 different car brands. Adding Renault to the mix would have been like trying to fit another elephant into a Mini Cooper that's already hosting a circus. Too many chefs in the corporate kitchen Stellantis currently oversees a collection of brands so vast and varied that it's practically impossible to keep track of them all without a PowerPoint presentation and a strong cup of coffee. There's Alfa Romeo, making beautiful cars that break down in beautiful ways. Maserati, producing exotic machines with exotic repair bills. Chrysler, which appears to be running on fumes and nostalgia. Jeep, which puts off-road capability in everything including, probably soon, a toaster. Peugeot, Citroën, and DS, the French contingent that Americans recognize about as well as obscure Luxembourgian politicians. Fiat, specializing in cars the size of washing machines. Dodge, making vehicles that drink fuel like sailors on shore leave. Ram, Vauxhall, Opel, Lancia, and Abarth round out this corporate United Nations of automotive brands. Adding Renault, Alpine, and Dacia to this already unwieldy conglomerate would have been like asking a juggler who's already handling flaming torches, chainsaws, and bowling balls to also keep track of a few hand grenades with the pins removed. It's technically possible, but the potential for disaster increases exponentially with each additional item. The resulting mega-corporation would have controlled roughly 873 overlapping car models, most of which would be indistinguishable midsize crossovers with different badges. Problems enough without adding more Stellantis is already facing challenges that would make Hercules rethink his career choices. Their CEO Carlos Tavares resigned in December 2024, leaving the corporate equivalent of a captain-less ship navigating waters infested with regulatory sharks and electric vehicle icebergs. According to insiders, Americas boss Antonio Filosa is the leading candidate to take over, presumably because everyone else ran screaming in the opposite direction when approached about the job. The new CEO, whoever the unfortunate soul might be, will inherit a company with more troubled brands than a discount clothing outlet. Chrysler has been reduced to selling approximately 1.5 different models, while Lancia's much-hyped revival has all the momentum of a glacier in reverse. DS Automobiles continues to burn money in its quest to convince people that it's a luxury brand, with all the success of someone trying to sell ice to penguins. And Abarth's decision to go fully electric is like a chef famous for steaks suddenly announcing they're opening a vegan restaurant – technically admirable but confusing to the core audience. Adding Renault's problems to this smorgasbord of corporate dysfunction would be like adding extra seasoning to a dish that's already been over-salted. When rivals almost become roommates The thought of Peugeot and Citroën suddenly sharing corporate DNA with their arch-rival Renault is the automotive equivalent of finding out that Batman and the Joker have decided to share an apartment to save on rent. These companies have been competing against each other since the dawn of the automobile, with a rivalry as French as complaining about American tourists while taking their money. Turning these competitors into colleagues would have created corporate meetings so fraught with historical tension that they'd need to be moderated by the United Nations.Had this merger gone through, we might have seen more European cars make their way to American shores, which would have been like introducing Americans to the concept of properly sized coffee cups – theoretically possible but culturally jarring. Alpine is already planning to venture across the Atlantic later this decade, presumably to teach Americans that sports cars don't have to weigh as much as small buildings, but a full-on European invasion has been averted, at least for now. The small car crusade Interestingly, despite not wanting to share a corporate bed, Stellantis and Renault do share a common mission: saving the endangered species known as the small car. Both Elkann and Renault CEO Luca De Meo have expressed concern that Europe's increasingly draconian emissions regulations are making petrol-powered city cars about as profitable as opening an ice cream shop in Antarctica. This is the same concern that has been echoed by Volkswagen Group, which is a bit like hearing that both McDonald's and Burger King are worried about the future of fast food – when the biggest players are concerned, something significant is happening. We've already lost the Ford Fiesta, a car so ubiquitous in Europe that its disappearance is like waking up and discovering that pigeons have gone extinct. The Focus is next on the chopping block, and it's likely that more small cars will follow them into the automotive afterlife unless European legislators realize that forcing everyone into electric vehicles before the infrastructure exists is like demanding people switch to teleportation before it's been invented. The European Union has granted automakers a temporary reprieve, extending the deadline for compliance with emissions targets, but this is merely delaying the inevitable. By 2030, regulations will tighten further, and by 2035, the sale of new cars with emissions will be banned entirely in the EU. It's like telling people they have to learn to fly by first jumping off progressively taller buildings – the end goal might be admirable, but the implementation leaves something to be desired. So while the automotive world has been spared the creation of yet another impossibly complex corporate entity, the underlying issues remain. Stellantis and Renault will continue to compete against each other while simultaneously fighting against regulations that threaten to make their smaller, more affordable models financially impossible to produce. It's a bit like two boxers pausing their match to complain about the size of the boxing gloves – they still want to knock each other out, but they agree the rules are making it difficult. In the end, the failure of this merger to materialize might be a good thing for consumers. Having too few companies controlling too many brands tends to result in homogenized products with different badges – automotive equivalents of store-brand cereals that all taste vaguely the same regardless of what cartoon character is on the box. But the broader challenge of keeping small, affordable cars alive in an increasingly electrified world remains, and that's a problem that will require more than just corporate reshuffling to solve. And on that concerning note about the future of affordable motoring, I shall retire to ponder what sort of astronomical sum I'll need to set aside for my grandchildren to afford their first cars in 2040, when the only new vehicles available will be electric SUVs with subscription-based heated seats and emoji-projecting headlights.
