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Would You Buy a Chinese Car from This Man?

Malcom Bricklin is on a quest to revolutionize the auto industry at 14,845 words per hour.

Arriving in wuhu, China, last July after a 17-hour flight from New York, Malcolm Bricklin was so juiced up, so shot through with adrenaline, that he couldn't sleep. All night, he paced back and forth in his hotel room, killing time before his meeting the next day with Yin Tongyao, president of the Chery Automobile Co., the eighth largest of the 120 carmakers in China. Since Chery's founding in 1997, Yin has made it known that his ultimate goal is to sell cars in the U.S. For Bricklin, the 66-year-old CEO of Visionary Vehicles and the man who introduced Americans to both the Subaru and the Yugo, the meeting represented a thrilling opportunity. It was also a source of agitation. That's because Bricklin's advisers had warned him that he had to be uncharacteristically patient. In China, they had said, personal relationships must be developed before business can be done.

It was too much to ask. A few minutes into the breakfast with Yin and four other Chery executives, Bricklin shoved aside his PowerPoint presentation, as well as the handouts of his business plan. He then removed his tan suit jacket. The whole thing was captured on film by Bricklin's 28-year-old son, Jonathan, who is making a movie about his father's life and who had tagged along on the trip. As the older Bricklin began addressing the Chinese in English -- without a translator -- Jonathan zoomed in. "The word I hear about doing business in China is relationship," declared Bricklin, his face flushed. He then ratcheted down his red silk tie and punctuated his next words by unbuttoning his once-dry white shirt:

"The way I see it, [pop]
we have two choices. [pop]
We can either take our time [pop]
and get to know each other. [pop]
Or, we can get naked!"

With that, Bricklin tried to rip off his shirt -- only to be foiled by a button snagged in his belt. As the Chinese executives smirked and exchanged sideways glances, he applied a final burst and yanked the garment free, leaving his audience to gawk at a chest overgrown with white hair. "I came here as Malcolm Bricklin, but I'm leaving you as Visionary Vehicles," he declared, pulling on a baseball cap embroidered with his company logo.

Either because of or in spite of his theatrics, Bricklin had his deal by December: exclusive North American distribution rights for five new model lines from Chery starting in 2007.

"Everything he does is entertaining; he is never afraid to be politically incorrect or uncensored," says Jonathan Bricklin. "From eating cheeseburgers for breakfast to lying out in the sun all day without sunblock, Malcolm has a blatant disregard for what most people consider normal."

"The way I do something is to jump into the pool and start swimming," Malcolm Bricklin says. "Most people walk around the pool trying to figure out how the water is. I dive in and then decide if I like it or not." Throughout his life, these plunges have led to both scintillating success stories and equally fantastic failures. Bricklin has tried to peddle electric bikes, hovercrafts, and hardware stores. His drive to find his next deal without ever stooping to get a normal job has left his personal life in turmoil (three divorces) and his creditors abused (two personal bankruptcies and a string of lawsuits). But his charisma, resiliency, and fast talk -- he averaged 14,845 words per hour during a three-hour period taped by an Inc. correspondent in China -- also create an aura that sucks people into his orbit and doesn't make it easy for them to escape. Tellingly, all three of his ex-wives recently attended a Bricklin family party. He continues to persuade people to buy into his vision of the next big thing, sight unseen. "Most of us lead humdrum lives where we plug along, but Malcolm has a way to inspire us to become part of something bigger and better," says Malcolm Currie, former chairman and CEO of Hughes Aircraft and a former Bricklin partner.

Like most larger than life figures, however, Bricklin also has a larger than usual assortment of critics. Former colleagues at Subaru used to joke that Bricklin could hand someone a bucket and create the appearance that it was filled with jewels when it was really leaking sewage. Ron Tonkin, who owns 17 auto dealerships in Portland, Oreg., and has sold Bricklin's Yugos and electric bikes in the past, says he has lost several hundred thousand dollars by investing in Bricklin's failed ventures. This time, he swears he won't be fooled, no matter how persuasive the vision appears. "Malcolm should have been a carnival promoter," Tonkin says.