With the recent announcement by Volkswagen chairman Martin Winterkorn that VW will unveil a sports car concept at the 2008 Los Angeles Auto Show in November, it appears that the German automaker has once again resurrected its plan to build an affordable midengine coupe and roadster.

But even bigger news could be coming from VW's new masters, er, partners at Porsche. Inside sources say that VW's majority shareholder is said to have shown strong interest in the same project -- opening the door for a possible revival of the 914.

The original 914 -- Motor Trend's Import Car of the Year in 1970 -- was sold in the U.S. from 1969 to 1976, and was a collaborative effort between Volkswagen and Porsche. The guiding force behind the 914 project at the time was none other than Dr. Ferdinand Piech, chairman of the board of the VW Group and a key player in the much-troubled Porsche takeover of VW.

According to reports, the Volkswagen model will borrow heavily from VW's vast parts bin in order to keep development costs low. The new VW coupe and roadster have been described as cars designed to be stylish and lightweight but, at the same time, offering sporty performance in combination with all important fuel economy.

Based on a midengine, rear-wheel-drive layout, two four-cylinder powerplants are said to be under consideration: a 170-horsepower version of the 1.4L twincharger TSI gasoline mill, and a new 125-hp, 1.6L TDI common-rail diesel engine, both mated to VW's new seven-speed DSG gearbox. The model could possibly be assembled in Germany by VW's longtime partner Karmann, also another key player in the original 914's production.

The skinny-tie crowd is getting serious about fully automated cars. You see, robot-driven automobiles are going to help save us from global warming.

The notion, as outlined in a recent article in BusinessWeek, is that by turning over all driving control to an autonomous "car-bot" (the article quotes a GM engineer who says "they are more polite than people"), crashes will become all but nonexistent-allowing automakers to create super-lightweight vehicles (i.e., minivans with the weight of a Honda Fit) boasting outstanding fuel efficiency and, of course, a modest carbon footprint. The article claims such auto-autos will be "commonplace" within 20 years.

Forget the debate about anthropogenic global warming for a moment. To me, the more unpalatable aspect of this scenario is this: Are you really ready to give up your steering wheel?

Automakers have long discussed the idea. In the late 1950s, General Motors produced a short film that showed a family of the future taking off for a cross-country drive in their sleek, spaceshippy "Firebird II." The film shows the driver, before entering the highway, calling up a sort of control tower on the radio for clearance-and then turning over the reins of his car to an on-board computer that then does the driving for him. And just when did these filmmakers of the 1950s foresee such a future? Why, way out there in nineteen hundred and seventy-six. Of course, when that fateful year finally arrived, our nation's roads were remarkably devoid of bubble-topped, computerized spaceships. Instead, what your average 1976 Flash Gordon was driving was a Ford Pinto-a car lacking any rocket exhausts but one that could, as you'll recall, be prompted to belch flames if tapped on its rear bumper.

Today, though, in the era of the iPhone and the Predator drone, the arrival of autocars seems less like science fiction and more like a scientific certainty. But what will driving be like when HAL 9000 takes the wheel?

"Driving will be more enjoyable," say the automation experts. "You'll be able to read a book while cruising down the highway." Well, obviously these people have never studied Los Angeles traffic-where it's already an everyday occurrence to see a driver scything through the morning crush while simultaneously turning the pages of "Six Short Weeks to Screenwriting Stardom!"

"Driving will be safer," say the experts. "Computers will ensure that smart cars always maintain a safe distance between each other." Uh, just a moment. In the shockingly brief amount of time I've spent writing this column, my PC has already crashed twice. Now just imagine 3000 morning commuters in their state-of-the-art, four-wheeled Intels, barreling down the freeway at 70 mph in perfect, computerized formation, when suddenly, for no apparent reason, the lead car's robot coughs up the Blue Screen of Death. Personally, I don't want to be at the site of the steaming wreckage when Bill Gates arrives to say, "Perhaps you folks would like to try our new SmartCar 2020 upgrade?"

Aye, there's the rub. For most drivers, particularly enthusiasts like you and me, climbing behind the wheel isn't about being able to "multitask" on the move. It's about the sun on your brow, the G-joy of mashing down on a 300-horsepower gas pedal, the tickle on a twisty road of 10,000 synapses firing in a neural symphony. It's about holding that steering wheel and being able to turn it ourselves-wherever we want, whenever we want.

Which is to say, I'm fine with having more computers in my car. But it'll be a cold day before the salesman gets me to pay for power Windows.

I'm standing outside Lehman Brothers (LEH, Fortune 500) headquarters on 7th Ave and 50th street in New York City watching Lehman Brothers die.

Employees, some in suits, others in casual clothes, are filing out with all they can carry as time runs out.

They are walking down the sidewalk past police barricades as scores of New Yorkers and tourists gawk, some asking, "Which star is coming out?" - not knowing what's going on.

A big cop issues the standard "keep moving" line to those of us who stop to gaze. He tells the crowd, "Go home. There is no one famous coming out. You are looking at a whole bunch of people who just lost their jobs."

Some of the people behind the barricades are loved ones - their faces distraught, their cars waiting to pick up their significant others and their boxes. One banker carries out a pair of green Lehman umbrellas, a paltry trophy.

Few parting employees are in a mood to talk - either they're still adhering to CEO Dick Fuld's tight-lipped, 'We're all in this together' policy or they're just exhausted and in major pain.

"No comment," is the standard line. A TV producer tries in vain to get interviews. I managed to ask one guy how he felt: "Look at all of us with boxes," he said with a grimace. "What do you think?"

As the night wears on, dozens of younger workers start coming out of the building. One yells, 'Jackals," not knowing that the crowd is made up mostly of relatives or clueless onlookers. A pair of employees walk out carrying orchids.

Six months earlier and five blocks away, a similar scene played out as Bear Stearns collapsed. Tonight I'm wondering how many more crash and burn nights like this Wall Street, the markets and our economy can take