There may be worse news waiting for these fellows when they get home from motorcycle shopping: It’s entirely possible that the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s current investigation into catastrophic engine failures in GM full-sized pickups and SUVs will shortly result in a recall affecting nearly a million of the firm’s most prestigious and profitable vehicles. Insofar as it takes quite some time to build that many extra 6.2-liter V-8 engines and even longer to have dealerships swap them out, many customers will find themselves playing a form of Russian roulette every time they set out for a drive. Is this the day my Escalade comes to a sudden halt on the freeway or on the way home from the school pickup line? 

There’s a common thread connecting these two betrayals, of course, and chances are you’ve already figured it out. During the past decade, while better-managed companies such as Toyota and Honda were taking cautious and conservative approaches toward a possible electric-vehicle future while continuing to hedge their bets with internal combustion research and development, General Motors and Harley-Davidson chose instead to bet the house on EV technologies and products that were unproven, unprofitable, and often downright unpleasant for their customers.

Few knowledgeable observers were surprised when the electric offerings from both firms failed utterly in the marketplace, although the sheer violence done to balance sheets and earnings statements occasionally beggars belief. Yet it was all just one dropped shoe from a pair. Only now are we seeing the other consequences of this electric fetish, and they are striking GM and H-D where it hurts: in the hearts and minds of their most important customers. 

At first glance, Harley-Davidson’s decision to build the Pan America and other motorcycles in Thailand feels like the bigger betrayal of principles. After all, the company is only alive in 2025 because of specific tariff protections extended to it by the Reagan administration in April 1983. For years, Harley was the only American motorcycle manufacturer operating at more than a hobbyist’s level. The bikes have traditionally been stamped or stickered as “Union Made in USA.” Why does Harley-Davidson operate a factory in Thailand, not to mention the one it operated in India between 2010 and 2020, to begin with? 

The short answer: tariffs and trade regulations. Every Harley-Davidson sold in Australia and several other Asian markets is assembled in Thailand to take advantage of that nation’s better tariff and tax situation. Most of the parts were U.S.-made, and there was very little local fabrication. Still, Harley was conscious of the possible damage to its image and reputation from overseas assembly. After a short and disastrous attempt to sell smaller Indian-made “Street Series” motorcycles in the U.S., the company committed in 2018 to U.S. assembly for all of its full-sized V-twin bikes. That promise will be broken with the 2025 models because Harley needs to make a little extra margin on its already stratospherically priced Pan Americas and Sportsters. The reason, of course, is LiveWire, Harley’s now spun-off but still affiliated EV division.

The LiveWire electric motorcycle made its production debut in 2019. It cost as much as the firm’s popular touring bikes, plagued its owners with a never-ending list of maladies, and was actively unnerving to operate in the real world. Worse than any of that, though, was the fact that it looked almost exactly like a scaled-up version of the Razor electric toy motorcycles sold in Walmart and elsewhere for $349 or less. The retail price was $22,999, but you can get brand-new ones at some dealers for $9,995, often with three or four years’ worth of dust on the seats. A follow-up model, the urban-oriented S2, looked even more like a toy, could barely break 100 mph, and cost as much as a 186-mph Kawasaki sportbike or cross-country-capable Yamaha adventure bike. 

Fewer than 2,500 LiveWires have been sold in total, so it is no wonder the division regularly posts nine-figure annual losses, with one analyst boiling the numbers down to show an $88,000 loss per motorcycle sold. The most recent LiveWire financials show that the firm’s primary source of revenue is the STACYC series of $999-and-below children’s electric “balance bikes.” Well, even that’s misleading because the biggest number on the revenue side of the ledger was an $89 million government grant. 

Keeping the LiveWire boondoggle afloat, even at fewer than 100 motorcycles sold per quarter, requires a hefty investment from Harley-Davidson. Thus the decision to make the $19,999 Pan America in Thailand. Even at that outrageous price, it wasn’t profitable enough. A quick search of Harley forums and Facebook groups turns up a lot of outrage and disgust at the production move, exacerbated perhaps by the fact that the bike has “America” in its name. H-D doesn’t seem to care. Like a heroin addict pawning his wedding ring, the Harley leadership is clearly willing to burn the rest of the company to the group to keep building electric motorcycles that nobody wants. Most of the shareholders are institutional, but surely, they see the right move here: can the EVs, apologize to the customers, and build the American bikes with the American names in the United States of America. 

GM’s problems aren’t quite so simple. After decades of betraying the public trust in almost every manner imaginable, the firm’s remaining product equity resides almost entirely in its full-sized trucks and SUVs, especially the prestige models powered by the “L87” 6.2-liter V-8. Not only are the Escalade, Yukon, and Suburban the last GM products that aren’t actively embarrassing to own for a large segment of the American population, but they’ve traditionally been absurdly profitable. 

Which perhaps explains the general consternation at GM’s decision to let these nameplates ride on, with a single unimpressive update, for the past 11 years. The industry rumor has long been that GM starved its full-sized trucks of development money to pay its electric bill, so to speak. Nobody seems willing to say that this failure-prone L87 engine was introduced to save money — some blame Environmental Protection Agency requirements instead — but there is a general sense of consternation at the fact that General Motors, having introduced the small-block V-8 a full 70 years ago, still seems unable to get it right. 

If the general public loses faith in big GM trucks and SUVs the way it long ago lost faith in GM cars, that’s arguably the beginning of the end. Take away the Nimitz-class stuff, and GM is left with Chinese SUVs like the Buick Envision, Korean SUVs like the Chevrolet Trax, Mexican SUVs like the Chevrolet Equinox, and … not much else. Having been the recipient of astounding government largesse over the last few decades, GM has largely responded by shifting production out of the country and becoming ever more focused on battery-powered cars with very few enthusiastic customers while relying on the suckers in the Cadillac and GMC showrooms to pay their bar tab. Last year, GM sold 128,000 Escalades and Yukons at an average transaction price of about $100,000, yet much of these vehicles are shared with a $36,800 Silverado. That kind of profitability covers a lot of sins and has covered a lot of sins in the past. 

FORMULA ONE ROARS INTO WHAT COULD BE ITS FINEST SEASON YET

Perhaps no longer. Customers looking for high-quality American vehicles can easily skip Harley and GM. Kawasaki and Indian assemble motorcycles in Nebraska and Iowa, respectively. You can get a U.S.-built luxury SUV from Acura, BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and others. Just as importantly, those bikes and trucks won’t bear the scars of a thousand little cost-cutting decisions meant to subsidize a loser’s row of battery-powered showroom paperweights.

If the leadership at GM and H-D thought the government could be depended on to bail them out of their bad choices, that will likely turn out to have been the worst bet of all. Their best bet is to unplug the EV production lines and get back to making products people want before it’s too late. If, that is, it’s not already too late. One might say that consumer confidence is a lot like the battery in a Chevy Bolt: There’s always less of it out there than you think, it’s far too easy to use up without accomplishing anything, and you never know if it will burn to the ground at a moment’s notice. 

Jack Baruth was born in Brooklyn, New York, and lives in Ohio. He is a pro-am race car driver and a former columnist for Road and Track and Hagerty magazines who writes the Avoidable Contact Forever newsletter.