Detroit -- Looking back 75 years, the odds seemed stacked against the Suburban Carryall.
World War II broke out just a few years after Chevrolet debuted the vehicle in 1936. Domestic car production halted as the Arsenal of Democracy raced toward victory. But the Suburban never stopped rolling off the assembly line -- the military needed it to transport beans, bullets and troops.

Through financial bubbles, energy crises, shifting consumer tastes and, more recently, environmental backlash against SUVs, the Suburban has survived.

There's no substitute for rugged, all-purpose vehicles big enough to shelter a family and strong enough to carry everything. If the Joad family had had a Suburban Carryall instead of that rickety Ford pickup, Steinbeck could have written a happier ending.


Sure, the Carryall tag died in 1972, and the barn-style doors in 2005, but the name lives on: The Suburban is the longest running nameplate of any vehicle, never stopped, discontinued or canceled. In 75 years.

Even today, new customers are discovering the Suburban's versatility and capabilities.
The 1936 Suburban cost a hefty $680, but was such a hit Chevy tacked on another $5 for 1937. Since then, the vehicle has grown from two doors to three doors to four. One generation lasted 18 years, longer than the full life-cycle of many nameplates.

"This year we expect to hit 2 million Suburban vehicle sales since 1963," said Mark Clawson, Suburban marketing manager.
General Motors Co. does not have pre-1963 production figures for the vehicle, Clawson noted, but the carmaker estimates 2.25 million to 2.4 million Suburbans have been sold, all told.

Concerns about poor gas mileage and global warming have turned "SUV" into a dirty word and many SUV consumers have moved onto trendy crossovers, which offer interior space and a smoother ride. But there's a core group of buyers who need a vehicle like the Suburban.
Good.

Tuesday morning, Chevrolet marked the 75th anniversary on Belle Isle in Detroit by showing off a collection of Suburbans to the media.
GM allowed me to hop behind the wheel of nine generations of Suburbans to experience how the vehicle has evolved. The 1936 Suburban has the basic stance and footprint of today's midsize Chevy Malibu, though I could have worn a stove pipe hat while driving it. I kicked the starter switch (it's on the floor) and spent a few minutes trying to find first gear before I was off on a short lap.

Then I took a spin in the 2010 75th Anniversary Diamond Edition Suburban. Chevrolet limited production to 2,500 units and has already sold about 600, Clawson said.

Night and day never seemed further apart. It was quiet, luxurious and responsive to every turn.
The 1951 Suburban included a three-speed on the steering column and a growling 92-horsepower inline six-cylinder engine. For its time, it was ideal -- America's highways were about to open up the nation like never before.
Through the years, the Suburban was like that friend who was there in tough times. It's a family work truck. Say what you will about big SUVs, but the world needs them.

President Obama rides around in an armored Suburban. Try putting steel plates on a Toyota Prius. Different vehicles have different purposes.
Scott Fricker, a GM employee who was at the Belle Isle event, let Chevrolet borrow his 1999 Suburban with 138,000 miles on it because GM did not own a ninth-generation Suburban. He said there is no other vehicle he could use.
Fricker lives in Gaines, near Flint, and has used his Suburban to tow horses and classic cars, as well as his three children.
"What else can do that?" he asked.

For 11 automotive generations, the Suburban has churned out powerful people haulers. In the future, there will still be stuff to haul and boats, campers and trailers to tow.

"You're not going to see such massive volume of Suburbans as we did five or 10 years ago," said Aaron Bragman, an analyst for Northville-based IHS Automotive. "People who are using these vehicles are using them for their intended purpose; there is a niche market for them."
The changing market just means Soccer Moms likely won't hop into a Suburban to take their only child to ballet.