The auto industry loves a comeback. Volkswagen resurrected Scout as an electric truck and SUV brand. Toyota brought back the Supra after nearly two decades. Ford revived the Bronco, Acura dusted off Integra, and automakers routinely reach backward for names that still carry emotional weight. Even REO, one of the industry’s oldest brands, is on the verge of a comeback. Creating a new automotive identity from nothing is expensive. A name people already recognize comes with memories, arguments, loyalties and, most importantly, a story.
Reader Poll
Which Brand Should Make a Comeback?
Pick the automotive nameplate you would most like to see return.
There are plenty of old marques that probably should remain in the history books. But others disappeared while they still represented something distinct, and that distinction might actually be more valuable today than it was when they died. The trick would be resisting the temptation to simply stick an old badge on another crossover. A real revival would have to answer a harder question: what did this company once stand for, and what would that idea look like now? Here’s a few of our top picks, included with photos of models of the last vehicle the brand built.
Studebaker
Studebaker might have the strongest case because its history was built around reinvention. The company started building wagons in the 1850s, survived the transition from horses to automobiles and eventually produced some of the most distinctive American cars of the postwar era. Raymond Loewy’s design organization gave Studebaker sleek Starlight coupes, the graceful 1953 Starliner and eventually the Avanti, a fiberglass-bodied GT that looked almost alien beside most 1963 American cars. A revived Studebaker should not compete with Chevrolet by building ordinary SUVs. It should be the American company willing to make cars that look a little strange before everybody else catches up. Imagine a compact electric or hybrid fastback inspired by the Starliner, an Avanti-like grand tourer and perhaps a genuinely useful pickup honoring Studebaker’s truck history. The brand’s entire story is about surviving technological transitions. If any dead marque could credibly return during another one, Studebaker could.
DeSoto
DeSoto disappeared after 1961 partly because Chrysler had squeezed it into an increasingly meaningless space between Dodge and Chrysler. That is precisely why a revival could work now: give it a meaning it never quite had consistently the first time. The best DeSotos of the 1950s were flamboyant, optimistic and almost theatrical. Virgil Exner’s Forward Look transformed models such as the Fireflite and Adventurer into rolling artifacts of the jet age, complete with soaring tailfins, two-tone paint and enough chrome to illuminate a driveway. A modern DeSoto could occupy the expressive side of Stellantis’ American portfolio: stylish grand touring cars and crossovers that are less aggressive than Dodge and less formal than Chrysler. The historical design language is sitting there waiting to be mined. Thin vertical lighting could reinterpret fins without literally recreating them, while the Adventurer name practically begs to return. DeSoto does not need to be retro. It needs to be optimistic again.
Plymouth
Of all these brands, Plymouth may be the easiest to explain to younger enthusiasts because so many of its cars never really disappeared from car culture. Road Runners, Barracudas, GTXs and Superbirds are still everywhere at shows, auctions and on social media. Plymouth itself is gone, killed after the 2001 model year after decades of losing its identity within Chrysler. Originally, however, Plymouth had a very clear job: give ordinary buyers a well-built, affordable American car. That mission could be relevant again at a time when the price of a new vehicle has climbed far beyond what many buyers consider reasonable. Forget trying to revive Plymouth as another premium marque. Bring it back as the antidote to expensive cars: a genuinely affordable compact sedan or hatchback, a simple small pickup and one attainable performance coupe carrying the Barracuda or Road Runner name. Plymouth’s greatest opportunity would not be nostalgia. It would be doing again what it once did best: giving regular people an interesting car they can actually afford.
Mercury
Mercury’s original purpose was straightforward. Edsel Ford created it for 1939 to occupy the enormous price gap between Ford and Lincoln, offering buyers something more stylish and powerful than a Ford without forcing them into the luxury market. Over time, Mercury produced genuinely distinctive cars, including the 1949 models beloved by customizers, the Cougar, Cyclone and Marauder. But by its final years, too many Mercurys had become lightly altered Fords. Ford ended the brand in 2011. Ironically, the market may now have room for the idea again. Lincoln has moved firmly upscale while Ford increasingly emphasizes trucks, SUVs, Broncos and Mustangs. A revived Mercury could specialize in sleek, road-oriented cars for people who don’t want an off-road costume or full luxury pricing. A modern Cougar could be a sophisticated performance fastback rather than another Mustang clone, while a new Marauder could revive the idea of a large, understated American performance sedan. Mercury should come back for buyers who want something mature without becoming boring.
Pontiac
If internet comments could revive a car company, Pontiac would already be back. The excitement surrounding the brand remains remarkable considering General Motors shut it down in 2010. That affection exists because Pontiac had an unusually clear personality during its best periods. Under leaders such as Bunkie Knudsen and John DeLorean, Pontiac transformed itself from a stodgy division into GM’s performance brand, producing the GTO, Firebird, Grand Prix and a string of memorable full-size cars. Even near the end, the Solstice and Australian-sourced G8 hinted at what Pontiac could still be. Bringing it back should not mean offering a Pontiac version of every Chevrolet crossover. Give the brand two or three cars and make every one interesting: a rear-drive sports sedan called Grand Prix, an affordable two-seat Solstice and, inevitably, a Firebird. Chevrolet could retain Corvette and Camaro heritage while Pontiac becomes GM’s home for attainable performance experimentation. The world does not need another generic automotive division. It might have room for one that promises driving excitement every time the badge appears.
Oldsmobile
Oldsmobile, (not REO Trucks) deserves a revival for almost the opposite reason. It was once one of the most technically adventurous names in the American industry. This was the company of the Curved Dash, the Rocket V8, front-wheel-drive Toronado and early experimentation with turbocharging. Oldsmobile frequently sat near the center of General Motors but managed to use engineering to distinguish itself. By the 1990s, GM tried reinventing Oldsmobile with cars like the Aurora, but the division never recovered its identity and disappeared in 2004. A modern Oldsmobile should lean hard into its history as GM’s technology laboratory. Rather than retro styling, give it unusual drivetrains, novel materials and ideas that might eventually migrate to Chevrolet, Buick and Cadillac. An electric Toronado could work particularly well, using the packaging freedom of EV architecture to create a dramatic personal-luxury coupe unlike anything else in the GM showroom. Oldsmobile should return not because America needs another heritage badge, but because a company literally named after one of the industry’s earliest pioneers ought to be allowed to experiment again.
Duesenberg
Reviving Duesenberg would be dangerous because getting it wrong would be almost worse than leaving it dead. During its brief prime, Duesenberg represented the outer limits of American automobile engineering and wealth. The Model J arrived in 1928 with a straight-eight producing roughly 265 horsepower at a time when many family cars struggled to make a quarter of that. The Model J would ultimately be the last Duesenberg chassis built as well, in 1937, though it wasn’t bodied and completed until 1940 (pictured above). Buyers then commissioned bodies from America’s greatest coachbuilders, creating cars that were as much architecture as transportation. A modern Duesenberg therefore cannot be a rebodied luxury SUV with a six-figure price tag. It would need to operate above Cadillac and perhaps even beyond conventional Bentley or Rolls-Royce territory: low-volume, coachbuilt American automobiles where clients commission individual bodies and interiors around an exceptional platform. Hybrid or electric propulsion would matter less than execution. A new Duesenberg should feel excessive, handcrafted and slightly unbelievable. If somebody revived the name simply to sell $130,000 crossovers, Fred and Augie Duesenberg might be justified in haunting the factory.
Scion
Scion is different because it has barely been gone long enough to feel historical. Toyota launched the brand in 2003 specifically to attract younger American buyers, and for a while it worked. The boxy xB became an unlikely cultural phenomenon, while the tC offered young drivers an inexpensive coupe that could actually be personalized. Scion dealerships used no-haggle pricing, extensive accessory catalogs and unconventional marketing to make buying a Toyota feel less like buying your parents’ Toyota. The brand was discontinued in 2016, but the original problem it was designed to solve has arguably returned. New cars are expensive, young buyers often feel ignored, and affordable interesting vehicles are disappearing. Bring Scion back with three rules: every car has to be inexpensive, visually distinctive and customizable. A new xB should be unapologetically boxy and practical. A new tC should be a genuine affordable coupe. Scion does not need 400 horsepower or fake luxury. Its radical idea in 2026 would simply be making new cars young people can afford and actually want.
Datsun
Yes, Nissan already exists. That is exactly why a revived Datsun could be interesting if it were treated as more than an alternate Nissan badge. In America, Datsun once carried a particular image: small, honest, affordable Japanese cars that frequently overdelivered. The 510 became a giant killer in sedan racing, the 240Z delivered European sports-car style and performance at a price ordinary enthusiasts could contemplate, and Datsun pickups helped establish the compact Japanese truck in the United States. Nissan retired the Datsun name domestically in the 1980s and later revived it for inexpensive cars in developing markets before ending that experiment in 2022. A new Datsun should instead reclaim the enthusiast meaning of the American-era badge. Think lightweight rear-drive coupe, simple compact pickup and an inexpensive sports sedan. Nissan could continue pursuing mainstream crossovers and high-performance Z and GT-R models while Datsun becomes the company for people who miss the era when Japanese cars were small, clever and inexpensive. Not retro. Just honest.
Saab
Saab may be the brand enthusiasts mourn most because nothing really replaced it. The Swedish company’s cars were strange in ways that felt purposeful rather than contrived: wraparound windshields, console-mounted ignition switches, hatchbacks shaped by aerodynamics and an early embrace of turbocharging that helped turn forced induction into everyday performance technology. Saab’s aviation heritage became a marketing cliché, but the engineering culture behind the cars was real. General Motors ownership brought resources but gradually diluted some of that individuality, and automobile production collapsed after Saab Automobile went bankrupt in 2011. A successful revival would need to resist competing directly with BMW, Audi and Mercedes-Benz. Saab should build intelligent cars for people who deliberately don’t want the obvious luxury choice. A modern 900-inspired hatchback with exceptional visibility, clever cargo packaging and restrained Scandinavian design could feel genuinely different in today’s market. Electric propulsion would even suit Saab’s tradition of unconventional engineering. The greatest mistake would be making it normal. Being a little weird was always the point.
So Which One Actually Deserves Another Chance?
Pontiac would probably generate the loudest celebration. Plymouth could make the strongest argument based on affordability. Studebaker has perhaps the richest opportunity for reinvention, while Saab occupies a niche that still feels strangely empty more than a decade after its disappearance. Duesenberg could produce the most spectacular cars of all, assuming someone had the money and restraint to do the name justice.
But maybe choosing just one misses the reason these brands still matter. They came from an era when the badge on the grille often told you something meaningful about the car behind it. Pontiac was supposed to be exciting. Saab was supposed to be unconventional. Plymouth was supposed to be attainable. Duesenberg was supposed to be extraordinary. Studebaker was willing to look different. Modern automakers already own enormous catalogs of names with decades of stories attached to them. The challenge isn’t finding another old badge to revive. It’s studying automotive history and remembering why anybody cared about it in the first place.
