The process, depending on where it leads, could negate large pieces of Lutz's contributions to GM's (occasionally uneven) product renaissance. But it shouldn't diminish his record of leading the revival of such core GM brands as Cadillac and Chevrolet; the introduction (finally) of a class-leading midsize car in the Chevy Malibu; and a bid to field the industry's first mass-produced plug-in electric car, the Chevy Volt.

None of those are insignificant for a company whose rep for solid product at the beginning of the decade could be counted on one hand -- Corvette, full-size pickups, the Chevy Suburban, an untested revival of Cadillac and nary a gas-electric hybrid in sight. Beyond that loomed 'good-enough' metal that seldom proved to be good or enough or very desirable.

Lutz helped put the 'mo' back into GM's mojo. Good enough no longer was good enough, especially when it came to design and the quality of interior materials that customers see and feel every time they slide behind the wheel. He empowered the gearheads to push back against the bean-counters and the marketing types, to counter their historically suffocating skepticism with 'Who Says?'

An outsider with an outsized (if arguably hyped) reputation, Lutz arrived at GM in 2001 without an internal base of support and few political alliances -- save the support of the CEO and an assignment to get the products right. Accordingly, Lutz could challenge the status quo because he was not a product of it.

Will his successor, global powertrain chief Tom Stephens, a GM lifer, be able to do to the same? Or will the realities of corporate loyalties and the enduring power of GM culture creep back into a global product development process that has been producing increasingly more impressive vehicles, here and overseas?

The clearest answers will come in the cars and trucks, assuming quasi-nationalized GM will be in business to serve customers in coming years instead of straining to satisfy the arbitrary whims of regulators, congressional committees and the Obama White House.

This is not an easy business, as Lutz could attest. He helped GM regain some luster and notch important wins. But he also led efforts that missed the mark -- the Australian-built GTO, a harsh reminder that compromise and currency swings can double the pain. Or his recurring obsession with high-image/low-volume cars like the Pontiac Solstice and Saturn Sky roadsters and the Pontiac G8 Autobahn wannabe.

His play to transform Saturn into the American outlet for German-designed Opels was a perfectly sensible idea that failed to woo enough potential customers. And his late-career embrace of electric vehicles speaks to the wrongheadedness of his legendary disdain for gas-electric hybrids, so successfully exploited by rival Toyota Motor Corp.

Mistakes, he's made a few in his 46-year career. Gaffes, too, that are legendary among the auto press, industry PR types and too many to list here. He'd occasionally sit for interviews sipping a martini. He'd ogle pictures of fetching young things in a German newspaper (at a lakeside hotel near Munich, circa 2002) amid a claque of journos assuming no one would call him on it. And if they did -- so what, he was 70 at the time.

He'd show up at a weekend drive around Ann Arbor in his blue-and-white replica of a 1950s-or-so Cunningham open-wheel racer, which proceeded to run out of gas because of a dodgy fuel gauge. So there was Lutz, the legend, looking for someone to score him some gas. Priceless.

A career? It was incredible, punctuated by a final chapter that will say he left GM's products much better and more desirable than he found them in 2001. That's what real car guys are supposed to do.