Kaliningrad trace: when a Russian car loses a Chinese face

To assemble a car according to the detailed attached instructions from parts carefully stamped and painted in distant countries is a simple and by no means highly intellectual matter. Something like a DIY kit for adults.
On the other hand, making something from the simplest knots that looks like a passenger car, devoid of modern technical units and electronic security systems, is also not the most honorable occupation. And to call the proud word “automotive industry” neither the first nor the second simply does not turn the tongue. These are just fragments of a collapsed system, though far from ideal and inefficient, but more or less integral.
The difficult situation in which our economy has found itself does not allow the enterprises of the industry to continue to be complacent, relying on a foreign uncle in everything. The way we blew everything we could and knew how to do in 30 years is truly grandiose. We had to realize the full depth of our own gouging, bordering on criminal inaction, when the uncles collected their belongings and at a single moment dumped them in all directions, abandoning useless factories and leaving us no production secrets.
A wise man learns from his own mistakes, a wise man learns from others’, and a fool does not learn at all. So far, unfortunately, a significant part of the fragments of our automotive industry can be safely attributed to the third category. With tenacity worthy of a better use, they try to replace one uncle with another and still not give a damn.