Category archive: Driver Mod

Project Ruby: Update 2


Cars are dirty machines.

The car, in my opinion, is one of humanity’s most brilliant inventions, but alas, they come with headaches. Like all of our machines, cars break down. They cost us money, which naturally points us toward the direction of which company makes the cars requiring the least amount of work, but that doesn’t always pan out. People with more exotic tastes buy extraordinarily unreliable cars like used Range Rovers or old Volkswagen/Audis. Every time I see this, I shed a tear for their wallet as well as their soul, but for the rest of the buying public, we tend to stick to cars with established pedigrees.

Think about your mother’s Honda Odyssey, or your dad’s Toyota Camry. Every once in a while, you’ll see a Nissan Sentra—you know, the boring and lifeless appliance cars.

They run like a well-maintained box fan from Sears, or a freshly unraveled Hoover vacuum cleaner primed to rid the carpet of lint and pet dander. For as much as we ask of our automobiles on a day to day basis (roughly 29.2 miles daily, or 10,658 miles yearly per the AAA), it would make perfect sense to just mosey along and provide them with merely the “recommended maintenance” that every manufacturer clearly spells out. Simple and easy, though the concept becomes warped in the illogical minds of enthusiasts.

We’re weird with this. We buy more “interesting” cars that aren’t as notorious for long-term reliability, but on top of that, we tend to take a perfectly good car and make it more unreliable by installing parts that it wasn’t designed for.

I’ll call this the “Money Pit Cycle,” which typically follows a 4-stage process:

[1] Enthusiast has a car, usually one with a higher price and substantially reduced practically versus the average car—mostly because said enthusiast won’t settle for “average”.

[2] Enthusiast loves the car for perhaps a few weeks, then the excitement wanes. Slowly, the enthusiast starts to find imperfections and a total lack of personal identification with said car. It becomes “boring” and average. Suddenly, the 420hp V8 isn’t powerful enough. The clutch sticks to the floor and shifting is labored. The enthusiast is triggered by these revelations.

It’s the end of the world, and potentially the end of the love affair, but alas, there is hope.

[3] Enthusiast does research to tackle a list of improvement goals for the car. Eventually, this list grows to consume thousands of dollars. The plan is to take apart a perfectly good automobile no logical reason. Together, the enthusiast teams up with friends and they tackle hours worth of arduous labor replacing parts that otherwise functioned exactly as intended but not as well as they could have.

[4] Enthusiast is initially satisfied by the results, but soon starts to realize that more parts are necessary to achieve the desired goal. The new long tube headers have a nasty exhaust leak at the mounting flanges. The Centerforce Dual Friction clutch hates traffic and has the modulation range of a paperclip. The car runs stronger, but not quite as strong as hoped.

The cycle restarts. . .

The Impractical Choice:

In the driveway awaits this 2013 Ford Mustang GT.


It’s about as practical on a day to day basis as using a spoon to slice a wedding cake, but it’s quite a bit faster now. Yes, as you can see here, my adorable baby girl strapped into a Graco carseat (with the base too!) will actually fit, and you can still fit an adult in the passenger seat up front.



On occasion, the Coyote can muster out 23mpg, but you can’t go over 80mph and expect that. Meanwhile, it unfortunately exceeded 50,000 miles on the odometer. I did buy it to drive it, I suppose.


As detailed in the Project Ruby: Update 1 article, the fiasco that encompassed the two months of ownership was merely the start of what is working out to be a lovely journey. So far, I’ve set a few personal milestones with this thing. I described my quest for a 12 second quarter mile pass in detail in the Update 1, but the high temperatures and the finicky clutch seriously ailed my mid-summer attempts at glory.

It wasn’t until September 30th that the car finally broke the 13 second barrier with a best of 12.876@110.85mph. Looking at the data, it was about a stout as your typical stock 2011+ 5.0 Mustang. It was good, but not good enough. Triggered, I entered Stage 1 of the Money Pit Cycle.

The Absence of Logic:

I ordered the following parts:

[1] Centerforce Dual Friction clutch, which was equipped with counterweights to ensure that the car would actually shift at high RPM (thanks, Ford).


[2] Barton Racing shifter bracket, which was designed to essentially get rid of the junk remote-mount shift setup (thanks, Ford) and turn it into a “top loader” like it should’ve been from jump street.


[3] BBK x-pipe, so I could connect the BBK long tube headers to the stock exhaust.

The installation? Well, it was a royal pain in the ass. Luckily for me, I had a team of friends and fellow enthusiasts to help.

Meet Sam, an extremely knowledgeable, honest, and straightforward guy. He loves cars, specifically Fords, and he was apparently born with a gene that turned him into a car addict like the rest of us. Working on cars is literally his job, though this experience usually makes even the most daunting tasks a cake walk. Yeah, he’s that dude that can swap an engine in the time it takes for you to cut the grass.


On October 9th,  Sam and his neighbor, Rocky, invited me over to use their facilities. It included an electric lift, which turned out to be a vital part of the major surgery considering that we’d have to take half of the damn car apart.


Once again, my Ford Mustang found itself suspended on an automobile lift. (Hutch is pictured here, too).


In short, these parts didn’t exactly go on in an easy fashion. The clutch installation required the removal of the driveshaft, shift linkage, and the entire transmission. The Barton Racing shifter bracket was installed on the reassembly journey. The headers, bless our souls, were the worst part of the entire endeavor. Due to the space constraints under the car and under the hood, we were forced to remove the steering shaft, both engine mounts, and of course the old headers, all of which took about three hours to do (not including stops to McDonalds).

Oh, and we forgot the tools at the Ford Dealership where Sam works, so instead of calling off the surgery, another buddy, Hutch (in the foreground), brought a set of basic tools from the trunk of his car. Derek (in the background munching on Taco Hell), has direct experience in the nightmare that is installing anything worthwhile on a Coyote, as he has a 2012 Mustang GT 5.0 that has run a best of 10.878@127mph. Together, this team of three formed quite the comedic overlay.


We joked with each other, cursed at each other, and bullshat through scrapped knuckles, bruised knees, stuck bolts, and nonsensical designs. Sometimes, no matter how immature it is to an observer, this behavior is necessary to stay the course.

Near the end, we reached a moment of desperation. We had forgotten to install the top two bell housing bolts, and in a notion of defeat, we surmised that it would require unbolting pretty much everything in order to tip the engine back and free up the room—that is, unless we found someone with a wrist small enough to fit.

I consider this to be my niche, and I stepped up and did what any desperate enthusiast would do:

Yes, I climbed atop the engine and hand-threaded the bolts, torquing them down with a wrench all the while hoping that making love to the engine would somehow smooth over the awkwardness.


In all, it wasn’t until about 8pm when we first fired the car up—only to discover a huge manifold flange exhaust leak—that the inevitable curse of modification is unavoidable.

We tried fixing it with mixed results. Both headers have a plaguing leak to this very day, though that didn’t seem to affect the car’s performance at first. I drove car all week to break in the clutch and drag raced the following Saturday to quell my anxiety for results.

I was disappointed, seeing that the car could do no better than a “measly” 12.7@113.8mph. It was an improvement, but not exactly what I expected.

I made excuses and loathed in self-pity for two weeks before I eventually sucked it up and decided to get rid of the ECU’s unknown and poorly performing tune. I reached into my wallet, grabbed $550 and contacted Lund Racing for their newest nGauge tuner and datalogger.


Before today, I had been a staunch critic of mail order tunes, but the paranoia faded when I hook up the device to the OBDII port, flashed the tune, verified that it wasn’t going to destroy the car (via datalogging), and drove it.

Except that it didn’t feel any faster. Shit.

I returned to loathing in self-pity, at least until I blew the doors off of a 2010 Camaro SS on the way to work. Maybe I was wrong, and I would prove just that when I rolled up to the staging line at Edgewater Raceway on November 12th. Honestly, I didn’t expect the car to hook up with a damn in the 58 degree weather, but I hoped to see a trap speed higher than 115mph.

The first pass was a bit of a botched launch, but I still broke my personal record:


Yes, that’s a solid 12.646 at nearly 116mph. I was overjoyed, and as I bathed in excitement and relief, I decided to take the car up for another pass to prove repeatability.

That time, it launched like it was strapped to a catapult, breaking through a 1.878 60 foot time (yes, on the 235 width Sumitomo all season tires at 35psi) to run a 12.260@116.5mph.



Victory. Absolute victory.

Not only did the car perform this admirably with no extra preparation (I have a rule of running my cars exactly as they are setup for daily driving), no weight reduction, and no special fuel, but it did so in such a fashion that clearly put the Mustang in a new league of automobile.

I read a recent article of Car and Driver, and discovered that my car, a lowly Ford Mustang GT, is apparently just as fast as a brand new 2016 Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport. Yes, I no longer have to fear a factory trim Corvette. My car was now just as fast, if not faster, than the AMG Mercedes-Benz models that I used to fantisize about in high school during the early to mid 2000s.

Let that sink in.

The stars aligned and I got the last bit of fair weather just before the racing season buttoned up to a close. The headers still leak, and the car is even more brashly unrefined than it was to begin with, but hell, at least we had some fun together this year. Now with the freezing temperatures settling in and snow around the corner, I’ll put Ruby back into the garage where she belongs and trickle back into Stage 1 of the Money Pit Cycle again.

Even now, I find myself searching for ways to make it even better, but this time I’ll focus on suspension and brakes.

After all, taking off perfectly good parts and replacing them is one of the most absurdly agonizing/gratifying things to do.


Project Ruby: Update 1


(Image courtesy of Razete Photography)



February 3rd, 2016 was a bad day.

Sadly, the love affair between Ruby and I was extremely short lived.

Nine days elapsed from the time of purchase to the time that I found myself stranded on the side of a public highway, tears in my eyes and regret bubbling within my bowels.

Why the hell did I buy this stupid thing when I already had what was arguably the perfect car? In all of the time that I had spent nearly perfecting a system of yearly tradeoffs, I had defied a plan that I had stuck with for years when I sold my GTO. Oh, no, my lord, what have I done? How did I give up a nearly paid off and wonderful V8 grand touring car as well as a relatively inexpensive daily driver, all for the promise of having something new?

The downward spiral of my car fetish began on January 24, 2015.

I picked up a Hyundai Genesis 5.0 R-spec, and began to want more. When it got hit on Interstate 75, the panic ensued. The years of carrying thousands of dollars of positive equity in my automobiles was destroyed, all because I let my emotions control my automobile purchasing decisions. The accident wiped out nearly six grand worth of equity, proving to make selling what was already a niche-market car even more difficult just to break even. In a rush to purchase its follow-up vehicle, I sold the car under a clause of -$400.

Yes, I paid $400 to sell my damn Hyundai Genesis.

Then, I picked up a 2008 Infiniti G35S. It was literally the perfect car: a wonderful blend of luxury, admirable poise and balance, dashing looks, and surprising speed. Plus, the damn thing only cost $16,000 coupled with the fact that it had a mere 55,000 original miles. Yeah, it was heavenly, but this one day, I got the idea in my head that I needed another race car.

Ruby, my 2013 Ford Mustang GT 5.0, will forever be the best car that I never should’ve bought.

Those were the thoughts that tumbled through my head as I limped the car to my apartment and immediately phoned my boss—who was the only person available to give me a ride back to work. Somehow, during my hooliganism that included a joyful 75% throttle run up Bypass 4, I pushed the clutch pedal, and shifted into 3rd gear, or so I thought. When I released the clutch pedal, the car bucked violently and revved back to 6,000rpm. I freaked, pushed the clutch pedal to the floor, and attempted to abort the run by putting the shifter in neutral gate to regain my composure—only the shifter seemed jammed.


I pulled over into the emergency lane. Nothing I tried was able to free the shifter, necessitating a slow drive home in second gear. To my chagrin, I was now faced with a car that had a broken transmission and a questionable warranty. Awesome.




I’ll save my dealings with the dealership that I purchased the car from, the International Auto Outlet, for a later post. For now, I’ll just summarize by noting that my very expensive, low mileage, bright red 2013 Ford Mustang GT 5.0 was gone for two months. . .

Had it not been for my repeated intervention, it would likely still be sitting in a garage with the transmission still in pieces.




It’s such a good-looking car. I mean, c’mon, you can’t deny it.


(Image courtesy of Razete Photography)

They say that a truly good car is one that you can’t walk from without looking back, and this (like most of my other cars) hits the spot dead center. Versus the archrival Camaro, I have always claimed that this generation Mustang is victorious in the execution of every stylistic detail abound on its body. Regarding the 2013 refresh, I’ll have to say that the taillights are my favorite part.


(Courtesy of Razete Photography)


(Courtesy of Razete Photography)

My only wish it that I had the GT Premium, if only because the package comes with the better looking 19 inch wheels that fill the wheel wells more aggressively than the base 18s. Oh, and please don’t mind my shoddy plastidip job. I plan on correcting it as soon as possible.

Shortly after I got Ruby back from its long stay at the clusterf*ck of dealership doom, someone parked next to me at work wasn’t paying attention and swung their front bumper across mine. I wasn’t there to catch the act in progress, and the security cameras were too grainy to pinpoint key details about the culprit like license plate numbers.

All I know is that the car was some heap of shit Dodge Stratus Coupe that was driven by someone that is no longer employed at my facility. Bummer, but at least it didn’t actually damage the fender. Luckily, the majority of the scuffs came out with some Meguiar’s rubbing compound.



Driving Notes:

Enough with my sob story of automotive anguish.

You want to hear about the elephant in the room, well, the bright red blocky looking elephant.

In short, it’s been a trying experience, but again, what good is a racecar if it doesn’t test your patience and your boundaries? Didn’t I want a car with more emotion and “soul” versus the largely soulless Hyundai Genesis? I sometimes complain about how it is essentially a base model with zero sound deadening, a cheaply strewn dashboard, and hard plastics galore but—its still a glorious automobile.

So, perhaps I’ve finally found my match made in heaven.

I get in by swinging open a door that weighs every bit of 300 pounds. Parking on a hill worries me because I fear that the hinges might snap at any moment, but closer inspection proves that the steel gage is nearly six to seven millimeters thick, even on the folds. These hinges are truly mighty, but once you realize that shutting the door is equivalent to 10 reps on an exercise machine, it becomes imperative to make sure that all extremities are inside. Yes, I shut the door on my leg once. Yes, I cried.

Then, I fire up the engine. There are no fancy buttons, key fobs, or retina scans here. Ruby, by the blessings of the automotive gods, is endowed with what we old-timers call a key.

Oh, and mine is kind of broken (the lock button doesn’t work, and the unlock counterpart barely works).

Insert the key and crank it. The Coyote V8 is eagerly spun to life with a starter that apparently has the enthusiasm to turn over an aircraft carrier’s steam turbine. Every time it engages, I smile, knowing that there is just something different about this machine. The V8 gurgles and churns more so than my old LS1. The pulses of its firing order shower the thinly insulated cabin with vibrations that make me cringe as it settles down from the cold idle. I watch the tachometer sift below 2500rpm as the dashboard and the entire center console come alive with resonance.

For a moment, I wonder if the car will explode, but alas, it doesn’t.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is how a car is supposed to start.

It isn’t one of those cars that you turn on and forget that you’ve left the engine running. It’ll never try to coddle you and hide its purpose. Plainly put, this is a muscle car, and there is never a waking moment where you catch it lying. The car for the most part is juvenile and rough, and despite a major rebuild, the transmission still sounds as if it’s filled with gravel if lugged at low RPM. The stock shifter is, well, awful, but I was warned. Some genius in Ford’s engineering management was given the task of reducing driveline NVH, so he endowed a poor sap with the task of designing a remote mount shifter, likely with a budget of $75. The result is what is connected to the MT-82—itself known to be troublesome—resembling what is best described as a gear selection rod attached to piano cables. When it is moved, I only feel a vague resemblance of mechanical feedback, and that sensation only grows worse the more aggressively I drive the car.

The problem could be fixed with a $475 MGW shifter, but that leads to another issue.

Well, I tend to find myself entirely unable to drive a car for any period of time without messing with it. No matter what it is, or who makes it, each automobile has its own quirks and weaknesses. As a self-declared enthusiast, my predilection to modify whatever I’m driving eats away at my soul little by little until it caves. I have a lot on my plate right now, so I’m inclined to say no to modifications due to their obvious monetary burden, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to work something in the plans.

Add it to my wishlist:

MGW pic


Performance Numbers:


So, I’ll start this by admitting my partial defeat. See, Mustangs are usually very happy being piloted in straight lines and Ruby is no different. Unfortunately for both of us, the clutch hydraulic system seemed to disagree.

Since my last semester of college chewed up every chilly Friday night of this year’s racing season, I was finally able to worm my way to the drag strip on June 3rd, where I was pleasantly greeted with balmy humidity and 94 degree track temperatures. Noting that I had been having issues with the Mustang’s clutch at high rpm, I had made a few notes on how to contend with these issues while still managing to achieve my goal of a high 12-second 1/4 mile time. According to many sources, this should’ve been perfectly doable with the mostly stock setup.

Oh yeah, getting the transmission repaired under warranty required hard negotiations with International Auto Outlet to remove the majority of performance-enhancing parts like the BBK long tube headers, BBK catless x-pipe, tune, etc. The car is now considerably slower than it was when I bought it, but this is all speaking in relative terms. In short, the engine is still an absolute charm.

However, it enjoys to rev, and because of its relatively low displacement, it needs to rev in order to make its power. With the redline set firmly at 7,000rpm, it is notable of this engine to produce the bulk of its peak power figures in the upper reaches of the rev band. It sounds absolutely glorious up this high, but there’s this one nagging problem where the clutch pedal decides to go on strike, thus setting me up for a chapter of public Mustang embarrassment.

No, I didn’t swerve violently and wreck into a crowd or another automobile, but I did in fact manage to miss shifts in 3 out of the 5 runs that I performed that night. To make matters worse, it seemed at is if every joule of heat that the pressure plate absorbed worsened its ability to even function in a basic sense. I quickly learned that launch rpm was limited to 1,500, or basically what you use for a typical stop light cruise. After bogging the engine, I was forced to wait for it to rev to 6,200rpm (800 short of the redline) before slowly and very carefully selecting the next gear. Considering that the Coyote doesn’t make peak power until 6,500rpm, quite a bit of power was left on the table through each consecutive shift.


In short, the best run was a 13.215@110.9mph.

For comparison sake, Machscribe, like most other automotive journalists, uses Density Altitude correction as a factor for acceleration times. Considering that every car cannot be tested in the same environment, this calculation is important for determining a baseline.


DA corrected 2

This leaves us with a relatively comfortable DA corrected time of:


I can live with that, and I’m especially impressed considering the shifting handicap. Now, I have started my research into my line of modifications designed to solve the problem. I started with an American Muscle braided stainless steel clutch hydraulic line, and I will install it next weekend (hopefully) to see if it clears up some of the slop. Also, per the recommendation of my fellow enthusiasts, I will also drop some legitimate DOT4 fluid into the reservoir.



It seems like this warning light illuminates every three days.

Right now, I’m getting a consistent average of:

18.44 mpg

Like I said in the initial review, it isn’t a Prius, though my stance on the 16 gallon gas tank being too damn small still holds firmly.



At times, I’m torn on what to think about this thing. I notice how impractical, loud, and raucous it is and I pause to reflect on its purpose. Honestly, this is the only way to rationalize what is widely known to be an irrational car.

A Ford Mustang GT 5.0 isn’t the car that makes sense to buy. As originally penned from A Faster Horse, I will definitely agree with the following statement:

You don’t make a rational decision to buy a Mustang, because it is not a rational car. It is, however, a car designed to pry at the heart, thus making the purchase of one based purely on human emotion.


I love it. Through its quirks, and its crudeness, beneath the bodacious curves lies a car that has a soul begging to be driven. I feel as if the car wants me to explore it, to heal it, and to enhance it. Considering that this is just the dawn of a burgeoning long term relationship, I think Ruby and I will have plenty of time to become more acquainted.

Until next time, she’ll sit quietly and soundly in her garage.




The Driver Mod Review: 2013 Ford Mustang GT


Okay, I’ll admit it: I go through too many cars.

Though I’ll have to say that my infatuation with the automobile is long-lived and a permanent part of my psyche, I’d have to say that this recent purchase was a little impulsive. I have always had a “thing” for V8 muscle cars, likely due to their obvious endowments of power and glorious rumbling noises, but since the departure with my beloved GTO, my soul has longed for another.

The Genesis, despite its other niceties, simply didn’t measure up. Aside from its expensive looks, feel, and posture, it never stung will with my soul. Obviously, my best bet would’ve been keeping the GTO (which was nearly paid off by then) and driving my old Mazda on a daily basis. Instead, I wanted something new. I wanted something that I wouldn’t spend my money on. I tried to kick the habit, my habit of consistently wanting more from my automobiles than what they are capable of as factory vehicles.


It didn’t last. Though the Genesis went through its trials and tribulations at the hands of an incompetent driver that rear ended it and another car, it served well enough. It was my “top of the world” car. The one that made me feel rich and successful, but then I determined that excess wasn’t needed for this. Touching base with my family and my life, I knew that appearances only went so far. I sold the car and picked up the Infiniti, and though this otherwise excellent automobile served extremely well during its brief stay, I once again dumped it for another affair.

This one, and we’ll call her “Ruby” for the sake of reference, is here to stay for a while. I have run out of “free passes” of equity and I wanted another race car so bad, that I saw one and bought it. This car represents the involuntary end of the struggle. Unless I want to make a bad financial decision, this car is it.

I mean, hot damn, I’ve always been a fan of these things. Back in 2013, I posted this on Facebook:


No, I wasn’t lying. I have always loved these cars. Though I drool and fawn over high-priced exotics like any other schoolboy, the adult version of me has always sought out more attainable rides. Considering that we’re living in the golden age of the automobile, I figured the high-powered muscle cars of the early 2010s were a good choice once their prices dropped from the 30k range. They took everything my GTO represented and simply expanded upon it. So, for a while, my dream car was a 2013 Mustang GT 5.0 with the track pack.

In fact, I actually drove to Dayton with my wife to look at one exactly like the one pictured above, but the dealership was filled with assholes. I have great credit, and my income is definitely sufficient, but that appears to not be enough to deter nonsense. Doing the stealership double-talk isn’t productive, so I drove back to Cincinnati and bought a red one.

I stumbled upon this 2013 example via the internet. I talked to the dealership and negotiated a deal by the following afternoon. Yes, I traded in a car. Yes, I know that is frowned upon. Yes, it is the last time that I ever do that. I drove home in a red Mustang GT 5.0.

Well, a very red one.


But, oh my, isn’t she pretty?



The haunches are pulled tightly into molded creases that exude power. Though the belt line is high, visibility doesn’t suffer nearly as much as its Camaro and Challenger rivals. Luckily, the gigantic A-pillar mirrors include Ford’s nifty blind spot mini-mirrors. If all else fails and the area ahead is clear, just drop to fourth gear and hammer the gas pedal. Within moments, the Mustang is front of anything that was beside it. The base wheels are a bit tiny, and these plastidipped examples will definitely receive a legitimate powdercoat of paint.


To me, I prefer the exterior updates of the 2013 versus the prior version. Mostly, the front a rear views come to mind with the refresh, where standard HID headlamps were applied as well as LED running lamps. The taillights look amazing, and the 1-2-3 sequential turn signal thing is pretty cool, too.


The interior belies nothing at all to write home about. My particular car is a base GT, with little more than basic equipment like cruise control, power windows and locks, as well as the Gen1 Ford SYNC system. The seats are cloth, but they are surprisingly comfortable. I wish I had taken more photos of it for the sake of this post, but I was too enraptured with the exterior.

Who cares about the interior, anyways? This is a racecar.



Yeah, the engine. That’s the primary focus in this section. Everything else kind of wraps around it.

Overall refinement is lacking.

The first thing that hit was me was how crude this car felt versus my previous two.

I hear all kinds of whines, bumps, shivers, and gears. It sounds like a proper basic trim racecar. The engine, a lusty and extremely powerful 5.0 liter 32 valve V8, seems to run with extremely deliberate cylinder pulses at idle and at low load. I mean, seriously, it seems like you can hear and feel the individual cylinders firing in their concert. The Getrag MT-82 is, well, more fitting for a delivery truck than it is in this car. I had gotten a few recommendations for the automatic version, but my compulsive car buying itch wouldn’t allow for any type of patience required to find one. The transmission is clunky and loud, but the gears seem well-matched to the engine’s powerband. Still, I wonder why Ford didn’t use the tried and true Tremec T56 or TR6060.

I’ll swap one in in the near future.

Anyway, this car, with a reasonable 41,000 miles on the odometer, runs like a rocket ship. Paying mind that the tires are the Pirelli PZero Nero A/S that originally came with the car 2 years ago when it was manufactured, I must say that it is extremely difficult to find sufficient traction on the cold and salted pavement. First and second gears are unusable above 50% throttle. Third spins for a few moments until the poor old tires finally get a bite. The clutch provides a leg workout each time it is disengaged, oh, and the pedal sticks to the floor at high RPM.


Still, aside from the traction issues, this car is clearly the fastest car that I’ve ever owned. Unlike my old LS1, the Coyote doesn’t necessarily overwhelm me with low end power due to the obvious displacement difference, but it more than makes up for this with the prominence of its top end. Though I had sworn to the LS series of GM single-cam small blocks, this Ford Coyote engine has made me as giddy as a joyful child with one kick of the tail end and one hearty shove in the back. Oh, and I’m aware that nearly every automotive journalist talks about how a car pulls, but any doubters should be signed up to witness this thing.

I knew the motors were strong, but not this strong. Also, with the plethora of aftermarket modifications, I know that the fun has only begun. Point blank, in terms of straight line performance, I’m sure that this car is more than capable of a quarter mile in the 12 second range. We’ll see when the track opens.

Curvy road evaluation suffered from the same issues that the Genesis did last year. The salted roads and cold pavement play hell on worn out tires, though I can say the body roll is kept surprisingly in check for such a crude brute of a car. The steering (at least after we fixed it at the Ford dealership) is also surprisingly and excellently weighted and communicative. I knew this was when Ford began expressing its ability to make its vehicles handle with poise, but experiencing such an adept control of body motion in a base trim GT was satisfying. Keep in mind that this was purely 6 to 7/10ths driving, mostly because Ruby grew frightening when I pushed her to 8/10ths. Suddenly, the car devolved into terminal and alarmingly severe understeer.

Once I had crossed the double yellow line, AdvanceTrac engaged and attempted to save the day. Honestly, I believe it was more of my driving skill that righted the vehicle course more than the computer, and speaking of the nanny, it’s largely absent. I know that the car encourages the art of hooliganism, but this stability control system is scarily lenient. The driver can practically spin the car 90 degrees before any intervention occurs, and because of this, I have refrained from being an idiot. Fortunately, this allows for rather aggressive driving with the system still on. Usually, I complain about the over-intrusiveness of such systems (like in the Genesis), but this time I’ll verge on saying the opposite.

Suspension wise, it rides like a truck, probably because the rear axle is very similar to one from a truck. Before you dismiss this as a ridiculous complaint, I’ll go ahead and say it:

This ain’t no damn Lexus.

Brake pedal feel and performance is quite well despite the absence of the Brembo package. Though I would’ve gladly taken one with the upgraded wheels and brakes, I’m definitely sure that this car will more than suffice.


Yeah, it’s not a Prius either. Over the week that I’ve owned the car, I’ve driven it at least 1,100 miles while managing to average roughly 18.0 mpg. This isn’t anything spectacular, but hell, it’s a damn V8 muscle car. Considering the fact that I usually baby it and meander through the streets, I won’t complain too much.

If anything, I just hate that the damn gas tank is so small. 16 gallons is far short of what is needed for a decent cruising range. I filled the car up twice in 48 hours. Oh, and by Sunday night, I used another 1/4 tank.


So far, this car is a hoot. I enjoy the attention it receives (well, not from the police), and the way that it makes me giggle with joy in second gear when it kicks sideways. I never thought of myself as a Mustang owner, but this generation was the one that finally did me in. Considering that this car will sticking around for a while, you’ll read more and more updates regarding my travels and events as time progresses.

All hail the racecar.







Vehicle Details:

Vehicle Class: Automobile
Style: 2-door coupe, grand touring
Manufacturer: Ford Motor Company
Designation: Mustang
Sub-designation: GT 5.0 Base
Length: 188.5in
Width: 73.9in
Height: 55.8in
Wheelbase: 107.1in
Curb Weight: ~3,580lbs
Type: Continuously Reciprocating Internal Combustion
Layout: V8
Valvetrain: DOHC, Dual & Continuous Cam Phasing (TiVCT)
Displacement: (bore x stroke): 4,951 cc (302 cu in) (92.202 mm × 92.71 mm (3.63 in × 3.65 in))
Compression Ratio: 11.0:1
Fuel Delivery: Electronic Gasoline Port Injection
Horsepower: 420** hp @ 6,500rpm (313 kW)   **in stock trim
Torque: 390 ft·lbf @ 4,250rpm (528 N·m)    **in stock trim
Type: Constant mesh, single-clutch
Control: Manual, human Control
Input: Single plate dry clutch
Gears: 6 forward, 1 reverse
Driven Wheels: Rear
Differential Type: Helical Limited Slip
Gear Ratio(s):
First Gear (:1) : 3.66
Second Gear (:1) : 2.43
Third Gear (:1) : 1.69
Fourth Gear (:1) : 1.32
Fifth Gear (:1) : 1.00
Sixth Gear (:1) : 0.65

Final Drive Axle (:1) : 3.31

Measured Performance:

Top Speed
145mph (speed governor)

Undetermined due to road conditions.


DM Review: 2012 Hyundai Genesis 5.0 R-Spec


The Driver Mod Review: Episode One



Written: 14 February 2015             Author: Bryan Williams



Luxury barges have always been an underlying piece of my automotive desire. Sure, wild sports cars, and purist machines will never fade from my psyche, but there is a particular poise wrapped within a high-performance luxury car that seals the deal. Life has been a continually evolving process for me, and though my love for cars has never abated, the income required to own truly nice vehicles was the number one limiting factor keeping me out of this automotive category.

The same can be said for vehicle manufacturers, as luxury cars require significant investments in engineering and development in order to be taken seriously in the market. Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and Audi had their rankings in this arena for the better part of one century, but the newcomers from Toyota and their Lexus division proved that with significant ambition and determination, even the “underdogs” can push through the paradigm to scare the bigger children on the block. Sure, Honda and Nissan have played their hands with Acura and Infiniti, but those brands seem to lack coherent goals and design capstones to truly push them forward. To me, and many others, they are considered to be “secondary” luxury brands, often opting to simply rebrand their economy cars with some softer leather seats and fancy headlights before calling it a day. I can cut Nissan/Infiniti some slack here, where they have largely focused on platforms and drivetrains entirely different from their Nissan counterparts, but not Honda. Now in their darkest days, I find it sad that a loaded Honda Accord represents a much better luxury value than any of their Accord-based “luxury” vehicles (this being said without ranting about their hideousness).

Sometimes, the risk taken to expand into the luxury arena doesn’t work out as planned, yet and still, the newest player is not from Japan, but from South Korea. Yeah, they’ve tried a few lackluster attempts, with the old XG300/350, first generation Azera, and touted up old Sonatas, but the Genesis represented a new leap for the company. Out of nowhere, they had developed their own in-house V8 dubbed the “Tau” engine (a personal favorite name for me), which they installed inside of a new in-house sedan with rear-wheel-drive.

My mind was blown. I figured, that despite all they had done within one decade of advancement (has anyone seen a late 90s Elantra?), it would still be a junk heap and the brunt of everyone’s automotive jokes, but that wasn’t the case. Soon, I discovered that everyone would be proven wrong. When they were released in 2008, they were met with widespread acclaim. Being a huge fan of automotive editorials, I signed on to read every review. To my surprise, the quality was top-notch, the overall refinement was equal, and the value point (which Hyundai had always sold itself on) was undeniable. It won the 2009 North American Car of the Year award, and even the pretentious assholes at Consumer Reports ranked it as a “Top Rated Upscale Sedan” in the same year. This only covers two out of the many allocates given to the car, but the reception was overwhelmingly positive.

So it was an overall win, though the Genesis wasn’t without flaws.

Interestingly, though Hyundai had spent $533 million dollars to develop the car, it has—to this day—been steadfastly resistant to create an actual luxury brand. While it may not have been too much of a problem in its home market, in the United States, image caches are nearly as valuable as the car itself, and telling your friends that you drove a $50,000 Hyundai would queue quizzical stares—at least until you showed them the car, or let them drive it. Perhaps it was an element designed to attack Hyundai’s image qualities on two fronts, both in capability and in quality—so if that was really the case, it has largely worked. I honestly figured that they wouldn’t be able to sell these things, but I was wrong. There were apparently thousands of people who thought they represented a great value, and when the dealerships presented the option of getting the italicized ‘H’ replaced with the Genesis wing emblem, it made the proposition even more attractive. Car and Driver even tested one and piled 100,000 miles on it as a quality test—and it didn’t burn to the ground. The doors never fell off. The engine never threw its innards through the block.

Everyone was shocked.

Then, an onrush of enthusiasts like me took over the onslaught. Though it was marketed as a “luxury sports sedan,” many chided the car for not living up to the “sport” side of the offer, with its cushy and floaty suspension and lifeless steering. What made for a wonderful highway ride, did little justice on a curvy road. It was a clear shot across the bow of the Lexus frigate, and obviously not meant to scare anyone at BMW. Not a bad thing, mind you—since 95% of drivers never exceed the speed limit, especially on a curvy road—but still somewhat annoying for the 5% that considered the car’s value, yet wanted some performance to back it.

Hyundai figured 375hp 4.6 liter V8 had more than enough power for sporting intentions, but apparently the complaints of floatiness didn’t fall on deaf ears, as their response came in 2011 with the R-Spec. Marketed as a 2012 model, the R-Spec bowed in as a loaded top-notch Genesis with some suspension tuning, visual updates, ‘R-Spec’ badges, bigger wheels, and—most importantly, a bigger V8 that was good for 429bhp. So, I patiently awaited the reviews, and I read about how the fixes largely cleaned up the car’s faults, but it was no track star. Many felt that ‘R-Spec’ badging may have been too overzealous, as a simple sport package would’ve been more viable in such a situation.

Still, at $49,500 on the market, it represented an appalling value when cross shopping luxury sedans with comparable powertrains, layouts, and space. Hyundai shrugged its shoulders and kept selling cars. I quite frankly didn’t blame them, though I still largely dismissed the car as being a ‘good try’ instead of a true success.

Then, I did the unthinkable.

I bought one.



Okay, so it isn’t new, but it’s pretty close.

It was a one-owner, no accidents vehicle, meticulously serviced and maintained. My friend was actually looking at a Cadillac CTS-V (out of my price range) when I happened to notice the Hyundai parked next to it. Curiously, I drove the car, and I fell in love with it. As I covered before, luxury barges had chiseled a soft spot into my automotive soul, but I refused to contend with one unless it had enough to keep me satisfied as an only car. At the time, I had two vehicles, my beloved ‘racecar’ Pontiac GTO 5.7, and my ‘daily driver’ Mazda 6 V6. I stood firmly on the grounds of keeping both cars unless I could find a vehicle capable of legitimately replacing both.

And there it was, sitting in front of me, its Black Noir Pearl paint glistening in the winter sunset on a Sunday evening. I drove it and liked the sweet, but admittedly short experience, and sent a picture of the car to my wife. She actually liked it. Then I sat at home and figured out that I could actually afford the car, as its monthly payments wound up being equivalent to that of my two cars combined. Here, I found myself stuck in the purgatory of cardom—the point where both my primary and secondary vehicles were fighting old age, and losing, thus placing lasting holes into my pockets. I wasn’t rich. I was a dude simply trying to work his way through college while making his own living. I loved my racecar GTO so much that I wrote a series of books in which it starred as a main plot device—but I didn’t have the means and willpower to keep bolting replacement parts to the damn thing. My Mazda was a decent ride itself, but possessed the performance of a late model 4-cylinder Accord, with the fuel economy of the decade-old V6 that it was.

Negotiations ensued.

A ricer stopped me and offered to buy my car, ultimately resulting in hours of anxiety, lost sleep, and a teary-eyed departure from the dealership, where I, wait for it—drove home (well, actually to a terribly sad funeral) in a shiny black Hyundai.



It felt like I had sold my soul. There, in the mirror, was the last glimpse of my pride and joy, my GTO, the car that I promised to never sell. Most people wouldn’t understand such heartache, but it was definitely a trying moment for me. It was time to face the facts that things weren’t going to get any cheaper, and with repair bills piling up and my lust for expensive modifications continuously floundering my project budget, I reached a point where change was necessary.

I needed a car that could do everything that I wanted. It needed to be smooth. It needed to look good. It needed to be as powerful, or more powerful than the GTO, yet simultaneously offer similar fuel economy to the Mazda. In theory, such a vehicle would incur higher basic operating costs, but at the same time, I’d be less inclined to touch it, so I could focus on other things like saving for a house and travelling.

Options were slim, but the surprise came from Hyundai Motor Company.

Who would’ve guessed?



I’m a huge fan of understated cars, mostly because they tend to be more quietly appealing to the eyes and less offensive in most cases. Judging by my history of rather unassuming vehicles, I’d say that this has been a running trend since the beginning of time. I’ve always liked tasteful cars, ‘Q-ships’ as they call them, or ‘sleepers’ in ricer speak.

In regards to the Hyundai, the trend definitely continues. Looking at the car arouses no clear emotion of wondrous adoration, but at the same time, you don’t hate it. It’s not the sharpest looking car on the road, but then again, it’s pleasantly handsome. Usually, Hyundai has a bad habit of ‘overstyling’ their cars (cough, cough, Veloster and Genesis Coupe), but this one seems to be one of their most coherent designs. It looks like an actual luxury car and less of an imitation of such claims, with its cleanly applied chrome accents (I’m usually not a fan of chrome) that line the bottom of the doors, and accentuate the trunk and rear bumper—though the later parts represent a broken line of continuity with each other. The upgraded LED tail lamps are nothing too special, but they do the job, all while looking better than the previous units. The headlamps acquired their own, quite neat looking, blue LED wave construct spanning the width of the lens—giving it an appearance akin to blowing in the wind.



A slightly different front bumper and more aggressive side skirts further compliment the package, and though the majority of these items were included on all Genesis models in the 2012 model year, I feel as if the enhancements look best with the R-Spec’s 19 inch wheels. Lesser models do with 17 and 18 inch versions that look rather out of place with the rest of the body, not too much unlike the situation with Lexus’ own LS series. Interestingly, there is no front badge on the car, as if Hyundai wanted people to look and beg for an answer. On a recent trip to Chicago, we proved this theory when an errant BMW X5 driver went out of his way to repeatedly check for a hood badge. Reverse psychology, anyone? The trunk contends with a wing emblem, and no, it looks nothing like a Chrysler equivalent, though many are quick to make the comparison (many manufacturers use similar badges: Mini, Bentley, Chrysler, etc.). The exhaust outlets are integrated into the bumper with their own chrome rings.

I’m not sure how I feel about them.

Overall, it brings the impression of expensive modesty—something that I don’t find to be a bad quality.


The interior follows the same approach, with soft, lush smelling leather abound at your fingertips. Stylistically, it’s rather bland, but again tasteful all at once. Not wanting to overdo it with tacky fake wood (thank god), Hyundai instead gifted the car with a more subtle treatment of blackened plastic panels with glossy overlays. Despite sounding rather cheap, go take a look at the standard wood grain in a Lexus GS350 and tell me that it doesn’t share a resemblance to the fiberboard furniture available for $30 at Walmart. The dashboard is covered in one piece of leather strewn over the expanse, and I quite like it.


The vents feel high quality, and so do their controllers. Aluminum panels pick up the remaining slack of accentuation, surrounding the ubiquitous in-dash infotainment screen, shifter, disc insert, and control console. Only the big panel on the center console brings questionable critiquing, while the rest more than does the job.







One of my friends expressed his distaste for the simplicity of the instrument panel—it is flanked purely by white LEDs—but I digress that it is simple, functional, and of sufficient quality to live up to its promises. In my opinion, basic luxury car buyers tend to want to know basic things like how fast their vehicle is traveling, how fast its engine is spinning, how much gasoline they have left, and whether or not their engine is overheating. They don’t need ricer graphics with animated cartoons running around on LCD screens—but a subtle ‘R-Spec’ badge wouldn’t have been out of place.


Oh well.

Perhaps I have a bad bias considering my relative inexperience with luxury cars, but after coming from a 2006 Mazda, and a 2004 GTO, the inside of this car feels like I’m on another planet. This a huge win in my book, as it easily feels like I’m inside of what was originally a $50,000 vehicle. Though I haven’t spent much time with it, my biggest gripe is the stupid infotainment system. It’s honestly pretty intuitive for first-time users, but I won’t touch the navigation system with a ten-foot pole. Without the screen having touch functionality, I’m forced to use the twirling knob on the control panel, making address entries far more tedious than simply typing them into my phone. Google Maps wins this battle by far, but I sometimes put the GPS map on the screen—because luxury car.

The trunk is huge, which is perfect for my future road trip to Florida with my wife later this year. (Update: I wound up not taking the Genesis on this trip due to the fact that it had been crashed into and the vehicle wasn’t fixed in time)


Here is where the difficult part of the equation arises. Have they done a good job with buttoning down the cloud-like sensations present in its non-tuned stable mates? Well, in short, and despite you not wanting to hear this—I don’t know. Why is that? Well, it’s largely to do with the current weather conditions among other factors. Lately, in southern Ohio’s late January, we’ve had a good amount of ‘nuisance’ precipitation, requiring hundreds of tons of salt treatment to be dumped onto the roads. The first noticeable thing about the car is that its OEM Continental tires aren’t privy to these conditions, as there seems to be more than adequate body control, yet very little real traction on the road surfaces.

The suspension is largely complaint, but it can get a bit grimy on certain patchy stretches of road that a Lexus or, say, a Bentley might dispose of without undue drama. With this said, the ride it still comfortably pleasant, with long highway stretches and around-town cruises happening with the gleeful gloom of tranquility—a trait that is both awesome and dreadful all at once. It’s part of the underlying magnificence of a true luxury sedan, the hidden factoid that reveals the ability to make your drive as quiet, smooth, and lifeless as possible. Leaving work after a stressful day has never been better, yet corner carving might be reserved to duties for a future racecar. Steering is accurate, though precariously weighted and numb in typical luxury barge fashion. It isn’t at all bad, but at the same time, it isn’t at all good.

Though I do hope that this opinion abates itself once road conditions improve, I will say that 6/10ths driving is excellent, but anything beyond 8/10ths results in a flashing ESC light, evidence of a nagging and overzealous stability control system that cannot be fully disabled, no matter how long the button is held. Sharp steering inputs are met with resolute understeer—and a blinking ESC light. Sharp throttle inputs at speeds lower than 60mph are met with wheel spin, tail-wagging, and you guessed it—a blinking ESC light. Sometimes, the intervention is so severe that it snaps your head with a blatant protest. Annoying. The Continental ContiSport Contact tires appear to be original equipment pieces with about 45% of their life left, making overall judgment purely subjective (Note: these have since been upgraded to Yokohama Advan Sport A/S tires) . Now that we’ve had a share of rather paralyzing winter storms, I’ve determined that this big sedan is largely useless in any major snowfall above two inches without winter tires.

(RECENT UPDATE: The handling of the car improved as the weather warmed up. A heart-pounding romp through Kentucky back roads revealed a car that overall wasn’t too horrible at dancing. The size and mass of the car are blatantly obvious however in anything over 8/10ths, though understeer fails to significantly register until the very upper edge of the limit. I wish that the steering ratio was a bit shorter, but that would make the sedan twitchy on the highway. Body control is still a little flabby at times, but again, this is a luxury sedan, not a BMW M5.)

So, with traction issues precluding any type of low speed acceleration measurements, it is relevant to point out that the V8 is awfully potent at highway speeds—and above. After growing used to the expansive midrange behavior pushrod V8 engines from General Motors exhibit, feeling the Hyundai’s engine pull strongly to the redline was something precariously absent in my old LS1. Either way, the technologically advanced DOHC V8 is absolutely velvety and a wrought joy to redline. It isn’t without recourse, however, as some oddities arise with enough experience. Cars with expansive electronic nannies are a new realm for me as an owner, but something feels a little off at times with this car. It’s as if there is some type of torque management programmed into the engine control logic, sometimes unleashing more power than it does at other times.


The biggest letdown is the eight-speed transmission. Despite having a hogwash ‘adaptive logic’ programmed into its brain, the unit is rather sluggish and dimwitted—especially if caught in ‘dead zones’ of the gearing. During passing situations, it wastes time by outright refusing to select lower gears until the last minute, a point where the car startlingly shoots forward, prompting wheel spin and the blinking ESC light all the while. Manual mode is rather slow, but it at least attempts to rev-match downshifts, though upshift prompts are delayed. It shifts automatically at redline, anyway, so any type of high speed joy riding could still be left to the computer. Unless furious back road rummaging is on the palate, leaving the transmission in ‘D’ is adequate. Sadly, there are no paddle shifters present. Eight gears are too many, might I also add, though a few select companies disagree and are actively preparing 10-speed units. Maybe if it chose gears better, my opinion would be different.

(RECENT UPDATE: In general, my personal experience with the car over the past few months has resulted in a ‘mixed-bag’ opinion on the drivetrain. At times, usually in cold temperatures, the transmission shifts with a jerk that can be clearly felt by a picky driver. It is usually prominent on the 1-2 shift, but still irregular enough to point to a mechanical mishap. Sometimes, downshifts are slurred and abrupt, but the unit never slips. It’s as if a bad calibration was programmed from the factory and has yet to be fully rectified—and the issue was so pronounced that the car was taken to a dealership and reflashed under warranty, largely reducing the frequency of the problem. Subsequent visits resulted in no concrete diagnosis, as the sloppy shifting is so irregular that the car put on its best act when in front of the service technician. The engine is smooth enough for its designation, but there are some slight hiccups that I feel Hyundai needs to address on a car in this class. Perhaps it has with the newest generation, but I have yet to drive one. Full throttle shifts in 1st and 2nd gears never touch the redline for some odd reason, meaning that the engine never makes 429bhp until the shift to 4th gear at 90mph. The torque limiter in 1st gear makes the car feel like it’s running at 3/4 throttle instead of 100%. Annoying.)

Excellent news comes from the braking system, where large 13.6inch diameter front rotors are clamped by a pair of 4-piston upsized rotors. Braking power is more than sufficient despite some muddiness in the first inch or so of pedal travel, and they remain fade free even during some slightly illegal situations where the car was required to slow down from 120mph—or more. An interesting note includes some apparent assistance from the transmission when slowing to stop, as the driver frequently experiences more braking force than requested—though it could be something computer related, for all I know.



This topic is a mixed bag. With extensive cold start warm ups in Cincinnati’s -4 degree weather, fuel economy averages haven’t necessarily been pretty. Before the barrage of late winter snow was dumped upon us, however, there were three fill ups where the car happily average 19-20mpg in mixed driving. A highway trip to Chicago and back with four souls and their luggage on board  resulted in an average 22.8mpg. I expect to see a slightly better result during the two person trip to Florida, though this is heavily dependent on how many STIs or BMW M3s I see on the way down and back. To me, this is something that has to be largely forgiven, as this car is—after all—a large and lavish luxury sedan with a 5.0 liter V8 under the hood.

It’ll never be a Prius, but I will admit that the result seen thus far aren’t bad by any means. It’s a hair better than my old GTO, which itself would struggle to maintain an 18.0mpg average unless I was frugal with the throttle—a very difficult task considering the glorious noises made by its old-fashioned engine. Though Hyundai notes that the engine can run happily enough on 87 octane fuel, I’ve never tortured it enough to actually fill it with regular. It only drinks 93, because it’s a luxury car, and I figure that treating it that way will be beneficial in the long run.

(RECENT UPDATE: As the weather warmed and the long engine warm ups ceased, fuel economy leveled out at 19.7mpg mixed. During back road romps in the hills of NKY, I saw the number drop as low as 12.8. Yikes.)



To me, the Genesis kind of feels like a mixed bag of delicious treats. It is a car that wholeheartedly gives a stellar effort to coddle and impress, and while the car largely succeeds in this area, there are a few let downs that are hard to get past. Perhaps my gearhead bias has clouded my judgement, but I feel as if the “R-Spec” nomenclature should’ve added more pizzazz to the vehicle than it does. It’s one of my biggest frustrations when it comes to automobiles—to see A-grade engineering and design get spoiled by a few knotty details—but I still like the car overall.

Sure, the transmission is sluggish and dimwitted when it comes to downshifting for passing maneuvers, but the majority of the owners don’t mind that. Would it help the car to give it some more life? Hell yes.

Sure, the engine is never allowed to produce full power until third gear, where it really begins to sing, but the majority of the owners don’t do standing start drag races. Would it help the car to unlock its full potential? Hell yes. Considering that it put down a 13.58 quarter mile with all of the electronic nannies still restricting it, I’d stretch to say that the car could at least do a high 12 second time if it was allowed to.

Sure, the suspension could be a little fancier, but sometimes simplicity reigns. In this case, it’s largely true. There is no overly complex electro-hydraulic or pneumatic system to worry about failing.

The car fulfills its purpose as a luxury grand touring sedan, with plenty of power from a smooth V8, loads of space, a handsome design, and enough curb appeal to pique the interests of bystanders that are curious to know exactly what it is.

Too bad when you respond, you have to casually admit: “It’s a Hyundai.”

They usually respond with: “Oh.”

Bummer. At least you feel rich while driving it.







Vehicle Details:

Vehicle Class: Automobile
Style: 4-door saloon
Manufacturer: Hyundai Motor Company
Designation: Genesis
Sub-designation: 5.0 R-Spec
Length: 196.3in
Width: 74.4in
Height: 58.3in
Wheelbase: 115.6in
Curb Weight: 4,334lbs
Type: Continuously Reciprocating Internal Combustion
Layout: V8
Valvetrain: DOHC, Dual-Continuous variable valve timing (D-CVVT)
Displacement: (bore x stroke): 5,038 cc (307.4 cu in) (96.0 mm × 87.0 mm (3.78 in × 3.43 in))
Compression Ratio: 11.5:1
Fuel Delivery: Electronic Gasoline Direct Injection
Horsepower: 429 hp @ 6,400rpm (320 kW)
Torque: 376 ft·lbf @ 5,000rpm (510 N·m)
Type: Planetary Gear, multi-clutch
Control: Automatic, Electronic Control
Input: Automatically-locked torque convertor
Gears: 8 forward, 1 reverse
Driven Wheels: Rear
Differential Type: Helical Limited Slip
Gear Ratio(s):
First Gear (:1) : 3.80
Second Gear (:1) : 2.47
Third Gear (:1) : 1.61
Fourth Gear (:1) : 1.18
Fifth Gear (:1) : 1.00
Sixth Gear (:1) : 0.83
Seventh Gear (:1) : 0.65
Eighth Gear (:1) : 0.57
Final Drive Axle (:1) : 3.54

Measured Performance:

Top Speed
150mph (speed governor)



Time to Distance (seconds):

60ft – 2.13 
330ft – 5.85
660ft (1/8 mile) – 8.87 @ 82mph
1000ft – 11.41
1320ft (1/4 mile) – 13.58 @ 106mph
Time to Speed (seconds)
30mph – 1.8
40mph – 2.7
50mph – 3.7
60mph – 4.8
70mph – 6.2
80mph – 7.9
90mph -  9.7
100mph – 11.8





/drivermod episode 1