Category archive: Uncategorized

April 25th, 2017 at 02:33am by Bryan

Rigmarole: Unicorns of Nürburgring

The Numbers

Lets face it: performance metrics make the headlines.

How awesome could a car be if we don’t have proof of its awesomeness? It’s one of the key drivers of automotive passion, the fact that your favorite car can do something else slightly better than someone else’s.

So, Car A is one-tenth faster 0-60 MPH than Car B. In reality, this could equate to less than a half car-length between two competing vehicles duking it out—hardly a measurable difference until you speak with the guy that drove the car that won. Yeah, we’re guilty of it, especially when it comes to “magazine racing” where we pull up editorial test statistics and root our arguments in these sometimes hardly repeatable data points.

Car & Driver, one of my personal favorite editorials at least has a sanctioned and well-documented test procedure that they subject every automobile to. Motor Trend, and plenty of others have their own versions as well. This is probably one of the most scientific ways that performance metrics can be extrapolated, yet here we are in an age where manufacturers have turned to lap time posts for bragging rights.

What a tough time to be a car fanatic.

The Problem

Alas, we reach the pivotal issue of the problem this creates:

No matter how awesome these vehicles truly are, we have a duty to uphold their creators to the auspices of truth and honesty. It is up to us to make sure that the performance quotes are real and independently verified, as we would never be satisfied with a refrigerator that barely kept the food cold. So, here I am, basking in the everlasting knowledge of the internet, when I stumble upon another breaking news headline divulging that a Honda Civic broke the front-wheel-drive lap record at the Nürburgring with a claimed time of 7:43.8.

I mean, color me impressed that this abysmally-styled, wrong-wheel-drive, teenager wet dream powerhouse proved to be well-adept at tackling the most grueling track on Earth, but I can’t help to call BS on the claim when I think in scales of advertising ethics. The lap time was apparently achieved using a “pre-production model” Honda apparently said “was technically representative of production specification.”

What?

The story sounds kind of familiar. You remember the crazy Lamborghini Huracan Performante fiasco, right? In early March, they posted up a similarly wild claim that they took a heavily reworked Huracan, added some trick active aero bits, and demolished the “production car” lap record at the ‘Ring. Skeptics quickly pounced on the jumpy video footage and some of the oddities in the displayed speedometer over the breadth of the course, however Lamborghini finally posted “data” to “support” their claim (as if that would make it all go away).

Again, we wound up right where we are with the Civic Type-R, staring into the abyss in awe at a production vehicle that isn’t technically a production vehicle, blasting through records that were in serious race car territory just one decade ago. Once we get past the piles of fanboys and endless pictures of the fabled machine leaning heavily on its haunches whilst draped in camo, we start to uncover little tidbits that dial up the suspicion.

Wait, what was that? It had “semi-slick,” but still “street legal Trofeo R tires? Oh, the radio was missing, as well as the back seat? It was a “pre-production” model, “close to factory spec,” you say?

Well, here’s the thing, dammit. We’re tired of these loopholes! How can a manufacturer claim times that were set by non-production spec vehicles, frequently with tires, brake compounds, suspension setups, and engine tunes that are not at all indicative of a real showroom floor version of the same car? Even though Lamborghini eventually plopped down a pool of raw data to support their claim, we can still do a huge favor by not giving a damn because who else was there to verify it?

Though it bids huge amounts of confidence that the lap was legitimate (it most likely was), it still bears that question of whether or not this was truly the car in the production form that you and I would see upon purchase. Even Christian von Koenigsegg called BS on this, especially pointing out the oddities in video regarding tires that had a grip threshold rivaling the g-limiter on a F-16 Fighting Falcon. When news breaks that Pirelli pretty much made a custom tire for that specific car on that specific track, one has to doubt the legitimacy of this entire charade.

So, the tire is available to the public, but was that tire spec used during the lap? No one but a few engineers and technicians at Lamborghini knows this, and that is the point in this situation. Nissan did this with their 2015 GT-R NISMO with “track options,” or whatever they called it, and back with the original in 2008 that sent Porsche fuming.

The Solution

I’m one for a Car & Driver method, where we have a sanctioned set of test procedures that are enforced, verified, and checked upon every vehicle testing regiment. Calculations could be easily derived to ween out the differences between various environmental factors, probably by taking a baseline (or “control”) vehicle, the same driver, specifications, and running said vehicle through the same racing line through days with widely varying weather conditions. It sounds difficult, and would likely prove to be, but we already have autonomous race vehicles that can reduce the chances of human error.

Take a special robot car with an array of sensors and task it with setting the baseline for us measly humans.

Next, we have a sanctioning committee of some sort enforce these rules by checking every vehicle for compliance, even to the point where members of the committee visit a participating manufacturer’s production facility and randomly select a production-spec car from the line for testing. This would go a long way towards ensuring that no gimmickry has taken place, especially when the routine compliance checks are gone through.

The final task is having a team of drivers (potentially not as necessary as the prior rules) run every car through the testing regiment at least three times, only after each car has been verified to its original recommended factory specifications. The key here is to ensure that this reduces the aforementioned “unicorn lap time” syndrome that we’re experiencing, thereby forcing and holding manufactures to being representatives of honest data.

Jim Glickenhaus wants something like this, and so does Mr. Koenigsegg. I know I don’t have a single quality to measure up to those guys, but damn, they have a good point. Lets hit this problem with a little science, shall we?

November 21st, 2016 at 02:30am by Bryan

Project Ruby: Update 2

Abstract:

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.

–Bryan

August 4th, 2016 at 02:39am by Bryan

Rigmarole Week 31: Infiniti Aloof?

Background:

The Japanese car giants’ expansion into the luxury market was an episodic tale.

As enthusiasts, we all know the basic strategy–the recognition of American desires for luxury marques (as most US buyers won’t pay premium prices without premium names) and the desire to fill that market’s demand. It was a hallmark moment for the auto industry as well as nearly being the final nail in the coffin for what was considered to be the OGs of the luxury marque game (Cadillac, Lincoln, Mercedes, BMW, etc.). In the 1980s, the American auto industry was in shambles after nearly two decades of producing bloated, underpowered, and poorly-designed cars. The days of the roaring 50s and 60s were replaced by the 70s and 80s, a time rightfully coined as the “Malaise Era” that I’ll just relegate to what I call the Dark Ages.

Wallowing in the comforts of complacency, the American Big Three practically handed the platter to their competitors, where Honda stepped into the arena with Acura, Toyota with Lexus, and Nissan with their Infiniti brand.

The Acura Legend won its share of awards and praise in the late 1980s, as did the Lexus LS400, but my personal favorite was the 1990 Infiniti Q45:

(Courtesy of Motor Authority)

Unlike the rather mundanely-styled competition, the Infiniti stepped into the arena with a sense of unconventionality. Uniqueness, when used properly, is something that stands out to a critic like me. I liked the aerodynamic look and the weirdness of the grille-less front fascia, but perhaps the public didn’t. The lack of advertising and feature commonality with its luxury peers was cited by many to be the reasons for its paltry sales, but others (like myself) agree that this car was the start of a revolution.

It was a festoon of Nissan’s most advanced technology of the time: a DOHC 32V 4.5 liter V8, an electronically controlled 4-speed automatic, a VLSD (viscous limited slip differential), FAS (full active suspension), and a four wheel steering system called HICAS. The car’s performance was admirable, but the public has never been known to flock to the best.

Sadly, the legend of the Q45 and the Infiniti brand nearly ended here. It was sold alongside an admittedly terrible 2-door GT coupe called an M30, which did little to help matters of money making when combined with their parent company’s financial issues. Seeing the humiliating loss against both Acura and Lexus’ more traditional sedans, Infiniti watered down the awesomeness of Q45 and turned it into an unattractive Japanese Lincoln Town Car:

(Courtesy of IIHS)

Awful. They even reduced the engine displacement to 4.1 liters (I mean, who the hell reduces performance in a successive model?!), and largely watered down the performance that made the 1st generation model so amazing.

Despite the introduction of other models like the G20 (sort of awesome), the J30 (not awesome), the QX4 (not awesome), and the I30 (not awesome), Infiniti was forced to learn the lesson of puddling lackluster automobiles to consumers.

Rise to Power:

Nissan introduced itself to Carlos Ghosn and hired him as the new CEO. Under the “Nissan Revival Plan,” the guy came sat at his desk and started cleaning house. He cut out the muda (unnecessary models in the lineup) and pushed forward by emphasizing the creation of standout, well-built, and high-performing vehicles. This, ladies and gentlemen, marked the beginning of the Nissan and Infiniti of legend.

A bold and wonderful all-new Infiniti Q45 bowed in 2002, once again threatening to upstage the luxury car order. On top of this, we witnessed the birth of the new G35 sedan and coupe, which provided our first glimpse at a legitimate competitor to the archetype BMW lineup of the day.

The G:

(Courtesy of Infiniti)

Isn’t it beautiful?

The body lines are timeless, the 3.5 liter VQ35DE was endowed with 280hp (in 6MT form), the steering tuned to be stiff and filled to the brim with feedback, the VLSD primed for cornering exits, and the Brembo brakes bolted on to provide an aid to a machine clearly designed to drive. Whether equipped in the more luxuriously-tuned base models, or the desirable “S” configurations, this vehicle represented the birth of what made the Infiniti brand a true force in the American luxury car market.

Sales grew exponentially. More excellent and crowd-awing models joined the lineup as well.

The FX:

Excellent powertrains, promising dynamics, and polarizing styling. The car pictured below is nearly 12 years old, yet it looks as if it could be released as a 2017 model without ail.

(Courtesy of RoadFly)

The M:

(Courtesy of lookatthecar.com)

I chose to skip the initial Nissan Cedric-based model for a good reason. It kind of sucked, but the successor didn’t. It capitalized on the award-winning G35’s traits.

The QX:

(Courtesy of wikipedia)

Okay, this was kind of a body-kitted Nissan Armada with better leather seats and woodgrain, but it was a solid land yacht.

Stagnation:

Unfortunately, the happy ending story ground to a halt. After admiring and idolizing its wonderful automobiles for the better part of a decade, I was forced to watch the plug be pulled and the lifeline of the entire division drained by the root of all evil: stagnation.

For some reason, the fire beneath the boiling pot of majestic wizardry fizzled out. We’ve all seen the signs, the lack of new models, the refusal to invest in market expansion, the loss of brand identity, and Mr. De Nysschen bringing in his bullshit naming strategy (destroying 2.5 decades of public model recognition) are a few key identifiers.

Yes, I know that their US sales have somehow increased to nearly 134,000 (near the peak of 136,401 during the legacy years in 2006) under the wing of the JX (oops, I meant QX60), the QX56 (oops, I meant QX80), the FX (dammit, that’s the QX70), and the Q50 (it used to be the G37), but lets ponder this.

Infiniti used to be the “Japanese BMW” of the marketplace. I owned a 2008 G35S and it was quite frankly one of the most well-rounded vehicles that I have ever owned. To hear that the company has lost its way (much like Nissan has) from what defined its position in the marketplace to begin with is terribly sad. These cars used to be among the cutting edge of the Japanese luxury makers, and perhaps my bias shows cleanly here, but I’m not sorry if I don’t think that some gimmicky and largely useless Direct Adaptive Steering system helps things. Clouding the M37 and 56 (oops, I meant Q70L, or whatever) full of electronic nannies and diluting the dynamic prowess and relative simplicity that made its immediate predecessor so great was a mistake.

The failure to make any legitimate ultimate performance division out of the failed IPL (Infiniti Performance League?), which dawned its first trial by bolting fart cannons and a body kit on an otherwise stock G37S didn’t help either.

The biggest question of the matter is simple:

What the hell are they thinking?

Furthering:

I know that I’m no automotive executive, but I don’t understand why things like this are allowed to happen. If I was running the show and I read the reviews of our automobiles, I’d be worried about the possibility of a sinking ship. I’d fear that losing the core of what made my company great would render us obsolete and forgotten. I would read the history books about the American Big Three and learn a little.

The new alliance with Mercedes-Benz is a weird, but interesting ploy with an unknown future. Though the new QX30 looks quite alluring as well as its interior, I’ll hold my breath to see how well the Mercedes-Benz hardware and Infiniti image truly interact. I understand that using a proven chassis (the one that underpins the CLA and GLA) was a relatively cheap and effective way to burst into a rapidly budding marketplace, but couldn’t they have done this with Nissan’s own engines? I mean, come on, the stuff that Nissan produced in the 1980s and 90s were absolutely amazing testaments to their engineering prowess. Admitting that they can’t jazz up a nice version of the D-platform (Altima, Maxima, Murano) and enlarge a more refined version of the MRxxDDT turbo four cylinder is rather shocking. Oh, and call up Aisin and ditch the damn Xtronic CVT from the Infiniti lineup. It belongs in Nissan Muranos and Mallfinders (oops, I mean Pathfinders), not luxury performance vehicles. I’d imagine that a version of this hypothetical QX30 could be fitted with a badass HICAS system and some fancy ATTESA-ETS all-wheel-drive, but what do I know?

I don’t know the full extent of the Infiniti pocketbook.

I don’t know why they have left the FX, or QX70 to ride in the same configuration since 2009.

I don’t know why the M, or Q70L, has largely faced the same fate as the QX70.

What about the EX, oops, QX50, or whatever the hell they’re calling it now? Same story. Stagnation.

They are all beautiful, and I hope that seeing the new reveal of the Q60 coupe and its Q50 brother with one of the first seriously badass mainstream Nissan engines in years (the VR30DDTT) shows signs of hope that my beloved Infiniti will soon return. I won’t even get into the annoying fact that the Q50 3.0T Red Sport 400 no longer has an optional limited slip differential despite having 400hp.

I just want one. For the first time since 2009, I finally feel like there might be some of the legendary Infiniti life left somewhere in there.

(Courtesy of CNET)

See that? It says “V6 TWIN TURBO” on the damn cover.

(Courtesy of Autoguide)

The same thing it said on the engine placards of legends.

(Courtesy of ZCarBlog)

Don’t give, up Infinti.

Don’t let the legend die.

–Bryan

August 2nd, 2016 at 01:36am by Bryan

Listen Up: Festival Music Mix 2016

This is pretty simple, as I’ve always been an enormous fan of good EDM music.

Do yourself a favor and listen to this mix. If it doesn’t put you in a good mood, you might be a zombie.

Pure excellence brought to you by Asa & Tong Apollo.

July 20th, 2016 at 09:32pm by Bryan

The Rigmarole Week 29: Dodge Viper

Unfortunately, for every automotive enthusiast, there comes a point where we must dedicate a moment of silence to a fallen icon.

Observe the beauty:

Nearing the middle of the Automotive Golden Era, ladies and gentlemen, we have to sadly say goodbye to our beloved Dodge (or SRT, or whatever) Viper. Most industry sources say that the current model can’t be modified to incorporate the SRS side curtain airbags that will soon be mandatory, though I have other ideas as to why the project wasn’t financially feasible for the troubled FCA.

To most, it was the poster car of their childhood. I personally had a large poster of the original RT/10 hanging on my wall from the age of six, mostly, because it was the embodiment of every child’s dream car. It was endowed with a monstrous V-10, far larger than any other engine of its time at 8.0 liters of displacement, plus, it looked like something Batman would drive if ordered in jet black. Frequently, I found myself daydreaming about piloting one of them as if I knew the first thing about what was required to drive a car–let alone this car.

Little did I know how much of a ravaging beast it was. Refinement was something entirely alien to this car, but it had never claimed to be any type of softie. It ignored safety, and dawned no airbags. Its frame was mostly tubular (no crumple zones), the engine weighed over 700 pounds, and there was no such thing as ABS. Honestly, the only reason that it had seat belts was due to a federal mandate. Everything else was scrapped.

Bob Lutz definitely had a founding hand in this legendary project.

C’mon, it was so guttural that the first “mass produced” version didn’t have windows. This, my friends, is what we refer to as the best of kind of car, the purist’s car. Its the car that is figuratively nothing more than a steering wheel, four tires, and (in this case) the biggest engine that fits. It is the kind that communicates every vibration, ripple, and road imperfection to your entire body. The thickly bolstered, but thinly padded seats are the kind that make the slipped disks in your back swell and food in your stomach grow bubbly. These are the cars we hang on the wall as children. They’re our saviors, our heroes, the automobiles that are here to stand against society’s crusade for blandness.

Think Lotus Elise.

Think Opel Speedster.

Think Alfa Romeo 4C (one of the greatest cars extant).

Think Ferrari F40 (the greatest car ever made).

Think Dodge Viper.

But, if anything, what these cars share in symbolic dissidence, they also share with growing troubles. Their time in the marketplace is often short and wrought with troublesome sales. Though they may touch our souls and our bridled interests, they suffer from their most prominent achilles heels:

[1] Low production volume.

[2] Low profitability due to low production volume.

[3] High cost due to low profitability and low production volume.

[4] Low practicality due to vehicle design, resulting in niche market viability only, which is both a good and bad thing simultaneously.

Here, we are left with some of the ways that our soon departed Dodge Viper could’ve been saved from oblivion early on. I’m aware that many of you won’t agree with some of these strategies, but that is why you are free to comment and debate. These are short and sweet, so let’s hit the main points.

How the hell could our lord, the Dodge Viper, have been saved?

[1 & 4] Fixing the low production volume and solving the niche market conundrum.

This was undoubtedly the Viper’s most compelling problem.

According to sources at theviperstore.com, there was a total of roughly 31,850 Vipers made since the initial 1992 model. That first model, mind you, consisted of a production run totaling less than 300 cars. The only model year in the first generation that exceeded the 3,000 mark was 1994. The second generation never saw a yearly total over 2,000, where its final tally of 10,422 cars seemed woeful in comparison to its rivals. The third and fourth generations fared even worse (8,190 and 2,427 respectively).

Though many of you would argue that the low production volume was one of the many things that made the Viper special (I can’t refute that), anyone with a business-oriented mindset could also argue that this was the nail in the coffin. Automobiles consume large swaths of money and manpower to develop as well to produce, and if a vehicle isn’t sold in large enough numbers, the bottom line (profit) largely suffers.

The purists will cringe at this, but maybe a better business model could’ve helped?

Imagine, if you will, a Dodge viper that shed its V10 and instead cruised up the road with a modified Magnum V-8 instead. Imagine a Viper with an automatic transmission, ABS, some sound deadening material, and traditional-exit exhaust. Yes, the fanboys would cry at the lost of their supercar-slaying demigod, but could Dodge have sold more this way?

Hypothetical Trims (relative price quotient):

Base ($$) = V8 powered, optional automatic.

Generations 1 & 1.5 (1992-2002) could’ve used a modified 5.9 Magnum with perhaps a Corvette-equaling 330-345hp (if that was even possible) and the junk 4-speed auto of the time as an option. At some point, they could’ve used their connections with Diamler to perhaps upgrade that junk transmission to one of the 5G-TRONIC units from the early AMGs.
Generation 2 & 2.5 (2003-2010) could’ve used the venerable 5.7 Hemi V8 and the same 5G-TRONIC. Throwing in the 6.1 Hemi for the 2.5 update seems plausible too.

Premium ($$ to $$$) = V8 power, optional automatic with more comfort features.

[[Here’s where the purists will definitely scream blasphemy!]]
Adding comfort features to the raging beast like, well, sound deadening, softer dampers and springs, along with power windows and locks would’ve been awesome. Later generations could’ve used nifty things like fancier sound systems, upgraded leather trim, etc.

RT-10 ($$$ to $$$$)= V10 power, perhaps no optional automatic, but the comfort features of the V8 Premium stick along.

The description is self explanatory. Here is where we start pleasing the purists again!

SRT-10 ($$$$) = V10 power, and all of the crude stuff that made the purist Viper legendary.

ACR ($$$$) = V10 power, basically the big kahuna it is in real life. Let this car and its SRT-10 lesser brother kick the asses of everyone and everything in their paths.

[2 & 3] Fixing the profitability issues.

Sure, the latter generations of the car improved heavily on the spartan first-generation model, but there was still a lot left on the table. Most of the routine safety features found in other automobiles were only added to the Viper by force through federal mandates. Airbags were eventually added in along the way, but standard ABS was absent until 2001. This addition, however, wasn’t due to a federal mandate, but likely in response to a slew of sports car comparison tests lost on account of its relatively punitive braking capabilities. Stability control nannies weren’t put into place until the last generation, where the inclusion of Electronic Stability Control (which relies on a native ABS system) was mandatory after September 1, 2011.

Until 2008, the car largely spent its life getting its ass kicked by the Corvette, which in most upper level trims could deliver 85-90% of the Viper’s performance while retaining its legendary everyday usability. This, in my opinion, is the only way that the Corvette has survived and will continue to survive. General Motors was smart in this regard, letting the lower models pay the bills due to their larger market potential, and then saving the dough for the GS, Z06, and ZR1 halo models. Unfortunately, it would require possibly millions of dollars to retool the factory for the higher production demand, but the ROI on something like that could pay off if the sales numbers increased. Hitting a total production target somewhere near that of the Corvette would be the goal.

While this would obviously have negative effects on the exclusivity of the Dodge Viper, placing a clear emphasis on differentiating trim levels could help to partially alleviate this. After all, isn’t a partially diluted Viper better than no Viper at all?

Conclusion.

Of course, I’m just a normal guy like you, doing his best to rationalize or accept the inevitable. Though I’m merely keyboard-yapping my way through a somewhat preposterous idea, I can’t help but to think that some kind of production and design strategy similar to what I’ve discussed would’ve helped the legend stay with us.

In the automotive world, there are always rumors about hypothetical continuations, resurrections, and unveilings of legendary automobiles. Though I’ve seen a few articles here and there that discuss the potential of a 4th generation Viper sometime in the future, seeing the current state of FCA’s business (hello, SEC investigation) and Sergio’s outright idiotic ramblings and decisions (how does this guy still have a job), the pessimist inside my head won’t count on it. If it did come back, seeing the steepening fines and regulations for CAFE might regulate a new Viper into having some kind of weird turbo four-cylinder hybrid system or something worse.

Until then, we’ll cherish the memories of trying to maintain control of these cars on a digital racetrack in Gran Turismo, reading about them in Motor Trend and Car & Driver, watching videos of heinously fast twin-turbocharged renditions on YouTube, all the while wishing so deeply in our souls that we could actually afford to own one.

If you’re one of the lucky few that can, please do us all a favor, go scoop one of these beasts up before they’re gone.

Rest in peace, our beloved Dodge Viper. Even though we will miss you, you will never be forgotten.

–Bryan

June 19th, 2016 at 11:48pm by Bryan

New Column: The Rigmarole

We’re all industry aficionados.

We all pay attention to what is happening in our cockamamie world bustling with technology and innovation, where these grand machines and devices that the majority of the population see as mere appliances somehow mean the world to us. They alone are the products of thousands of brilliant minds, engineers, artists, accountants, and executives.

It takes years to design and build a product from scratch. Sometimes it requires budgets in the billions (or trillions) of dollars, and thousands of man hours–yet somehow, we still encounter countless stories of companies run astray and ideas that are run into oblivion.

There is nothing worse than greatness gone wasted, where the talents of thoughtful souls find themselves run amok. Surely, anyone can criticize and down talk the work of another person, but can we provide reasonable and viable feedback to better the given situation? Can we be the outside voices here to help our industries and innovative cultures find their way once again?

That is the goal of this new Machscribe column.

Here, in the Rigmarole, we will open up a canvas of discussion where all of our readers can research with us, analyze with us, yearn with us, and together vent our frustrations. We may be mere plebeians, but after all, aren’t we the ones with the buying power?

We the people, let’s set them straight!

–devteam

February 1st, 2016 at 01:56am by Bryan

The Driver Mod Review: 2013 Ford Mustang GT

Abstract:

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.

Overview:

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.

Design:

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.

Dynamics:

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.

Dammit.

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.

Efficiency:

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.

Conclusion:

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.

–Bryan

Vehicle Details:

Categorization

Vehicle Class: Automobile

Style: 2-door coupe, grand touring

Manufacturer: Ford Motor Company

Designation: Mustang

Sub-designation: GT 5.0 Base

Specifications

Length: 188.5in

Width: 73.9in

Height: 55.8in

Wheelbase: 107.1in

Curb Weight: ~3,580lbs

Engine

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

Transmission

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)

Acceleration

Undetermined due to road conditions.

January 22nd, 2016 at 01:15am by Bryan

Lexus LC500: The best new car at NAIAS

Overview:

Luxury.

Yes, this is the term that has been overused beyond the point of obsolescence, yet it still has a distinctive ring in our heads. It symbolizes an exuberance of materialistic addition to something that is usually considered commonplace. A house is merely a dwelling suitable for residence, yet a mansion is its luxurious counterpart. No one needs expansive burled hardwood flooring when there are cheaper, more durable, and more easily produced vinyl floor overlays. No one needs a $10,000 chandelier hanging above the dinner table, yet it looks a hell of a lot better than a $25 unit from Walmart.

The idea of having something of a higher class than necessary is a staple point of human existence. In all that we’ve aspired to, and in all that we’ve achieved, it seems as if the human brain is wired to always ask one simple question, “I wonder if I can have more?”

Thus, we finally reach our focus point: the luxury automobile. I imagine that one day, shortly after the unveiling of the Patent Motorwagen in 1886, someone considered throwing in a cushier leather seat, or perhaps, a roof. When the awesome Bertha Benz took it on the world’s first automotive road trip, she installed a slew of upgrades along the way. By the time the Velo and its slew of newly arisen competition rolled around, the thought of a luxury car was well in the works. They had more pizzaz, curb appeal, and features as the technology developed.

An automotive company’s ability to produce a truly desirable luxury car is largely considered to be a staple point of capability. It’s a testament of a firm’s engineering and creative talent, a halo of sorts that tells a story of exuberance and purpose, even if they aren’t cost effective and widely produced. People should be able to immediately identify and assess what the brand is capable of. The point, short of complicated terminology, is to show off.

With that noted, how do you feel about this kind of showing off?

I quite like it. No, I seriously like it.

Taking Risks:

Risk.

Luxury cars generally embody this term due to their outrageous expense. In order to develop a halo car that is worthy of the halo prestige, the number one rule is that money must be spent. Most car companies have their comfort zones, where big wigs at the top of the corporate ladder check out Excel spreadsheets and graft their happiness from lofty profit numbers. Plain, cookie cutting econoboxes drive the profits higher due to basic economies of scale, where consumers find themselves coddled just enough for their liking in a car that they can actually afford. Building for the masses makes sense in practically every aspect, as the economies of scale mentioned earlier, generally makes it cheaper for any company to produce a vehicle per unit when more of them are manufactured.

It’s a win-win situation for both the consumer and the manufacturer, which brings us to the point of the luxury car, which is usually manufactured on a far smaller scale due to obvious reasons. Taking a look at the general populace can easily display that it is far easier for the majority to afford a car with a $20,000 MSRP versus one costing $100,000.

Economically speaking, small scale, low volume luxury cars are a huge risk. They don’t sell in large numbers, while they cost an enormous amount of money to develop. Bean counters and bureaucratic mongoloids hate them. Why do you think Cadillac sucked for decades under the notorious pre-bailout GM?

BEAN COUNTERS!

So, we reach Lexus, the ubiquitous high-end arm of Toyota. Birthed in the late 1980s, it quickly became synonymous with “serenity” and “blandness.” Someone in the party of big wigs found this to be a very welcoming and prestigious quality, and they probably weren’t incorrect, but that so happens to depend solely on perspective. I mean, I’m all about reliability, solid structure, serenity, and value, but the “blandness” part falls into the huge grey area of my psyche.

My parents owned a few Lexus vehicles when I was younger, namely a XV20 ES300 and a XV30.5 ES330. Both of them were built with an astonishing amount of quality, plus saying that my parents owned a Lexus was plenty cool, at least until I finally got around to driving the thing. I was merely a half mile in route to my prom date’s house when I nearly fell asleep at the wheel from boredom. Seriously, the car felt like a rolling precision built GE appliance. The seats were comfortable, the woodgrain on the dashboard was real and rich looking, and the Mark Levinson sound system was incredible at playing classical music, but any type of excitement was sternly frowned upon. The drivetrain responded to throttle commands as if there was a line of calm old ladies passing notes to the transmission for a request to downshift. Yes, you read that correctly. In that car, when you pressed the throttle, you made a request to the onboard computer to speed up. Depending on what mood the computer was in at the moment that you filed the request, you either got a response, or nothing happened.

It was the epitome of a boring driving experience. Essentially, a Lexus driver was merely a pawn that piloted a bank vault on wheels. Thousands of people went for that kind of thing, but it appeared to be on the way towards fizzling out. As Lexus’ competitors pressed forward with more daunting and daring design languages, the buyers shifted towards them. In the early 2000s, we were sure that Lexus had all but placed the last nail in the coffin of its German competition. Now, though they are not struggling for sales by any means, Lexus finds itself circling the drain of “has beens.”

Much to the chagrin of the sane souls running the place, they’ve devised a plan to get their workload back on the map of effectiveness.

What’s the first step? Dynamic improvement while maintaining the excellent Lexus quality and reliability.

What’s the second step? A new design language. Lexus introduced the love-it-or-hate-it grille. They obviously became obsessed with polygons. Effectively, they’ve split the automotive fandom population in half regarding these changes. I sit firmly in the half that absolutely loves everything about it.

I like this new vision of Lexus, mostly because they spent the majority of their existence muddling in the utter refusal to take any type of risk whatsoever. They were so placated in the guise of making serene and mundane automobiles, that they were never allowed to tap into their full potential. They were never permitted to delve deeper into the engineering expertise that provided them with their untarnished legacy.

Finally, they see the light, and to show that off to the world, they’ve provided us with a proper flagship.

Elevated Status:

Let’s just take a look at this thing.

It sits perched on wheels that appear to present an insanely large diameter. Though I am not a resolute fan of the polished “chrome” look, I can appreciate the way that they they are clearly designed to complement the haunches of the body.

And, oh, what a body. . .

Somehow, they’ve managed to undo the sins of the admittedly funky looking Lexus IS series, and the slightly “overweight” looking RC coupes (The RC-F and RC350 F-Sport are quite awesome looking in comparison). I’ve read that great hurdles were overcome during the design phase of this car. The engineers managed to maintain the overall profile of the lowly-slug LFA, you remember, the $375,000 alpha car that finally saw the light of day. . . only after resting dormant for years in stagnation? The fact that they were able to make the LF-FC concept car, and finally produce a production version that is nearly indistinguishable from it speaks wonders.

There are no overtly awkward proportions here. To me, this is a proper Grand Touring coupe, fitted with the necessary elements to beget its proposed $100,000 price tag. Normally, I’d decry such a declaration, but upon closer examination of the sheer detail, craftsmanship, and technology packed into this vehicle, I’ll say “have at it” without hesitation.

It looks like nothing else on the road, and in fact, my excitement upon its release was reminiscent of the days in elementary school where my parents would purchase folders with wild concept cars drawn on the covers. Back then, they were merely figments of some dreaming designer’s imagination. Whenever I asked about the concepts, I was always told that they weren’t real.

The auto companies couldn’t make them. They were only concepts.

Well, now, I have the concept car of my boyhood dreams right in front of me. This.

And in a grace of benevolence, the artistry of the exterior flows cleanly into the interior.

Gone are the typical Lexus signatories from yesteryear. There is no abundance of woodgrain on the dashboard, no pillowy soft seating surfaces, no cassette tape player, and hopefully no scented cabin filter specifically designed to remind you of a dentist office. Here, we have a glimpse of the future, where the only problem I can detest is the random grab handle fixture jutting from the center console and into the dashboard. If I was forced to live with it, I could.

Yet, the gauges have their obviously sporting intentions displayed to us all. The tachometer gets the brunt of the dial gauge duty, yet their fashion is similar to the current designs seen on the IS and RC models. My only quip is that they are fully digital on the LC500.

Something about the mechanically articulating gauges of the IS made my blood boil with admiration. It’s sad to see this absent on the flagship.

Bummer.

Check out that steering wheel. Observe the contours clearly molded to encourage the proper grasp of the wheel during, well, particularly aggressive driving. Lovely shift paddles adorn the sides. I hope they actually command the 10 speed (cringe) automatic transmission to shift, rather than file a request to do so. I still think that 10 gears is way too many, but I’m led to assume that the Lexus powertrain engineers are a bit wiser than I am.

Hopeful Dynamics:

If there is just one faint and sadly unconfirmed hope of mine, it’s that this vehicle will find the success that Lexus needs. As discussed in-depth above, a flagship’s point isn’t to increase profitability through sales. The Germans and Italians know this. Instead, the point is to promote the future of a particular brand, to show the people what it is capable of.

The LFA, no matter how beautiful and audacious that it was, faded into the abyss. Fortunately, it did open up a new era of Lexus ingenuity and passion. The extremely limited numbers did little to elevate industry exposure, but it did prove that Lexus was finally capable of freeing itself from the safety bubble placed by management.

I sincerely hope that the LC500 drives as good as it looks, though it appears to be forthcoming. By the reviews that I’ve read from Motor Trend and their professional driver, Randy Probst, I have reason to believe that my ultimate Lexus fantasy is about to come true.

Ladies and gentlemen, our dear friends at Lexus have finally given us a proper flagship automobile that is truly and absolutely desirable beyond measure. This is the car that we’ve been begging for.

Now, I just hope that this arguably lusty 5.0 liter V8 is sufficiently endowed to push this car into the hearts of those wealthy enough to purchase one.

467bhp sounds awfully tempting, but there is plenty of worry in the automotive community regarding the rather “paltry” 369lb-ft of torque. Either way, if they keep the mass down (which they have so far claimed), it looks like their claims of “sub 4.5 second 0-60mph runs might hold true.

That, my friends, is damn good for a proper luxury car, and a proper flagship.

Long live Lexus, and bravo for unveiling the best car of the NAIAS.

–Bryan

(images courtesy of Lexus and Car and Driver)

January 17th, 2016 at 05:32pm by Bryan

New Goals

To all,

Okay, I know it’s been quite some time, and I know that I’ve made some grand promises about this blog.

I’ve failed on pretty much every promise, but I’ll start making excuses now:

[1] Life is hard.

Yes, it is. I mean, people tell you that over and over again when you’re younger, but you never really understand it until you’re actually head-first and somehow still waist-deep into the muck. Granted, my life isn’t horrible by any stretch, but it’s stressful. Maintaining a decent standard of living, while working full time and going to Engineering School full time is quite the daunting challenge, but I’ve made it work. Sometimes, I just find myself overwhelmed with the desire to sit down and do nothing. During the winter break, I made a slew of plans to get my writing hobby on track, but I’m just going to take this little-by-little.

Plainly, I’m going to man up and take a few minutes out of my day to keep trying at this.

[2] 2015 was the worst year of my life.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. So much happened in 2015 that I can’t even fathom any theory regarding how I made it through, other than the everlasting support of my wife, Ashley. Seriously, I went from feeling like I was on top of the world with my shiny new (well, “new” to me) luxury car cruising to Chicago in February, to standing over the grave of my infant son, who tragically passed away one day after my wife’s birthday. Summarizing the slew of feelings that arose from this event would be like trying to walk on the surface of the sun (which has no surface, and is really hot, anyway). All I can say is that it essentially left us barely hanging onto any type of motivation.

Somehow, we managed to pull ourselves, and each other, through the grief and continue to rather academically outstanding semesters. The brief victory was great, but still, it is safe to say that there is a huge chunk of our souls missing after we lost our boy.

[3] I’m scared.

Plainly, I’m just terrified. I don’t necessarily know what I’m doing, but I’m just yapping–which is what I assume bloggers and journalists do in regards to their passions. I don’t have any employees, yet, so I’ll continue on by myself for now. Eventually, I’ll conjure up a business model and get the ball rolling, but coming down from the cloud of ambition was a very trying moment for me, too. I’ve always dreamed about having a business where I could sit in a room with some of my dearest colleagues and do what I love, but once I realized how hard it was, I kind of fell off of a cliff. Seeing places like Jalopnik and Buzzfeed are as inspiring and as they are daunting, yet I am well aware that the road to success kind of resembles driving through the caldera of an active volcano in a Fiat 500.

Oh well. I’m not the first person who had a dream of doing what he or she loved. I know that, and I can only sit back and follow by the example of my predecessors that managed to make it happen. If I could only keep my confidence in my writing and creative abilities at a steady level, I presume that this would be a much easier and straight forward task, but alas, I am merely a human being.

It’s all about the struggle to get ahead, right? Right. Since that realization, I’ve discovered that the biggest enemy I have, is my myself. The doubt. The lingering voice that tells me that “no one cares” about what I have to say or write about is the main factor of my dissidence. Don’t worry though, because I’ll continue fighting it. Today is a good day, and as long as I have my confidence, my talent, my family, and my readers, everything will be okay.

Someday at Machscribe, we’ll have people like Chris Harris flying out to Spain to drive new Ferrari models, while simultaneously, we’ll have journalists covering the elections.

Hold me to this new promise:

At least one post per week, starting today, January 17, 2016.

Thanks for listening, and thank you for the support.

–Bryan

December 13th, 2015 at 11:58pm by Bryan

Opinion: 2016 Acura NSX. Pass or Fail?

Okay, so we’ve heard this debate thousands of times by now, and yet you’re going to hear another one.

Opinions are like assholes, right? We all have them, but that’s what makes us individuals. I won’t shy away from it, and neither should you, dear readers!

For today’s discussion, I’ll start by talking about the “new” 2016 Acura NSX, but before that, I’d like to cover a brief history lesson.

(Gen 1 NSX) History Lesson:

The nameplate, for the majority of my automotive brethren, is sacred. The acronym NSX–”New Sportscar Experimental”–is to the automotive kingdom what the iPhone is to the foundation of modern mobile communication. It symbolizes something far greater than just any plain, off-the-shelf sports car cooked up with a firm’s leftover parts and crazed, if not drunken engineers. This name doesn’t represent something that was half-assed or chopped down by corporate bean cutters, rather it reminds us of what is capable when shear rationality and passion are injected into the core function of a project.

For Honda, this is what the original NSX was. It was their ability to change the way the world viewed high performance sports cars. Thumbing your nose at high-end marques like Ferrari and Lotus was no easy feat, yet it was made so by the one car that nearly defeated them.

This:

(photo courtesy of Jason Tang)

This car was a working embellishment of simplicity and prime engineering, where automotive passion and gumption ruled clearly over all other opposing variables. Considering that the legendary Ayrton Senna played a major role in its chassis development, there is no wonder regarding the lengths that Honda went to in order to achieve their goal. In all, to me–and to a slew of others–this car stands as one of the most sharply identifiable outcomes of what can be done if the determination and willpower run continuously in sync.

To take note that the car was originally designed to target the Ferrari 328–and later 348, all while achieving far superior comfort, reliability, and lower cost, it pales to declare that a simple “mission accomplished” banner be affixed to the peak of its reign as king.

I know, I know, the car was met with widespread acclaim following its release in 1990, where it proceeded to quickly kick the ass of anything within its competitive range. It slayed Corvettes, slaughtered Porsches, downed Ferraris, and practically spelled an end to Lotus. The scope of this car’s influence was a direct result of no one component or performance characteristic, but rather a composition of its entirety as an absolutely wonderful no-frills car.

It shifted an entire paradigm, out of nowhere! Within months of its launch, it became the target of every enemy that still had the power left to fight. This car taught us that we should expect far more from our automobiles than just excellence at once key category. Before this, a car could either go fast, turn well, be comfortable, sip gasoline, or not burden its owner with frequent calls to a tow truck–but a car that could do more than two or three of things at once was considered a unicorn.

Just think about it: at one time, there was a firm a ideology that a car was only capable of doing perhaps a few things greatly. This car changed all of that.

Today, we take advantage of the fact that an average plebian vehicle can be astoundingly dependable, efficient, spacious, comfortable, and good looking–yet at the same time, we can hop into its driver’s seat and post numbers that would flat-out embarrass practically anything just 20 to 30 years ago. This is the world we live in, and while a good majority of you will likely hop into the pedestal and downplay the original NSX for its paltry 270 horsepower 3.0 liter V6 engine, or dinky wheels and tires, or the fact that Honda opted to let the car slowly wither away into obsolescence once its competitors adapted and returned to the ring swinging with new punches–lest we not forget how everything that we have in today’s performance automobiles is a likely a result of the hard lesson learned when the 1990 Honda NSX rolled through the lobby of the Automotive Kingdom, and laid waste to everyone simultaneously.

You guys and gals should really rethink your appreciation for this car, because were it not for Ken Okuyama, Masata Nakano, Sigeru Uehara, Aryton Senna, and the entire development team–your lovely and seemingly all capable sports car, or family sports sedan would likely still be something very similar to the pathetic malaise-era cruisers of yore.

Just take a look (photos courtesy of Jason Tang):

(Gen 2 NSX) Overview:

Okay, so I’m done spewing out my obvious opinion that the 1st generation car should very rightfully be exalted into automotive god-status. We all know this, or at least we all should. It’s simply a fact of automotive history, whether you like it it not–which precisely leads me into the following criticisms of the upcoming 2016 model.

Yeah, this thing:

The same car I casually glanced at as I strolled through the fawning crowds at the McCormick Place on Valentine’s Day 2015 during the Chicago Auto Show. Compared to other vehicles recently released at the show, I found the crowd around this thing to be particularly indifferent. Sure, there were the obligatory group of gawking 14-year-old boys anxious to pilot one in a forthcoming edition of Forza Motorsport, but I stood there with a frown on my face–unperturbed by the spec sheet.

I’ll try my best to not even get into the fact that the car (and its current overall design) has been teased to the public since 2008. Yeah, Tony Stark drove one, but I probably shouldn’t mention that I loathed The Avengers.

So, I finally stood in front of the 2016 NSX, in the flesh.

One of my car buddies seemed anxious to see if it changed my opinion to see the car in person.

No. The tune did not change.

Immediately, I found three problems, and all of them stiffened my resolve to largely stand against it.

[1] It’s ugly.

Yes, I said it. The new NSX is yet another poor victim slain by Honda’s atrocious design bureau that thinks that “beauty” appears to be nothing more than drawing a bunch of lines that randomly intersect each other and otherwise share no common design schema. I know that beauty is purely subjective, but come on!

What happened to the sophisticated, but tasteful styling repertoire that the Gen 1 model used to capture the adoration of everyone?

The side profile is by far the best view of the car, but even still, why so many lines?!

And then you reach the front. Oh god, what happened to this thing?

It’s like a bad dream that haunts me incessantly. I simply cannot stomach the fact that they took what is arguably one of the best cars in the history of the automobile, used its name and everything that stands behind the name, and somehow came up with this.

There are grilles in random places as well unusual gaps between them, and a weird black panel flanking what I guess is the “main grille” feature of the front. Straddling this geometry on both sides are the characteristically unusual–but steadfastly recognizable headlights that seem to adorn every Acura product that has been hit with the same ugly stick. The designers even included the infamous “duckbill” chrome platypus contraption on the breadth of the snout. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what happens when you actively seek out the ruination of every single good looking car that you once produced. The TL? Done. The TSX? Obliterated. The RL? Destroyed.

Every single Acura car has been ruined by the chrome duckbill. Every. Single. Car.

Oh, the travesty!

[2] Skynet Syndrome.

So, I read through the features and highlights and tried my best to not fall asleep. Before the car was even released to the hands of the automotive press, I already knew how this thing would turn out. It would be a rolling video game that would feel like a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet with a well-programmed macro–spitting out big numbers as its computers piped in exhaust noise and faked brake feel in an effort to convince you that you were driving something special.

What the hell is this? The original NSX stood by a principle of simplicity. It was, point blank, a sports car that spared no dollar of development to excel at its title. Everything connected to the vehicle’s dynamic controls was honed to a point that every microcosm in the road could be felt through the trembling thick-rimmed steering well, and every gear selection could damn near telegraph the individual teeth of the synchronizers to the hand of a driver choosing 3rd gear from 2nd. In the new one, they’re piping in virtual engine noise to your ears.

How have we fallen this far?

The front wheels have an interesting torque-vectoring system that looks great on a Powerpoint and it without a doubt will likely post up good numbers around Laguna Seca, but I’ve heard that it required the engineers to use the electric motors to dampen the steering from its feedback–or the feedback of anything for that matter–to the point where it feels like you’re driving a Honda Ridgeline. See, if there is one thing that is astutely important about true sports car, it’s the steering. If you can’t feel what’s going on in front of you, what’s the point? Where’s the engagement? Where’s the visceral spine-tingling excitement of wrestling your supercar through a mountain road?

The brake pedal reportedly has no direct connection to the actual system. Instead, a computer pipes in some feedback against your foot. Lame.

Oh, and before I waste time going through driving modes, just know that there is literally a “Quiet Mode” for this car. What the hell?

In short, everything about the driving experience is maintained by the car’s software, which is by no means anything short of a majestic feat–kudos to the developers–but is that really the point here? Everyone has already complained about the Nissan GTR assuming the function of what is essentially a roving arcade game despite its wondrous numbers, but now we have another. Are we watching the beginning of the sport car’s ultimate fate?

Skynet Syndrome is a rapidly growing infection.

[3] The Powertrain.

A lot like the previously mentioned Skynet Syndrome-afflicted Nissan GTR, the engineers at Honda have decided to equip the new NSX with a twin-turbocharged V6. I mean, I won’t necessarily complain about this, considering that engine itself makes roughly 500bhp without the aid of the electric motors, but the turbo engines that have been released lately seem to be a little lacking of “pizzazz” in the feel department. Sure, you get a nice and broad torque range as you rev it, and you likely see a huge increase of efficiency over something comparable, but this is a damn sports car. It’s about how it feels!

By now, we’ve all watched a slew of videos that allow us to listen to this car as it flies down the road, or track, and it is here that we are left disappointed once again.

Honestly, the car sounds like a Honda Accord V6. Seriously, I used to own one. This is much like how a stock Nissan GTR sounds like a really fast Nissan Maxima. Nothing to truly complain about, yet nothing to really brag about either. My love affair with the new Ford GT ends on the same note, considering that they chose to forego a wonderful Coyote V8 for a Ford Taurus engine.

If you want an example of a high-performance car engine done correctly, see the Shelby GT350 and its flat-plane V8.

The old NSX had one of these things in it:

Yeah, a V6 that revved to 8,000rpm and sounded glorious while doing so.

I know that you get the whole hybrid boost thing in the new one, but I still can’t help but think that Ken Okuyama would’ve done a far better job.

Opinion Summary:

Really, I sit back and try my best to like this car. I truly do. While I’m sure that I would happily drive and keep one for any length of time if given the opportunity, I’m just not sold on the entire package thus far.

It seems too dull to carry on the legacy of what is the NSX nameplate. Though we now find ourselves right within the depths of the Golden Era of the automobile, I can’t help but to grow anxious with the feeling that total automation is quickly encroaching on what used to be the wrought joy of driving. As Skynet Syndrome continues to take more and more mechanical feel away from us enthusiasts, it looks like we can only sit back and watch the onslaught.

As for the NSX, it isn’t what it once was, yet neither is Honda itself. It used to be a company that stood for simplistic innovation that powered the brand past its competitors, yet now it stands as a bloated and confused rendition of its past.

My opinion on the 2016 Acura NSX?

FAIL

–Bryan