Jealousy!

Who gets the LEGO Ferraris? Not me. I want some LEGO Ferraris, too.

My son has become quite the model builder and asked for model kits this year for Christmas. I'm really proud of him for taking on this kind of thing - models require patience and skill that some 9YOs don't have yet. He'll be building an EB110 kit with his grandpa this week. But those LEGO Ferrari kits - oh, do I want some of my own.

Have to make do with my fancy new impact wrench and boots.

Wider is not better

Last year, I had stock brakes and (very good Semperit) 15inch 195 section-width snow tyres. This year I have big brakes and 17inch 225 section-width snow tyres.

Wider is not better. In fact, wider is damn near worthless.

I'm a total tyre freak, and I'm seriously questioning my decision to go with 17inch 225/45 snows. I got a lead on a bunch of good quality Dunlops for cheap (dirt cheap), and I figured why bother with a whole new set of 16s - I'd have to buy wheels along with tyres. If I grabbed the 17s, I could slap them on my tired-but-pretty Rials and wait until summer to get new wheels and so forth. I snagged them and mounted them up. In the cold and dry, they're everything snows should be - firm, solid, and great grip.

It just snowed in Detroit. The only redeeming factor is the stopping. I can stop with no trouble. But going? Going ain't happening as far as I can tell. It's kind of weird to have the going be the hard part. After all, it's the stopping that usually kills you. And who wants skinny tyres? I sure see the point.

Oh well, lesson learned. I've got three seasons to go on these unless a set of 16s somehow falls into my lap.

Mushroom trucks

We've all heard about how the Dodge Ram logo looks like a uterus. That is only meaningful if you know what a uterus is. If you're seven years old, you probably don't see the resemblance. That does not mean, however, that you think it looks like a sheep with horns.

On the way back from visiting the grandparents, I occupied my sons with identification of the assorted cars we passed and were passed by on the Ohio Turnpike. My younger one kept announcing "mushroom trucks". I had to ask him to point out what a "mushroom truck" was. I'm from eastern PA, and mushroom trucks over there are usually full of mushrooms. He pointed out a Grand Caravan and announced that it was a "mushroom minivan".

Hey, at least he didn't think it was a body part....

Buckle up. Yeah, you. With the harness.

There's this pesky rule over at NHTSA that motor vehicles have to have safety belts that are interlocked to a warning system that tells you if they're not securely fastened while the car is running. I recently discovered while riding around in my girlfriend's new New Beetle that this function is also tied into the passenger airbag sensor in newer cars. Adding to the legal fun is your local police precinct, which will gladly cut you loose from a few greenbacks if you're caught motoring without restraint.

So where does this leave the weekend racer who drives his or her barely street-legal asphalt-eater during the week? Likely in a bind. The factory three-point belts are long-gone due to their complete lack of utility at more than 0.02g and proper five-point harnesses have been installed in their places. Multi-point harnesses rarely meet standard DOT or NHTSA safety requirements because they cannot be interlocked properly (or easily) to the vehicle's warning systems. The center cam locks that actually secure the harnesses are free of the traditional hard mounting points that enable sensor wiring to be deployed.

Word got to VPB recently that Ford and Roush are working on a new way of getting safety gear to communicate with the standard on-board systems that allow the interlocks to function. The communications issue seems to have something to do with data streams from independent systems. While I don't have much more info than that, I'm guessing that they are up to something that afficionados of factory-built racers will flock to: factory multi-point harnesses with full NHTSA- and DOT-legal interlock functionality.

Mr Hybrid Fusion Drive

After a huge paella and sufficient sangria to prevent an ice cream run, saturday night found us parked in front of the tube with a DVD of "Back to the Future". The kids were going to see it eventually, so why not now? I love Christopher Lloyd, and I love time-traveling DeLoreans even more.

My kid were beside themselves over the Libyans in the old VW bus and I decided that I need a panel van that advertises "24 Hour Scientific Experimentation".

The part that I most enjoyed this time around was at the very end. Dr Brown returns from the future with some slight modifications to the time machine, including a new drive (replacing the original Libyan plutonium-fueled powerpack) called the "Mr Fusion". Mr Fusion runs on banana peels and Miller Lite - talk about your basic bio-fuels, hmm? Pay close attention to the Mr Fusion logo, then go out and check out the GM Hybrid drive logo.

I know a bunch of guys over in design at Warren. They're all goofy and love to have a good laugh when they can. I know they are laughing every time they see their hybrid logo go by. Now I'm laughing, too.

Stupid loud exhausts

I heard a noise last night, and got up to find my 7YO fully dressed and wandering around the kitchen. "Mommy! I got up early!" Yeah, 0300 is a bit on the early side, honey. I crawled back into bed and heard a sound I usually sleep through at night - someone heading up Adams, winding up something with a stupid loud exhaust.

My spouse rolled over and asked me if my Rabbit was still in the garage (it was). I cowered a bit and asked him if it really is that loud.

I admit it - I love my stupid loud exhaust! It's gloriously noisy and it sings its four-part harmony with gusto and vigor usually reserved for throaty V8s. A combination of four-foot long headers and a wide open muffler give it depth no normal 4-banger ever finds. Before it got a muffler, it turned the heads of Harley riders all over Oakland county, right before it knocked them over. Oh, Lord, is it fine.

But I could hear that guy for two miles. It made me cringe in my PJs a bit. Is my tiny little bunny with the soup can tip one of those cars? Am I one of those drivers?

postscript - I have a fueling issue as of yesterday morning. No more noise until I get that fixed. :(

Bentley vs Bentley

Sue Callaway does it again, and brings a supercar to life on paper. Oh for the day that I can bring gently sueded leather to life like that.....

link to arrive when it's posted.

Rental: Chevrolet Cobalt Coupe at 31K

At 31 000 miles, the Chevy Cobalt makes quite a rental. I got to, er, enjoy one while on a recent trip to Sedalia, MO, where I was making wheels at the local wheel plant. I put about 250 miles on the dark teal blob, and discovered a whole host of reasons why I have pet peeves. I also believe that the American trend of designing everything for 6'5" males is screwing the US automakers in ways they can't even begin to imagine. Oh, and forget Emerald Isle at National if you want a compact. That perk only applies to midsize and up. Discrimination!

This oldish Cobalt was holding up rather well on the mechanical end. Brakes were solid enough, transmission was smooth, and the engine never wimpered. I was actually a bit above my usual comfort level with GM products - the smallish Cobalt was well-suited for the highway cruise I took it on from Kansas City to the Ragtime Capital and back. The interior was not as bad as I expected, with minimal fit and finish issues. Most notable was the pulling away of the soft lining on the door card from around the handle cup. This was occurring on both doors, so it's not possible to blame it on crappy treatment as a rental ho. This was a miscut of the trim material. The majority of the soft surfaces were wearing well. Overall, not too bad for a cheap entry-level coupe with a mildly stylish exterior and a pleasant, non-challenging interior.

Let's focus on the interior. One thing I have not paid much attention to in the past is chrome rings on the instrument cluster. I find them annoying in daylight for sure, but at night, they are downright distracting. Any stray ambient light is reflected, and I spent a lot of time looking down to find out that the moon was the source of the movement on the tachometer, not my accelerator input. Add chrome gauge rings to my peeve list. The centerlines of the cluster, the steering column, and the seat were different and not aligned - the one thing that above all drives me nuts. The climate and audio controls were clearly laid out, not complex, and perfectly suited for the teenage girls that make up the target market for this product.

The seats were ok, as long as you didn't try to adjust them. Getting your hand between the seat and door card was a feat even for me and my girlie hands. There wasn't any room there! I found myself pulling over several times to open the door so I could adjust the seat properly. This was less of a problem on the four-door Cobalt I rented earlier this year in Chicago. As usually, I found the pitch of the lower cushion to be oppressively forward, but I have come to grips with the fact that very few other people besides myself like to drive like Emmo in his Indy car.

Another sore spot (my neck, actually) was the headrest, or lack of one. The moulded-in headrest on the seat was about six inches above where it would have been useful for me. I mentioned above the large-scale design that plagues American cars - this is an example of it. Other examples included a parking brake lever that was positioned in a way that made it useless for anyone with an inseam of less than 34 inches. The shifter was moved back to accommodate Big-Gulp-sized cupholders, and this was also farther back that I found comfortable or useful. What really got me was the turn signal stalk. My fingers are long for a girl, I span over an octave on the piano. This means I rarely have to stretch to reach for switchgear. I had to stretch in the Cobalt. Not just stretch, but release my grip on the steering wheel. That is unsafe, and GM knows it.

The head of the Mustang product team at Ford was fired for not making the back seat of the Mustang comfortable for a 6'5" man. A huge mistake, the firing, that is. The target market for Mustangs is not families of basketball players. And the target market for the Cobalt is not giant men, either. It's young people, mostly ladies, who need a car that fits them physically as they grow into driving. Instead of worrying about the big guys, the General should focus the Cobalt design team on the small girls. The IP of the Cobalt is perfect for young drivers - it's minimally distracting (chrome rings aside), and delivers the right information. Focusing the interior layout on people from 5'0" to 5'6" would move the Cobalt into more hands the same way well-fitting clothes find their ways onto more bodies.

The Big Three need to give up their 99th percentile rule and focus on the lower 50%. You can't design a good small car around a 300 pound guy, but a 130 pound girl is a great place to start.

Tailgate Gate

Toyota's taken a few hits in the quality department, and they seem to keep coming. Way back when I first put my hands on the Toyota Tundra early last year, I complained to anyone who would listen that the tailgate was flimsy. It felt like the frame stamping was missing, leaving just the inner and outer skins hemmed together. It didn't 'thunk' when I closed it. It was downright wimpy.

The folks over on Tundra Solutions have been cataloguing some sheet metal failures of these tailgates, and it does indeed appear that there is a problem with the sheet metal. While hemflanges are rarely welded, they are always sealed. The white goo in many of the pics is that sealer. I'm troubled that the sealer does not run the perimeter of the flange - pretty much guaranteeing that once the seam deflects, water will penetrate. TBH, there's just not enough metal in that flange to hold anyway. Who was manning that Autoform desk?

We have taken Toyota "quality" for granted for a long time. What we got used to is not "quality" per se, but downright overbuilding. This tailgate issue is overengineering - building at the lowest limit of build quality to make the part at some prescribed duty cycle. Each time we hear of a Toyota failure, it's come down to the same thing - overengineering and sacrificed build quality.

How can you blame them? There's money in every bit of metal you don't put into your product. There's money in every redesign you don't do, every test you don't do. And apparently, there's a crapload of money in marketing the gimmickry that passes for the new version of luxury.

Thanks, I'll take good ol' overbuilding over this overengineering stuff.

Mercedes Benz hybrid power?

The above crappy cell phone pic depicts an R-Class with a man plate and a yellow sticker reading "HYBRID POWERED". It was spotted northbound on Stephenson last tuesday.

What are those Germans up to?

Soccer Mom Angst

I'm a Cub Scout Den Mother. I really enjoy the scouting aspects of it. I could do without the stay-at-home moms, though. While the working moms pick up and drop off their sons with aplomb and rarely find it necessary to raise their voices, the stay-at-homes rarely smile and generally comport themselves with chips the size of Microsoft on their shoulders. The SUVs, sedans, and minivans of entire bunch can also be divded into two groups - those with clean interiors, and those that rival EPA Superfund sites.

Like many of the other professional women I know, whether through work or through my new time suck, the interior of my car is quite nice. It's a bit cluttered occasionally, but under that, the upholstery still looks good and the carpets are clean. My kids and whichever friends are riding along get the rules: No food. No drinks. No anything that can't be brushed out. I have too much personal pride to drive a pigsty. I've worked too hard to let my image be compromised by anything other than a stray harness or occasional grocery bag. If nothing else, I keep my car - my personal space in the outside world - clean enough to invite guests into.

Open the doors belonging to the angry moms, and you reveal Doritos in the carpet and papers stuck to the floor. Pinch your nose, because let me tell you, oxidized fruit juice smells bad. The vehicles look like bombs went off. I can only imagine what their lives are like if they can't even keep the car clean.

If my car looked like that, I'd be cranky, bitchy, and yelling at my kids all the time, too.

It's not being forced to drive a five year old minivan that makes you miserable. It's being so out of control of your life that you can't even keep it clean that does.

Bus People

I camped with my kids and about 150 bus people last weekend. It was the most mentally relaxing weekend I have had in years.

I suppose "bus people" takes some explaining. The VW world is split between aircooled (old Beetle and Bus) and watercooled (Golf and Jetta). I am a watercooled person, largely because all of my cars are watercooled and I have never done the aircooled thing. The aircooleds are divided into "bus people" and everyone else. Bus people are aging hippies with microbuses, usually the camperbus variety.

I was invited to join L.E.A.K.O.I.L. for their yearly weekend at Kelleys Island, OH. The Lake Erie Area Kombi Owners Involvement League provides a forum for bus people around the middle lakes. Several friends participate in the group and had shared tales of a weekend of drinking and no driving at a 4H campground. All kids welcome - someone would look after them! I arrived at the campsite and took in the 50-plus buses that showed up. My sons took off for Lake Erie, about 150 yards away. For the next 24 hours, I watched as my sons played with the other little kids (and big kids) that were at the site. I enjoyed a few beers with their parents as we watched over the 15-plus kids that were skipping stones in the lake, running around with boxes on their heads, and at night, coverd up in glow sticks. Dinner was potluck and later in the evening, I learned to drive a friend's '59 Single Cab (second gear is where?). We slept through the overnight golf-cart mayhem, and joined other friends for breakfast. There was something in the air that set me completely at ease.

I've never really grasped the bus lifestyle, but I think I understand part of it now. A tiny microcosm of the VW world, it's a step out of time into a place where time doesn't matter quite so much. My husband and I have toyed with the idea of finding a Eurovan Weekender (watercooled modern camperbus) for some time, and I'm a lot closer to taking the plunge now. What's holding me back? The only thing that costs more than a decent camperbus is a decent Eurovan. At $40K, they still sell for close to new prices, and are rarer than needle valves on a Civic.

I can still dream.

Hackie!

I'm a bit behind the times on this, but I'd like to call attention to one of my favorite, formerly-regular reads, "Hackie." It's a column by a guy called Jernigan, musing about his life as a cabbie in the fabulous Burlington, Vermont, and runs oh-so-appropriately in Burlington's alernaweekly, Seven Days. (Full disclaimer: I wrote several music reviews for the paper after I graduated from college, and one of my favorite journalism professors is a regular contributor.) The actual columns rotate off the webpage fairly quickly, resulting in dead links, so I will instead link to Jernigan's blog .

Jernigan rarely, if ever, discusses the actual motoring aspects of his profession; however, I still feel it's worth a mention on Vanity Plate. He has a knack for communicating the subtleties of the people he meets and the relationships he develops. Also, I am amused by the parallels between Jernigan and Queen Jean.

Running changes

I gave up this weekend. I've been trying to sort a fuel pump relay issue for over two years, and yesterday I decided that the solution to the problem is a dash-mounted toggle switch with a fuse on the power side.

Running changes are nothing new to those who work on cars, but this is nothing short of criminal. A relay made in 1979 by a company that cannot be Googled (Stribel) today is NLA (no longer available). The relay available today (also made by the Google-proof company) doesn't work. It doesn't work in the car, and it doesn't work on the bench. Both have the same Volkswagen part number.

It's said that VW stands for "Varies Widely". The pundits are right. But now I can turn them off.

Strike!

I wonder how Ron Gettelfinger sleeps at night. I know the UAW members deserve to be paid for the work they do, but do they have to shut down GM in the process? And what of Ford and Chrysler? It's been practice for decades to rape the healthiest auto company in contract talks and then force the same terms down the throats of the other two, regardless of their ability to meet them.

I was hoping the UAW would go after Chrysler this year because I could see the PE owners walking away from their investment, trashing the entire thing to break the union. The UAW would go on record as shutting down one of the hands that feeds them, and that would be the end of of the UAW's reign of terror. Ironically I think that the PE guys would get their money back as the Big Two would need those plants to fill the demand that would build after the mess was cleaned up. Going after GM is from that old hardball playbook. It's time for GM to use some old school rules, too. Shut down. Shut down hard enough to hurt everyone they can touch. Don't make it easy for the UAW - their members have mortgages and summer homes and Harley-Davidsons on the line here. Make it hard for Michigan, make it hard for OH. Make it hard for every Tier supplier out there. Make it clear that it is in the best interests of the country for GM (and Ford and Chrysler) to make cars on the same terms as its competitors.

I hate dealing with strikes; they screw up my life, too. The D will be a mess, Michigan will suffer, and all sorts of bad crap will happen. But it's time for the UAW to wake up to today's realities in cost accounting and the automotive manufacturing process. We'll see who's been hitting the snooze bar at 11AM today.

Mixed marriages

A friend dropped by my driveway yesterday to chat and the subject turned toward a young lady he was hoping to date. His concern was that she wouldn't appreciate his rather time-consuming exotic car habit. We laughed about his ex-GF, who left him because of it, and about my spouse, who endures my falling-apart-car habit with grace and a bizarre form of sponsorship known as letting me drive his car when both of mine are out of commission.

I put some thought into it, and really, it's bad to mix car people with not car people. Not car people just don't appreciate the amount of joy cars bring to car people. The worst kind of not car people are the ones with life-consuming habits of their own, ones that they claim are "different" than the habits of car people. Fail. Fail. Fail. Cars are no more money-sucking or time-consuming than, say, quilting, Longaberger baskets ($300 for a basket? Hello?), or your garden-variety landscaping and gardening project. In fact, when done with even remote care, the car habit produces peace in a marriage. What other habit has the spouse never venturing father than the garage on any night of the week, and provides a built-in focus for all complaints? It's important to be careful to make your matches well.

This is timely because my co-host here at VPB is doing the binding thing next week. The same thing I did a rather long time ago. We both have had the good sense to pick mates who can live with our greasy selves. My mom appreciated the car thing in my dad, and my in-laws, well, the not car people do seem to eventually find each other, thank God. That leaves more car guys for us car girls. The way it should be.

State of confusion

The state of Michigan is going through some rough times right now. Employers are leaving, jobs are drying up, and housing is really really cheap. The legislature needs to do something, and I think it should take some cues from the hometown auto industry.

Think of the state as General Motors. At GM, less money was coming in the door because fewer cars were being sold. In the state, less money is coming in because fewer people are working and paying taxes. At GM, the leadership (finally) recognized the problem and started trimming the staff and making the product more attractive to buyers. The state of Michigan needs to do the same.

Staff cuts need to happen. Program cuts need to happen. The state needs to make itself more business-friendly, and that means making do with less. Less income, meaning fewer tax dollars, to be specific.

Just like General Motors.

And look, GM is coming back. Maybe there's hope for Michigan, too.

Electricals

There's a theory I have about Bosch electrical bits. When Bosch decided to start making electrical thingies, they thought they'd be smart and hire some engineers with experience away from other manufacturers. They cheaped out and went with Lucas.

That would explain why I abandoned my Rabbit (the 1982 variety) about a mile from my house today. The fuel pump relay casing was about 150F. When I left the house this morning, the fuel pump never shut off as it is supposed to, and I said to myself, "hmm, this is new". If you own an old car with Bosch or Lucas bits, you say that a lot. I grew up saying it, and apparently haven't had the honor of (or brains to) growing out of saying it.

Fortunately I walked home and my kids had a good laugh. They are surprisingly resilient about these things.

Bosch and Lucas: why AAA has a Gold Towing Package.

Oh yeah, and ...

I drove my bunny to work yesterday, and again today. I need a new radiator, the old one leaks a little bit. About an ounce every 10 miles. I have 5 washers stacked up under the clutch lever taking up slack in the clutch cable. The new old clutch is in there and working fine. The flywheel teeth are chewing up the little bit of starter bushing I lost in the bell housing. One of my speakers fell out, so the radio is not really working. I don't care.

My top is down and my car runs. In intarweb-speak, that means happy Kat is happy again.

Formula noOne

I'm one of those lucky employees who gets to see their employer's logo paraded around the F1 track on a car. Unfortunately, that appears to be not the case any more, at least in the form we paid for it.

I want to know why it never occured to the Mercedes/McLaren staff involved that maybe, just maybe, Ferrari was setting them up? Getting the competition's documents is always a rush, but are these people that clueless that the downside never crossed their minds? I guess so.

As the Wheel Turns....

Schmole reversal

Ha! That's the way it should be. Screw the guys, we have project cars!

Four and one half years ago, I moved into my first house with a garage. Two measly cars worth, but a GARAGE. It's even heated. It houses my precious Rabbit Convertible and my spouse's oil burner. As much as I wanted to claim both spots, discretion was and is the better part of valor, and I gave the other one up. My beautiful wagon suffers outside.

He's already promised that the next house will have a garage big enough to handle a two-post lift. I love the house we live in now - it's a bizarre and beautiful mid-century modern that we're renovating to 1961 spec. The tile we're installing is pretty damn far-out. I've never loved a house like I love this one. My woodshop takes up the entire (small) basement, and I find myself doing car projects in our cavernous living room. Nothing beats car parts in the living room - I've done an interior, a convertible top, and I'm planning a rear disc brake conversion. But I, too, feel the call of the giant garage. The siren song of space, in both the horizontal and vertical planes.

My day will come. I hope. I want a lift.

That's it, I'm trading in the Rabbit.

From Motive Magazine: Volkswagen up! breaks cover.

Role-reversal.

My future husband (19 days from now!) and I are in the market for a home. CNN and MSNBC tell me the economy is crashing and the housing market's catastrophic. As a buyer, that's good.

 

We toured a house Saturday, a lovely little fixer-upper bungalow that we absolutely adore. Immediately afterward, we steered the Rabbit over to the local building supply warehouse to check out tile and flooring options. From there, we headed out to our editor's house for a barbecue.

 

We want the same features; we have similar tastes. We have been talking about our home search more-or-less nonstop, so our friends ask how the search is progressing.

 

"How was the house?" says Random Person at Party.

"We can build a master bath!" says Husband. "We can choose tile and buy new appliances and paint walls and build equity!"

"It has a four-car garage!" says I. "I can store my GTI! I can pull the engine and powdercoat all the brackets! If I let it sit on the 15s all winter, I can upgrade to Corrado G60 brakes! Garage!"

 

I like painting. I'm looking forward to laying tile. Master bath with corner tub? Oh, hell yes. But nothing beats the sweetness of that garage. A woman's got priorities, after all.

Moving day

Volkswagen's move to Northern Virginia was announced last thursday. Taking 400 jobs with them, they plan to leave 600 jobs in Auburn Hills. However.....

Three hundred of the 600 jobs remaining in AH are contract jobs, and at least one of the contractors (ProCare, handling customer care) have contracts set to expire in 2008. Technical staff of around 20 are in-house, however another 25 or so are contract, and considered replaceable. This leaves one wondering exactly how many jobs will remain in Auburn Hills say, over the next five years. My bet is very very few.

Rumors of Chrysler's interest in the VW complex are already floating around Detroit. The VW campus includes two leased buildings (including the one with the shop) and one building owned by VW. Sources indicate that certain staff groups are waiting for news of the location of a proposed manufacturing site to plan their relocations.

Speaking of factories, what better place to build than a US government-certified brownfield? With brownfield locations increasing as the armed forces shutter bases, certain locations in, say, South Carolina or other right-to-work states begin take on a certain golden hue. No doubt significant tax incentives can be made available for use of one of these sites. Port locations with rail facilities should take top consideration. I'll be very disappointed if VW screws that up. I expect a site location to be announced within 6 months.

I'm amazed by the vehicles sold through "any of Chicagoland's eight CarMax locations." Specifically, I'm amazed that the buyers of upscale or expensive cars, such as the owner of a Jaguar parked in my apartment's garage, leave CarMax stickers and branded plate frames on the car long after the purchase. Why are they content to advertise for a megastore, and why don't they mind telling the world they purchased their luxury car at a chain that thrives on peddling Dodge Neons and Chevy Aveos?

 

I might buy my Dr. Martens at Marshalls and on eBay, but I don't wear them with the "factory seconds" price tag still attached.

The Volkswagen gods must hate me....

I got the transmission out. I had to, because the release bearing was stuck in and I figured the throwout plate was bad. It wasn't. The pressure plate wasn't bad, and the pushrod wasn't bad. I got nothin', as the saying goes.

So I did what every normal person does when they are faced with a problem they can't diagnose - I decided to throw parts at it. It worked with the distributor.....

Throwing parts at the car would require finding a pressure plate. A 190mm one, to be exact. I called. And called. And called. Finally, I found a shop that could get me one overnight. Yippee! All would be well in Rabbitland today.

Yeah, right. Even I know that the driven plate and pressure plate have to match in diameter. Is there a reason Valeo doesn't?

The only explanation is that the Volkswagen gods must hate me. Because I still got nothin'. Not even a clutch.

Weight from the shoulders...

This weekend, I got around to working on a project that has been haunting me for over a year. One year, one month, and 26 days, to be exact.

On 30 June of last year, I ran my project car nearly dry of oil. I was so excited to have good weather that I grabbed a fresh battery (spare me the lecture, I forgot to take the ground off over the winter) and fired her up without performing basic PMs. I then drove the car happily for three weeks until it began squealing in a very frightening manner. Of course, I had to have it towed from work. This added the proverbial insult to injury because my day job involves the lubrication of assorted industrial processes, and I am supposed to understand the basic concepts of oil pressure an preventive maintenance. Even worse, I have an oil pressure gauge in the car that I could have simply checked once in a while.

I had the bottom end pulled apart and the main bearings fished out within a week. I found that they weren't bad so much from my failure to maintain oil pressure, but at 156K miles, pretty much trashed from previous owners' poor maintenance practices. It sounds like I'm copping out, but at least I can claim expertise in analyzing bearing failure - it's part of my job. I carry those bearing shells with me as a reminder to always check pressure and do PMs. I scouted around for a new used engine and swapped it in in less than a week of hour-here, hour-there worknights. The great part was I did it almost completely by myself, only asking for assistance with the final locating of the mounts.

Excited and proudly full of myself for the quick swap, I tried to start it. It wouldn't fire. I gave up after about a week of fooling around with it, doing every diagnostic in the book without finding the source of the problem. Then I cried. I was angry at myself for not being able to figure it out. In frustration, I mentally shelved the car for nearly a year. I'm very singular about DIY - I hate asking for help. I want to be able to say I did it myself and mean it.

About a month ago, I went out and grabbed (yet another) fresh battery (and a charger) and started fooling around with it again. I'd managed to shake most of the guilt I felt for taking up garage space and the fear of not being able to figure it out. That fear was paralyzing me. I didn't find the fault, but I did start to feel better about the possibility of getting the car running again.

Friday afternoon, a friend called up and offered to help out. I decided to get over myself and accept the help. Three hours of diagnostics (all positive), a trip to the parts store, and the decision to start throwing parts at the car (a decision I repeatedly refused to make when arguing with myself), and the engine fired strongly for the first time since being removed from its previous host. We let it idle for a bit while calling up other friends to share the sweet exhaust note over our cell phones. I would drive to work on Monday. My demon was exorcised, if for a few precious minutes. A third friend showed up to return a tool while we were enjoying our successful day and broke the reverie. The clutch was soft, and I'd been hoping to get his foot in there as he's got plenty of experience with the same setup. He infomed me that after all of my pain with the engine, either the clutch was toast or the throwout pin was broken, and I most certainly was NOT driving it to work on monday.

The engine is already chained up and the chassis is in the air. I have a spare known-good transmission in the garage and a clutchpack is available same day from my tuner. Let's hope I can get this problem solved in less than a year. I want to drive my car again. I miss her and what she does for my soul.

And yes, I unhooked my ground this time.

Saleen Troy Assembly

While out at lunch today, I spotted a sign reading "Open House" in front of a building that hasn't had a sign on it since it was a Stanley Garage Door factory some time back in the late 90s. This wouldn't have raised an eye, but I knew what was inside. The owners have a habit of displaying their wares in the large front window, and you can only see so many S7s before you figure out that the old garage door plant is the midwest base for Saleen.

I swooped back to work, begged my boss for the afternoon off, and hightailed it out to the daycare to grab the kids - you only get so many shots at a racecar factory, and we weren't missing this one.

Saleen's Troy, MI assembly plant is micro-OEM facility. If you've been in a "regular" auto assembly plant, this is the Matchbox (or is it HotWheels?) version. Chasses come in one end, supplied by Ford, and are processed on two separate assembly lines. The main line is for Mustang conversions. That is too limited a word, the cars are stripped when they arrive and given new VINs indicating Saleen as the OEM. The parts that are stripped off the cars are graded for quality and shipped to a variety of recycling shops around the US that get the parts to owners and shops that need them for repairs. They are not sold as new. The chasses are painted if a Saleen color is selected, then go through what the rest of the OEMs call "final assembly". About 5 cars a day process through the Mustang line, starting with interior extraction and working through undercarriage, suspension, engine work, interior insertion, and final trim. Final trim frequently includes replacing the bonnet.

The paint line is a work in and of itself. Saleen has the expertise and equipment in-house to produce a fully baked factory primer/color/clear process and does so on all painted vehicles. They recently received the contract to paint the 08 Dodge Viper. Working with the RIM material for the Viper parts requires a unique buck assembly to protect the shape of the parts during the bake cycle. Each group of trims is painted as a body so that all parts will match exactly when the car is assembled. This commission comes on the heels of the Ford GT, a car fully painted and assembled at Saleen, short of the drivetrain insertion.

The second line in the plant processes vehicles delivered from Ford that will keep their Ford VINs. These vehicles receive factory-certified Saleen powertrain upgrades, such as the supercharger on the Ford F150 Harley Davidson. Up to 15 trucks can process each day, meaning a car carrier is showing up to unload and pick up about 8 times a week. The supercharger was designed out of Saleen's California headquarters, like most of Saleen's offerings. Troy Assembly includes several test cells for flowbenching and a brand new Dynojet for powertrain validation. If you're going to claim 400 horsies, you better be able to show you've got them. One of the modified trucks was strapped down during our visit, and plunked down a very respectable 390hp and 440ft-lbs at the wheels.

Saleen are pretty much the only OEM that is expanding in MI. The facility opened to build the Ford GT, as Dearborn wanted it done close to home, and Saleen have a very good relationship with them. An engine plant is on the drawing board - plans to bring 281s in from Ford for stroking out to full 302 spec are on the table. This will further expand not only Saleen's capabilities for modifying Fords, but the ability to produce very specific crate motors. A possible retro roadster project is also on the table, as witnessed from the assorted body and frame bucks observed around the plant.

I hope to secure a future tour that can include my camera. It's a great treat to visit an assembly shop that isn't beating me over the head over a paint defect for once. At Saleen, it didn't appear to be an issue.

I need an SUV to get over this writer's block. I heard the new Touareg's a great off-roader!

Writing new car reviews is freakin' tough. I don't know why I thought it would be simple. I've spent upward of 25 hours so far this week attempting to summarize 10 hours of driving a 2008 Touareg.

 

How people do this for a living, day in and day out, I don't know. According to a source of mine, Jim Mateja (recently retired from The Chicago Tribune) had access to several hundred press cars last year; this review of the 2008 TT is representative of his general style. The facts are jammed in wherever they fit amongst copy that reads like a hypothetical conversation between the writer and a neighbor.

 

"Oooh, what have you got there, Jim?"

"Well, this here's the new..."

 

Such pedestrian prose makes the opposite end of the spectrum (for example, the highly-controversial Dan Neil ) seem positively poetic, although that's an unfair comparison, because I don't generally enjoy poetry.

 

Style and talent in this industry run the gamut, and I'm positive I have a niche here that I can't yet define, much less carve out. I'm struggling to grasp the words that suit this vehicle. I need to describe the good elements of my experience, of which there are many, and force myself to evaluate the not-so-good from another perspective, because they are tainted by my own biases. I thought that my brief time with the car was enough to accomplish this, only to be later surprised and dismayed that the fleet management company retrieved it earlier than expected. And I allowed myself until tomorrow to wrap it all up.

 

Wish me luck. I'll post a link when the review goes live.

"...Foregoing being the king." --Geely media kit

Wes and I talked about China last night, an amateur international relations conference from the booth of a Milwaukee McDonald's.

 

I mentioned I read an article about a wildlife preserve in China that allows googly-eyed Westerners the opportunity to hug panda bears for a hefty fee. For at least as long as I have known Wes, he has wanted to go to China to observe and write about Chinese auto manufacturing, such as Geely or Chery. My motives are clearly much more superficial.

 

I asked Wes if he thinks the recent news stories about tainted Chinese-made products would hurt the chances of auto manufacturers. I'm convinced they're doomed before they even start; after all, I saw Geely's exhibit at NAIAS in January. I collected their press materials with the intention of making a kind of "what not to do" collage. I examined the display cars with fake disc brakes bolted over the drums, paint overspray peeling from rubber gaskets, and interior upholstery that closely resembled dollar-store terry cloth dish towels. If they don't have the good sense to, at the very least, hire a North American PR firm to review their press materials to fix errors and smooth over goofy translations before distribution, I don't think Chinese auto manufacturers stand a chance.

 

Wes disagrees. In the wake of the Chinese tire nightmare, his news post on The Car Lounge delved into the background of Chinese manufacturing: why the culture enforces such shoddy quality and why he thinks that dynamic will change. (Rather than paraphrase him, I'll rather post the link when I'm not blogging from work.) He's nothing if not thorough, that man. And since he's done far more research on the subject than I have, and these are the sort of conversations take place in our non-working hours, I'm looking forward to watching it play out. Multiple sources (manufacturers and analysts) estimate Chinese cars could land here as soon as two years from now.

 

He's still planning to visit an auto plant in China someday. I finally conceded that I'd like to accompany him, as long as I get to visit the pandas.

 

VW's location question

We heard that VW is considering leaving MI for greener pastures out east.

This is intriguing for a few reasons. Moving to the coasts would put VW smack into the centers of population where their cars sell best. And Germans do love to fit in. This would fit well with a Volkswagen strategy of staying in the US as a niche player without any aspirations of true mass-market participation. If that is what VW are going to be about, it's not such a bad idea to move. It's not good for the bubble buyer, who will now know for a fact that VW is not interested in them, but it may result in a more refined VW product line that addresses their unique position in the US marketplace. Unfortunately, this will hamper Audi's gains in the luxury market.

If VW want to pursue their mass market strategy that is serving them well in the rest of the world, staying in the D is a better (non)move. Nowhere in the US is the American auto consumer more king that in Detroit. If VW is to truly understand what American drivers want, they will do best to put their collective ears to the ground in the heartland and mix product accordingly. They've had 50-plus years to get it right, what's a few more? I find it interesting that most of the new VW owners I know now (MkV and PQ46/B6 platforms) are people who skipped the past 20 years of VW. They are choosing the VW cars over Japanese cars. This means VW is starting to get the mass market right, regardless of what the noisy enthusiast crowd claims. Same goes for Audi.

This could all be a moot discussion - chatter indicates that some of the significant tax breaks VW received during the move to Auburn Hills require a few more years of residence to fully pay off. The cost of moving a company is not small - even if 25% of the staff transfer (an optimistic estimate based on other corporate moves), moving costs and COLAs add up. Add in the edifice complex that invariably results in a fancy new building and you've got a one-time hit that could wipe out profits for the next five years (assuming they make any). The same attrition could be achieved by cleaning house at Auburn Hills and picking and choosing from the abundance of ex-Ford, GM, and Chrysler staff that are currently overwhelming the local economy.

A third possibility is Chicago. I doubt it's being considered, but it would give VW exposure to both the coveted Euro-friendly crowd that populate the large cities of the coasts, along with maintaining access to the heartland. While staying in the D is a cheap no-brainer, a move just a bit west would offer the best of both worlds and give the Germans a bit more time to decide whether they're going to pull out entirely or stick around for another 50 years.

The time is coming. I must obtain an Illinois driver's license. Really, I should have done it months ago, but since my Vermont license expires next month, I can no longer feign ignorance.

 

It brings a sense of finality to my life. Funny how that works--it's as if once a government-issued photo ID says I live here, I actually do live here. Before that, it seemed kind of haphazard, like I woke up one day and found myself on the outskirts of Chicago (which isn't too far from the truth).

 

I just found out, though, that I have to surrender my Vermont license at the time the Illinois license is issued. I don't want to surrender it. I want to keep it. I like having a souvenir I carry in my wallet. I enjoy the looks and comments I get from liquor store clerks--"Oooh, what's it like there?"--and I don't see why they can't just snap it in half and hand it back to me, so I can frame it or something.

 

I am kind of a pack rat. I do get way too attached to everyday inanimate objects.

 

I still have my Massachusetts license, although it expired long ago. I was supposed to surrender it to the State of Vermont that September day I took an afternoon off from work, headed down the lakefront to the Burlington DMV, applied for my LB6ZGTI vanity plates, sat for a new photo, and lied about my weight. The reason I didn't hand it over? The clerk, a cute young man about my age, came out to the parking lot to verify my VIN, stopped short when he saw my GTI, and spent the next few minutes smiling at me and asking questions about the car. Government-mandated procedure was a mere suggestion at that point. Like the bumper stickers say, ILOVERMONT.

 

 

 

No show

Around 15 April, the thoughts of auto enthusiasts in America turn to two things: What to spend the tax refund on, and where to show it off.

My family can only survive so many car shows each year, so I get out the calendar and try to pick and choose early on. I confess that while I do like attending big ones, the smaller, more focused ones offer better chances at bringing home the hardware. Yes, I'm competitive about my car. I admit it. More trophies is better. As I expected to run the BABE 2007 in May, I cut the show schedule a little trimmer than I normally would. One of the perks of the planned BABE event was going to be spending a week driving cross-country with my co-host here at Vanity Plate Blog, something we were both looking forward to doing, and to writing about. I selected my hometown show - Motorstadt, the Woodward Dream Cruise, and the Michigan Bug-Out. The most glaring omission from my schedule was the largest midwest show for Volkswagens - Midwest Treffen.

Now that Treffen is on the horizon, I'm rethinking my decision. I can't change it due to other plans, but I'm regretting writing it off of the calendar so quickly. The show is a huge conflict for me - it is invariably scheduled for the weekend of the Dream Cruise, popular voting produces some interesting results, and Chicago is an expensive place to get a room. The Dream Cruise (watch for coverage this week as I hit Woodward) is the single largest automotive event in the United States, and when you live in the Detroit area, impossible to avoid. So you cave and enjoy it. You revel in the exhaust fumes, the ornate bodywork, and torque that, were Woodward a one-way street, might affect the rotation of the earth. With at least one budding gear-head building LEGO cars at home, it's a crime to leave town for this amazing event. And while you're supposed to go to shows for fun, my competitive streak really got the best of me last year when the first place vote in my class went to a stock car with wood-grain shelf liner stuck to its rocker panels. I swore I would never go back. It was a pretty sucky weekend - I got rained on on Saturday at the Cruise, drove like a banshee to Chicago that evening to stay in a $150 Hampton (good grief!), got displaced by the shelf liner, and returned home, rock-chipped and empty-handed, to hear that the weather improved on Sunday and there were "Ferraris EVERYWHERE, Mommy!". Staying home this year felt right, way back in April.

So why, in the face of three Plymouth GTXs, hundreds of Chevelle SuperSports, half the mobile Model Ts, and a wind-up Type 1 with a hydraulic body, do I regret staying home this year? Because Cherise missed out on the BABE ralley, and I missed out on her company. I'd be enjoying it this coming weekend at Treffen, while we planned and plotted for a bigger, better Vanity Plate Blog. This year's Treffen would have been what car shows are supposed to be about - hanging out with friends, looking at cars, enjoying yourself. My reasons for not going were pretty selfish, and here I go again, selfish in my reasons for wanting to go.

Instead of making the trek to Chicago, I'll be visiting the Seiberling estate outside of Akron, OH, built as home to the founder of the Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company. We're throwing in a trip to the World of Rubber for some educational content. Not the car trip I wish I was making, but tyres count for something, right?

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Yikes. That sums up my response to the announcement of the installation of Bob Nardelli as chairman and CEO of Chrysler this morning. As long as Bob Lutz holds on to GM, it's Planes, Trains, and Automobiles here in the D.

My dad worked for General Electric Locomotive Division some time ago. He never really talked about GE much, only to relate the occasional anecdote about the mystical manner in which GE was managed. The engineers weren't really in charge of much, to put it mildly. Justifying costs on a locomotive with safety instead of customer-inspired product upgrades means product planning isn't going the way it should. It's not happening at all. And when it comes to things that cost a lot of money, product is king. Bean-counting, Mr Nardelli's best skill, was making life hell for the guys who build the locomotives that keep the lumber moving from forests to homesites. It's a miracle the guy made it to Home Depot - cost cutting doesn't keep the locomotives rolling out of the factory, and it sure as hell doesn't make home centers the best places to shop. A quick survey at any Lowe's will tell you that. Our local HD is so bad that we call it Tent Depot in response to its lack of product and inventory. I'm sure it's efficient as all get out, though.

Bringing a cost accountant with expansionist tendencies into a business that already sets standards for efficiency and overcapacity looks like a recipe for a bad trip. Considering that Wolfgang Bernhard has been waiting inthe wings to return his successful formula for automotive branding and product planning (too successful for Hrs P&P of VAG, apparently), the choice of Nardelli is even more confounding. Bob Lutz has shown over and over that Car Guys are what it takes to turn around an automaker. Alan Mullaly harbors no misconceptions about the role of product in the product line. But Nardelli? Chrysler doesn't need his kind of Evolution.

Requiem for a brand

I'd be pretty remiss if I didn't comment on the end of things yellow and couch, too.

My role is more that of innocent bystander, but not a bystander and not innocent. Comments were made, tempers flared, and foci shifted. Motive is set to launch and it will be a bright new era in auto mags. The right things have happened for someone I respect and want success for.

Like Cherise, I won't be there. Not like I was on the couch, that's for sure.

I first sat on the couch about three years ago. I'd been partaking of its knowledge and collective automolove for a few years already when I was invited to sit down and come clean. Oh, the humanity, the joy, the fun. Most of the time when you write, you don't know 100% of your audience. You know their demographics, and you know the basic stats on the readers, but you don't know them personally. On the couch, it was different. We knew the people we wrote for - many of them personally, and we knew when we were going to get slayed for our words. I took a pasting from the design department at GM once. People I had to face at work and socially, no less. It was painful, but it was offset by the many times I got to scoop or be the loyal opposition.

I like the Car Lounge brand. No premise other than cars and car chat. No claims, no goals, no motives. I want to see it transition successfully. I'm afraid some of what made it special might get lost, though. That being the couch.

You see, the Car Lounge was automotive therapy - sometimes you were the doctor, sometimes you were on the couch.

Chagall at the Mall - 29th Annual Meadowbrook Concours d'Elegance

Today marked the 29th Meadowbrook Concours d'Elegance, the midwest's annual tribute to cars that cost more than you could possibly imagine. It only costs $25 to look, unless you shop at the Somerset Collection, and then it's sort of free. Promotion of the Concours d'Elegance consisted of display of several cars from both this year's and last year's events at the local super-pricey shopping mall. The absolute star of the mall feature was a 1936 Stout Scarab, which I understand has been willed to the Smithsonian institution by its owner. Eight cars and a motorcycle made the trip to the shopping mecca in Troy. That wasn't enough for me, so I plunked down the cabbage and spent several hours on the golf course at Meadowbrook Hall with my family, admiring and twittering about everything from the effortless spunk of a tiny Topolino to the grand and imposing elegance of a massive Packard 180 Darrin.

The only damper on the show was the weather, and even Bob Lutz (chairman) couldn't manufacture sun. The rain held off to a now-and-then drizzle. It was just enough to keep the chamois going and the tarps on. I admire the many owners who let the raindrops fall on their beauties - it made the show that much more outstanding for everyone.

This year's show focused on Alfa Romeo. The constellation of little stars inside the juried area included the trio of Alfa B.A.T.s, brought to life by Bertone. The Berlina Aerodynamica Technica 5, 7, and 9 showed an exuberance of design that has long left the industry. Tall recurving tailfins graced each body, obscuring the view from the giant sloping rear glasses. My sons gravitated to the cars for their futuristic bent and simple lines. I wondered when Bertone would get a commission like that again. Nearly 25 little Italian stars graced the show field, each one waiting to stand up to the 8C Competizione sitting outside of the gate. With the bonnet of the 8C open, you had the feeling you were its food, and it was coming for you. The 8C's engine sounded nice. It didn't have any of the gritty rumbles or pops and burbles of the cars on the show field (Concours cars must be driven onto the field under their own power). It was a technical sound. Not bad, but not dangerous.


Our favorite Alfa? A tossup between the B.A.T.s, a very clean 1964 2600, and a 1952 1900C. The 2600 was Giorgetto Guigaro's first production design, and I am very partial to his work. The 1900C competed in the 1952 Mille Miglia, making it one of several honest-to-God racecars showing. Who can't love an Italian racecar?

Although Alfa was the marque of note, I also found several cars that felt the hand of Howard 'Dutch' Darrin. Several Packards showed, along with his last body, the 1954 Kaiser Darrin. Beating the Corvette to market by a month, it holds the title of first fibreglas car. The 1937 Packard Darrin Convertible Victoria featured a hood ornament that did double duty as an antenna for the car's radio. Darrin's styling could easily be the source of the word swank.

While this is indeed Vanity Plate, it's time to detour to Hood Ornament. No show I attend provides more variety and detail in this class than Meadowbrook. The illuminated class takes us from the crystal eagle on a 1930 Cord L29 Phaeton to the naked glass lady on a 1934 Duesenberg Model J. t's hard to run out of stuff to look at. Last year we were treated to the naval turret guns on a pair of DuPonts, but none were found this year. A mistake, if I may say so. Hood Ornament fest continued apace with the non-illuminated variety. Hood ornaments serving dual purposes as decoration and gauges of various sorts dominated the 20s and 30s brackets.

I was humored by a 1932 Ford V8 Convertible Victoria that was built in Germany and still had its original toolset. The 1923 Kissel 6-45 Gold Bug Speedster had a lock on "best feature ever" for its outrigger seats that slid out of the chassis and allowed a rider outside of the box on each side. More like mother-in-law seats, if you ask me. I learned that "fix-it" cars are not just FIATs and Fords - the 1910 EMF Model 30 Touring was known (by marketers, no doubt) as "Every Man's Favorite", however owners apparently designated them "Every Morning Fix-it"s. The placards at the Concours are excellent in their presentation of details and history of the cars they describe, frequently supplying humorous and family notes that bring the cars to life even in their museum-like conditions. They make the show very accessible for children and encourage extensive tale-telling when one has personal experience with a marque or particular model.

A second designer of note that seemed to pervade this show was Charles Knight, the designer of the sleeve valve. Unlike last year's unabashed noisefest, this year was all quite on the front nine. The little Alfas putted around. The Rolls Royces wafted imperiously. A Ford GT40 (help me, I'm going to faint!) noodled by. A deTomaso Magnusta sputtered about under its own power. Adding to the miracle of that, a second Magnusta was found in the parking lot, also apparently having arrived under its own power. Did the world stop rotating or something? Only a subdued Yenko Camaro tripped any car alarms.

Post World War II groups featured their own oddities and concepts. Two of my favorites at this year's event were the Jeffords AMX R and the 1966 Jensen FFII. The AMX R concept, executed and hopped up by Jeffords, featured a "Ramble" seat in place of a trunk. Taking its name from history and its concept from the original goals of the AMX program, the car was the 1968 equivalent of one of today's tuner specials. We also saw the AMX/3, the last of the AMX line, and a concept that would never see production. The Jensen is a sentimental favorite, being the first production car with ABS, AWD, and traction control, all things we take for granted 40 years later. The Chrysler Turbine, on loan from the Walter P. Chrysler museum attracted the usual crowd. More interesting to me was the La Femme (I wonder why?), recently restored and also on loan. The most interesting thing about the La Femme is not its lipstick case, but the eight gauges that dot its dashboard. Now we have idiot lights. Apparently women of the 50s were somewhat more capable than we are assumed to be today.

The Henry Ford offered up a Bugatti Royale with a very checkered history. The car had been junked due to a cracked engine block, and was rescued for restoration. Prior to being junked, it had been "sent for repair" during the rise of the Nazis in Germany, as it could only be worked on by the factory in France. A second Bugatti on the field was walled off in an underground garage, the driveway backfilled, and roses planted on the fill. These anecdotes serve as reminders of how universal automotive enthusiasm really is.

As usual, Meadowbrook includes a fashion show, in which models parade clothing while seated in cars from the field. My eight year old was entertained by one model's ensemble featuring pieces from design house Graham Paige - he pointed out that there was a 1928 Boattail Speedster of the same marque on the field and inquired if they were related. I promised to check on that.

I'll add pics as I get them uploaded. In the mean time, make plans to come to Detroit next year for the 30th annual Concours d'Elegance. bring your family and make a day of some of the most beautiful and influential cars you'll ever see up close. And no celebrities, either, unless you count ol' Bob.

Thank you, Chicago.

From The Chicago Tribune: City may quit fueling up with BP

 

The basics: BP is dumping waste into Lake Michigan. Chicago City Council members say, "Don't do that, or we won't do business with you anymore."

 

Choosing a fuel company sucks; it's a prime example of finding the lesser evil. But I won't be buying BP gas anytime soon, even if I do think their green and yellow flower logo is cute.

 

 

The death of the Big Yellow Couch.

Motive Mag will be launching any minute now. Really, I swear. I have been privy to days' worth of last-minute chores, partook in their celebratory strawberry-frosted cake, and made a beer run for Jamie.

 

And I'm not even a staff member, nor will I ever be; I just sleep with one.

 

Motive is replacing The Car Lounge, Vortex Media Group's catch-all auto forum, when the switch is flipped at some point today. Motive will be much more than TCL's crazy forums, news blogs, and occasional feature stories. I've been a bystander on the process since January, and I promise, Motive will dazzle. It's sexy and sharp, and VMG has landed some phenomenal talent.

 

There's something sad, though, about that yellow couch fading away. It's symbolic of TCL's accessibility. Motive, for a million different reasons, is anything but.

 

 

Getting dirty.

In my quest to tell the stories of others' project cars for VWvortex, I've kind of lost sight of my own. The parts I need to acquire, problems that need to be fixed, skills I need to learn--well, they've all fallen by the wayside, as my car sits parked in a barn 100 miles north, I struggle to plan my rapidly-approaching married life, and I become accustomed to the comforts of a new car. (Yes, I've learned to appreciate air conditioning and in-dash factory CD players; however, I still loathe cruise control and daytime running lights.)

I'm working on two feature stories, both of which need to be wrapped up by Chicago Volkswagen Organization's Midwest Treffen on August 19. Incidentally, this is also the first time I'll be showing my car since spring of 2006. In some ways, it feels like a life I've left behind--the constant scheduling, parts acquisition and installation, logging hundreds of highway miles and fearing every bird bomb, rock chip, and gravel patch along the way. I wasn't satisfied with being middle of the pack, but somehow I am now.

Attending a VW show used to mean weeks of preparation. I'd drop every dime of my discretionary income on new parts and spend an entire day scrubbing the engine bay with a toothbrush and a gallon of Simple Green. If it weren't for the feature stories I'm writing, I probably wouldn't be going to Treffen at all. I can't even get motivated to order and install basic parts; I'm only mildly excited about showing off my newly-completed European digital cluster conversion, a task so complex that it's been managed by only a handful of people on the continent. (Thanks again to my electrical-genius, German-literate husband-to-be who appreciates the unique opportunity to give a girl car parts for Christmas--and then install them for her.)

I have a feeling, though, that the people I have made plans to meet will make it all worthwhile--the late nights hunched over my keyboard, the hours of backbreaking polishing and scrubbing, and even the $4-per-gallon 93 octane gas that the GTI demands.

I'm already working on an appropriate mix CD.

In just a couple of weeks, happiness arrives in the form of a Saturn Sky.

The Sky has been my "lust" car since its release; I love it so much that, were I in the market, I'd be tempted to choose a Sky over even the MINI Cooper S, which has been my "lust" car for the past six years or so. It's pure luck that it is scheduled to arrive at the office the same week as a bunch of much more exotic vehicles; while the full-time staff is busy arguing over Porsches, I'm thrilled with this particular GM.

I can't think of a better way to spend an evening in Chicago than taking a sexy, feminine roadster for nice twilight spin down deliciously twisty Sheridan Road to Lake Shore Drive.

More to come...

Volkswagen .:R GTI

We all have posters of cars on our walls at one point in our lives or another. My cubicle at work has some assorted Volkswagen posters and an old NSX poster that I've been dragging around for I think four jobs now. Four desks, for sure. Whether it was the Countach and Vector W8 posters that dominated the 80s, the "justification for higher education" poster of the 90s, or some of the factory sheets from the 70s, we've all pinned them on our walls as proof that we can dream.

Well, sometimes dreams come true, or at least take on physical reality for long enough to breathe on their own.

One of my VW posters is for the .:R GTI, a handbuilt car made of parts no one in the US will ever see again in real life. With a sticker of "somewhere around $250K" and a hop-up partslist that runs into novela range, it's a 390 crank horsepower beast that qualifies for exotic status. And I got to drive it yesterday.

Sure, it was just around the paddock at Gingerman. Sure, I never got out of third gear. I probably wasn't even at 10% load. But that can't take away from the fact that this is a hi-po powerhouse racer wrapped up in a (relatively) unassuming skin, and even 20mph is fun in it. And I not only sat in it, I fired it. The car from the poster on my wall.

The GTI lost its status as king of the pocket rockets over ten years ago, when you could buy a MkIII with a 2.sl0 and an automatic (a what?!?). All is forgiven in this leather- and alcantara-wrapped machine. The center-lock harness that runs over the stiffly bolstered racing seats is just a warning of things to come. I had to hitch the seat forward quite a bit, the usual driver is not only taller than me, but larger, too. A purview of the instrumentation reveals some surprises - including a remarkably stock looking instrument cluster. Not much more is needed, but the door open graphics do bring out the giggles as they seem completely out of place in the car. The key goes in and I fire it, bringing on some nice pipe music. I had to listen trackside to its laps to hear the full-throated songs it played, but that did not dampen my mood one bit.

Since my regular track car is an understeering hippopotamus, I appreciate things that both stop on a dime and turn. At all. The brakes on the .:R GTI imply a much smaller and lighter car, with even the slow maneuvers I did reminding me I was bound at four points. I didn't really get to test the steering, but it was not onerously weighted and seemed like it would hold its own under severe duty.

I'd be remiss if I didn't write about the shifter. I have a thing about shifter knobs. This one was attached to a very compliant and tight linkage selecting six gears and reverse. Two inch throws with nearly gated precision made for a trans that you think exists only in your mind. But back to the knob; what a fine knob it is....

Aluminium is not my first choice in materials under normal circumstances. It gets hot. This one was anodized red and silver, and with an embossed logo, it appeared quite normal. Until I grabbed it going around a corner. As my hand rolled up and onto it, it moved. Not the whole knob, just the silver ring around the fore to aft centerline. I had to stop and examine it - the entire center section rolled free of the rest of the knob, allowing a sort of approach to it, a way to insure your hand was in position and ready to grab on when the time was right. I confess to playing with it for a bit - movable feasts are common, movable knobs are most definitely not! I found that the rolling center ring enabled me to roll the locus of the shifting force without forcing me to release the knob. Quite interesting and Bravo! to the builder for selecting this feature.

I wish I could have taken it out on the track. But part of me wonders if I'm enough driver for something like that. I'll be scheduling some more track days this summer, just in case. Until then I get to be one of those really annoying people who walk into your cube, point at your wall, and say "I drove that car. Yes, that very one. It was awesome."

Untied

I like to drive a car, preferably my car, when I go places. Unfortunately, driving to California from Michigan is not time sensitive.

I had a run-in with air travel yesterday. It took the esteemed travel professionals at United 7 hours to cancel a flight that had no earthly chance of ever being equipped. At the car rental, if there's no car, they tell you, and you go to other rental counters until you find one. The trick here is they tell you up front: "We have no car for you."

My friends (as such) at United did not have such good manners, and I spent 7 hours waiting find out that I should have just stayed home. Instead of arriving in Cali at 1800 local time, United could get me there at 2200 the next day. I could have almost driven there that fast. I spent another 3 hours waiting for a flight home to DTW.

Blech. Air travel sucks. Just drive, and at least you can know you will eventually get there.

Dragon tales

I did it. I did it in a 2002 Golf TDI. I did it with an automatic, which did not enhance the pleasure I experienced. However, neither did it blunt it as much as I thought it would.

I ran the Dragon, otherwise known as US 129 in spite of the few remaining road signs indicating such. I also ran the Hellbender, a section of US 28 that had my kids screaming and my spouse panicking, jabbing mercilessly at the imaginary brake pedal in the passenger footwell. Those twisties added two hours to the transit from Knoxville to Asheville.

Worth the detour? Oh, yes. I would like to do that again. Many times over. In a Miata. With no passengers.

My vacation found me enjoying driving like I haven't in years. Specifically, nearly six years, that being the time I have been away from the twisty, hilly venues of the greater Northeast. I remembered why I loved my 30 minute commute in Philly - the old cart path that had been paved for use by automobiles some time in the 1920s. The ford in the road, the blind turns, the elevation changes that frequently involve full suspension travel. The millstone of our autotragic Diesel was not sufficient to weigh me down on these transits I hold hallowed. A Buick Roadmaster might not have been enough to kill it for me, particularly after four years in Detroit. My sons squealed with delight as we took turn after turn, yelling "rollercoaster!" after every hill summit crested and "tummy funny!" as we came down the backsides, losing our seats and gravity in the process.

The white knuckles my poor spouse endured while I devoured the old roads had me pealing with laughter, reminding him that he was the one who introduced those roads to me so many years ago. Did he expect me not to enjoy the gift he gave me at every chance? I can forgive him the imaginary brake pedal while we descended the Hellbender - he's not a performance driver, and I'd likely be quite white-knuckled if he were driving it, although not for the same reasons. But on the roads he calls home, he should expect some colonial enthusiasm from me.

Those roads the only good reason I have for putting up with "vacation" at his parents' every year.

"Take my pulse and take my picture, I wanna be a household fixture."

There's nothing quite like the rush of seeing my own work published, and it's an experience to which I haven't yet gotten accustomed.

Not quite as exciting, but almost, is browsing through a print magazine and spotting a car with which I am intimate. It happens pretty regularly--honestly, it happens more often than I get published, which is kind of pathetic. Even more pathetic, I know all these cars by sight, or I know the owners, yet it's very rarely my car that's pictured. My GTI was in Performance VW's Reader's Rides, and my dearly departed Audi 4000 was in an advertisement in Eurotuner under its previous ownership. So much for my exciting life.

A couple weekends ago, I was at Barnes & Noble with the honey, on the monthly mission to check out the Euro/VW tuner mag competition. My interest was piqued when I found coverage of Atlanta's DurtyFest, since the show is managed by acquaintances and I am familiar with their cars from both VWvortex and my brief period of Atlanta residency.

In the front and center of the lead photo sat Volkswagen's Thunder Bunny. At first, I was amused that so much attention would be granted to a show car commissioned and owned by a manufacturer, rather than giving the magazine's own consumers' cars precious photo space in a time when the magazine can no longer afford to print the monthly cover car poster insert that used to be included with each issue. It seemed like a weird editorial decision, but that's not my domain--I'm happiest taking my red pen to this particular magazine's copy for fun, not as a means of drawing a paycheck. But I digress--back to the Thunder Bunny.

I've ridden in that car. I've driven that car. And I'm quite fond of it, not only because my own white Rabbit is currently slated to get one of the first Thunder Bunny ground effects kits available (which inspired a series of photographs of the two cars together, one of which currently sits framed in my cubicle).

I like the Thunder Bunny because it's exciting. It's sporty, eye-catching, and most of all, attainable. I'm becoming accustomed to the perks of my fiance's job--we might get tossed the the keys to the R GTI or a new 3 Series for a weekend, or get chauffered around in an R8 for few precious stolen minutes--and even though we have the privilege of zipping around on a free tank of gas and showing off, the car, in the end, must go back. It's never ours and never will be.

But the Thunder Bunny's different. Although the production kit won't include the one-of-a-kind pearl white body graphics or custom interior bits, it's still within my grasp. It fuels my thirst to once again daily-drive a modified car. And standing in a bookstore in Chicago, admiring a picture of the Thunder Bunny amongst a crowd of enthusiast-owned cars in Atlanta, felt like I was seeing an old friend.

"Whatever happened to Suburban Rhythm?"

(A big thumbs-up to whoever gets the title reference.)

In anticipation of our rent increasing when our lease is up in January, we have been discussing relocation.

We'd like to stay where we are--the town is cute and generally pleasant, and our apartment building is clean, quiet, and reasonably well-managed. But things bother us, like the privilege of paying $120 per month to park in a town-owned parking garage that is overrun with crazed commuters racing to the train station, and paying stupid fines to the revenue department simply because the State of Wisconsin couldn't be bothered to send our registration in a timely manner. Things could be much worse, but they could also be better. If our rent goes up considerably more, well, that's the equivalent of a mortgage payment.

The search is currently focused on the towns near the VMG office. We did, however, spend the July 4 holiday cruising the Chicago River and Lake Michigan waterfront, which raised the question: Why don't we live here?

The answer is simple: We'd have virtually no choice but to abandon car ownership. And as much as I'd love to be a short walk or train ride from everything, well, I don't know how I'd cope without a vehicle to call my own.

Simple, said Wes: Parking spots are available in condo parking garages, to the tune of $30,000. If I've simply got to have one, it can be rolled into the mortgage and could be sold fairly easily if ever necessary.

Which has got me thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts. Do I spend that kind of money--enough to get me out from under my Rabbit and pay off my student loans--for the luxury of keeping a 16-year-old VW Golf (fairly) safe and (fairly) sound in downtown Chicago, especially knowing damn well that I'd never, ever drive the car except to attend shows a couple of times a year? By comparison, the estimated 12 grand or so I've spent on maintenance and modifications over the past four years seems almost sane.

The car-free life appeals to me, at least while I'm admiring those glorious lakefront condos from the bow of Matt's boat. I could walk a lot, which I enjoy, and splurge on a decent bike. In practice, though, I'm not convinced it's plausible.

More on this topic in the future, I'm sure.

Lists

When you go on a road trip, you should bring a few certain things with you. Like credit cards, a cell phone, some maps (or a GPS if you are of that persuasion), and probably most importanly, your driver's license.

My purse is at home, snuggled up somewhere, relaxing. I have my maps.

I packed everything else. I was running around trying to remember the little stuff that my spouse would whine about if I forgot it. Somehow, I managed to forget the important stuff. Urgh.

Oh well, at least I won't get lost. And he does have a credit card and a phone. And a driver's license. Hope for me that I don't get pulled over on the Tail of the Dragon. I came all this way to drive it, and I'm going to, license in hand or not.

Big Black Lincoln

Whatever you do, don't rent it from Avis. And definitely not at the airport.

Granted this all happened a lot of moons ago. And yes, scheduling has improved since then. But take my word for it - don't rent your getaway car from an airport car rental.

One white Lincoln Towncar. That's what I wanted. Not a Continental, not a Grand Marquis, not a General Motors product. I wanted a White Lincoln Towncar preferably with a white leather interior. My husband-to-be dutifully reserved one of the hundred Lincolns in the lot and reminded the guy - "it's my wedding. My fiancee wants a white one." He called on thursday to make sure it was there for us. He called before he went down to pick it up on friday. "Oh yes, Mr H, we have a white one here for you, just like you asked." Famous last words.

I didn't see it until after the wedding had actually started. That was not a problem, because I didn't know that what I was looking at was MY getaway car. I figured my in-laws had rented the black Towncar, because after all, their son was surely going to go to hell for marrying me. How little did I know the magnitude of my prescience.

It wasn't until after the birdseed was lodged firmly in my brassiere and my too-small Martha Washingtons that I understood the magnitude of that big black Lincoln Towncar.

My getaway car was a hearse.

White wedding

My wedding is three months from today.

We haven't booked a photographer; hell, we haven't found someone to officiate the ceremony. Invitations are still squarely in the concept stage. We have no clothing. Our wedding party has no clothing. My parents are negotiating with caterers.

By all rights, I should be panicking, but I'm convinced that will all somehow work itself out. My concern? The getaway car.

Any suggestions? I think it would make for a pretty unique R8 review.

I recall...

At about 6:30 this morning, I was behind the wheel of my Rabbit, fantasizing about the coffee I planned to buy as soon as I arrived at work, at least until I was jarred out of my stupor by a vanity plate affixed to the back of a ridiculously lavish chrome-trimmed black Lincoln Navigator: SKI VT 74.

And with that, I was back. Recalling the place where going out to dinner means a fish sandwich topped with local cheddar at Vermont Pub and Brewery (accompanied, of course, by a plate of sweet potato fries and a pint of maple ale). Where my beloved Magic Hat #9 is on tap everywhere. About half the cars on the road are Subaru Legacy wagons. Most of the population is blissfully unaware that Suzuki even manufactures passenger vehicles. The term "winter beater" can be dropped into casual conversation without a lengthy explanation. My 1991 GTI was one of the nicest cars in my apartment parking lot. People can change their own spare tires. The two interstate highways are toll-free, and are rarely more than two lanes wide. Motorists stop and offer help to drivers of disabled vehicles. A ban on billboards is strictly enforced (and trust me, you don't miss them).

I was still daydreaming several miles later, stuck in work zone traffic; my body (aching clutch foot and all) were in Illinois, but mentally, I was still in Vermont, where my thoughts had turned to pancake breakfasts doused with local maple syrup and steaming mugs of cinnamon-flavored Green Mountain Coffee. As if to bring me back to reality, a shiny Jeep Wrangler suddenly veered off the paved section of road, dropping about six inches into the construction mess, sending up clouds of dirt. It passed a few cars that were stopped, waiting to turn, and then climbed back up and continued on its way.

At least there's someone else among the snooty suburban Chicagoans who's not afraid to get an SUV dirty.

Luxurious like Egyptian cotton

I haven't driven the R8, it must be said, but I'm not in the minority on that. Not many people have driven one, and those who haven't lament it (here's lookin' at you, Jalopnik). I know people who know people, though. I've experienced a ride.

We were amongst a crowd attending a show at Audi of America headquarters when the R8 graced us with its presence. It was a sunny Saturday. Heads turned. Jaws dropped. Mens' pants got a little tighter. I had seen one before, just one, when it was unveiled at NAIAS, but this was an entirely different experience. It was moving, audible, out of the sterile show environment, exciting enough to get over my flash of disappointment at its sheer silverness. Rumor has it they've been built in other colors. Online photos have confirmed this (some of which even originated from sources I trust). I was hoping to see a non-silver R8 with my own eyes. Silver is the new beige. Silver is the Audi standby, yes, but it does this car no favors. Rather than accentuate the contours, it sheaths them. Audi seems to think everything should be drenched in silver. Why don't we slather Scarlett Johansson's breasts and ass with a gallon of Audi silver?

It took several hours for the commotion to wane enough for us to sneak away. Upon receiving my summons from Audi's PR rep, I tossed my bag on the ground (no room for journalists' accoutrements, or anything else, for that matter) and we took off.

Inside, the car is anything but silver; in fact, I couldn't catch a glimpse of the exterior panels at all. The hood isn't visible from the passenger seat. It's deceptively small and toned. Everything within reach is expensive--there are no plebian plastics in the cabin at all. This point is oft-repeated in the press, but it didn't stick with me until I was enveloped in the car's fabrics, soft and sultry, like everything good I've ever read about harems. The seats are plush yet taut, the roof is unnervingly close, the frame is cagelike. Ducking through the door is an acrobatic feat. It would be womblike, if wombs were made of black alcantara. It would be comforting, the place for the best damn catnap I'd ever taken, if the ride wasn't thoroughly stimulating.

I held the brim of my baseball cap as the wind gusted through the tiny windows; the impact on my face was instant, like Superman: Ride of Steel at Six Flags. Onlookers stared. Other drivers yielded. Cameras snapped. My core muscles got a workout bracing my body in the seat while I touched up my lip gloss (a task for which the tiny side mirror was absolutely useless). For the first time in my life, I wished I wore really expensive sunglasses.

The Audi rep attempted to carry on a conversation, and I was quite surprised at how quiet the car runs, aside from the occasional requisite stomp on the gas. I hope he didn't think I was being snobbish, but I know I look ridiculous talking through a grin, and the R8 brought out the worst of my giddiness and my self-consciousness. It's a dangerous combination.

Fair warning: Without a charm school education, it's damn near impossible to make a graceful entrance to or exit from the R8. And there will be an audience, witnessing every stumble and cheesy grin against a backdrop of satiny silver. And did I mention there would be cameras?

I may get an encore encounter with the R8 sometime in the next couple weeks; I am eager to gauge its charisma over a longer period of time. I hope it's not silver, but I've got my credit card ready for those designer shades.

Spare tyres

Today we learned something truly amazing. We learned how a Chinese tyre failed.

We didn't just learn that it failed, or that it delaminated (the usual method of failure for tyres), but that it was missing a critical layer of rubber that absorbed friction between two layers of steel belts and enabled full bonding of the belts into the tyre carcass. We learned the minimum required thickness of the rubber strip, something that would normally be regarded as a trade secret in the industry. We learned about why the strip is there, and why it matters.

Go back to the most recent Firestone fiasco, and if you're old enough, the Firestone 500 fiasco. Did we ever learn why the tyres failed? Did we hear about green adhesion and cure profiles? Did we hear about adhesion promotors and cohesive failures? No. We heard that tyres delaminated and failed. That was it. The mechanisms of failure were proprietary trade secrets and remained that way, impervious to all but those truly skilled in the art of keeping the carcass and tread attached to the belts. While some hints were made in reference to poor green aging conditions and possible rubber compounding errors, the entire industry stuck to the mantra of underinflation and user error, whether on the part of Ford or the end user. In this case of Chinese tyres, there is no question - the Chinese manufacturer is at fault, and in flagrante delicto, as it were. What is the purpose of releasing this information? Why can't I get it from Firestone?

I did some time in the tyre industry, and I'm really curious about the politics of releasing this data to the general public.

Those who cannot remember the past....

I'm old enough to remember 1st gen catalytic converters setting lawns on fire. That means I'm also old enough to remember my parents driving ridiculously detuned cars, all under the guise of improved fuel economy.

Yesterday's Senate bill to increase CAFE is interesting to me. It will force for the first time the corporate average to actually count for the entire fleet. Right now, there are separate numbers for light trucks (PT Cruisers!) and cars. Pushing the cars up to 35 I can understand. We've had our days of World Horsepower War II, and it's been a good ride. But forcing trucks to fall under the 35 marker seems a bit much. A good Diesel pick-em-up truck will get 16-20 MPG highway unloaded. A good gasser will get around 15. These are work trucks that have to haul and pull and otherwise expend energy. Since mileage and power are often a compromise, what's going to happen to productivity?

Forgive me for sounding like I'm defending the automakers. It's just not in their interest to make slow, underpowered cars. We're not an underpowered country. Toyota's V8 is proof of that - you can't compete in the truck world without one. The cliff-drop in power that happened the first time CAFE came around is a part of what killed off the American carmakers' share of the US market. Why should I buy an underpowered Chevette when I can buy an underpowered Honda? The lack of power put everyone on the same playing field, and it was the war of crap cars for ten long years. I don't really want to live through that again. The first time was miserable - AMC Concord miserable. Mitsubishi Colt Vista miserable. No, I don't want that again.

The kind of engine research that will be required to pull stumps at 35mpg takes time. I'd hate to see the Arsenal of Democracy defeated by Congress. I'm rooting for our guys. If they pull it off this time, it had better be with more power.