Repentance

We all do things that are not good for us.  Binge watching Battlestar Galactica, following presidential campaigns, and consuming doughnuts are easily identifiable as things that may not be beneficial to your health.  But sometimes it is necessary to eat Krispy Kremes until your blood sugar transitions to sugar, sans blood.  Knowing it is not good for you only makes it that much sweeter.  But when a chosen activity falls into the easily identifiable “sin” category, then there must be a reckoning.  In the case of overconsumption of fried dough, it usually involves trips to the gym and the consumption of leafy green things.  

Driving a particularly fast car aggressively reminds me of something that might be bad for your soul.  It certainly feels good enough to be a sin.  Maybe it is OK to drive a fast car like a normal person, but what good is having a fast car if it is never enjoyed.  It seems innocent enough, but every time the rear tires lose traction, an angel in heaven gets a sharp stick in the eye.  Somebody is going to have to pay for that.  Usually, the payback is dirty looks from pedestrians, bald rear tires, and wasted fuel.  But let’s be frank here, who cares what pedestrians think.  If their opinion mattered they would have enough money to buy a car instead of walking.  As for fuel, it is cheap and tires, while not exactly inexpensive, are easily replaced.  So the downsides, when considered logically, are negligible.  But there is still the matter of your soul to consider, and guilt from overindulgence is crippling as an empty fuel tank.

Still, there is a way to polish one's aura and maintain a completely impractical, fragile, frighteningly powerful, and stunningly beautiful Aston Martin DB9.  Your savior, in this case, is the dorkiest car in recent memory.  The Nissan Leaf.  As it turns out, used electric cars are basically worthless.  Unless it is a Tesla.  Cars like the Leaf and the iMiEV from Mitsubishi are pioneers in the electric car industry if you don’t count golf carts.  They are practical, allowing you to actually drive a hundred miles or so before plugging in.  They are well made, eerily quiet, and considerably quicker than one would assume.  And if you charge it at the grocery store, the operating costs are almost zero.  Still, everybody with these ugly little cars refuses to rely on them exclusively.  They always have a “normal” car to take on vacation or to grandma’s house.  As a result, the used market is full of low mileage, basically new electric cars.  And because they are a bit of an unknown quantity, they are shockingly cheap.  We are talking less than $6,000 for a four or five year old Leaf with 40,000 miles on it.

Cheap electric cars may be your ticket to heaven.  I am obviously not talking about the Leaf driving experience.  What I am talking about is the justification for purchasing a DB9, or a 69 Camaro, or even an old Jaguar.  Most people around here spend that kind of money on a truck, not a second-hand supercar.  The real problem with owning an exotic or classic or heavily modified car is not that it is cramped or that it wastes gas, it is the fact that it must be relied upon for daily transport.  It would be certifiably crazy to drive an Aston Martin or Lotus or Ferrari or classic muscle car to work every day.  At some point, the damn thing will let you down.  As a result, most people never take the chance on owning a car that would truly make them happy.  It is still a car, after all.  

But why not take that money and buy something you really want?  Something fast, low, and beautiful.  Something with three times the cylinders you need.  Something with seats sewn by a single seamstress in Gaydon, Warwickshire, England.  Something James Bond has been seen in.  Something made by craftsmen, not robots.  And then drive the thing for pleasure alone.  Use the Leaf, which is a ludicrously small investment, to get to work and the grocery store.  Use the Aston Martin to allow your soul to sing.  

Anything that can bring that much joy can not be all bad.  Repentance might even be found in a sinful car, as long as its existence can be justified by using a dependable and parsimonious electric car for normal transportation.  You could even get a "this car hugs polar bears" bumper sticker for both cars without it being ironic.

Missedconceptions

As a kid, I loved show car season.  You know; Geneva, New York, Detroit, Tokyo.  All the good stuff was on display.  The big car shows give automakers the chance to show off engineering prowess and create excitement about upcoming products.  Most of the time, concept cars are pure fantasy, with mass-energy conversion drive systems, autonomous navigation, and 30” wheels.  Sometimes, however, a concept makes it to the showroom largely unchanged.  The Audi TT, Ford GT, Porsche Boxster, and the Dodge Viper are all prime examples.  Most of the time, however, regulations and profits change the very essence of striking concepts into tepid production cars.  Some glaring examples of this trend follow.

Pontiac Trans Sport:  Back in 1986 Chrysler was fully committed to shove K-cars down the throat of every rental car company and government fleet in America in order to save its skin.  But the fleet sales well was running dry.  Instead of creating better cars, automotive marketing genius Lee Iacocca decided to create an entirely new type of car from the same parts now shuttling every social worker in the country

around low-income housing.  The Dodge Caravan (get it - car a van, bet that never got old at shareholder meetings) was quite literally an overnight success, relieving some financial pressure from fleet sales.  Suddenly, every adult with more than zero children just had to have a minivan.  Not to be left behind, GM quickly penned a crapcan based on the Pontiac 6000 sedan.  Except it was no crapcan.  It had a glass roof, gull wing doors, a Nintendo for the kids, a scientific calculator in the middle of the steering wheel, and the looks of a butch Weinermobile.  Or a Tesla Model X.  

Compared to the wood paneled contraceptive on wheels that was the Caravan, the Trans Sport was easily the coolest thing to come from Pontiac that didn’t have Burt Reynolds behind the wheel. Obviously, the production Pontiac Trans Sport is none of these things.  It was a horrible plastic minivan.  And it was hideously dangerous, folding in the middle like an accordion in an accident.  Luckily Pontiac corrected the Trans Sport design bungle several years later with the Aztec.

  

Toyota GT86:  OK, I know as a gearhead I am not allowed to criticize the Scion / Toyota / Subaru coupe that connects you soul directly to God, or whatever it does that is so great.  But I am not afraid to tell you it is an uninteresting car.  Especially when compared to the GT86 concept.  I know that the lights, wheels, and interior of the concept car are never going to make it to production  But somewhere along the way the Subarota lost the menacing  Aston Martin styling.  Maybe it is a Toyobaru. Either way, it is dull looking.  It also needs more power.  And bigger wheels.  And a nicer interior.  But hey, everybody still seems to love it, so what do I know.

2016 Lincoln Continental: Lincolns usually fall into my “who cares” category.  Sure, I have a bit of a soft spot for the Mark VII LSC.  It was basically a Mustang that had gone to finishing school.  The rest of the line has been a snore-fest since 1969.  The Continental concept, however, had that special “something” that great cars have.  Who cares if it is a Taurus SHO underneath, it is cool.  It has the long, low, intimidating look of the 1965 Continental.  It has a handsome interior, with four distinct seats and a Revel stereo with about a million speakers.  Sadly, the production car is not only based on the Taurus, it is less attractive than a Taurus if you can imagine that.  Well, at least there is still a Revel stereo option.  

Almost any Subaru concept:  Oh, come on!  Subaru concept cars are like finding holes in the fence at a nudist colony.  At least until you figure out that only fat old people go to nudist camps.  It is not that Subaru has never made an attractive car, the first Legacy GT, the first Impreza 2.5 RS, and the SVX are all svelte designs.  It is just that compared to the concept, most production Subarus are awful.  People buy Subarus because they are reliable, not beautiful.  But they don’t have to be as bad as they are.

Chevrolet California Camaro IROC:  The 90’s was a great time for cars, unless you wanted a Camaro.  The aging third generation F-Body gave up quality, performance, and styling to its rivals.  The California Camaro IROC solved all these problems, with a new small block, six-speed manual, and graceful lines.  While it is obvious the production Camaro is inspired by the California concept, its bulbous fenders, crappy interior, and massive overhangs ruin the symmetry of the concept car.

Nissan Sport Concept:  I like a fast Nissan.  I was fortunate enough to own an original Sentra SE-R back in the early 90’s.  That car was unapproachable on the rough narrow back roads of the Roanoke valley.  When I saw the Sport Concept, I hoped for a spiritual successor to the SE-R.  What we got instead was the Versa.  I suppose Eli Lilly would have gotten upset had Nissan just gone ahead and called it the Prozac.

Auto design is a bit like having a blind giant swinging a club.  If you can get him pointed in the right direction, he will knock down the evil sorcerer's castle, providing all in the valley years of peace and stability.  The trouble is he keeps swinging, giants are just like that.  Eventually, he takes out your water tower and everybody starves next winter.  Competing manufacturers try to best each other in order to win the sales race: they each have a giant with a club.  A great design will always separate dollars from customers, which is the whole point of the auto industry.  But it is all a massive gamble, with the very existence of the entire corporation on the line.  Good designs like the Mustang can be home runs, while bad designs like the Aztec may bring down a division of General Motors.

The point is not that concept cars are better than production cars.  It is simply that many times, somewhere between design and production the essence of the concept is lost.  Sometimes the concept runs away, joins a cult, and is never seen again.  The few cars that make it through the process essentially unaltered are rare indeed.  The truly frustrating thing is that even though the new Ford GT is indistinguishable from the concept GT, it is not where Ford is focused.  The Focus is Ford's focus.  Halo cars like the GT are just there to get you into the showroom so that you can focus on a Focus.

Eurocentric

With few exceptions, I make European choices. I drink LavAzza coffee, San Pellegrino water, and PG Tips tea. Kef loudspeakers rule. Omega watches are without peer. Greek food is my favorite. I would choose Moto Guzzi over Harley Davidson. James Bond could kick Captain America’s ass if it came down to it. When I was in the Navy, my sidearm was a Beretta M9, not a Colt 1911. And even though I have always lived in the heart of NASCAR country, I prefer delicate Formula One race cars to two-ton billboards going around in circles.

It comes as no surprise that I like European cars best. The first thing I built with Legos was a Saab 99 Turbo. The Lamborghini Countach represented pornography to me more than any glossy spread of a naked girl. A Volvo Turbo wagon was just about the coolest thing this side of a Ferrari. As a result of these tendencies, I once had a BMW E30. It was gorgeous. I was known by the car because there were exactly three other BMW’s in the tiny little town in which I found myself. A tall, pretty redhead wanted to marry me because of the car. I was urged to run for student council at the small college I went to because everybody knew I had a BMW. Every pledge to my fraternity had to ride down a treacherous mountain road in my (mostly sideways) BMW in order to pass initiation. For whatever reason, owning a BMW made me something different than had I owned a Ford.

To me, these were all fringe benefits, because I liked the way the little sedan drove. It was not very fast, but it made the most of what it had. I understand rev-matched downshifting, trailing throttle oversteer, and threshold braking because of that car. Of course, I also understand Bosch Jetronic fuel injection diagnostics, the difference between DOT3 and DOT4 brake fluid, and exactly how much it costs to buy factory parts for a BMW because of that car.

It would seem, then, that a 1980’s 3 series is the very definition of precision engineering. Truth be told, however, it was nothing special. Compared to a pedestrian Honda Civic of the day, it was a dinosaur. It had one cam on top of its iron block two valve engine. It had a simple strut front and trailing arm rear suspension. And it broke, constantly. The Civic, on the other hand, had a sophisticated DOHC 16 valve all aluminum engine with proprietary multi-port sequential fuel injection. The suspension was by short and long arms front and multi-link rear. It got better gas mileage while making substantially more power than the BMW. And it never, ever broke. But nobody wanted to marry you if you had a Civic. The same is true for most Asian cars. They have historically been superior to most other cars, and it seems the world is oblivious.

Eurocentricity eventually reached a tipping point in the early 90’s when Daimler Chrysler’s upper management released a memo stating nobody cared how well cars were engineered and built as long as it had a peace symbol on the hood, so start making crap. Indeed nobody cared, because the products from Mercedes-Benz have been crap for the last 20 years, and they are still a solvent corporation. And Mercedes-Benz is not alone. Porsche saved itself with the modern Boxster and 911, even though the engine has a well-known flaw that may result in catastrophic engine failure with no warning. BMW M division, who previously used magic and hand assembly to turn normal BMW’s into fire-breathing monsters, has become a sticker and software affair. VW / Audi / Seat / Skoda / Bentley use the same basic chassis for almost every car they produce, and price the product accordingly. Clearly, then, the accountants are in charge. I do not know what engineers at modern car companies do anymore. Probably jump out of very high office tower windows.

Your current choice of cars is surprisingly homogenous. Regulations and profit determine how cars are made, not designers and engineers. As a result, when I daydream about cars it is not about the latest carbon fiber tubbed BMW i3, it is about classics like a BMW 635CSi or Triumph TR6 or Peugeot 505 STi or an original Range Rover. And it is not that I don’t like American or Asian classics, but I would rather have a Volvo 245 over a Toyota Cressida wagon. Or a Jaguar XJ6 instead of a Chevrolet Impala.

A case in point, the Lotus Esprit V8 or Aston Martin DB7 is a brilliant value these days, but a more logical choice for the same money would be the Acura / Honda NSX.  We are talking here about premium sports cars, where passion and aesthetics take precedence over form and function. The Lotus is achingly beautiful, while the Aston is simply the definition of stunning. The Esprit was designed during the Nixon administration and the DB7 is based on an ancient Jaguar chassis.  It would be very optimistic to describe either car as unreliable.  The NSX, on the other hand, is built like any other honda.  

Visibility is good, the air conditioner works, the interior is quiet, and the entire car is hand built with high-quality materials and good ergonomics.  Only an idiot would choose a Lotus  or Aston over a Honda. But, I know which one will end up in my garage. And it is not that I don’t like the NSX, it is a fantastic car. But when it is compared to a Lotus or Aston Martin or any number of Porsches in the same price range, I tend to want the unreliable, poorly made, stunningly beautiful European car. Sure, they are fragile and slow, but at least they are expensive.

Maybe that best describes some European commodities. They are no better than, and can be substantially less reliable than the equivalent Asian or American product. This in no way diminishes the appeal of the European article. For instance, a Maserati Quattroporte is so much more appealing than a Cadillac CTS-V there is simply no reason to imagine a dilemma in choosing one over the other, despite the fact that the Cadillac is easily the better car.  But the Maserati has something undefinable that the shockingly fast and better made Cadillac is missing.  The Maserati is sophisticated and seductive, the Cadillac is competent.  When we make choices based on emotions, we usually make mistakes.  European cars can stir emotions that transcend normal considerations for simple transportation.  Moving oneself from point A to point B is accomplished equally well in a Toyota or an Alfa Romeo.   But I know which way I want to travel.  Besides, no tall redhead is going to care about your new Toyota.

Escrow

I am a terrible home owner.  Words like Fescue or French Drain mean nothing to me, even though I am pretty sure I own both of these things.  It is not that I am uninterested in owning a home, I love my house and my neighborhood.  It is just that I am a little lost in all the things that come with a house of your own.

Home ownership is different than any other consumer action.  I am very comfortable indeed with owning things like cars and computers.  I understand there are responsibilities that come with having these things.  I have a virus scanner on my computer and I keep the cam belt changed in my car.  Without taking these simple steps my computer and car would become useless in short order.  But the house is only partly mechanical.  I keep the air conditioner coils clean, because it improves the performance of the unit.  I maintain my lawn mower, not only because I can grasp the basic necessity of maintaining a machine, but because the machine allows me to maintain my yard.  But beyond the mechanical things in the house I am a little lost.

The small patch of green earth I am responsible for is slightly overwhelming to me.  It is a living thing, and it supports a microcosm of life in its own right.  There are worms, slugs, squirrels, moles, numerous birds, and tiny snakes in my yard.  Why am I now responsible for the well being of hundreds of tiny creatures?  Lightening bugs that appear from thin air every evening.  Spiders who can weave massive webs between my car and a tree.  I know exactly what these spiders look like, because I tend to stumble through the webs every morning on my way to the coffee shop, unwittingly shuttling the poor arachnid downtown in my hair.  Until I realize there is a spider on my head, at which time I dance around flailing my arms screaming like a little girl in an attempt to rid myself of the unwelcome passenger.

It is not only the abundant life in my yard that freaks me out.  I worry about my responsibility to the city to maintain my trees, natural gas lines, sewer connection, water, power, and cable connections.  There are also several people who rely on my home for a job.  I have a gutter guy.  I have an exterminator.  I have a HVAC guy.  I have a tree guy.  I have homeowner's insurance and a mortgage.  There is a small part of the city’s economy that relies on my house.  I even have local, state, and federal politicians who count on me to vote for them at my designated polling place.  It is not that owning a house creates unique challenges, it is just that I am unfamiliar with this experience.

I am a car guy.  Even though a car is exceedingly complex, it is self contained, if you don’t count the gas.  It is, by its very nature, mobile.  It is small.  It is (relatively) inexpensive.  It is, in other words, exactly the opposite of my house.  I am comfortable with every aspect of my car, but I find it less easy to reach the same level of repose about my house.

Yet, despite all this, I am working into some level of comfort with my home.  We have been here over 10 years and I finally have furniture I like.  I am having somebody who understands green things do something with them on my property.  I am even planning on buying some mulch, whatever that is.  It has taken a long time, but having some permanence in my life is not quite so scary.  Home ownership has removed some of the care free nature my life previously held.  I now have something to lose if I decide to do something stupid, where before there were no consequences.  There has been a paradigm shift in my life without my consent or even knowledge, but I am learning to deal with it.

I might eventually find that I want this life. Until then, I will come to terms with this whole homeowner thing.  I enjoy my home, even though it freaks me out a little bit.  Some of us were born to own real estate, I was born to own a condo.  Or better yet, an old city garage.  Somewhere I could live with my cars.  An open space with exposed brick, wood beams, and a loft for my meager belongings.  All in the interstices of a city where I could remain anonymous while building very neat machines.  I am sure somebody once said it is good to have goals.  Maybe I have found one.

DIY?

A modern automobile is a fabulously complex thing. Easily the most complicated form of modern technology we use on a daily basis. Automakers employ thousands of people just to develop products to appeal to the consumer. Millions of cars are built each year to quell the demand of the buying public, and each one contains advanced computers, highly specialized accelerometers, ballistic explosives, high pressure vessels, rigidly controlled complex molecular processes, and a decent radio.  All with easy financing and a comprehensive warranty.

It would seem impossible, then, to Do It Yourself. To build your own car should be beyond the abilities of anyone. But, it happens all the time.  As unlikely as it seems, it is not all that uncommon to see a DIY car. Every Cobra, Ferrari Daytona, or Lamborghini Countach you have ever seen is a reproduction. It is a car that has been delivered in crates and assembled in some guy’s shed. In every case, DIY cars bootstrap themselves to completion by using major components from production automobiles. Things like chassis, suspensions, engines, transmissions, and electronic components. As a result, many modern kit cars are very appealing, replicating the styling of an unobtainable classic using reliable, commonplace, modern drivetrains. In some cases these cars are indistinguishable from the original, while others are hilariously obvious fakes. Even though, it begs the question. Why would you want to build your own car when there are literally hundreds of millions of cars pre-built that require no effort on your part to own? Especially when every person that owns a DIY car also owns a car that Ford has built. Or Honda, Toyota, VW, or Mercedes Benz, but you get the idea.

I suppose the answer could lie in who builds these cars. While not as valuable as an original, a kit car is not cheap. And maybe that is the simple answer. A genuine 67 Shelby Cobra 427 is a million dollar car, while a FFR Roadster is a $30K car. Most people can not figure out which is which. The builder of a replica invests 3% of the value of the original car, but enjoys the cachet that comes with owning something immensely valuable. It is much like buying a watch in Istanbul. If you like it, and it keeps time, who is any the wiser that your Omega timepiece did not set you back several thousand dollars? I am sure there are some people for whom having rare, expensive items is its own reward, even if the item is neither rare nor expensive. But I doubt there are enough of these people to support the entire kit car industry. Let me rephrase my assumption: There are not enough people with counterfeit Rolex watches who can grasp the concept of “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey” to support the entire kit car industry. Understanding basic wrenching techniques is essential to building anything, much less an entire car. Just wanting to impress strangers is not enough motivation for most people to learn basic engineering.

If the wearer of an obnoxious synthetic timepiece is not the intended consumer, then who is building these cars? Maybe it is aestheticians who love the look of classic cars. There will never be another Ferrari GTO made, so if you want one you will have to buy an old one or make it yourself from a Datsun. Even if the car in question is not financially unobtainable, there may be a very limited number on the planet. Mundane but rare cars like a classic fastback Mustang or a split window Corvette can be erased from existence by one careless minivan. Building replicas of beautiful cars allows the owner to drive on the street a vehicle that would normally be relegated to a museum. Hundreds of hours of work goes into even the least convincing kit car, and maybe the builder should be applauded for attempting to enrich our environment by replacing an anonymous sedan with an Italian supercar. Even if it is just a Fiero covered in vaguely Countach shaped FRP.

That might account for a sizable proportion of replica cars made, but what if the car in question is not a replica, but a unique creation. A car that is obviously intended to be fast, but is unrecognizable as a Ferrari, Porsche, Lotus, or Maserati. If the fruit of the builder’s labor is not a facsimile of valuable, beautiful classic, then why not just get a Boxster? For the sake of speed alone? While I am sure many FFR 818’s or SLC’s have been driven on a racetrack, I don’t think all of these cars represent such a single minded philosophy. The reason these cars are devastatingly fast is simple power-to-weight ratio. When a car is relieved of unnecessary luxury items such as power windows, bluetooth infotainment equipment, massaging seats, heated and cooled steering wheels, or WIFI hotspots, its performance necessarily increases. Some cars have taken this to another level, deleting superfluous body panels and glass in an effort to add lightness. There is no doubt, lighter cars are faster.  But they are also infinitely more uncomfortable than a normal car. In fact, cars like the Ariel Atom push the definition of an automobile to ludicrous levels, where the operator is more closely related to a motorcycle rider than the driver of a car. Clearly, then, these cars are built for speed first, with concerns of comfort occupying very little of the builders attention. But people tend to drive these things on the street, even on long trips. Considering it is no less comfortable than a motorcycle, maybe I am just whining. From that perspective some ultra-performance cars make something that resembles sense.

There may be other reasons a person would build a car rather than buy one. Some people enjoy an engineering challenge, some want hundreds of hours of “alone time,” others want to build a race car from their youth. Some of us just like taking something and improving it, or simply creating something we have thought of. The truth is, every car is built or modified for a variety of reasons. I would probably not build a Cobra, but I find them (real or fake) stunning. The synthetic Ferrari Daytona from Miami Vice is just a crappy old ‘Vette. But that point does not diminish its beauty. Z cars that look like a Ferrari GTO are still fun to look at, even though they are obviously fake. Even an old MR2 dressed in Ferrari or Lamborghini evening ware is generally more interesting than most new cars.

I suppose, just like most things, people build kit cars for a variety of reasons. Some reasons are even contradictory. I would enjoy the process of building my own car, and will at some point. The trouble will be deciding what to build. Or even what type of car to build. I like dune buggies as much as old Mustangs. I am not able to decide between a blindingly fast modern prototype styled racer or a rat rod. And lets not even start talking about old rally cars. Luckily, there are companies out there catering to my interests. They will provide me with just enough encouragement and instruction to really get me into trouble.

My Range Rover

What are you good at? For me it is fixing machines and avoiding responsibility. Ergo, I have an old car, which requires regular work, but does not require an obligation to some financial institution whose prime motivation is to club baby seals into profits, or whatever it is banks do to make money. I get to fix things (old car) while avoiding responsibility (car loan.) Since I enjoy every aspect of my car, I see no reason to get a new one. A new car would come with a warranty, which would require me to give my car to somebody else to fix. And a loan, which would require me to keep a job that pays real money. I see no benefit to a new car, especially since new cars are uniformly boring. Oh, sure, a new GTI is economical and sporty, an Outback is comfortable, and the new Corvette is one of the most competent cars I have ever experienced, but nothing out there is alluring enough to separate dollars from my hands. I would rather use some of that money to enjoy the instant gratification of good coffee or video games or a kayak. And no Batista is going to call me in the middle of dinner to inform me that I have neglected to pay for my coffee this month.

Since my attention is not focused on the latest widget from BMW, I am free to consider alternative forms of transportation. Don’t get me wrong, I am still considering an automobile. I’m not talking here about something stupid like a bicycle or the city bus. I don’t mean stupid. I mean slow, stinky, difficult, inconvenient, tedious, uncomfortable, demeaning, or dangerous. By alternative I mean something that is unique, fun, and relatively inexpensive. Something that is familiar, yet uncommon. A car that is practical, but does not sacrifice style for utility. A car with adequate power, yet is simple, durable, and economical. A car that is fun to drive at normal speeds. A car that can be trusted and is reliable to a fault.

Things like Mercedes Benz jump to mind, but they are not relatively inexpensive. Or unique. Or simple, durable, or fun. Ditto for BMW, Porsche, Land Rover, Jaguar, Audi, VW, or even Mini. Toyota, Nissan, Honda, Ford, GM, and Subaru have some decent offerings, but nothing quite makes the grade. Any new car, be it a two and a half ton Maserati Levante, or a Toyota GT86, is somewhat sterile. Safety and environmental regulations have homogenized the market. New cars are a rip-off, anyway. Considering a used car? Nothing really works out. Many cars have some of the bits, but no single automobile represents the whole of the car I am talking about.

As it happens, the perfect car must be built. Again, my values align perfectly with this task. I am good at fixing machines. It will also end up costing much less than the average price of a new car, which is about $34,000. Spending less money allows me to avoid responsibility. So, it just comes down to choosing the car, then making it what I want.

Since the car will be significantly modified from its original specification anyway, it could be almost anything. Weak engines can be replaced with strong engines.  If the old wheezy engine is attached to the wheels with rubber bands, I can use a real transmission, axles, and drive shafts made in Saginaw, Mi by a UAW machinist. If the electronics were never affixed to any source of electricity, I can supplant that crap with real wires firmly coupled to something at both ends. I could choose a horrible car, because I can correct all of its misgivings. If I am not scared of weak engines, rubber band axles, and electronics that do not work, then the classic Range Rover must be my choice.

Why the worst car in the world? Because it is cool. Land Rover introduced the Range Rover in 1970. Way back then everybody who spoke a romance language made cars the same. They were all crap, not just the Range Rover. Eventually most automakers built better products, because the buying public figured out that a Mustang II was a terrible car when compared to a Toyota Celica. Unfortunately, British Leyland was embroiled in a labor dispute that crippled the ability of the giant automaker to produce cars that could compete with Toyota, Datsun, and Honda. Despite the fact that the design of Jaguar and Land Rover were among the best in the world, the cars were deliberately built poorly by workers who felt they were being treated unfairly by the corporation. Due to this failure of management, we are left with the legacy of beautiful cars that are a nightmare to own.

Luckily, an old Range Rover is a relatively simple car. In fact, anything built before the early 00's is a simple car. I am under no illusions, it would take quite a bit of work to make a Range Rover reliable. What I am talking about is called “resto-mod” where a classic car is updated with modern mechanicals and electronics, but the basic look and character of the vehicle is unchanged. This sort of thing has its roots in the Hot Rod movement of the 1950’s where Ford Model T bodies surrounded Chevrolet small block drivetrains. But it didn't end there, the resto-mod movement is alive and well today.  People pay crazy money for Icon Land Cruisers, Singer Porsches and Eagle Jaguars. Any motorcycle that does not look like an insect is a factory built resto-mod. Even Mercedes Benz, through its AMG division, has created perhaps the worlds greatest resto-mod: the G63 6X6.

So, the idea has merit, but if I want a car that looks like a classic, it would be easier to just buy a new Wrangler. It looks a little like an old Jeep. Or that matter I could buy a new Camaro, Mini, Fiat 500, or VW Beetle. But retro styled vehicles make me a little uncomfortable. The Austin Mini, for instance, looked the way it did because its innovative design required it to look that way. Ditto for the Fiat 500, the Beetle, and the Jeep. Modern cars that attempt to recreate the look of a classic tend to fall short. Modern retro styled cars simply point out that most of the good ideas have already been used. And they are relatively expensive compared to the Range Rover I intend to build. And they come with a warranty. And other people that have them might want to talk to me about them. No thanks.

Another possible problem with a modified Range Rover is the chance that significant modifications could change the character of the car to the point it is no longer desirable as a classic. Part of the fun of driving an old car is the simple, mechanical feel of the thing. But I do not intend to make a drift car from a tractor. Replacing weak engines with strong engines (and transmissions, axles, springs, brakes…) improves the driving experience. Correcting defective wiring allows the windows to go up and down, as intended. Adding air conditioning that actually conditions the air can only be seen as a good thing. After all, Icon, Singer, and Eagle significantly change their cars, and they are generally considered the best possible version of a Land Cruiser, 911, or E Type, respectively.

So, the only obstacle in my mind is the investment required to build this machine. Old Range Rovers are basically worthless. We are talking $5,000 for a good one. It would take an enormous amount of work, not to mention about $30,000 to build this Range Rover. And in the end you have a $5,000 Range Rover with a bunch of really nice parts in it. I do not imagine I would ever recover my investment. After all, I am not Icon, Singer, or Eagle. And truth be told, even those builders only sell a few significantly modified cars. Most of the income at Icon is derived from the sales of t-shirts and hats, not $222,000 Land Cruisers. In addition, I tend to keep cars a very long time. I would probably never sell my Range Rover, so I would never lose any money. I would prefer to have a car I really like for a long time than to have several cars I don’t really care about over the same period.

The best thing about this train of thought is that it works for almost any classic. Don't want a Range Rover? Then do a Jeep Cherokee Chief, or Datsun 240Z, or a Buick Riviera, or a classic T Bird, or a BMW 633CSi, or even a Volvo Amazon. The GM sourced drivetrain I intend to use will fit into almost anything, car or truck. So the hunt is on. I need a crappy old Range Rover, most of a Silverado 2500, the bottom half of a Jeep Rubicon, about 65% of the back room at my local NAPA store, the name of a good upholstery guy, a friend at a junk yard in England, and about 12 months uninterrupted free time. Then I could have a really neat car.

Inverse Universe

The world has been upended.  Everything I thought I knew is now wrong.  The good guys aren’t wearing white hats.  Both presidential candidates are intelligent, honest, humble, and competent.  Bacon wrapped donuts are good for you.  Formula one is both interesting and exciting.  Of course none of these things have happened.  But one very big thing has changed.  The V6 Camaro and 4 banger Mustang are both good cars.

What is wrong with the base Camaro and Mustang, you might ask?  Taken in a vacuum, either car is not all that bad.  They have always been cheap rear drive coupes, and have never tried to be anything else.  Compared to cars like the Nissan SX or Toyota Celica, the base Mustang or Camaro just seemed unsophisticated, but there can be some charm in that.  Like wearing cowboy boots with a tuxedo.  But open the hood of either and there was a noticeable gap between the engine and the radiator, almost if something was missing.  Of course the missing thing was about half of the pistons and several of the horses.

It has always been accepted that the only reason a base Mustang or Camaro exists is to rest dollars from the hands of people that should not aspire to own fast cars.  People who, through conscious decisions, have neither the fiscal prosperity nor the regulatory purity to purchase a Mustang GT or Camaro SS.  People who find themselves in a hedge on Saturday night.  A hedge at the terminus of half a mile of skid marks, downed fence posts, and a few frightened deer.  People to whom a Power Ball lottery ticket constitutes a retirement plan.  People who have memorized every fast food value menu.  People who buy single cigarettes.  People who, in other words, can not hope to responsibly operate a powerful, rear drive sport coupe.

For these people, the base Mustang and Camaro represent an aspirational goal.  Historically, the base cars have been slow enough that even people with a negative driver's license point balance can obtain mandatory minimum insurance coverage.  What this means is that every base Mustang or Camaro on the road is driven by an aggressive, insecure egomaniac who is one handbrake u-turn from NASCAR.  Or, it’s a rental car.

Luckily, Ford and Chevrolet aided the rest of us by making the wheezers of the coupe world easy to spot.  Skinny tires with plastic hubcaps that made the car seem to ride on sofa casters.  One tiny exhaust pipe ashamedly stuffed under the rear bumper.  Absolutely no aerodynamic aids at all.  Seats as flat as the pathetic engine’s dyno chart.  All the cool stuff was reserved for the V8 models.  Spotting a base car was easy.  And avoiding it, either at the dealership or on the road, became second nature.  

But now things are different.  The base Mustang and Camaro are legitimate sports coupes, instead of the darling of special financing.  If you are deaf, the Camaro RS is indistinguishable from a Camaro SS.  You can have an EcoBoost Mustang has the same wheels, suspension, brakes, and aerodynamics as a GT.  And this is no paint and spackle job, either.  The turbo Mustang has 310 horsepower while the V6 Camaro is a 335 horsepower car.  They are both capable of five second runs to 60 MPH.  Five seconds - that is faster than any Mustang GT prior to the latest 5.0 Coyote engine cars!

What it comes down to is the LT1 455 HP V8 Camaro SS and the Coyote 5.0L 435 HP Mustang GT are stellar performers, approaching supercar status.  With all independent suspension, stiff sophisticated chassis, Brembo brakes, and the availability of a real, honest to Mark Donohue manual transmission, these coupes rival cars like the M4, AMG C63, RS5, and even some real sports cars like the Cayman or F Type.  As the V8 cars have improved, the base models have necessarily followed.  The Camaro V6 is basically a Cadillac ATS in Old Navy jeans instead of Gap chinos.  In this day of 300 HP minivans, it is not surprising even the most basic versions of the Mustang and Camaro are decent cars.

No longer shall the base cars suffer the indignity of bad engines, unsupportive seats, skinny tires, or floppy suspensions.  All new Camaro and Mustang models are worth owning, and not just because the bank, or insurance, or your wife is not going to let you have the one that sounds like a NASCAR race.  If better fuel economy and sharper steering are on your list of priorities, then you may find yourself in a V8 ponycar, sans the V8.

Everything stated not withstanding, I would never buy a base Camaro or Mustang. The point of one of these cars is not that it is adequate, but that it is excessive. It was once said that a Jaguar X Type is "enough" Jaguar. I don't want "enough" Camaro or Mustang. I want waaay to much. I want torque that frightens me. I want brakes with with twice the pistons of the engine. I want to use my right foot to steer. If these cars were like Nissan Z cars or BMW 4 series, a four or six cylinder would be fine. But I know if I don't get the big honkin' V8, I would regret it. I would happily pay the premium, not only at the time of purchase, but for insurance, fuel, tires, and brake pads, in order to access to acceleration forces normally associated with a trebuchet. So, never mind. The base cars may be better than ever, but there is a reason a V8 fits under the hood.