Once a pistonhead, always a pistonhead. Even as the paramedics were dragging my sorry ass through the meat wagon’s side door, I felt a scalding blast from the turnouts and thought there’s got to be a better way to vent the big rig’s exhaust. Even as I thrashed on the gurney like a freshly-landed marlin, I wondered why the manufacturer hadn’t fitted the ambulance with air suspension. And then a nice lady gassed me up so a bunch of highly-trained anal retentives could cut my stomach a few times, insert some surgical steel, dice my gall bladder, suck out the remains and dump the diseased bits into a bio-hazard bag. Ah, but did they leave me with enough bile to lead TTAC into battle?
Post-op, I clock a Lexus TV ad. A robot "hand" slowly molests a gleaming GS somethingorother. The announcer asks me if it’s possible to engineer desire. Even in my drug-addled state I know the difference between engineering a car that stimulates desire, and engineering desire. No wonder BMW pulled their press cars from TTAC in Lexus’ name: the automakers have entered into an alliance (they’re all the rage these days) to bio-engineer customers who lust after deeply flawed ride quality (IS350) and demented ergonomics (iDrive). Beats admitting you made a mistake.
An indeterminate amount of time later, Sam drops off a little light reading: Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon and Car & Driver. No contest. Or nothing but a contest; America’s premier automotive buff book offers its readers a seasonal shootout between the Jaguar XK convertible, Cadillac XLR-V convertible, BMW 650i Cab, Porsche C2 Cab and Mercedes SL550. I marshal enough brain cells to remember that Brock Yates told me his old boss loves comparos ‘cause he can’t write or edit for shit [Legal disclaimer: Mr. Yates might have said he respects and admires Csabe Csere, both as an artist and a man.] To the immediate consternation of red-blooded pistonheads everywhere, writer Barry Winfield begins by gushing “We have some pretty blossoms in the bunch this year.”
As I read on, the heart rate monitor measures my displeasure. I vaguely recall that the piece found something nice to say about a $100k+ Caddy two-door with wooden brakes, numb steering and less luggage space than a bread basket. Hey, Hitler loved dogs. I conclude that choosing the “best” vehicle from this melanoma of high-priced motorized toupees is like arguing over which Victoria’s Secret model would look best draped over your arm at a high school reunion. And yet choose they did, in their own special way, rating everything from slalom speed to… rear seat room? Go figure.
I long for a direct line to Michael Karesh. I want my resident statistician, the bane of Consumer Reports and JD Power, to prove that C&D’s scoring system makes as about as much sense as my 2am conversation with the nurse (Take my vitals? What the Hell’s wrong with yours?). Anyone who can’t guess the results of a C&D comparo before opening the front cover isn’t trying hard enough—which is the same criticism you could level at the magazine itself. Perhaps they should rename Car & Driver Asleep at the Wheel. Meanwhile, what about a buff book comparo? Gotta have facto: 0.
I return to base to see if a three year old understands the meaning of “touch Daddy’s tummy and die.” After experimenting with verticality, I log on. I discover that Mr. Lieberman and Mr. Williams have held down the fort, or, more accurately, surrendered the asylum to the inmates. Well God bless you all. I cannot tell you how satisfying it is to watch a community of like-minded souls set up camp inside an edifice that I struggled to build on your behalf— without knowing who the Hell “you” were. It’s kinda like a termite infestation, but in a nice way.
As I wander through the Halls of Vicodin Valhalla, deleting 758 pieces of spam, a TTAC’er links me to a victory: an Edmunds.com disclaimer! Well, almost. “Edmunds attended a manufacturer-sponsored event, to which selected members of the press were invited, to facilitate this report.” I laugh. It hurts. This is what passes for truth over at Edmunds? It’s a classic combination of obfuscation (Edmunds attended, but who paid for what?), self-congratulation (“selected members”) and bad writing (upon which I shall not pass further comment). Suddenly, I feel better.
If this episode has taught me anything, it’s that I am not alone. You guys “get it.” You understand the righteous indignation I feel when automobile manufacturers and the media elite try to fool the people who, ultimately, pay their salaries. These industry wonks don’t appreciate, understand or respect our passion. They treat us with dismissive cynicism. But we will not be silenced. Whether or not I sit at these controls, the truth will out. As that weird guy from Law and Order said at the end of a particularly dense episode, “this pursuit of the truth thing is not for the faint hearted.” Gall bladder I don’t got. Heart I do. Thanks for watching the place for me. I’m back.
Welcome back. Rock on!
Welcome back, now get with the editing and posting :)
Welcome back — send me pills.
Glad you are back and as tenacious as ever.
Farago Zindabad!
(Long live Farago)
Mr. Farago is Back in Black!
Good to see you are up and running, I hope not too many cylinder are in shut-off mode!! You still have Far-a-go-go!! (Terrible word play but I couldn’t resist, Lol.)
while you were ill, GM stock zoomed. get them back to where they belong, Farago.
And here I thought GM had contracted a hit on your Farago. Can’t they do anything right?
Glad to see you are back. Plenty of fluids and all that.
You’re just upset at C&D because they picked a Mercedes over a Porsche.
I don’t think we need to worry about your bile level. Or fret that they took all your gall. It sounds like you’re still in fighting form!
Welcome back!
We need 800 pithy words on that ambulance suspension, stat!
Er, welcome back.
Do you know that in your absence I came thiiiiiis close to buying a chrysler sebring (convertible)?
And you have got to give someone else over-seeing this nut house auhtority to come up with articles, or requisition press cars. We can’t set the crazies loose on the poor comments engine every time you need invasive surgery.
Welcome Back
Welcome back and a speedy recovery. Keeping all that pent up angst can’t be good for the stomache.
Glad to see you are back in fine form, Robert. First article back and you leave few targets unassailed. Right on!
And isn’t it Csaba Csere, not Csabe Csare? Yeah, I know, look at it long enough and it all blends together.
Thanks
Yes, but who knows how to pronounce Csabe Csare?
The man likes Chubba Cheddar, apparently.
I don’t know about Csabe Csare, but Csaba Csere is pronounced “Chubba Chedda”. It’s Hungarian for Chuck E. Cheese
I’ve never known if Car & Driver’s “gotta-have-it factor” referred to whether I had to have the car or they needed the car to win the comparo.
Welcome back, Robert. Glad you’re doing better.
I was worried that the illness would mellow you and make you sensitive.
Welcome back Mr. Farago.
Welcome back.
I posted an editorial on comparison tests in general and C&Ds in particular some time ago at TrueDelta:
http://www.truedelta.com/pieces/comparison_tests.php
Bile and balls, whatta combo eh?
Just think, if you were a black bear, you could’ve made a killing peddling that gall bladder to horny asians.
TTAC is like crack cocaine. Thank God my dealer is back in town !
welcome back, robert, and may your recovery be quick and complete. as one who grew up reading car and driver and road & track in the 60’s, it is truly sad to see what useless ad-sheets they have become. it was really driven home last year when they brought out their, i believe, 50th anniversary issue. in it they reprinted a scathing review of an opel kadett that probably ran several thousand (brilliant, funny, insightful) words. those were the days. only britain’s car comes close today.
fortunately bloggers like you have picked up the torch. viva ttac.
will
Welcome back! I suppose next time you’ll read the Hemingway and bullfighting instead of C&D and bullshit.
“Chuck E. Cheese,” huh? That’s enough to destroy anyone’s vital organs. I’ll bet there are visionaries out there working on vehicles that will run on its pizza, for sure. With a three-year-old, you will soon become well acquainted with Mr. Cheese.
But now you’re back, and we are indeed thankful. Without TTAC, the automotive internet is rife with potholes just begging to be exposed and filled. So let’s keep doing that. Thanks.
Now wait. I drive an ambulance. I’m a volunteer. Don’t get paid for it any more than I do writing for TTAC. But they walked you in through the side door??? Gimme that para’s number and I’ll have his ass fired.
Glad to have you back Mr. Farago. Get all better soon.
Buzz L.
Free Huey!
Cap’n Farago,
I’m glad you’re recovering nicely. We were worried there…
-Ross
Welcome back. . .Is there any truth to the rumor that the General may be in for a name change. . . .something like. . . .Ghosn Motors?
Crap, im not the first to welcome you back. 34th? crap. my wife had her gallbladder out a couple years ago, can’t touch alcohol since. I mourn for you.
Welcome back! Gall bladders are highly overrated, you’re better off without ’em – just like this month’s issue of C&D. (Oddly enough, I still have both with me, though…)
Good to see you back, Robert. Be well.
We’ll know you’re back running on all cylinders (no “V8-6-4” for you, mate) when we see the next GM Death Watch article.
It’ll be a relief to all of us.
Nice to hear you are doing better.
It could always be worse the C&D and Edmunds…. It could’ve been cnet’s….. blaahhhh!
Ditto all of above.
Glenn:
Given that GM just announced another huge incentives program, I’d say a Death Watch is forthcoming.
http://www.detnews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060719/AUTO01/607190342/1148
haha.. i remember that 50th edition reprint of the review of the Opel Kadett. quite funny… sounded a lot like TTAC writting actually. I was away from the internet just until now… but glad to hear you’re recovering.
Hey Dude,
Highly trained anal retentives read this page too!
wstansfi
This is why I read car mags while waiting for the pharmacy to fill a prescription or in the check-out line. They only look good compared to golf mags, which are a complete waste of time. I don’t even pick them up.