Beware of what you ask for. One of our most loyal readers and prolific commentators, Educator(now of teachers)Dan, expressed his disgust at the K-car Aries the other day, and begged for…this. Now I’m hardly an impassioned lover of the Ks, but I give them some grudging respect: they finally dragged Chrysler into the second half of the twentieth century, with a light, roomy and efficient sedan, an American take on the cars Europe had been building for decades. But this Fifth Avenue was a dinosaur from birth: heavy, dull witted, faux-luxurious, pretentious, gas-guzzling, plasticky, ill-handling…did I miss something? It does share one thing with the Aries though: it’s also for sale. But you’ll have to bring a tow truck if you just have to have this relic of an era that is best forgotten. Let me know, and I’ll put you in touch with the owner, who’s wife would be most grateful to see it gone. And she’s not the only one. Read More >

The man on the other end of the phone was the “Wheels” editor for the Smallville Citizen-Journal and he was furious. There was no Mythos RoadSquisher SUV in his driveway! His press car had not been delivered! Instead, there was an email at the top of his in-box explaining that the journalist who had been driving the Mythos the previous week had crashed it, along with an assurance that he would be rescheduled for the next available vehicle as soon as possible.

“You stupid bitch,” he screamed into the phone, “what the f— do you think I’m going to drive this week?” My friend, a pert young woman who works for one of the major press-car agencies, was flabbergasted.

“Sir, if you drive your own car for a few days, we will make sure to get you—” The volume on the other end went up another notch.

“I DON’T OWN A CAR, YOU IGNORANT STINKING C–T! GET ME A CAR NOW! TODAY! OR FIND ANOTHER JOB WHERE YOU CAN SUCK C–K ALL DAY LONG!”

“Sir, what can I do, the fleet is completely empty—”

“GET UP AND WALK YOUR DIRTY WHORE ASS TO THE AIRPORT RENTAL COUNTER AND GET ME A CAR! AND HAVE IT DELIVERED! IN THE NEXT TWO HOURS!” And that, my friends, is exactly what she did.
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Suddenly it’s 1960 (again)! Well no, not that 1960. How about this one, the (more) real 1960? Yes, history repeats itself, and every so often, Detroit was forced out of its  delusional slumber and denial to face the music that always seemed to grate on its ears: small cars. In response to a growing avalanche of European imports led by the VW in the fifties, in 1960 the Big Three launched their first-ever compacts: Ford Falcon, Chevrolet Corvair and Chrysler’s Valiant. By the mid/late seventies, those were all gone, but the Japanese were all here. So Detroit geared up for the second big import showdown of 1980-1981. Once again, Chrysler’s weapon was clearly aimed at the traditional American-car buyer: more technically advanced this time (FWD!), but conservatively styled, still smarting from the painful lesson of their bizarrely-styled 1960 Valiant.

The K-cars set out to recreate the 1960 Falcon’s success, all-too eager to recapture its spirit: small, boxy, roomy, pragmatic and all-American, right down to the front bench seat. Well, maybe a bit too 1960 America; just like the Falcon, the K-car appealed to traditional American-car buyers, but had no apparent impact on the the explosive growth of the Japanese imports, just like the Falcon failed to dent the Volkswagen’s success. So ironically, although the K-car saved Chrysler in the eighties, it did little or nothing to stem the tsunami that ultimately overtook the Pentastar a second time. History repeats itself… Read More >

TTAC Commentator Detroit-Iron writes:

I have an ’09 Subaru Legacy with 26.5k on the clock.  I drive close to 600 miles a week, all on main road or highways at a steady 75 mph with few exceptions.  It is pretty warm where I live now, but it is not dusty here in the mid Atlantic, way too much humidity, and my direction of travel means I rarely run into traffic.  Recently I got a CEL, I took it to Advance auto but the guy couldn’t find the port.  The next morning the CEL was gone, but after work it had come back.  I tried filling the gas and re-tightening the gas cap to no avail. Ominously it also developed a rattle at 3k rpm.   After I got home (120 mile trip with no cruise control) I went back out to the store that evening and the CEL was gone.  The next day I took it to a dealer who didn’t have time to diagnose but said he would take if for a quick spin.

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Inspired by the Michael Karesh review of “Sixty To Zero” today, I thought I would share some aspects of auto journalism with the TTAC readers. To the best of my knowledge, this kind of information has not appeared anywhere in the print-rag world or “blogosphere”… and perhaps after reading this, you will understand why.

What I propose to do is to take you along with me for a “typical” product reveal. I’m combining various “signature” aspects of different companies’ press events here to create an imaginary journal for my trip to see the introduction of the 2011 Mythos 200EsI.. Now, if you’ll grab your bags, we have a plane to catch…

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Dan writes:

My detailer suggests giving my year-old (but 20k mile) midnight-blue 911 Carrera 4S car a polish and a paint sealant. Although my detailer assures me it is safe, words like ‘mild abrasive’ and the industrial metal-clad dual-orbit application machine do not sit well with me. I trust that my detailer knows what he is doing, but won’t it eventually grind out my clear coat, with successive polishes? How many polishes does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll? And what does it mean to polish surfaces that have a clear bra application?

Thanks very much, TTAC helped me picking S vs 4S, and I don’t want my baby done wrong.

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Friends, there are certain times when my job is freaking amazing, and last week was one of those times. I spent several days at a world-class event repping a powerhouse brand, rubbing shoulders with racing royalty in one of the most beautiful places to which I’ve had the pleasure of traveling. You can fill in the blanks yourselves. Summer events like these are what get us through the long, cold days of auto show season. But some of these great places seem to drive some people to drink. Read More >

August. Whole Europe goes on vacation. TTAC’s insular correspondent Cammy Corrigan often mentioned that she would want to write the story of her first trip to The Continent. Last time we left her somewhere on the mountainous road between Nice, France and Ventimiglia, Italy. Let’s catch up with her …

As we were leaving France, my spirits started to lift. Even though I was waving goodbye to the beautiful beach, I saw the silver lining. I’d been to France many times before and was sick of it. I was sick of a country I didn’t like to begin with. But Italy was different. I’d never been to Italy. The closest I’d been to Italy was a Spaghetti Carbonara I had once. I didn’t know what to expect.

My father, if you remember, was driving. And he knew EXACTLY what to expect. You see, driving in the UK is quite a sedate affair. You may get the odd person who’ll stick 2 fingers up at you, but on the whole, it’s quite a stress-free experience. Italy, on the other hand, was its polar opposite.

Traffic lights were just seen as pretty street lamps, road signs were seen as “suggestions” and the most used part of the car was the horn. You see a friend in the street? Honk your horn. Someone cuts you up? Honk your horn. Police stop you? You scream at him and honk your horn. Football team won? You drive up and down the streets honking, you guessed it, your horn. Want to insult an Italian man? Give him the hand signal for two horns, indicating that his wife is sleeping around. If you want to completely disable an Italian car, simply disconnect the horn.

This should give you an idea of how noisy the streets of Italy were.

If the noise didn’t drive you (no pun intended) mad, then the driving would. And the only way to survive on these manic roads was to drive just as mad. And so, for the Italian leg of our trip, my father disappeared and the spirit of Ayrton Senna arrived. Read More >

August. Every year, one of the largest barbarian migrations is taking place: Whole Europe goes on vacation. Off to warmer climes. Off to other countries. Or off to The Continent, as they say in Great Britain. TTAC’s insular correspondent Cammy Corrigan often mentioned that she would want to write the story of her first trip to The Continent. What better time than this?

“Wake up!”

“Huh?”

“Wake up!”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going on holiday!”

“Holiday?! Where?”

“France! Go pack your things! Quickly! We’re leaving in half an hour!”

This didn’t bode well. I hated France. I hated the food, the people, countryside, just everything. It’s not so bad now. Now, I just hate the food. And I’m still not too keen on the people, but it’s a start. In case you were wondering, that was my father. He woke me up to tell me we were going to spend two weeks in France. Read More >

[Update: My left hemisphere really predominated when I wrote this piece. Please don’t get the wrong idea: I was totally thrilled to find this well-kept 7-Litre sitting on the street in a neighborhood (South University) where it’s been a family heirloom for decades; possibly forever (according to a relative who came out). It’s an awesome representative of a class of car that is hard to find anymore, and my critical comments are designed to help those inexperienced with them to put it into context. The 7-Litre rocks!]

The sixties, that golden decade of American performance cars, had two very distinct eras. The first half was dominated by the full size bombers with their ever-larger big block V8s sporting dual quad or triple deuce carbs. Think Impala 348/409, the wild cross-ram Chrysler 413 and wedge 426, Pontiac’s 421 HO, and Ford’s specialized 406/427, which powered the Blue Oval to enduring glory, even at LeMans.  These over-sized sleds were the terror of the drag strips, NASCAR, and Main Street on Saturday night, duking it out for the glory of their respective makers, with the hope of more sales on Monday morning.

But with the arrival of the mid-size GTO and the compact Mustang in 1964, the full sized performance cars became doomed dinosaurs almost overnight. Yes, the big hairy engines were still available in them (for a price), but why bother when a dirt-cheap 327 Chevy II had a better power-to-weight ratio? So the Big Three tried something else to prop up sales of the profitable mega-sized rods, like this 7 Litre Galaxie. In the case of the Ford at least, the tip-off is the affected spelling of Liter. Read More >

George writes:

Sajeev, the automatic transmission in my 1999 Honda Accord Coupe from a prior Piston Slap failed at 115k miles.  Lost 4th gear (and reverse) on US-75 on Friday.  Lower 3 forward gears work, but got a rental Saturday and kept the Accord parked at home.  Have an estimate of $1850 from Plano Transmission to rebuild it with (tougher?) Raybestos clutches.  Owner Jeff McLeod claims to have bought a 98 Accord from a customer, rebuilt the transmission, and drove the car to 200k miles.  What is your opinion of rebuilding that transmission in a local shop vs. installing a factory rebuilt transmission?  I like the idea of knowing exactly what was done to the transmission and where the core came from.  What parts would you want inside the transmission if it was your car?  My goal would be a

1. A car capable of running to 200k miles
2. A car reliable enough for getting to work and weekend trips for at least 2 years to 140k miles.

I test drove several cars this weekend and wasn’t excited with my replacement choices.

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What exactly is it that magnetically stops us in our tracks to look at a junky old car sitting at the curb and ponder it? Yes, it might unleash a treasured or long-forgotten memory of our youth. Or it might dredge up experiences we’d just as soon forget. But for most of us, there are only so many cars that afforded us memories of happily spilling our bodily fluids within or that spewed its hot fluids in our faces. In the bigger picture, since old cars aren’t exactly fossils or butterflies, they tell the highly variable story of the humans that created them: that rare spark of true brilliance, or the flights of imagination, for better or for worse. But all too often, it’s really schadenfreude. Yes, there are few things guaranteed to make one feel better about one’s own foolish mistakes and shortcomings than to chortle at someone else’s.  And today, I’m going to need a really big helping of schadenfreude if it’s going to keep me from slipping into empathy for this car. Because the truth be told, we’ve all built our own personal Cimarrons. Or at least come mighty close to it. Read More >

TTAC Commentator Scorched Earth writes:

Hi Sajeev, my buddy has a manual-transmission, non-turbo 7M-GE MKIII Supra with about 150,000 miles.  Supposedly the previous owner had replaced the head gasket at least once.  About a month ago it started smelling like burning oil, and the engine is known for being overly prone to blown head gaskets, so he decided to play it safe and take it off the road within 2 hours of the symptom appearing.

Draining the coolant reservoir revealed a sludgy black substance, which we assumed to be oil, within the coolant.  Another strike.  The spark plugs, too, were swimming in oil. The rest of the coolant, however, was fine.  We could not find any coolant mixed in with the oil, either.  Furthermore, there was no greyish/whitish substance around the radiator cap.

Still, we went through the arduous process of removing the head.  When the moment of truth arrived, the head gasket was found to be undamaged. And at this point, we’re clueless.

The head gasket needs to be replaced regardless since we’ve taken off the head, which will cost about $500.  If we can find out what the source of the issue is, that’s fine.  But if not, it may make better financial sense to junk the poor car.

Any idea what problem could be posing as a blown head gasket?

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I ought to start this article off with the reasons as to why I decided to write this article. I got scalded recently for criticizing Jack Baruth’s article on why Top Gear USA will fail. On reflection, the scalding was well earned. It’s a bit unprofessional to criticize a fellow worker’s work no matter how much you disagree with it.

But this set off a light bulb in my head. Why should I post a comment about why I disagree with an article, and get browbeaten, if I can write an article of my own, highlighting my thoughts? Isn’t that the American way? Why give something away for free, when you can sell it? Read More >

Watch it if you must, and if you haven’t already: this is “Top Gear USA”. The three people involved are:

• Rutledge Wood, a television personality best described as “professional douchebag”;
• Adam Ferrara, stand-up comedian and character actor;
• Tanner Foust, a fanatically self-motivated and successful individual who has made a name for himself participating in a variety of low-talent driving events such as X-Games Rally and “Formula D”.

Even if you don’t watch the trailer, you should be able to figure out that this series will be an absolute train wreck. With that said, the original Top Gear has never exactly been compelling television, yet it’s found a worldwide audience. The USA version won’t, and here’s why…

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