Driving my new 2004 Audi with the family on a vacation to Sanibel Island, the check engine light (CEL) illuminated. We were 125 miles from home. In the past, an engine warning light would trigger panic, confusion and nameless dread. (Owners’ manuals are no help; they simply tell afflicted drivers to take the car to an official dealer.) All I could do was find, phone and visit a local dealer (if they were open) or limp home, knowing that every mile might be making an unknown situation worse. These days, I have an alternative: the OBD-II Actron 9135 scanner.

Modern cars are lousy with sensors. They measure engine function, transmission operation, emissions, fuel consumption, brake operation and more. The sensors report to the ECU (Electronic Control Unit). If the ECU detects a problem with a monitored system, it stores the information until the condition occurs x times over y period of time. At that point, the ECU triggers the appropriate idiot light.

Thanks to the federal legislation, all cars sold since 1996 must include an open access port to the ECU. Anyone– not just franchised dealers– can use this OBD-II port to diagnose vehicle problems.

The OBD-II system is a data collector, not a testing device. A detected fault could be in the idiot light, the ECU, the sensor collecting the data, or the measured device/part/system. Regardless, knowing which part of your vehicle is stricken is extremely helpful. For one thing, many faults can lead to expensive repairs if they’re not addressed in a timely fashion. 

Equally important, an OBD-II scanner provides consumer protection. Even if you don’t have a clue how to fix a reported fault, you can go to your dealer or mechanic safe in the knowledge that they can’t snow you with a bogus diagnosis. In fact, most dealers will charge you more than the cost of the unit ($69.99) just to plug-in their OBD-II scanner.

Like most code readers, the Actron 9135 connects directly to the OBD-II port under the driver’s dash. With the car’s ignition in the “on” position, the battery provides power for the scanner. The scanner takes about a minute to establish communications with the ECU. Once the "ready" signal is displayed on the LCD screen, you can test a variety of systems and functions. 

Pressing the large “Read” button tells the car to return any fault codes stored in the ECU. If you're lucky, you'll see “no faults” on the screen. If not, the screen will report the code and attempt to describe the problem based on the generic OBD-II codes.

The Society of Engineers created these fault codes. While manufacturers license them for diagnostic use, they are not required to restrict themselves to generic codes. That means the Actron (and other readers) may not be able to read some or all of the codes from certain vehicles. Actron offers a free web-based look-up service, as well as a fee-based service to diagnose code symptoms and recommend possible repair solutions.

The Actron 9135 can also test a vehicle’s emissions control systems. With this tool, a car owner can determine if there are any emissions issues prior to undergoing (and possibly failing) a state emissions test. If any of the emission devices are malfunctioning, the scanner will identify the exact problem. If all systems report ready, the vehicle will most likely pass an emissions test.

Now, back to my story…

Since I’d just gassed the Audi, I thought I hadn’t put the gas cap on tightly enough; a loose gas cap will trigger a CEL since the system detects that as fuel vapor leak, and the scanner will return a P0440 code. I re-tightened the cap and hoped for the best, knowing that a loose cap CEL will reset in a few start-stop cycles.

When we arrived at our hotel, I reached for my handy dandy Actron scanner. Anal retentive gadget freak that I am, I’d checked the ECU a few days before the trip. The ECU hadn't been storing any codes (i.e. I was good to go). This time, the Actron immediately displayed a code (P0741) and a short statement indicating that the problem involved a sensor related to the vehicle’s torque converter. Uh-oh.

The Audi is headed for the dealer. No matter how this turns out, I highly recommend the Actron 9135 OBD-II handheld scanner. The oil and grease resistant, field upgradeable unit comes with an eight foot cable and free tech support. It’s a simple tool that offers proof– if proof were needed– that information is power. Oh, and one quick question: why don’t manufacturers build-in this system? Take a wild guess…  

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Now that you’ve attached that cherry faux sunroof you snagged on EBay onto your econobox, it’s time to spruce up the interior. No, I’m not talking about a pine-scented Magic Tree® air freshener (review to follow). Nothing says upwardly mobile motor like a leather-wrapped steering wheel. Now you could stunt down to your local auto parts store and pick-up one of those slide-on leather covers for about twenty bucks. But unless you have hands the size of Sasquatch, you may find this to be a sub-optimal solution. Thankfully, a slimmer, higher quality alternative is available. If properly installed, it adds a tasteful touch to any tiller. 

Wheelskins has been flogging cow skin wheel covers for over thirty years. The Berkeley-based aftermarketeers currently offer three styles of single and two-tone skins to fit virtually any whip’s wheel. The covers come in fourteen colors– from black to jackass yellow– complete with a handy guide for monitor-challenged web surfers and color blind males (“Tan is the color of tobacco or a football.”).  You can mix and match hues for a two-tone covering to complement your fly yellow AMC Pacer– or way-too-black Ferrari F430.

If you buy your cover directly from Wheelskins– which is more expensive than sourcing one of their retailers– you’re looking at an autosartorial investment of $44.95 for a single tone cover, $49.95 for two-tone and $54.95 for the BCBG perforated Euro model. If one of their six standard sizes doesn’t fit your Citroën DS or suchlike, Wheelskins will craft a custom covering for a small additional fee. And yes, they make covers in extra large sizes for your Peterbilt, Freightliner, Kenworth, etc. and dinky sizes for your golf cart and pedal car.

The Wheelskins ordering process starts with a steering wheel measurement. The website provides a chart to determine wheel size based on your vehicle’s year, make and model. Once you’ve determined the exact size required, you’ve got to choose between single or two-tone. I went for Tommy two-tone, opting for a suitably macho red and black combo.

Both versions can be had in EuroPerf– which has nothing to do with scantily-clad women posing behind plate glass windows in Amsterdam’s De Wallen. You can order your EuroPerf skin perforated at the top and bottom of a two tone model, on the sides of a two-tone model, or all around the cover of any model cover. You know; just in case you were wondering.

The Wheelskins box arrived containing the leather cover, a spool of thread, a large sharp needle and instructions. Obviously, very few people (you know whom I mean guys) have the sewing skills required to make a sock puppet– let alone sew a daily use item requiring one hundred plus stitches. And remember: this all must be done within the confines of your car. Although I can cook a mean Quiche and thread a needle with one eye closed, I never got the results I wanted. As the thread started to unravel, I gave up. 

So I let an experienced seamstress go to work on the project. About halfway through, she complained that it would be easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a camel (or something like that) and gave up. Though I think Florida’s oppressive heat played a part in her surrender, you have been warned.

Another problem arose: the wide spokes of my test vehicle’s helm. If your steering wheel spokes are thin, the Wheelskins covering will not be greatly affected by lack of grip on the spokes. BUT if the spokes are very wide, the covering will stick out due to insufficient pull on the cover (dummy stitches indeed). A small piece of Velcro could have solved the problem, but Wheelskins [thoughtlessly] neglected to provide it.

After I finally completed the installation I found that the join of the two pieces of leather (at 10 and 2) was uncomfortable, forcing me to change my grip on the wheel. While I understand that one must suffer for one’s art, my thirty-year-old wheel helmsmanship habits proved too strong to change. I tried reversing the cover to place the larger swath of red leather on the bottom. To say the result looked awkward would be like saying a duck-billed Platypus is a rather odd sort of creature.

Overall, I liked the look and quality of the Wheelskins cover. But I can only recommend the product with two big ass caveats. First, measure twice, order once. Second, keep in mind that the end results depend entirely on the wheel being wrapped and the installer being warped (i.e. an indefatigable OCD seamstress). Try to attach the wrong Wheelskins cover to your wheel or screw-up the install [NB: don’t drink and stitch], and you’ll be ripping the cover off in a few days. Just like I did.

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Enthusiasts have been tuning vehicles since the first car coughed into life. Back in the day, performance-minded pistonheads could enhance their car’s fun factor by putting stiffer springs on the distributor advance, or changing the top dead center degrees. In fact, there were hundreds of relatively simple ways a clever wrench could wring more performance out of his [formerly] humble four-wheeled steed. Today’s cars are too heavily computer-dependent for such simple tricks. Enthusiast-oriented entrepreneurs have created a whole new market of electronic modifications to fill in the void.

The ECU (electronic control unit) regulates various elements of the modern car’s activities: fuel delivery, spark plug detonation, etc. Manufacturers program the ECU’s software to balance the car’s performance with fuel economy, emissions, safety and reliability. In almost all cases, carmakers leave a large margin of performance on the table. If nothing else (cough warranty costs cough), the extra oomph would sacrifice some of the car’s commercial appeal.

Third party tuners download and disassemble the ECU’s source code (i.e. hack), and then recode portions of the software to unleash unused performance. Some chip tuners can dramatically increase horsepower and torque. In other cases, where power increases are limited, chip tuners improve the overall power delivery, remove top speed limiters and raise the car’s redline.

GEEK ALERT! OPTIONAL SKIP GRAPH

Until recently, ECU tuning required a hardwire modification. If the ECU software was socketed, a user could remove the factory programmed ROM and replace same with a new chip from the tuner. If the ECU software was soldered, then the pistonhead usually sent the ECU to the tuner for modification. Thanks to OBD-II access (now required by federal law) and the use of flashable ROMs (which allow for reprogramming by the manufacturer), tuners now can simply reflash the ECU without hardware modification.

APR offers several ECU options for Audi, Porsche and VW enthusiasts seeking extra oomph for their German-made, well-designed whips. In addition to modifications that remap the power delivery, customers can pay for the ability to switch between stock and “enhanced” modes, a valet mode (to reduce power below stock), and a 100 octane mode to accommodate race track gas. I tested APR’s competitively-priced 93 octane program upgrade ($599), with one mode ($100), on a 2006 Audi A4 2.0T.

Our local APR dealer performed the installation in about 1.5 hours. Once the software was installed, he showed me how to switch between no-go and go modes using the cruise control set button. Liberating the hidden horses was a bit tricky, and not always successful. In one case, I couldn’t start the car for a few minutes after activation.

APR promises a 41hp increase and a whopping eighty-five pound-feet more torque. The change in the car’s performance was dramatic. In real world testing, I dropped over a second from my normal zero to 60mph sprint time. Equally beguiling: acceleration was notably stronger throughout the entire power band.

APR improves performance in the Audi [in part] by increasing the turbo’s boost pressure. From the factory, turbo pressure at maximum acceleration is about twelve psi. APR ups this pressure by five psi. APR insists that the Audi engine can easily handle twenty psi. As long as you use 93 octane fuel (hence the product’s name), APR claims their upgrade remains safely within this margin. Long-term effects are unknown, but I noticed no engine issues over a ten-thousand-mile test.

This brings us to the thorny side of these mods: their effect on your warranty. Some owners worry that an APR or similar upgrade will void their factory coverage. While some dealers are quick to use modifications to deny a warranty claim, the Magnuson Moss federal warranty act specifically prohibits denial of coverage unless the modification actually causes the claim. But do you really want a protracted court battle with your car dealer?

The chip tuners offer no guaranties– which is worrying. The ability to turn off APR’s modifications and “hide” them from the factory technicians (“valet mode”) offers some peace of mind. HOWEVER, should the factory update your car’s software, the APR software will be overwritten. And this is occasionally done as a matter of “routine” during scheduled maintenance.

Now, some more good news…

The APR upgrade didn’t reduce the Audi’s fuel economy; in fact, I measured a slight increase in fuel efficiency. The ECU upgrade also works well with other engine modifications, such as cold air intakes, headers and larger diverter valves.

Overall, the APR ECU modification is an impressive effort. It greatly improves engine performance with only a slight, ongoing financial penalty (due to its need for premium dino-juice). Outside forced induction, no other modification gives as much bang for the buck as an ECU upgrade. For those looking to increase performance on their Porsche, Audi or VW, the APR program should be on the short list.

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BMW, Mercedes, Audi and other performance-oriented manufacturers all place a high premium on providing their customers with massive stopping power, with minimal noise. To that end, they fit relatively soft brake pads. The Original Equipment Manufacturers (OEM) brake pads are fabricated from a combination of high tech and simple materials: carbon fibers, metal filings and a powerful adhesive to hold the pad material together. These soft brake pads help the machines achieve astounding predictability, power and control but they do make your expensive wheels look like crap.

As soft brake pads press against the brake discs, they release copious amounts of brake dust. The harder and more frequently you press on the stop pedal, the greater the schmutz. Pistonheads love hard braking and abhor schmutz. If it’s hands-up for OCD clean wheelology, you have a number of options for keeping your expensive wheels a schmutz-free zone.

For example, you can wax the wheels’ interior (to make cleaning the dust easier) or fit Kleen Wheels’ brake shield inside the wheel to contain the schmutz. Or you can fit low dust brake pads. There are plenty of aftermarket companies tantalizing pistonheads with the prospect of wheel cleaning liberation: EBC, Hawk, AXXIS, Rotex and more. I tested the gold standard: Rotex Gold brake pads. I fitted the pads on a 2000 BMW with 17” alloy wheels.

Rotex Gold brake pads are made from Kevlar®, metallic soft steel wire and powdered sponge iron (for maximum heat transfer), and silver virgin graphite. Kevlar® is a lightweight synthetic fiber that’s five time stronger than steel (famous for stopping bullets). More to the point, Rotex claims their premium quality silver virgin graphite greatly reduces noise and virtually eliminates brake dust.

Installing the Rotex pads was a non-issue; the process is no different from OEM pad fitment. The Rotex pads are slotted and chamfered just like the standard stuff. They’re designed to work with conventional rotors as well as the more advanced slotted or drilled rotors often found on higher end automobiles.

Once installed, the brakes require approximately 150 miles to seat. Again, the conditioning process is standard operating procedure for all brake pads, designed to assure maximum braking performance. Once properly seated, I tested the Rotex pads in a variety of driving conditions.

First up: simulated panic stops in an open parking lot. The Rotex pads delivered a good strong bite, easily stopping the Bimmer. I repeated the test twenty times in rapid succession. The Rotex pads were NOT completely fade free. Braking performance didn’t degrade significantly, but there was SOME diminution in performance. If you’re looking for brake pads that you can use on both street and the occasional track day, these ain’t it.

On the positive side, brake feel remained consistent over time. And while we didn’t make any objective scientific measurements, a seat-of-the-pants subjective assessment says the Rotex provided equal if not better performance over the OEM kit (which is also not up to the rigors of vigorous track use) in “normal” use.  

The next test was less demanding: real world street driving, including bumper-to-bumper traffic and highway braking maneuvers. The Rotex pads performed flawlessly, providing smooth braking in all conditions. 

Thanks to the large amounts of rain in the fall in our South Florida test kitchen, I was also able to trial the Rotex pads’ wet weather braking abilities. Obviously, tires are a major factor in inclement weather stopping performance. The Rotex pads were able to slough off massive amounts of water quickly– even after powering through fairly deep water.

Noise issues are a common complaint for all new brake pads. The quality of installation of the rotors and calipers can greatly affect the resulting decibels. Again, no science here, but I reckon our test installation had no impact on brake noise. The Rotex pads were just as quiet as the OEM pads.

Last but by no means least: brake dust. Rotex claims a virtually dust-free brake pad. Our test didn’t bear this out. That said, the Rotex’ dust production was substantially less than the Bimmer’s original pads. And the OEM pads produced a thicker, darker dust covering versus the Rotex pads’ lighter, thinner grey covering. But the amount of brake dust generated by the Rotex pads during regular (if strenuous) driving was still significant. To maintain a proper shine, a Rotex-equipped driver must still wax and clean their wheels on a weekly basis.

Rotex Gold pads cost $75 for the front set, $60 for the rears. That’s a competitive price vis-à-vis OEM pads. Given the Rotex pads’ equivalent or better performance, potentially longer life (the jury is still out) and the lower quantity of dust produced, we can recommend these brake pads as an alternative. But Rotex gold pads are no substitute for waxing, brake dust shields and/or good old fashioned elbow grease. 

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Given the changing pace of technology, the price of factory-fitted satellite navigation and the itinerant traveler's tendency to rent their chariot, a portable GPS (Global Positioning Satellite) navigation system is the ideal solution. When choosing an electronic pathfinder, map quality makes all the difference. Magellan (like Garmin) uses the premier map data supplier Navteq. The Magellan Maestro Series offers three models with a "just right" screen size (4.3"). The 4000 ($399) is the base model. The 4040 ($499) adds Canada (the maps, not the country) and Bluetooth, which lets you access addresses lurking inside your phone/palmtop. Although you can upgrade the 4040 to real-time traffic data for another hundred bucks, that same Franklin buys you the 4050 ($599) with a built-in traffic jam info receiver. On the road, the Magellan's 4040's geek fabulous 20-channel sirfsStarIII chipset instantly locked onto a GPS signal and updated quickly. The maps are pellucid, the voice prompts clear and the touch screen ergonomically sound. On the downside, the map disappears during recalculation and full-on sunlight is still a bugbear (a built-in visor would help). While RV-ing seniors might appreciate the AAA's TourBook info and roadside assistance (trip A members only), it would be nice to be able to choose a more (ahem) upmarket guide. Overall, the 4040 is a decent but not outstanding GPS device– at $499. But Costco's got 'em for $349 (in store price, call ahead). For that money, you're good to go.

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