On January 2, 1974, President Richard M. Nixon signed the Emergency Highway Energy Conservation Act. A provision of the Act imposed a new, national, 55 mph maximum speed limit. Overnight, the United States had a massive speeding “problem.” Within weeks, the feds gave huge amounts of money to police forces around the country to purchase radar guns. The speeding ticket, always a reliable cash cow for local governments, became a cash herd.

In response, the Fuzzbuster. The first commercial radar detector was a simple receiving unit. It picked up the high power continuous transmission of the early X-band police radar guns and sounded an alarm. Depending on the speed of the Fuzzbuster-equipped motorist, he or she had at least a half to a quarter mile before the signal was strong enough to bounce back to the police and provide a reading. 

Escort tendered the next major advance. The old school black box Escort was a quantum leap in quality: the first superhetrodyne radar receiver commonly available. The Escort’s X-band detection distance was twice that of the Fuzzbuster. Equally important, the Escort also picked-up K-Band radar gun signals, emitted by the cutting edge revenue collection device of the early 80’s. 

Once the police side switched to “instant on” radar guns, the game changed again. Detectors were no longer looking for a strong beam (think a set of xenon headlights shining down a dark highway). They were now trying to detect a child’s flashlight being turned on and off at random, during the day. Since a radar detector is essentially nothing more or less than a scanner, it has to cover the entire band over and over, looking for those wisps of radar. 

To find those tiny wisps of K-band emissions, a device needs some serious microprocessing horsepower. That kind of microwave technology isn't cheap. Radar detector buyers looking for something more than a dashtop ornament that provides a false sense of security must now go to the top of a manufacturer’s line for electronic satisfaction.

Still, many folks held onto their Fuzzbusters, classic black box Escorts and later grey metal Passports. While they’re still great for detecting police radar guns operating on the X and K-band radar signal, they’re blind to the latest Ka-band police technology. I still see these on dashboards in New York Courts every week, in a state where 95 percent of the police radar systems run on the Ka-band.

I’m often asked “why can’t I just buy a radar jammer?” There are two stumbling blocks: money and the Federal Communications Commission (FCC).

Any item which transmits a radio signal falls under the FCC’s purview. To properly jam police radar unit, a jammer needs to receive a signal, “read it” and fire back a signal strong enough to overwhelm the radar gun– or vary the returning signal’s frequency slightly to confuse the police radar gun’s computer. The military has some fantastic devices for fighter planes that do all this, at military price points. 

Even assuming you could create a usable civilian unit, the FCC would frown upon this endeavor in a most emphatic way. If they caught wind of even a single unit, they’d send you a “Notice of Liability” reminding you (with a huge fine) that you’re not allowed to jam any licensed service. (That's why Cell Phone jammers can't be sold in the US.) So back to detectors…

None of today’s radar detector can warn you of an “instant-on” police radar signal if you’re the first one through the trap. A detector is a radio receiver, no more, no less. Ka-band frequencies are tricky to detect. The frequencies used by many police radar guns for Ka-band are on the exact same frequency that some radar detectors transmit.

In traffic, surrounded by other cars, radar detectors are prone to a “Ka-false,” triggered by another radar detector. To keep users sane, detector makers will “notch out” that specific frequency– which is why police radar makers seek to transmit there. The expensive detectors have the computer power to figure out this riddle, which is why the $69 detector is more dangerous than nothing at all.

None of today’s most sophisticated radar detectors can detect all police radar guns all of the time in all situations, and do so with enough alacrity that the driver can check their speed before the police do. A safe driver will always drive only as fast as conditions allow, and use their cranium’s computing power (including memory) to avoid inadvertent speeding.

That said, a high-powered radar detector is a valuable tool for the serious driver with a lot of exposure time. It’s a little extra insurance, but, again, it’s not a free pass. Buy the best detector you can afford, but don’t change your driving style based on the box.

[Casey W. Raskob, Esq. is a NY-based lawyer who runs speedlaw.net]

Is there anything the average motorist hates more than police radar? While some citizens see radar “guns” and those who wield them as a necessary evil– police surveillance that saves lives– most drivers view the technology as a “sin tax,” an ineffective safety device, a waste of police resources, an invasion of privacy and/or a major violation of the Constitutional prohibition against “indiscriminate search.” While the battle for and against police radar (and now laser) rages on, TTAC has invited me to discuss the technology and your legal rights. We begin with some deep background.

Back in the early 60’s, police measured driver’s speed via “S-band” radar. These early devices used a huge antenna mounted on a tripod. It printed a paper read out on a rolling sheet of paper, like a lie detector. The S-band radar unit was a cumbersome contraption that only worked in good weather. And keeping the analogue tubes running was a tricky business– never mind trying to get the waves to live at microwave frequencies. Although the system [eventually] offered its police practitioners a reasonable ROI, it was a major PITA.

With the advent of transistors, radar moved to the 10 Ghz “X-band.” New solid state devices assured greater frequency stability at higher frequencies. The antennas got smaller. For the first time, police could mount a radar device on their car– although they were still restricted to continuous transmission from a stationary position.

Early Escort radar detectors worked a treat, picking-up the X-band signal a mile or more before it had the strength to bounce back to its police handler. And there were few, if any, radar “falses” from door openers. The detection – detector arms race began.

The next advance on the police side: a 24 Ghz “K-band” device with a smaller antenna with a new mode: ”instant on.” This feature made the radar detector less useful (it still triggered when someone up ahead was zapped). K-band radar guns were very expensive when they first appeared– so the older X-band guns were also rigged for “instant on.”

The next advancement: moving mode. For the first time, a radar device could separate the primary reflection (ground speed) from the second reflection (target speed). (This development mystifies a lot of drivers, amazed that the cop “was coming from the opposite direction.”) With the smaller. squad car-borne K-band antenna, any police car was a potential "threat" to a speeding driver. The modern radar enforcement era was born.

Today’s state-of-the-art radar devices have moved still further up in frequency, to the 34-36 Ghz Ka-band. (The Ka band is much wider than X or K, making the radar detector’s job harder, as it’s really just a glorified scanner.) Police radar antennas have miniaturized to the point where they’re hand-held devices with soda can-sized apertures. The entire speed detection device is now small enough to permanently mount in a squad car; many police departments use front AND rear antennas.

Whereas the primitive radars of the 70’s could pick out target vs. ground speed as they were going in opposite directions, today’s radars can pick out a target going in the same direction as the patrol car. State laws vary in whether or not this mode has “judicial notice” (i.e. would be accepted in a Court with the usual minimal Police testimony). But the bottom line remains the same: a police car behind you or in front of you can now get a reading. This mode is less frequently used, but it’s increasing, as the older units are retired and new ones enter active duty.

Police radar devices are sold through a public bidding process at the State level. Your local law enforcement agencies often buy at the negotiated State Police price. Many agencies, though, do not. If your state does not have an “official” radar device, you are facing a variety of threats. 

Here in New York, the State Police use a state-of-the-art Ka-band radar gun called (of course) the Stalker. Local agencies still have a lot of the Kustom Signals KR series K-band units; they have less money than the State and the units last a bit longer in regular use. Ye Olde X-band is mostly gone; the units have obsoleted out.

The newer radar units have variable power outputs, so that the officer can make the unit’s “zone of influence” smaller. Many of them allow the relevant law enforcement agency to lock out certain functions (e.g. the moving modes) if the law in their state does not support their use.

Fortunately, most police are not gadget geeks. They tend to run their radar guns in full power mode, in standard stationary or “instant on” modes.  Still, there's never a shortage of sheep to shear. Speaking of which, next week’s installment will focus on countermeasures– sorry, effective ways to check your speed before you get a ticket. 

[Casey W. Raskob, Esq. is a NY-based lawyer who runs speedlaw.net] 

It’s been 20 years since automakers filed the first patents for adaptive automatic transmissions. These “intelligent” cog swappers promised all the bespoke speed and efficiency of an English butler. And yet, time and time again, I get into a new vehicle, put my foot down and find myself saying “You just can’t get good help anymore.” The Subaru Legacy, Mercedes C350, Honda Accord and Dodge Grand Caravan all came equipped with gearboxes displaying advanced signs of mechanical ADD. Are these devices slow learners or just too damn smart for your own good?

According to the playbook, an adaptive automatic transmission studies your driving behavior and then adjusts its workings to deliver “suitable” throttle response and “appropriate” shift points. To achieve this feat, there are as many modus operandi as there are manufacturers’ eagle-eyed patent departments. Needless to say, the modern adaptive gearbox relies entirely on sensors and computer controls. 

In Subaru’s case, a Transmission Control Module sits at the heart of their four speed adaptive autobox. Sensors tell the ECU (Electronic Control Unit) when the car’s going uphill, downhill or around a corner. The black box directs gear changes according to event-specific algorithms designed to make those experiences “better.” Selecting Sport mode calls-up a different internal 'map' or program which allows higher engine speeds during acceleration, and delivers more responsive downshifts when the guy in front of you doesn’t slide over to the right. 

On a recent test drive, the Subaru system performed like a minor league ball player. It wanted to do a good job; it just wasn’t ready. I asked Subaru how long it takes one of their intelligent transmissions to get smart. They told me the ECU learns constantly, adjusting continuously. In other words, the boffins couldn’t give me a deadline, in terms miles or time, when their ECU should be in sync with its master.  

Granted, that’s a tough question. If you scoot out onto the highway and drive 65mph for a day, how much data does the computer really have to get on with? The flip side is worse. A car sitting on the dealer’s lot gets driven in two-mile sprints at irregular intervals, with drivers as different as Lindseys Graham and Lohan. And then there’s the dreaded “Multiple Driver Syndrome” (MDS). That’s where vastly different driving styles scramble the car’s brain, creating a mean mean. 

Just how much difference all this fuzzy logic programming makes is, well, fuzzy. There’s only one way to get a proper fix on an adaptive transmission’s [theoretical] advantages: a computer-controlled rolling road test simulating various driving styles, with and without the algorithms. None of the manufacturers contacted for this article could provide any such test results, or any hard stats on the adaptive transmission's relative efficiency in general. Words like “better” and “improved” were as good as it got.

Truth be told, the adaptive transmission’s effect on driving dynamics may not be all that much of a blessing. On paper, the new Mercedes C-Class’ seven-speed cog swapper– a trickle down technology from the mighty S-Class– should be a wondrous thing to drive. With seven gear settings and the computer’s ability to skip a couple cogs going up or down, a C-Class pilot should be able to blaze out in glory and snuff some serious momentum without setting the car’s brakes afire. In the seat, the C-Class’ adaptive transmission is nowhere near as much fun as you thought it was going to be. 

That said, Mercedes asserts that their transmission’s control unit may take a couple thousand miles to “get used to” its driver’s throttle and brake inputs. If you share the car, it will average out the drivers’ approaches. If you don’t like the outcome, if the aforementioned MDS sets in, “Dave” will reset “HAL” at no charge (as Mercedes does for cars heading into the pre-loved lot).

Therein lies the conundrum of modern automatics. By definition, they’re not going to be as good on a test drive as they are over the long haul. In that sense, it’s easy to see why new car salesmen rarely make a big deal of adaptive transmissions; “Trust me sir, it gets better over time…”

Though a little explanation might go a long way. The general public is generally appreciative of genuine advancements in automotive technology, and people have been dealing with break-in periods since, oh, 1906. Mercedes claims their adaptive transmission increases drivetrain longevity and reliability. It’s not the sexiest of selling points, but it would make it a little easier to endure a few weeks of dim-witted gear changes.

Anyway, we’re stuck with these gizmos. “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change,” Charles Darwin wrote.  Frustrating though they are, adaptive transmissions will thrive and evolve– unless something better renders them obsolete. 

Automakers are justifiably proud of the fast, safe, clean and comfortable products they’ve unleashed upon the automotive market. But today’s carmakers have entered into a Faustian bargain with the electronic systems that make these four-wheeled wonders possible, and it’s busy biting them and their customers in their collective keister. Never mind the inherent safety hazards of protecting drivers from their own stupidity. The heavy reliance on technology has fundamentally altered the ownership experience, particularly when these techno-wondercars are repaired and resold.

This problem is particularly acute for high-end, mostly European luxury makes. In the past, upmarket brands justified their price premiums by offering superior performance, handling, comfort and refinement. As less-expensive brands have narrowed the gap, luxury makers have turned to electronic wizardry to create a distinctive distinction. But stuffing more stuff into the cars invites Murphy and his Law to ride shotgun.

Your humble author spent four years battling these issues as a BMW dealership technician and regularly saw Herr Murphy working his mojo. My favorite horror story of that time: a BMW E46 3-Series that was rendered impotent (warning lights aplenty, transmission stuck in second gear) by… wait for it… the radio.

The E46 radio is connected to the engine, transmission and ABS computers (and many others) by a network called the K-bus. When the radio died, it shorted out the K-bus, freaking-out the other computers. Every system that could turn on a warning light did so and the transmission computer went into ‘limp in’ mode: second gear only when in ‘Drive.’

While these sorts of gremlins may be more common in the luxury brands (Mercedes owners unite!), the same systems and problems are now appearing in more mainstream machines. Nissan owners who've put their Intelligent Key fob in the same pocket as their cell phone have discovered that the phone signal scrambles the key programming, rendering it impotent. Honda owners with a persistent ‘check engine’ light may have a major emissions system failure, or they may have slight corrosion on an electrical terminal in the fuse box. No make or model with electronic systems is immune.

Electronic failures differ from mechanical mishaps in important ways. Most mechanical items fail gradually and provide warning signs (noises, visible wear, etc.) indicating that something is amiss. Electronics are usually an either/or situation; they either work or they don’t. They also rarely warn their dependents before they fail. Mechanical systems can often be tweaked or bypassed (e.g. looping heater hoses to bypass a leaking heater core). Electronic systems usually don’t respond to duct tape and WD-40.

This electronic complexity can make for an expensive and time-consuming ownership experience. Increasingly, these systems can only be serviced by dealerships, whose technicians need a lot of (expensive) time and (expensive) training to diagnose the problems. Sometimes, the problems are so subtle that the only recourse is to install part A and see if the problem goes away.

When the owner comes back in a week with the same problem, install part B and repeat until the problem, or the owner, goes away. And make no mistake: these parts are getting mighty expensive. The aforementioned BMW radio lists for $590, and no $79 Pep Boys radio has a K-bus connection. Similarly, the days of cutting a spare key at the hardware store for $5 are long gone.

When the car is under warranty, the customer doesn’t pay the parts and labor costs, and service loaner cars might make frequent dealership visits tolerable. But imagine (or testify) what happens when the warranty ends. Electronic systems are not immune from age-related failures; the owner must bear the full brunt of these costs.

This leaves an owner with a set of tough decisions. Does he fix the problem or try to ignore it? Can he ignore it? If the transmission won’t shift out of second gear, the car isn’t very useful. Are the parts available, new or used? If only used parts are available, how long will they last?  Should he just get rid of the car for something newer and/or more reliable?

That last question indicates the area where electronic overkill hurts the car owner the most. Trouble-prone cars have always had low resale values/a shortage of willing buyers. When the troubles are difficult to locate, devilish to rectify and expensive to boot, it only amplifies the situation.

Unfortunately, this is difficult to see in the available data because used car prices are affected by multiple factors. The cachet of MINI and VW, for example, keeps their resale prices high– despite their relatively poor e-reliability records.

Nevertheless, as heavily electronic cars age, the cost of repairs will overwhelm the market values of those cars. This may be the final ironic twist of modern automotive electronics: rendering eight-year-old cars about as valuable as eight-year-old computers.

Retired Israeli Air Force ace Giora Epstein flew Mirage, Nesher and F-16 fighter aircraft during his career. When asked by the History Channel which aircraft he preferred, he replied “In the Mirage and the Nesher, the pilot flies the aircraft. In the F-16, the computer flies the aircraft and the pilot is just another input to the computer.” Modern automotive electronics have transferred Epstein’s complaint to millions of cars. We may purchase and maintain our vehicles, but we no longer truly drive them. Increasingly, we’re mere inputs for the computers that do.

This experience may be mostly transparent, but it is real. Press on the ‘gas’ pedal of an electronic-throttle car and it doesn’t open the throttle; it simply tells the engine computer the desired torque output.The brake pedal of a Toyota Prius doesn’t activate the brakes; it tells the ABS computer how much braking to supply. Turn the steering wheel in an Active Steering-equipped BMW and the direction change ranges from barely-noticeable to “Holy s***!”, depending upon what the Active Steering system decides is appropriate.

Under most circumstances, drivers don’t know or care that computers are intermediating their driving. But sometimes it does matter. Lift off an electronic throttle pedal and the computer may ignore it, holding the throttle open to reduce smog emissions. Panic brake in deep snow and ABS may threshold-brake the car into an intersection, when locked brakes might have stopped it much sooner. Try to ‘rock’ a vehicle out of slush and the traction control system may steadfastly thwart the effort.

This lack of control particularly frustrates driving enthusiasts. They want engine braking at lift-throttle, not when the computer decides they can have it. They want to take their favorite corner in a lurid tail-out slide, not electronic nannies telling them that they can’t. It’s a real killjoy when the HAL 9000 controlling the transmission rejects a downshift with an “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Or when the simple act of simultaneously pushing the brake and accelerator pedals sets off an electronic hissy-fit.

Even when the pocket-protector set tries to apply their dark arts for enthusiasts, they usually end up spoiling the fun. At the extreme end, Formula 1 banned electronic driver aids in the early 1990s (the ban has since been modified) because winning became more a function of software engineering than driver skill. Lower down the food chain, automakers have no qualms whatsoever about rendering their sports-oriented customers’ driving skills irrelevant.

Several high end automakers now offer transmission ‘launch control’ modes, where a driver simply selects the mode and floors the accelerator. Maximum acceleration is provided; no clutch modulation skills required. The new F430 Scuderia is equipped with F1-Trac traction control, which Ferrari test drivers admit allows ordinary drivers to nearly match their lap times around Fiorano.

Where is the pride in mastering driving skills when any Tom, Dick or Harriet can duplicate them by pushing a button? The piss-ant paradigm now extends to off-roading, where Land Rovers offer Fisher-Price type buttons that configure a vehicle’s various e-Nannies for various terrains. Hill Descent Control allows feet free operation. No muss. No fuss. No skill. No fun.

Ordinary drivers have a different interaction with all this automotive electronic wizardry. It makes them worse drivers.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration estimates that about 25 percent of all American automobile accidents are caused by distracted drivers. That’s plain to see. Cruise the freeways in any U.S. urban area. Clock how many drivers are talking on their cell phones, fiddling with their iPods, checking their navigation screens, playing with their iDrive/COMAND/MMI interfaces, or looking for the Teletubbies disc for the onboard DVD player. Their focus is everywhere but their driving.

ABS, panic brake assist and stability control can help prevent an accident, but they can’t make the car brake or steer. Only an attentive driver can do that.

Automotive electronics are also dumbing down drivers through the subtle action of moral hazard. The old anti-driver’s aids shibboleth says that cars should be equipped with sharp spikes instead of airbags, to encourage drivers to drive very carefully. Perhaps. Meanwhile, manufacturers give them an electronically expanded safety envelope. Drivers respond to this safety net by driving more aggressively. As a result, the safety benefits of technology are cancelled out by dumber driving.

Studies indicate that ABS-equipped cars have about the same accident rate as their non-ABS equivalents. Similarly, automotive forums bristle with stories about highway medians filled with flipped-over SUVs whose drivers thought 4WD was synonymous with “invincibility.”

History indicates that as drivers adapt to these new technologies, many of the problems associated with them will decline. But there are other ticking time bombs in the automotive electronic world. In our next installment, we’ll look at the long-term implications of these high-tech wonders.

It’s doubtful that the AC-Delco engineers who devised the first electronic ignition system in 1961 envisioned the automotive revolution to follow. By then automobiles’ basic technological framework was well-established (piston engines, welded steel bodies, pneumatic tires, hydraulic brakes, etc.). Electronic ignition probably seemed like just another incremental improvement. Instead, electronics enabled quantum leaps in automotive performance, safety, comfort, efficiency and environmental impact. No other technology has been nearly so transformational.

Popular culture remembers the 1960s ‘horsepower war’ as the Golden Age of automotive performance. But twenty-first century cars with performance aspirations handily dust those Beatles-era relics.  Compare the gas-guzzling smog-belching 1964 Pontiac GTO Tri-Power. We’re talking about a 280hp (SAE net) vehicle that does the quarter-mile in 14.8 seconds. Compare that to the 20+ mpg Ultra-Low Emission Vehicle (ULEV) Mazdaspeed3. The 263hp Japanese hot hatch will do the quarter in 14.2 seconds.

How about a 1965 L78-engine Chevrolet Corvette compared to a 2006 Corvette Z06. You’re looking at 340hp vs. 505 hp,  0-60 in 5.7 vs. 3.6 seconds. No contest. We live in a fabulous age of 200hp Honda Civics, 300hp 3-Series BMWs, 400hp luxury sedans and 1000hp Bugatti Veyrons.

Even better: aside from the dangers of a lost license, modern muscle is almost consequence-free. Today’s power comes with reasonable fuel efficiency, squeaky-clean exhaust emissions, minimal maintenance and “Sure Grandma, you can borrow my car” drivability. All made possible because carburetors, distributors and mechanical linkages have been replaced by the precision dance of electronic sensors, digital computers and pulse-width-modulated solenoids.

While electronics have made engines cleaner, more reliable and increasingly powerful, the automotive safety acronym zoo (ABS, DSC, EBD, SRS, ATTESA, PSM, etc.) owes its existence to electronics. Some modern safety systems (e.g. airbags and antilock brakes) do have mechanical ancestors, but those mechanical systems were expensive, slow-acting and dubiously reliable. Reliable low-cost electronics has made those systems nearly universal in modern cars. Even the TTAC Ten Worst winning Chevrolet Aveo is graced with standard front and side airbags and optional ABS.

Strange to say, the e-ubiquity has created problems for high-end automakers. When even bargain-basement cars have state-of-the-art electronics going for them, these upscale makers need new features to justify premiums prices. Once again, electronics comes to the rescue.

The trend at the leading edge of automotive electronics: cross-system communication and integration. BMW’s rain-sensing windshield wiper system tells the ABS computer when it’s raining. The ABS computer then subtly pulses the brakes to keep the brake rotors dry. Lexus uses its adaptive cruise control system to determine if a crash is imminent. If a crash is coming, the SRS computer tightens the seatbelts and decides which airbags to deploy.

Crash a Mercedes-Benz CLK and its electronic systems automatically stop the engine, unlock the doors, turn on the emergency flashers, and provide GPS coordinates to an emergency response service. This near instantaneous safety dance would be impossible without modern electronics. The range and scope of electronic wizardry is only limited by the talent and imagination of software coders.

This electronic creeping feature-ism has also transformed the comfort and convenience of driving (or being a passenger). A plethora of entertainment and information technologies– multi-channel audio systems, on-board DVD players, GPS navigation units, OnStar, etc.– have eliminated much of the drudgery.

Even the physical effort of operating a vehicle has been minimized by electronic servants. Manually unlocking doors, manually-adjusted seats, hand-crank windows, radio tuning knobs and the like are rapidly going the way of full-size spare tire.

Approach a modern BMW while pressing ‘Unlock’ on the key fob and this modern paradigm of electronic magic goes on display. Sure, the door unlocks, but that’s just the beginning. Windows roll down. The sunroof opens. The seats, mirrors and climate control system adjust to stored settings. No need to turn the ignition lock, just stick the key in the dash slot and press the “Start” button One-touch buttons and voice recognition eliminate even the effort of changing the radio station.

Of course, this technology is mostly found on high-end cars like BMWs. But history indicates it will quickly spread to less-expensive brands. Ford has already implemented Sync voice-recognition in mass market models and Nissan’s Intelligent Key system is available throughout its model line. Wait five minutes and your personal computer gets cheaper. Wait five years and Mercedes-Benz electronics show up in your Hyundai.

This electronic dominance of our cars shows no signs of abating. Whether it’s the Toyota Prius powertrain controls, the Volvo S80 lane-departure warning system or the Chrysler Sebring’s heated cupholders, automakers keep shoveling in the wires and the microchips. They are the major reason our modern cars are so wonderful. Though not as obvious as the benefits, this electronic sophistication has drawbacks. In our next installment, we’ll see how what the boffins giveth, they also taketh away.

I learned to drive in a 1985 Volvo 240. The Nordic boxcar's 2.3-liter four-cylinder engine deployed one hundred and fourteen horsepower against three thousand pounds of Swedish steel. For reasons best left to Roswell conspiracy theorists, the feds recently re-calculated the 240’s mpg: 19/26 (coincidentally the age of the average 240 driver).  That’s not bad for rust, but let’s face it: a used 240 is hardly a Prius driver’s second choice. Even so, the humble Volvo recently inspired an automotive epiphany that could lead to The Mother of All Environmentally Friendly Automobiles.

My [non Honda] insight arrived as I was sitting in traffic, ogling– OK, “observing” a Volvo 240 in the lane next to me. Hmmm. What if you ripped out the 240’s rear seats and installed a state-of-the-art, meltdown proof, South African-made pebble bed reactor? That’s right; it’s time environmentally conscious motorists went nuclear.

I realize that some people won’t immediately embrace the idea of a fission-powered Volvo wagon. Luddites. What’s not to like? Everyone knows nuclear power is safe, clean and cheap. Unlike all the internal-combustionists melting the icepack and drowning baby seals every time they open their car’s throttle body, pilots of a nuclear-powered Volvo 240 would release less carbon dioxide into the atmosphere than a flatulent Guernsey. Yup. Nuclear is the ultimate alternative fuel.

Ethanol? Please. Put that corn juice in your tank and you’ll get fewer miles per gallon than a Sherman tank, and pigs will have to pay supermarket prices for their feed. Are you in favor of more expensive pork chops? That’s un-American. Besides, devoting America's corn crop to E85 production makes about as much sense as reserving Bolivia's most popular export for insomniacs.

Biodiesel? Powering your car on french fry drippings might work if your local diner is willing to tolerate yet another bum lingering around their dumpster, but try running a fleet of FedEx trucks on McDonald’s goodwill. Hydrogen fuel cells? Sounds like a great idea– until you realize it takes more electricity to break water into hydrogen and oxygen than it does to power all the electric carving knives in America.

A few rivet counters will point out that a nuclear powered automobile is nothing new. The 1957 Nucleon concept car was [theoretically] powered by a trunk-mounted mini-reactor. Uranium fission generated steam that drove a set of turbines (one for torque, one for electricity). A cooling loop turned the steam back into water. When the reactor ran out of fissionable material in, say, fourteen thousand years, you just popped down to your local service station and swapped it out your old reactor for a new one.

That said, the Nucleon was Ford’s idea. Frankly, I’m not going to get too worked-up about a nuclear powered car designed by a company that tried to sell me an Aspire. And I’m thinking that it’s no coincidence that The International Atomic Energy Agency was established the same year as the Nucleon's debut.

Anyway, nuclear technology has moved on since then. The new pebble bed reactors consist of a radioactive material surrounded with a graphite coating. This reactor is gas-cooled, rather than water cooled. This breakthrough eliminates the most complex part of conventional reactor designs. Needless to say, the Germans came up with the idea. But the South Africans and the Chinese have started to run with it.

I know you’re all saying “Go with the lowest bidder.” But honestly, if the Chinese government can’t keep lead paint off toys that are going to go into Happy Meals, do you really want to trust that your contractor didn’t take a few shortcuts during the final assembly of your automotive reactor core?

Anyway, we all know that the bathroom is the average American's killing field, and gas is only slightly less explosive than TMZ.com. So a few risks must be assumed. And these must be balanced against the potential rewards, which extend far beyond satisfying the California Air Resource Board.

How many times have you looked around your car and found that you had a cell phone, iPod, radar detector, toaster oven and waffle maker plugged into every available 12-volt outlet? With the abundant electricity produced by a nuclear reactor, you’ll never have to choose between Mary J. Blige and chocolate waffles. In fact, you’ll be able to sell spare juice to the highest bidder. I suspect this capability will come in handy if you live in one of those left-coast states with rolling brownouts (which already sounds vaguely automotive). 

And just think what a nuclear-powered car could do for football season. Once you get your 75” plasma TV and satellite dish combo running, you’ll be the most popular man at the tailgate. Hey! If GM starts making a nuclear-powered car to run alongside the Volt, then this plug-in hybrid thing might actually take off. And here's hoping there'll be a retrofit for the Volvo 240, so that the old ones can, someday, go out with a bang.

GM’s decline began fifty years ago, when the domestic automaker failed to repel import sales with competitive products. GM’s rear-engined air-cooled Corvair provided the template: technically advanced, but too expensive to provide profit. A string of over-ambitious and ultimately doomed imports fighters followed: aluminum-engined Vega, the Wankel, X-Body FWD, Olds Diesel V8, Cadillac V8-6-4 and EV-1. Now, when it can least afford a costly mistake, GM is launching a blitz of four different hybrid systems in a desperate attempt to counter Toyota’s successful Hybrid Synergy Drive (HSD). Is GM’s Volt the Corvair reincarnated?

Toyota’s ascendancy has been well documented: the tortoise approach to continuously improved products, processes and technologies. The Prius was born in the early nineties when oil was $15 a barrel. Initially subsidized by Toyota, the Prius is now a profitable product. And Toyota continues to relentlessly wring-out the costs of HSD; the Japanese automaker expects its hybrids to have the same (high) profit margins as its conventional cars by 2010.

Instead of figuring out how to make its (conventional) small cars profitably, GM has opened the floodgates to hybrid development. In fall ’06, Saturn introduced the belt-assist (BAS) or “mild hybrid” Saturn Vue. While GM’s BAS system allowed the domestic automaker to crow that it was, finally, in the hybrid business, sales are… unknown. [GM is the only automaker that doesn’t to break out hybrid sales numbers.]  

The two-mode hybrid system set to be introduced on the Chevrolet Tahoe and GMC Yukon is classic GM: a technically ambitious product that costs too much money. GM has publicly stated that the two-mode costs the company $10k. Try amortizing that with three dollar gas; it just doesn’t pan out. No surprise that development partners Daimler and BMW are quietly walking away from the two-mode in favor of their own cheaper partial-hybrid systems. Even using six bucks a gallon gas, Europeans can’t justify the extra investment.

GM will sell a few thousand hybrid Tahoes and Suburbans to politicians, celebrities and the like, so they can ride in their behemoths “guilt free.” Meanwhile, GM is rushing their new light-truck diesel to market. The oil burner’s a better and cheaper choice for the real world conditions in which pickups and SUV’s operate (highway mileage improvement of the hybrid Tahoe is all of 2 mpg). And just who’s going to buy a Chevrolet Malibu with a $10k two-mode hybrid system?

Now, “plug-in hybrids” have replaced the fuel cell as the eco-darling concept du jour. GM has no fewer than two such systems in development. A plug-in version of the Vue could well end up costing $45k ($6 to $10k on top of the $10k cost of the two-mode system).

And then there’s the Volt. According to GM’s Bob Lutz, “Five years from now there will be one technology leader in the world, and it will be GM.” That boast has a familiar ring to it. And even if it turns out to be true, it will be a hollow (i.e. unprofitable) victory.

GM is sending its series-hybrid Volt to a showdown at the ECO corral against the parallel-hybrid Prius. With its projected 40 miles plug-in range and on-board generator, the Volt sounds impressive. But the Gen3 Prius due out in 2010 (like the Volt?), may well equal and even eclipse the Volt’s efficiency.

The Volt’s weakness– intrinsic drive train inefficiencies– show up as soon as its battery range is exhausted. While GM projects 50mpg during “charge sustaining operation” operation, that’s a misleading claim. The batteries will need to be charged by the generator– as well as keeping the car moving. Like all electric vehicles, the Volt will do best in shorter-range city driving.

The Prius’ HSD drive feeds the output of its gas engine directly to the wheels at higher speeds. It’s an intrinsically more efficient solution than using a generator to send power to an electric motor via the batteries. And Gen3 Prius will easily meet or exceed the Volt’s 50mpg continuous-use projection; Toyota projects a 15 to 20 percent improvement over the Prius’ current 46mpg EPA rating. Gen3 Prius will also have expanded electric-only range, as well as an optional plug-in range extender, approaching the Volt’s electric-only range.

GM will milk all the publicity it can get from the Volt. Hard-core eco-poseurs will buy in. After spending a billion dollars developing the Volt, they’re looking to sell some 60k annually at $30k apiece.  GM is anxious about that price, and is already floating the idea of renting the battery pack separately from the car (negating any actual savings from plug-in electric energy) to try to blunt the impact (“We’ll sell you a Volt for $20k, battery not included”).  

Meanwhile, Toyota will be selling 150k similarly-efficient Prii for a mere $20k, and making a tidy profit doing so. 

No wonder the Germans are so gung-ho on sending their diesels across the pond. Europe’s two-decade long diesel-keg party has been crashed by a new generation of super-efficient, clean and cheaper gasoline engines. A royal diesel-overproduction hang-over is inevitable. The Germans’ morning-after solution: send the stinky leftovers to enthusiastic Yanks waiting with open arms, who’ve conveniently forgotten their killer hangover from the last US diesel orgy.

In 1892, an experimental ammonia engine literally blew up in engineer Rudolph Diesel's face. Laid-up in a hospital bed, he pored over Nicolaus Otto’s pioneering work on the internal combustion engine. Diesel identified its weakness.

Diesel tumbled to the fact that the Otto engine’s efficiency was intrinsically compromised by the fact that it mixed fuel with air prior to compression. Too much compression resulted in uncontrolled pre-detonation. Diesel’s solution: inject fuel separately from the air to allow super-high compression and eliminating the need for a throttle (reducing pumping losses). Diesel's engine was roughly 30% more efficient than Otto's. 

In 1989, VW/Audi ushered in the modern direct-injection (TDI) diesel. The group's oil burning powerplant set a high-water mark in the diesel’s long development. With Europe’s high fuel costs, the more expensive (yet efficient) diesel engine could now pay for itself quite easily. The calculation triggered Europe's diesel-boom, resulting in a 50 percent market share vs. gasoline-engined propulsion. 

But Europeans have been paying a price (other than at the pumps): particulate emissions (Particulate Matter, or “PM”) and NOx pollution. Many European cities have serious particulate and diesel odor problems. Several European cities impose restrictions on diesels during PM alerts.

The new generation of “clean(er)” diesels that meet the US Tier2 bin5 standards cut PM emissions substantially, but not completely. Already, there are warnings that PM from “clean” diesels still poses a significant health risk.

The diesels coming our way carry several other penalties, especially versus the gas hybrid. The complicated and expensive NOx catalysts and urea injection schemes (“BlueTec”) cut efficiency by five percent. Meanwhile, the next Prius is projected to be 15 to 20 percent more efficient. And Toyota is bringing down hybrid production costs.

The diesel vs. hybrid mileage/cost gap widens… further. And the “clean” diesel’s just-barely compliant emissions still can’t touch the gas-hybrid’s practically breathable exhaust.

Then there's the elephant in the room: global warming. Clearly, the political winds are blowing against CO2. Diesel fuel has higher carbon content, resulting in 17 percent more CO2 per gallon of fuel burned than gasoline. With the diesel’s efficiency superiority down to 25 percent, a “clean” diesel emits only 13 percent less CO2 than yesterday’s gas engine. And that small gap is… wait… gone.

While the diesel’s efficiency peaked in 1989, and lost 5 percent to PM cleansing, gas engine development is on a roll. Engineers are systematically tackling all the inherent deficiencies that Diesel identified in his hospital bed. (No wonder Rudolf was considered paranoid; maybe he suspected that eventually the Otto engine would catch up.)

A farrago of new gas-engine technologies has converged, which Europeans have been quick to embrace. VW’s 1.4-liter 170hp TSI gas engine is a perfect example of the trend. The TSI starts off with the help of a supercharger (no turbo-lag), and then switches to turbocharging (no parasitic losses). With diesel-like torque and direct injection, it’s the best of both worlds.

A CO2 output comparison with two other similar-output VW engines is telling. Their 170 horse 1.4-liter TSI produces 174g/kms of CO2. Their 150hp 2.5-liter five cylinder engine (US Rabbit only) emits 240g/km. And their 170hp 2.0-liter TDI diesel (not US compliant) produces 160g/km.

American Rabbit drivers are paying a whopping 38 percent efficiency penalty compared to the Euro-Golf TSI, as well as giving up gobs of torque and twenty horsepower. If VW’s 170hp TDI were “cleansed” to T2b5 standards, its CO2 output would be no better then the gasoline TSI.

And that’s just the jumping-off point. Start-stop technology, full valve control, and stratified direct-injection offer anywhere from 10 to 25 percent further improvement potential. Combine these goodies with mild-hybrid assist/regeneration, and the diesel party’s kaput. No wonder the Germans are all hard at work on mild-hybrid technology. It’s their best shot to keep up with Toyota’s CO2 meister, the Prius (102g/km).

A study by the consulting firm AT Kearny confirms the diesel's demise. It predicts that only 25 percent of Europeans will find diesels an attractive economic proposition by 2020.

Have Rudolf Diesel’s paranoid nightmares come true? Not totally. Diesels are a welcome mix to the party for larger vehicles that spend a lot of time on the open road. Count on GM’s new 4.5-liter “baby” Duramax diesel to be more popular with the light-truck crowd than the gas hybrid option. But when it comes to smaller vehicles, the numbers just don’t add up.

Although Rudolf Diesel’s engine WAS intrinsically more efficient, it turns out that Otto’s engine is a lot more clever at learning new tricks.

The recent surge in the price of gas has turned this middle-aged man’s mind to thoughts of electric cars. And then I take a walk down the block and get cold feet. Down the street, there’s a driveway with four cars parked end-to-end. The three closest to the garage are electric car conversions, long-abandoned relics from the first two energy crises. The fourth car, closest to the street, is a Camry. Did the owner finally come to his senses? Or is he just waiting for his Tesla?

Over the past 120 years, the battery electric vehicle (EV) appeal has had its ups and downs. In the early decades of the twentieth century, wealthy owners quietly hummed to the opera in their Detroit Electrics automobile. Perched high above a bank of giant lead-acid cells below the floor, they could literally look down their noses (a pathological condition of EV ownership?) at the smoky, belching cars below.

The vehicles’ range was adequate for its time and purpose: 50 to 80 miles, at 20 mph or less.

Improvements in internal combustion engine (ICE) technology, better roads and the advent of cheap gas put the lead-acid EV into deep sleep. Energy crisis I and II gave the first jolt, nudging EV’s out of their technological torpor. Sort of.

In theory, the EV is a compelling package. Electric motors are compact, quiet, clean, reliable and powerful, generating maximum torque from 0 to 8000 rpm. Their efficiency beats ICE hands-down: 90+ percent vs. mid-30’s percent (under optimal conditions). And EV’s can convert de-acceleration back into electricity (regeneration), boosting their net efficiency.

The EV’s efficiency is greatest at low speed, exactly where the ICE engine is at its worst. (They make fabulous city cars and golf carts.) But air drag increases with the square of the speed. The faster you go, the faster the batteries drain their power.

All batteries’ energy storage density is profoundly less then gasoline; especially lead-acids. Ergo, their range is highly limited. The long-dead lead-acid conversions in my neighbor’s driveway (including a huge Cadillac) had a freeway range of twenty or thirty miles.

GM’s EV-1 pushed the lead acid envelope to its limits by using an ultra-slippery body with a Coefficient of Drag (CD) of 0.19. One hundred years of progress had yielded a tripling of cruising speed, but the EV’s range was still stuck at the Detroit Electric’s 60 to 80 miles. Given today’s operating conditions (highways and all), that’s not good enough for regular folks.

The ten years since the EV-1 have issued promising new battery chemistry, especially the lithium-ion cells powering our lap-tops and the much-ballyhooed Tesla Roadster.

The first time I read of the Tesla’s projected 250 mile range, I thought: “200 miles, if things go well.” That’s now the Roadster’s revised official range. Even if the Tesla only gets around 160 miles in normal use, that would still represent a doubling of range in ten years. From a historical perspective, that’s a giant step.

And despite its potential for scalding acceleration and high speed, the Tesla is still inherently highly efficient. The calculations for its 135 mpg “equivalent” claim are EPA-sanctioned, and roughly coincide with a steady speed of about 60mph and the range of 200 miles. So a 120 mph blast should yield about 34 “equivalent” mpg. Guilt-free speeding until busted?

Since the ICE runs most efficiently at wide-open throttle settings, performance cars pay a penalty at lower speeds. The Tesla’s jail-bait capability carries no intrinsic penalty, because the EV motor is almost equally efficient at any speed. But that “efficient” 120mph blast would run down the batteries in 50 miles or less. That alone would improve your odds of not getting busted.

Those range estimates are based on fresh batteries. The dirty little “secret” in Tesla’s closet: li-ion batteries start losing capacity from the get-go. After five years and 50k miles, battery capacity (range) is estimated to be down some 30 percent. Tesla owners can keep moving closer to work each year, or pony up.

Replacement battery pack price is unknown. Safety is unknown. At least one can live in hope that future batteries will be safer, more capable and maybe even cheaper.

Hard-core EV freaks and eco-poseurs are going to love the Tesla, despite the fact it doesn’t have room for a suitcase or a couple of bags of groceries. The Elise, on which the Tesla is based, wasn’t exactly designed for practicality (or 6’4” middle-aged guys like me). Never mind the $100k price.

With cheap hydro-power juice here in the North West, recharging an EV for a couple of bucks appeals. But how about something practical, along the lines of [the first gen] Scion Xb, with decent range, and priced reasonably. Now THAT would make a viable car, I think. And then I take another walk down the street…

In 1993, Toyota began developing a radical gas-electric hybrid vehicle called the Prius. With gasoline at historic lows, internal company documents gave the concept a five percent chance of commercial success. In May 2007, the Prius was America's sixth best selling passenger car, with 24k units. Toyota also just passed the one-million-hybrids-sold milestone. Toyota deserves a raspberry for the worst internal forecasting ever, and an award for one of the most successful new-car launches in automotive history.

Needless to say, the Prius' success is not without controversy. The Japanese hybrid has a more polarizing influence on pistonhead opinion than any other vehicle made save its philosophic nemesis, the Hummer H2. Compare the gas-swilling in-your-face Hummer's rumored demise with the Prius' rise up the sales charts, and there you have it: a snapshot of American's shifting priorities.  

You also get a glimpse of Toyota's branding expertise. While the Japanese automaker continues its assault on the domestic pickup truck and SUV market (creating much of the animus alluded to above), the Prius is still a perfectly defined product within Toyota's existing brand identity: reliable frugality.

The Prius is such hit that it's now a household name; consumers interchange the word "Prius" with "hybrid" in the same way that they ask for a Kleenex. The last automotive product to pull that off was the Jeep– some fifty years ago.

Toyota's 80 percent share of the total U.S. hybrid market has had the Xerox effect on its competitors. Their hybrids are either flying beneath the radar (Nissan Altima hybrid), eating crumbs off Toyota's table (Ford Escape and Mercury Mariner hybrid) or retreating from the field of battle (Honda Accord hybrid).    

Honda's move comes despite the fact that the company's Insight hybrid was first to market in 1999. While Honda will continue to fight for gas-electric market share with their "mild" hybrid Civic, they're putting their high-efficiency eggs in two new baskets: a new Fit-class hybrid and clean diesel engines for their existing model range.  

Pundits often argue that Toyota stole a march on its competitors by creating a hybrid with unique sheetmetal (as opposed to hybrid-powered versions of existing products). Well, the Prius has had such a dramatic halo effect that consumers now associate the technology with Toyota's entire lineup. Hybrid Camrys are currently outselling hybrid Civics by 50 percent.

Toyota's success with the technology has forced all the other global players to put their nose to the hybrid-powered grindstone. Mercedes and BMW bought into GM's sophisticated (read: expensive) two-mode hybrid drive. Buyer's remorse may be setting in; the Germans are now focusing on developing their own mild-hybrid technology.

The shift reflects a realization that competing with Toyota mano-a-mano with full hybrids is a sucker's bet– especially as the Prius v3 looms. (Toyota is targeting a 20 percent efficiency gain.) The other factor is simple cost-effectiveness. Mild hybrids yield a greater return on investment.

Whereas a full hybrid demands a [ballpark] $2500 production premium, micro and mild hybrids start at $700. When combined with other technologies such as direct injection and full valve control, the mild hybrid seems a far safer proposition. BMW's revised 1-Series– complete with start-stop engine management, valve control and direct injection– shows a 20 percent fuel efficiency improvement over its predecessor.

In short, Toyota's competitors are hedging their bets, looking for less risky across-the-board fuel efficiency solutions.

The market is bi-furcating: "real" hybrids (which the market increasingly interprets as Prius/Toyota) and micro/mild hybrids (traditional models sold on their over-all moderate efficiency gains, rather than "gee whiz" technology).

And where does this shifting market leave Toyota? Dual propulsion, full-speed ahead!

Despite the fact that Highlander Hybrid sales are down 23 percent year-to-date (just over 3k units in May), the company has publicly stated that every one of their models will have optional Hybrid Synergy Drive within a few years. They've also committed the company's vast technological resources and production expertise to reducing the cost of their hybrid system by some 50 percent.

Toyota is playing a powerful hand. If they can achieve their cost-reduction target, they'll be selling more sophisticated (and more efficient) full hybrids at roughly the same price as the rest of the industry's mild hybrids. And if Prius v3 is significantly more efficient than its predecessor, the model will maintain its role as Toyota's hybrid halo-bearer.

In any case, the Prius is now a fully fledged four-wheeled corporate emblem. And Toyota has announced a family of Prii, including a station wagon and a smaller city car. The hybrid pro-con arguments can go on endlessly in their (internet) vacuum. Toyota took a huge gamble with the Prius. It's paid off at the bottom line, and looks set to do so for many years to come.

It’s easier to convince an Evangelical that Christ was a grifter than to persuade pistonheads to give up their regular oil change. Yea, verily, the maniacal motorists believe in the healing power of regular visits to the Church of St. Pennzoil. And they certainly have the Gospel of Jiffy Lube on their sides: Thou shalt change thy oil every 3k miles or your engine will blow up in an explosion of fire and brimstone. Well I hereby give pistonheads permission to skip their next regularly scheduled motor oil change. And the one after that one. In fact, if you’re not planning to keep your car for all eternity, consider forgetting oil changes altogether.

Many decades ago, when metallurgy, tolerances, manufacturing precision and various aspects of engine controls (as well as the oil itself) were profoundly more primitive, the 3k mile oil change interval had a logical basis. Crude carburetor chokes caused overly rich mixtures, dumping raw gas onto cylinder walls that worked its way down into the crankcase. Poorly fitted rings caused blow-by, which had the same effect with nasty combustion byproducts. And poor tolerances created rapid wear, which released and circulated metal particles throughout the engine. People drove shorter distances, and cars often didn’t warm up enough to burn off contaminants. To travel 100k miles without an engine rebuild was a genuine accomplishment. 

By the sixties, improvements in all of these mission critical areas led manufacturers to adopt an industry standard 6k mile oil change interval. Since then, recommended oil change intervals have risen as high as 10k miles. At the same time, many high end cars ECU’s (e.g. BMW, Porsche) now monitor engine and environmental operating conditions and calculate the ideal interval for an oil change– sometimes well into the teens. 

When is the last time you heard of someone experiencing an engine failure (in normal use) that could be verifiably traced to damage from insufficient lubrication due to infrequent oil changes? Oil never wears out. It can become contaminated and certain additive characteristics can change. But in normal operational use in modern engines, this usually happens quite slowly.

And yet the 3k mile mantra can be heard everywhere: newspaper and magazine articles, on-line forums, radio talk shows and, of course, all the obvious and more subtle forms of advertising by the oil manufacturers and the oil change industry. When Jiffy Lube puts a sticker on my windshield warning me that my next oil change is due in 3k miles, it’s clear who benefits most from these regular visits, and it ain’t me or my car.

These days, it’s common to hear of documented engine life of 500k miles and more. A fleet of Chevy gasoline V8 pickups pulling trailers delivering car parts overnight all over the Midwest has run a number of bow tie bombers to over 600K without failure. A 1987 Saab 900 just hit the million mile mark without an engine rebuild. Yes, the Saab owner used expensive synthetic oil and changed it regularly in his million mile quest. But how long are you planning to keep your car?

Still not convinced? Da Vinci Code time. In the mid-80’s, Germany’s leading car magazine Auto, Motor und Sport ran a VW Golf with a 1.6 liter gasoline engine for 100,000 kilometers (62,000 miles) without changing the motor oil or filter. They then tore down the engine completely and examined every single moving part [microscopically] for signs of wear and tear. What little wear they could find was not engine life threatening and fit within normal operating parameters for the given mileage.

Obviously, I don’t expect pistonheads to forgo engine oil changes completely– if only because following manufacturer’s recommendations safeguards your potential warranty claims. Still, if warranty isn’t an issue and you’re not planning on keeping your car past 150k or so, and you run it under favorable conditions– a long commute, lots of highway miles, milder climate, etc. — consider extended intervals. If you have a three year lease, well, that’s between you and your conscience.

Meanwhile, the situation with gasoline and octane levels is roughly analogous. A couple of years ago, AM&S did another extensive test, running cars whose manufacturers called for premium fuel on regular gas. The result: performance and fuel economy losses ranged from zero to mid-single digit percentages. I don’t need to tell you that it can be a LOT cheaper to fill your car’s tank with a lower grade of fuel. And don’t worry about damaging your engine; modern detonation sensors constantly adjust ignition timing to be optimal for the fuel being burned and prevent pre-ignition. 

Pistonheads who lavish low interval oil changes and high octane go-juice on the cherishd machines do so more for their own peace of mind than their car’s mechanical needs. It’s sweet, but unnecessary.

Amory Lovins makes his living studying energy use and efficiency. According to the physicist and cofounder of the Rocky Mountain Institute environmental think tank, the modern automobile uses just one percent of its energy to move its occupant hither and yon. The number is shockingly small, and it may point to big changes for future cars.

Lovins points out that a great deal of an automobile’s engine power does… nothing much. At idle, a car uses its fuel to power accessories and keep itself going. All of which take a friction-filled bite of its overall efficiency. In fact, Lovins reckons only about an eighth of a car’s fuel is burned to turn its wheels. Half of that simply heats up your tires and the air around the vehicle. When you depress the go-pedal, you’re using just six percent of your engine’s total output. 

On average– we’re not talking about a Prius or Hummer here– less than 20% of the energy of gasoline is actually used to drive the wheels of the car. That means very little of the gas you bought moves you down the road.  It’s like buying a twelve pack and taking one sip.

The numbers look absurd, but if you’ve been around cars long enough, you know they’re not completely ridiculous. You know not to touch the exhaust manifold after the engine’s been running. You know not to stand up in your buddy’s convertible. Combustion engines put out a lot of heat and the atmosphere is not nearly as pliable as it seemed when you were standing still. In every mechanical transaction, friction takes a vig.

Then there’s the weight. Basically, 75 percent of what your car’s doing is moving its own weight. Steel, glass and gas are heavy. The more weight you have to move, the more energy you need to overcome gravity and inertia.

It’s as tough to find fault with the physics as it is to accept the outcome. If you were getting one percent return on an investment, you’d move your money. If your employee worked five minutes a day, you’d hand him a box for his Happy Meal toys and mouse pad and change all the administrative passwords. And yet, we put up with one percent efficiency from our cars? Not for long. As the price of producing that single percentage point grows (in many senses), the pressure to improve our vehicles’ energy efficiency grows stronger.

Of course, physics is kind of nice ‘cause everything goes both ways. If three quarters of your fuel is spent on weight, shedding pounds gives you about a seven-fold energy return. Lower your drag and you can pick up some more. Fancy engines are another solution, but materials and design are where the really dramatic energy savings live.

For example, BMW has developed a process for mass-producing carbon fiber-reinforced plastics (CFP). CFP is up to 30 percent lighter than aluminum and 50 percent lighter than steel, without concession to strength. Although the cost of production and application currently relegates the technology to aeronautics and serious racing, new procedures have begun delivering the material to mainstream vehicles. OK, the M6 and M3 are not exactly what you’d call fleet cars, but it’s a start.

CFP is also easier to shape than its ferrous colleagues. Instead of pressing a hood and attaching hitches and hinges, a CFP hood can be extruded with all its doodads in place. Any manufacturer who could master mass production would see its vehicles’ number of parts– and related assembly time– plummet. CFP also offers designers the opportunity to use more complicated forms, to create shapes that can’t be [cost-effectively] hammered out of metal.

Reduced reliance on metal stamping would also lead to quicker refresh rates for styles, and more simultaneous choices. Seven different Scion TCs in the same model year. A WRX that screams I just graduated and one that whispers I was never here. Fins for some, no fins for others. Mass customization.

Greater control of vehicle design can also increase the slipperiness of vehicle, further improving efficiency and performance. Lovins believes a 66 mpg SUV is achievable, without compromising current space or driving dynamics. It could big, brutish, tow a small town and safer too boot. Americans can eat their cake and have it too.

Carbon fiber costs around $8.50 a pound, compared to $1 for the same amount of steel. Unless economies of scale can lower unit prices, it seems a hopeless mismatch. Think how much debate surrounds the commercial value of the current “hybrid premium.” If, however, you believe that oil will not dip below $70 a barrel, that global warming is not the liberal conspiracy that Mr. Limbaugh and his supporters suggest, or that a one percent return on your energy dollar is unacceptable, a little hike in sticker prices could represent a big bargain.

As the launch of Ford’s new Edge illustrates, the Big Two Point Five’s next “great white-walled hope” is something called the “cross-over.” It’s not a traditional SUV and it’s not a road-hugging car. It could be a station wagon on stilts with [optional] four-wheel drive and maybe even a hybrid powerplant, but it’s definitely not for towing [much] or plugging [deep] mud or surmounting [any] boulders. From the waves of hype you’d think this less-than-genetically gifted half-breed was a revolutionary development. Actually, it’s a vehicle design from the second half of the last century.

Back in the day, automakers mounted an engine, transmission and wheels onto a metal framework (called a “ladder frame” for its shape). The bodywork was then attached to the frame, which carried all the weight. It was simple, sturdy and made customization easy; whether turning a Model-T into a pickup truck or putting a custom body on a $10k Duesenberg chassis. The problem with this early construction technique was simple enough: weight. It takes more fuel to motivate heavy than light.

The next big idea in auto body construction came courtesy the airplane industry, where weight-saving is mission critical (yes I know it’s really “mass” physics boy, back off). Instead of setting the body on a load-bearing frame, the frame is the body, and vice-versa. The substantial weight savings delivered by this so-called unitary construction technique allowed for smaller engines and reduced vibrations. The first mass-produced American car to incorporate these ideas (and airplane-like streamlining) was Chrysler’s Airflow. It was a car that many manufacturers copied, but very few people bought.

Despite the Airflow fiasco, unitary construction slowly began to win favor within the American automobile industry. The Big Three lagged behind smaller companies like Nash and Hudson; body-on-frame construction was more practical for yearly model changes (since only the shell had to change). Even so, Lincoln went unitary in 1958, and other models slowly followed. Many of the American cars (and even the revolutionary Mini) kept a separate frame mounting to hold the engine, even when their bodies went unitary. While construction methodology changed, there was no great shift in the type of cars being built.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Back in the ‘60’s, a team at Ford developed an idea for a people-carrier built on a unitary platform. As detailed in David Halberstam‘s “The Reckoning,” despite great customer survey results, they were never able to sell the vehicle internally. One reason: it needed a new (front wheel-drive) platform. A decade on, most of the Ford team had moved to Chrysler (who had the requisite platform). The minivan was born.        

While the minivan dented the ladder frame-based “conversion” market, the truck and van market remained the last great refuge of the old manufacturing technique (aside from the Ford Crown Victoria triplets). A ladder frame made it much easier to customize a chassis for special uses (delivery van, camper, flat bed, etc.). The extra weight involved was balanced by the need for additional strength for hauling/towing (which a commercial user actually needs). Plus, ladder frames are cheaper to build.

When SUVs began to take off in the late eighties, consumers discovered ladder frame construction’s weak points. The vehicles were heavy (i.e. thirsty), top-heavy (i.e. unstable), rode like trucks (of course) and interior space was not nearly as large as it appeared from the outside. The Big Three improved their truck’s brakes and fitted plusher interiors, but ladder frames ruled because, well, no one complained. And they’re cheap (i.e. more profitable).

Japanese automakers cashed-in on the SUV trend with whatever trucks they could muster. But they also saw a case for a small pseudo-SUV, especially in their own backyard. Toyota and Honda developed nearly parallel solutions on their small-car, unitary platforms: the RAV-4 and CR-V. The “uni-utes” found soon found fame and fortune on the other side of the Pacific. Eventually Honda and Toyota gave the same treatment to a family-size car, creating a macho brother to their mini-vans. Subaru already specialized in four-wheel drive wagons, so their Forester wasn’t much of a stretch (though interesting as a “missing link”).

While these “crossovers” couldn’t match their bigger brethren for towing or rock hopping, they carried more people for less gas and handle more like a car. In the last few years, The Big Two Point Five has finally responded, releasing a few crossovers to significant sales– without denting the existing competitors’ market share. And therein lies the problem with The Big Two Point Five’s desire to “cross over” into renewed prosperity: they’re not creating a new niche, they’re moving into an existing one. Sad to say, their track record in that regard leaves much to be desired. Besides, if you’re constantly changing your running shoes in the middle of a marathon, you may be quicker than you were, but you’ll also be last.

Driving talent is as rare as the ability to play a sitar. Driver training is a joke. Driver testing is the punch line. In fact, there’s only one thing keeping the highway fatality rate from ascending epidemically: the car. Electronic braking aids, traction control, stability control, handling improvements, crumple zones, airbags, seatbelt systems, stadium-bright lighting, pavement shredding brakes, tires so good they make ‘70’s rubber look like wagon wheels— these are our saviors. And it’s time to take the next step: automation.

Cars should take all meaningful driving tasks away from the driver: braking, accelerating, steering, cornering, judging distances, interpreting (or even simply noticing) traffic signals and signs. I’m talking about a fully automated automobile; one where Nav screens and multi-media controller thingies no longer say, “Don’t be distracted by me while you’re driving.” A car where the computerized brain monitors your attention and begs you to be distracted, to play with the screen rather than messing with the car’s important controls.

There’s precedent. The now-ancient joke among airline pilots is that glass-cockpit crews still number three: pilot, copilot and a German shepherd trained to bite either of them if they touch any of the controls. Airliners are already totally automated, from takeoff to landing, and the skies have never been safer. If highly-trained professional pilots subvert their skills to safety technology for the greater good, shouldn’t we remove control of our two ton transports from Joe Sixpack?

When I say “automatic cars” I don’t mean the goofy things we used to see in Popular Science in the ‘80s: a freight train of Pontiac Bonnevilles doing 60 mph down The Highway of the Future, their bumpers six inches apart as they followed a buried signal cable like six beagles sniffing a collie’s cooter. Buried cables cost a gazillion dollars and require ripping trenches down the middle of every highway lane in the country. As Bill Gates discovered fifteen minutes after installing miles of fiber optic in his mega-mansion on Lake Washington, wireless rules.

And so it is with automated cars. Thanks to burgeoning wireless technology, everything to make the automated car work is already on shelves or in stationary orbit. We have all the tools we need to make a “driverless car”: motion and distance sensors, transponders, GPS receivers and telematics (the real-time, two-way systems used by On-Star, Lo-Jack, EZ-Pass, etc.); electronic steering, throttle and brakes. Create some complex algorithms and software to combine everything into an intelligent and (relatively) failsafe control system and you’re done. Literally.

If you doubt the automated car is coming, don’t. Mercedes’ intelligent cruise control– an automatic system that maintains a safe distance between cars– is a sign of things to come. From there, it’s a short step to building cars that talk to each other, facilitating the same sort of automated collision avoidance systems used by jetliners. And so it goes. Tires will calculate their coefficient of friction and adjust the throttle accordingly. Satnav will keep your car within its lane. And then it's stop signs and traffic lights that order your car to stop. Eventually you’ll have no more to say about your speed than you do aboard Amtrak.

Enthusiasts will argue that forcing drivers into automated cars is using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. “Better driver education” is needed. “More testing. Stricter standards. Relicensing every two years. Traffic tickets for bad driving technique, not for skillful speeding.” Oh, absolutely. I also think driver’s licenses should be restricted to college graduates. That anybody weighing over 300 pounds should be made to live in North Dakota. And every U.S. citizen should be required to pass an annual spelling and grammar test in order to be granted an Internet-access license. That isn’t going to happen either.

Before posting dozens of specious reasons why the fully automated car can’t or won’t work— people won’t stand for it, lawyers won’t allow it, you can’t cover every country road, etc.– once again, consider the underlying rationale. We— you, me, every multi-tasker scarfing a breakfast burrito, every bozo in a pickup truck convinced he’s Dale Junior, every amateur street racer driving a ZO6 with all the talent of an XBox twiddler— are the problem. For that reason alone, the fully automated car will happen. As for cultural considerations…

Two thousand years, your horse was just as much a mark of wealth, virility and personal skill as a 911 Turbo or WRX is today. Millions of Saracens, Conquistadors, cavalrymen and cowboys would have told you that you were full of manure to suggest that one day, nobody but jockeys and hobbyists would ride a horse. I think it was Ferdinand Porsche who said that the last horse on earth will be a racehorse, and that the last car will be a racecar. So take heart, enthusiasts.