All great athletes have one. Kareem's Sky Hook. Ali's Rope-a-Dope. Brett Favre out of the pocket, loose and on the run. Mariusz Pudzianowski flinging them the Atlas Balls. I figure all great drivers have a signature move, too. And I'll just go ahead and assume that all TTAC readers are great drivers, right? Of course right. And so we ask, what's your secret weapon? Can you hit an apple on the apex? Powerslide around corners? Jump from stump to stump? Maintain complete control in the pouring rain? Before it was taboo, my buddy Rob was proud of the fact that he could yak on the phone, smoke, eat a donut and shift all at once. Hey, this is LA where Rob's feat is a real accomplishment. Now his wife won't let him do three of the four. I'm quite good at heeling and toeing, using the technique every single time I want to slow a car. Hey, it's good on the brakes at the expense of a little gas. But my best move? I can parallel park circles around you. Yours?

Today's query is of the decidedly non-scientific variety (unlike yesterday's…). For the second time in as many days, there I was cruising in the fast lane when suddenly I had to brake from around 75 mph down to 63 mph. The freeway curved enough for me to see what the hold-up was. It was a damn Toyota Corolla. I'm not fibbing, either. Twice, in consecutive days, a Corolla was lollygagging in the left lane, wrecking it for everybody else. Yesterday, the horrible irony was that there were two Corollas in the next lane happily trudging along at maybe the speed limit. Meaning I was trapped. Today, there was a Datsun B210. It took a while, but I managed to get free and clear. The day before? Trapped like a rat. A slow rat. I posit that the Corolla, and the mentality that drives a Corolla, causes the most traffic. You?

After nine thousand righteously violent miles, I had to slap a new set of Goodyear Eagle F1s on my WRX. I suppose if I had behaved, the previous set would have lasted (much) longer. But after giving them a good inspection this weekend, I noticed massive tread wear and a sidewall blister the size of my big toe. Eight months ago, all four tires plus installation cost me $644. This time 'round? $685. But hey, who's counting? Well, actually, me. As the WRX takes nothing but the good stuff, I'm now paying $3.99 per gallon. Then there's the monthly car payment, outlandish insurance (you try being a single male in LA with a turbocharged car and a ticket or three) and my propensity to mash the front of my car against, um, rocks. And let's not forget $60 bucks every 5k miles for synthetic oil. And car washes, tuneups and after-market mods that I don't really need. All said and done, I'm broke. Contrast the above with my buddy Dylan's bio-diesel powered Ford F250. During a recent cruise in his French fry-powered Ford, I was struck by the fact that his motoring didn't cost him a red cent. The truck is paid for, the tires will never wear down and all the Asian restaurants in the East Bay are happy to give him their old Frialator oil. So I'm asking: how much are you spending on your car/cars?

Huh? No, really. Before you call me weird, please read this from The National Post. To summarize (for our time-challenged cubicle dwellers), Nissan employs a designer named Shiro Nakamura. As a cellist, Nakamura uses music to design cars. No, really. "The Nissan brand is more is more like jazz, pop or rock, whereas the Infiniti luxury division is akin to classical music." I'm not sure where that leaves the new FX50, though Wagner springs to mind. And I'm positive that the QX56… I was going to make a Mozart bowel movement joke here. Anyway, you get the idea. As corny as this seriously forced metaphor sounds, let's ride it like a Valkyrie. I drive a blue Subaru WRX wagon. For some perverse reason, the Subie reminds me of Andrew W.K. Often bloody, but unbowed. And manic. You?

Yesterday we discussed snow vehicles, so let's go for some contrast. I mean, it's mid-March and already the sun is shining. (Come April, I'll stop wearing socks until November.) Sure kids get murdered picking lemons off my old tree, but I love Los Angeles. I was having a beer with my neighbor last night and he mentioned that he had seen a yellow-nosed green Se7en parked on some studio lot. My pulse sped up. I know I talk about Se7ens with as much passion (and as often) as Farago mentions his Boxster S, but why on earth not? It's my opinion that if you boil the notion of "car" down to its marrow, you get a Se7en. A totally pure automobile. Of course, this weekend's question is concerned with the best summer vehicle. And it's hot in the summer, so I'll need AC. And Boxster's have AC, don't they? Real and/or aspirational, what's your fave summer steed?

Today's question comes from Luke Procter. It's about snow. I saw snow once. It was cold, I didn't like it. So, just listen to Luke, as I have no idea. "Cars in snow suck. They get stuck. And the engine overheats. And they get stuck. And with Mother Nature (that bitch) dropping another half meter of the white shit on us Canadians (and northern Americans), I've been thinking about getting a different vehicle. I've currently got an ‘01 Impala. It only got stuck three times last night. Snow tires or not, the damn thing gets hung-up on snow over four inches deep. So, the question is, what's your favorite current or fantasy vehicle for driving through the snow and showing Mother Nature's who's boss? Right now, I've been given a real solid bitch slap." I'll just say Unimog, cause they look neat. You?

Lots and lots of modern cars are pretty gnarly looking. Why, just look at the Sebring. Kidding. Don't. But when it comes to non-beauty, lumbering SUVs take the ugly-cake. Mr. Berkowitz just posted about the newly facelifted MB ML and I agree with his comment about the need to sue the surgeon for "negligence and malpractice." The thing is, by SUV standards, the ML isn't even that bad. Just look at the Mercedes GLK. Blech! Furthermore, the more Land Rover LR3 rear ends I see, the more I realize how horrid that drooping window looks. And then there's the BMW X3, which is simply a joke. A bad joke at that. And can we forget Subaru's Tribeca? No friends, we can't. Which SUV do you consider the most Medusa-like?

If you're here, we'll just go and assume you love cars. Of course, there's that 0.5% of TTAC readers that hates cars. We know you hate Howard Stern, too. And your Sirius bill is late. But seriously, why? Why do over 20k of you come here every day to read the rantings and ravings of a bunch of OCD cases (sorry Robert) borderline personalities (sorry Justin) ripping the guts out of a handful of global corporations? Oh wait, that does sound like fun. But, you loved cars before TTAC, so why? Yesterday we learned that not only is the Vatican (essentially) calling driving a sin, but that scientists are telling us we have to reduce carbon output to zero. That's getting it from both ends as my old man used to say. And another thing: bio-deisel kills fish. Tadpoles, too. And why do we care about the middle east again? Oh yeah, oil. My point? There's a lot of negatives to this car thing. How do you justify your love? Or do you?

Several of the original Seven Deadly Sins– Pride, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Sloth and Greed– have enhanced automobile sales and pistonhead pleasure. But Monsignor Gianfranco Girotti, the Pope's BFF and the head of the Apostolic Penitentiary (uh-oh) reveals that these "sins of yesteryear'' have a "rather individualistic dimension.'' The Church's seven new deadly sins are intended to make worshippers realize that their poor decisions also do unto others: Human Genetic Modification, Human Experimentation, Environmental Pollution, Social Injustice, Causing Poverty, Seeking Obscene Wealth and Drug Abuse. Did you know that every deadly sin has a traditional punishment? Pride leads to being broken on the wheel. Wrath leads to being dismembered alive. And so on. Hence, our QOTD: how can the car industry and pistonheads stay on the side of the angels with these new strictures, and what should happen if they don't?

Motherhood, apple pie and baseball, right? I suppose it depends on your point of view. If you live on the Left Coast, it might be strippers, tacos and gangland slayings. Elsewhere, it could be moose, mooseburgers and moose-tipping. Anyway, today's question comes to us from TTAC's own Samir Syed, and I really like it. Then again, I like all queries without correct answers. Let's call 'em philosophical questions. To a certain mindset, nothing will ever be redder, whiter and bluer than a '57 Chevy Bel Air Coupe. But I seriously doubt that's what de Tocqueville would say. Perhaps a Ford F-series? At the risk of igniting the usual firestorm, what about America's favorite car, the best-selling Toyota Camry? When I look out my window and contemplate the full majesty of the American Dream, the only honest answer is… the BMW 3-series. Every wannabe in Los Angeles has one. You?

Paul Niedermeyer's editiorial reveals that our resident automotive historian prizes reliability over style or performance– at least when it comes to long-distance automotive transport. Not me. I believe the car is half the journey (or something like that). Whenever I drive a rental car, no matter how wonderful the scenery or auspicious the occasion, I'm nagged by the realization that I'd be blissing in my Boxster S. No, I'm not a car snob. But c'mon, rentals? Rentals are hair-shirts-on-wheels. That said, I'm not sure my hard-riding Finnish sports car would be the ideal choice for a REAL road trip. So… what is? If I had the choice of any car in which to Cannonball the country, I'd take a Bentley Continental GTC. While I'd still be wishing on a 987 through the curves, high-speed wafting is mission critical for any driver wishing to traverse this big ass country of ours/mine. Unbridled luxury makes any long distance trip more enjoyable and, thus, memorable. And when the sun is just going down, put the beautimous Bentley's hood down and… ecstasy. You?

Yeah, you know– trick. Think Smokey Yunick. In case you don't know, Mr. Yunick is widely renowned for tricks such as building a 7/8 scale NASCAR that was significantly faster than the competition and (my favorite) installing extra long fuel lines that held an additional five gallons of gas. 'Cause in racing, it's all about the gray areas. I've also heard non-Smokey rumors of mini-nitrous systems hidden within fake batteries. But today's question isn't about racing. Street driving can be filled with all sorts shenanigans. One that I enjoy: you're zipping along on the freeway when you notice a highway patrol cruiser sitting on the shoulder. Of course, you can jam on your brakes, letting the officer know that you know you're speeding. Alternatively, you can pull up on your handbrake. No lights, and it slows the car. Got a good one?

My car has 224 hp. I'm suddenly mature enough to not bother racing people at stop lights (especially since that CTS-V humbled me). I only use all my car's strength when I'm getting on the freeway or when I'm at a red light in the left hand lane and need to quickly get over to the right. And you know what? It's more than enough. I was going to write up a whole post about Lightning taking pre-orders for their 700 hp GT EV, but… what's the point? (Sidenote: TTAC will be taking pre-orders for our new 1,200 hp vapor electric car soon) Unless you routinely drag race (and I'm talking, you know, all the friggin' time) what on earth do you need 700 hp for? I'm not in any way suggesting we cap output, I just want to know who's buying these beasts? And why? For the record, 420 hp feels just about right. You?

The annuls of automotive history are littered with all sorts of coulda, woulda, shoulda beens, and vehicles that were just plain wrong. The Edsel springs to mind. Weird-looking, pricey and built with 1957 technology (in 1958), Ford's Oldsmobile competitor was doomed from the get-go. Then we have the Volkswagen Phaeton, Gen Y's notion of what a failure should be. Unlike the Edsel, Piech's folly was quite handsome, mega-advanced, impeccably built and a decided bargain in the world of high end luxo-barges– especially when fully equipped with a [prodigiously thirsty] 444 hp W12. Its sin? Its badge. But Audi's Allroad is my favorite failure. It was the right car at the right time with the wrong consumers. The Allroad offered more off-road prowess than any soccer mom could need, more interior space than competitors' SUVs and came stuffed with a hot twin-turbo 2.7-liter V6. But Audi didn't stand by its wagon. These days its pushing its eyesore, mega-mouthed, gas-hog stretched Touareg, the Q7. Yippity doo da. Your fave?

When I was a kid, a friend's father would flash his brights whenever we were at a stoplight. "They have light sensors, so when you hit 'em with hi beams they think more cars are waiting and change faster." I once asked a city engineer about flashing your brights at stop lights. His response, "What?!?" Even adults get caught up in automotive mythology. As Frank Williams reported, the Tesla Roadster is fast becoming a mythological creature, a kind of four-wheeled Griffin. Or have a look at Mr. Wilkinson's rant about the need for robocars, which deconstructs the myth that giant SUVs are safer than smaller, more nimble machines. (I've long been of the opinion that the Caterham Se7en is the safest car on the road. Perfect visibility, massively maneuverable, way better than average stopping distances and the ability to quickly accelerate away from pending danger.) Care to explode some automotive myths?