I was getting dinner with auto-journal colleague Mike Bumbeck. We were sitting in the left turn lane behind a minivan, about to turn onto a four lane street. The minivan is going slowly. It appears to be heading into the left most lane. OK, I think, I'll swing into the right lane and go around the lumbering kiddie carrier. Suddenly, from the left lane, the white blob cuts hard right, swinging in front of me and heading into the strip mall. "Crazy Ivan! Crazy Ivan!" Bumbeck shouts, referencing The Hunt For Red October. If you've forgotten, submarines can't look behind them– the propellers cause enough noise and disturbance to effectively create a sonar gap. Russian subs took to the practice of suddenly making sharp turns in order to look behind them. Bumbeck said he developed the term when he used to ride motorcycles. The good news? My car has great brakes. What driving habits really piss you off? [Look for former Car and Driver editor Stephan Wilkinson's feelings on the subject in an editorial tomorrow.]

There's an awful lot in modern cars that can drive a person meshuge. Although I know active safety systems save lives, air bags give me the creeps. They're essentially loaded guns pointed at your chest and head. It's not quite law yet, but by 2012 traction control will be mandatory. Fine on paper. Saves lives, etc. But the application of these nannies will be far from uniform. The really bad systems (hello, Ford) apply too much brake force while simultaneously cutting the gas. The effect on the driver is discombobulating, to put it goofily. Then you have my personal pet peeve: idiot warnings. Every time it's sunny out I'm reminded that babies and short people should beware the passenger side airbag and sit in back. Jeremy Clarkson pointed out the full extent of this lunacy when he showed the warning sticker comes in a Viper: if you have a navigation system you must agree not to crash the car every time you turn the key. Or– ick– push the button. But the one that kills me, and will always continue to kill me, is the damn beeping when your seatbelt isn't fastened. Despite much evidence to the contrary, the motoring public isn't sub-mental. Anyhow, what's your biggest peeve?

Yesterday we asked about new cars and which one upsets you the most. Today we'll be discussing which new car makes you the happiest. And don't say your new Honda Pilot, because even if it's true, no one cares. Nope, we're here to talk supercars. New supercars, specifically (so don't answer 959). 'Cause lets face it: 99 percent of us wish we had loads more money for the express purpose of buying a supercar. That same 99 percent is jealous of Jay Shoemaker, too. Speaking of Jay, my favorite supercar isn't the Audi R8. First of all, it looks like a bulimic dolphin, the carbon fiber side panels are lame and even though it's a mid-engined car, it boasts a grill bigger than Goldie's. Second it has the same engine as the RS4, and I like the RS4 better. I'm not going to mention Ferrari, either. Yes, yes: fast, precise, impeccably made, luxurious. It all sounds quite German to me. And no Porsche, either. Maybe at one point in time I could have gone for the Carrera GT, but the world has moved on. So has Porsche. The new Corvette ZR-1 is pretty tempting, but it's still a $100k Chevrolet. The Nissan GT-R is getting warmer but contains too many electronic shenanigans for my taste. Aston Martins are too pretty these days, what happened to the bulldogs? I'm very close to choosing the Dodge Viper SRT10 ACR, because it's just so absolutely bonkers. Truthfully, the big Dodge is the supercar I would pick if there wasn't one even more insane: the Lamborghini Murcielago LP640. It's not even symmetrical. You?

GM's full-size hybrids still get lousy mileage (25 percent better than bad still sucks). The new Dodge Challenger weighs more than two tons. The new four-door Honda Accord is goofy looking. Subaru has thrown Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility over the WRX and raised the STI's price into the Porschephere. The Jaguar XF is not half as sexy as the concept. BMWs keep getting uglier and Audis continue to bloat. And then there's the new Scion xB. As Paul Niedermeyer's review points out, its hundreds of pounds heavier than its predecessor. The engine has nearly doubled in size. Combined gas mileage is down– way down– to about 26 mpg combined. And it doesn't look anywhere near as striking as the first generation love it or hate it boxy box. C'mon then, share your pain.

First thing is first: We are talking about a 2008 Deutsch sled. Sure, everyone would love to pull a 1953 300 SL out of the ground, but that's not why we're here/ We're here to pick a current offering from our weisswurst eating good buddies that will best illustrate the 2008 state of the German automotive scene in 50 years time. Got it? Gut. If we were to travel back in time to… 2004, I'd be all about stuffing a Phaeton W12 into the earth. Chairman Piech's "Best Car in the World" was (to some) exactly that. More importantly though, it was a symbol of Germanic Automotive ascendancy. Volkswagen had just purchased Bentley and Lamborghini and was in the process of of reviving Bugatti. Daimler was DaimlerChrysler. Imagine how many times General Patton spun in his grave because Mercedes-Benz owned Jeep. Porsche was on top of the world launching both an SUV and the Carrera GT. Not to be out down, BMW had just released the best ever Rolls-Royce, the best ever Range Rover and (to some) the best ever Mini.  But in the world of cars, years are in fact dog years. Four years is a long time ago. So, which one's it going to be? I vote for the RS4 Avant, because I'm certain our grandchildren will appreciate a perfect car. You?

You guys out-smarted me yesterday. (Not that I should be surprised, as TTAC is known far and wide for its brainy readers.) Still, you approached the American Time Capsule QOTD fom an angle I hadn't even considered. I was wondering which car would be worth the most filthy lucre in 2058. My answer? A Dodge Viper SRT10 ACR. (If a 1969 Mustang is fetching seven figures today, you can't even imagine what a sub-10 mpg V10 monster will be worth when gasoline is illegal.) But then y'all flipped the scrip and pondered what car best encapsulates (so to speak) our current automotive times. I've long held the opinion that future generations will look back at our 5,500+ lbs SUVs and think, "What in the fuck?" And pulling the Cadillac Escalade EXT (that's the pickup version) out of the ground will forever settle the argument that we share a common ancestor with chimps. But those are American cars. Today, we talk Japanese. Me? I'd bury a Toyota Century. But that's because you know ToMoCo will still be building the damn JDM-only things in 50 years when internal combustion engines are seen as worse than shooting-up babies with dope– big V12 and all. Hey, those upper crusty salarymen have needs, no? Plus, they're beautiful. You?

We all watched in… well, it wasn't exactly awe, as the city of Tulsa unearthed a 1957 Plymouth Belvedere that their ancestors had stuck in the ground 50 years earlier. While it was a neat — but doomed — exercise in civics, a mint '57 Belvedere ain't all that, monetarily speaking. However, had a perfectly preserved 1957 Chevy popped out of the ground, we'd be talking real money. And had the city waited a decade and (properly) mummified Carroll Shelby's 427 Cobra Super Snake, Dwight Foster and Robert Carney (the men who "won" the water-logged Belvedere) could move into a suite on top of the Bellagio and bet tens of thousands on black. Every night. For years. That's because that Shelby fetched $5,000,000 at Barrett-Jackson last January. My question to you is, which 2008 American car do you bury for 50 years so that your grandchildren might one day be ne'er-do-wells? We'll get to other countries tomorrow.

My father was always shocked that cars still ran on internal combustion engines. First patented in 1886 by Karl Benz, the automobile really hadn't changed that much in 100 years. Just like Benz's Fahrzeug mit Gasmotorenbetrieb, the coolest car in 1985 burned gas to move, rode on rubber and required that the driver exert force to stop. My dad would quickly contrast the history of the car with that of the airplane. Orville and Wilbur Wright made history on December 17, 1903 by flying a box covered in canvas three feet off the ground at 6.8 mph for 12 seconds. Compare that to December 22, 1964 when the SR-71 Blackbird debuted with a novel defensive maneuver; if the enemy fired a missile at you, speed up. My dad felt that cars should be rocket propelled, rocket braked and computer controlled so as to prevent accidents. Yet companies like Continental can't release new-tech brake-by-wire systems (which offer 15% shorter stopping distances) because consumers are afraid. And we're still sucking oil out of the ground and burning it. And riding on air-filled rubber tubes. My question to you is, where should we be?

As I was cruising YouTube for a video to accompany Glenn's Honest Bob blog, I typed in "Red Integra" and stumbled upon this love letter to a… red Integra. Which got me thinking: what car do you wish you'd never left behind? For me, it's a Jaguar XK120 restored/created from the ground-up by Guy Broad in the UK, at enormous expense. Of course, Coleen was a stupid car. It looked like a Victoria's Secret angel, went like shit off a shovel (a full-on 4.2-liter six shoved under bonnet) and handled like a truck. I lost her twice. First, whilst driving her on a snowy road (I took out half a village) and then again in the divorce. I can still smell the leather, gas, oil and fear. Sigh. 

A friend of mine wants to buy an Alfa Romeo Spider. "Do you know a good mechanic?" I asked her. Because I explained, if she didn't the car wouldn't move. And even if she found a talented wrench, the car would only run from her apartment to the shop. I told her to get a Miata instead. Bullet proof, plus the Mazda drives seven times better than the solid-axled Italian. Nope. Not interested. She wants the Alfa. Because it looks better. I ran into another friend last night, who against all my best advising swapped her ("ugly") Scion for a ("cute") Volvo 240 Wagon. "What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" I asked her and her boyfriend. "Picking up the Volvo from the shop." Today saw my take on the new Subaru STI. I'll let reader cretinx summarize what most of y'all have been saying, "Its just . . . . so . . . ugly . . . ." Big time. That said, that pig is most likely my next car. Apologies to Sheryll Alexander, but when it comes to driving, I really don't care about looks. You?

Yesterday, we pondered which brand has most recently lost the plot. Today's plan was to have you ponder which brand is the most damaged. But why bother? We all know the answer. Hell, dogs know the answer. Mercury was created out of whole cloth to be Ford's entry-level-luxury division. Trouble is that seventy years down the line, Lincoln is FoMoCo's entry-level-luxury (and just barely). Leaving Mercury as… what? I have no clue. No one does. Seriously, what possible purpose does Mercury serve (for us, not Lincoln dealers)? Besides being an over-chromed Ford, does Mercury stand for anything? Put it this way, if Mercury fell in a forest, who'd give a shit? I don't know a single human being who owns a Mercury. Oh wait; I do. A dear friend of mine is a big noise in the Department of Water and Power's Union. When his Oldsmobile 98 finally (and literally) fell apart, he needed a replacement big American barge ("It wouldn't look good come election time if I showed up in a Japanese car"). A Grand Marquis with $9k on the hood was his for the taking. If he could've found a Crown Vic that cheap, he would've bought it. In summary, why hasn't Mullally dragged Mercury out behind the woodshed and put the division out of its misery? I mean, you heard anyone crying over Plymouth lately? 

Recently. We're not talking Mercury, the automaker that's being driving around sans map for (four) decades. No, we want to know who you think most recently has put match to script. Great candidates abound. Could it be Jeep and the brand-slaughtering Compass softroader? Toyota and their new found love of recalls and unreliability? Maybe Porsche, with its embrace of water cooled SUVs and an upcoming four-door sedan. I'm arguing for Subaru. Subaru? Yeah, Subaru. Rewind your mind to 2002. The WRX had just landed on our shores, completely redefining egalitarian performance. Outbacks were everywhere. Forresters will always be the official car of lesbians, but back then they were the smart alternative to the SUV. The 'Camino'd Baja is a bullet they'd like back. But hey, at least they were trying. In fact, the all-AWD brand was the positioned to become the thinking/poor man's Audi. And pistonheads everywhere knew the STi was on its way. Today? The WRX is not only uglier, but softer. The most expensive model in the lineup isn't the sharp dressed Outback, but the formerly pussy-faced Tribeca. A turd of an CUV that few want and no one aspires to. The new STI is indeed meshugga, but sadly, like the whole of Subaru, not meshugga enough. OK, your go.