One of my long-standing disagreements with the editor: the Porsche Cayenne is a dangerous diffusion of the Porsche brand. I never believed that. I’d call Robert up and tell him— if I could dial this new Porsche Design P’9522 phone with its razor thin buttons. Or use it stateside for that matter. Perhaps I’ll e-mail my review. Nope. The gorgeous new touch screen gizmo lacks that feature. It does have a 911 GT3 ring tone, though.

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Now that the Need For Speed franchise has definitively and conclusively jumped the shark, Rockstar’s Midnight Club has emerged as the standard-bearer for street racing games. Enter the newest edition: Midnight Club: LA. The recipe for this one was deceptively simple: take the GTA IV driving engine, enhance it to reflect different (i.e. real) cars, stick the driver in yet another trendy city-– this time LA– and let him get into as much trouble as possible. On the whole, Midnight Club picks up right where NFS Carbon left off (let’s pretend ProStreet and Undercover never happened). It’s a fun, arcade-style game, but it’s not without its flaws.

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When new acquaintances find out that I cover the automotive industry, the response is often a flood of pent-up questions on the topic. Though much of the interest converges on the future of the American automakers, the future of cars, fuel and mobility in general attract a lot of curiosity. Facile blogger that I am, I usually cop out by saying that telecommuting is the true future of mobility. In reality, the interplay of energy, economics, politics, technology and the environment that defines the cars and fuels of the future is a topic of near infinite complexity. Luckily, two correspondents for the Economist have tackled the issues in a new book entitled Zoom: The Global Race To Fuel The Car Of The Future.

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There’s nothing like matching wits with the sweepers in a car that normally fears a bend in the road. Unless you own the well engineered underpinnings of a Porsche, Corvette, BMW or a handful of less obvious winners sporting a bona fide performance suspension from the factory, that is. For the rest of us, there are after market alternatives that allow loyalists to keep their current rides (and monthly payment) and let the inner Pistonhead shine in all its glory. With this in mind, start with better tires, and then take a look at your sway bars.

Most cars come with a Pistonhead-averse, lawsuit-friendly pair of bars. Even worse, many rear bars are deleted entirely to please the merciless will of corporate beancounters. So Addco Manufacturing, one of the few suspension suppliers with the flexibility and knowledge to create sway bar upgrades for most any ride, feeds the need for flat cornering.

Disclaimer: while some vehicles have sway bar alternatives from their high(er) performance counterparts (a la Ford SVT or BMW M-series), buying used sway bars may not give the desired bang-for-the-buck when you consider metal fatigue, worn bushings and unrealistic pricing due to a limited supply.

Right. So TTAC’s test vehicle for Addco’s bars is my daily driver: a Lincoln Mark VIII LSC with a fully refreshed air suspension. Obviously this Lincoln is not the logical choice, but as a cousin of the Ford Thunderbird, Addco’s engineers worked with the road racing T-bird faithful (who knew?) to create three options for my wannabe GT. So I had a dilemma not unlike a trip to the hot sauce counter at Taco Bell: will it be “Mild”, “Hot” or “Fire”?

Moderation and parts matching is paramount. I chose Addco’s “Hot” offering: a pair of bars measuring a stout 1 ¼” in diameter. This is a serious upgrade from the puny stock bars, both measuring less than one inch. Considering the Lincoln’s overall mission (Boss Hogg worthy cruiser) and the relative softness of its air-filled spring bladders, going to bigger bars minimized the pain of a firmer suspension but maximized the cornering prowess. And if Addco stocks the parts to make a 3800lb pimpmobile turn tricks, odds are they got your whip covered.

Installation times vary by vehicle. I was on the losing end of that promise. For the front bar, I needed a hand and a (hydraulic) lift to get the K-member out of the way. Mercifully, the rear bar was a 20-minute job in my driveway with basic hand tools. If your favorite model-specific forum didn’t already document the swap, Addco provides stellar instructions in the box, new hardware and excellent customer support for when I had a few questions. While Addco normally includes the “red” polyurethane bushings for maximum impact, I asked for the OEM-spec “black” bushings for Lincoln levels of NVH (noise, vibration, harshness) control. Addco gladly capitulated.

The end result? No longer the victim of wallow and massive understeer, the Mark VIII cuts corners like an old school AMG Benz. Now the link-intensive suspension and the “Rich Man’s Mustang” independent rear axle have a voice. And a calling: tenaciously holding its Z-rated gumballs to the pavement. The matched, oversized sway bars made corner carving a breeze with minimal body roll: what took 50 mph now demands speeds of 60 or 70 for the same kick. I betcha this is what Ford’s engineering team had in mind for this platform from day one.

The flip side to flat cornering is the resulting tendency to oversteer. The key is to build rear steer progressively with modest levels of throttle input, not popping out like a creepy mechanical mannequin in a haunted house. Addco’s package did it right: only foolish levels of throttle (or the ill-timed downshift) make the RWD Mark change its course, provided you disengage the traction control. The extra mid-corner speed generated by these sway bars demands more respect from the driver, and little else.

No sway bar discussion is done without mentioning ride quality: the Lincoln is obviously firmer than stock, but acceptable from the first mile. As the bushings lightened up over the course of 500 miles, the ride lost its jiggle and regained composure. Its quite amazing: enjoying the insolated freedom of air suspended bliss one moment, then confidently clipping the apex another. While the Addco-fettled Lincoln cannot beat the laws of physics, it can pull a Warren Sapp and dance with a 3-series.

Though prices vary with application and dimensions, many of Addco’s bars sell for around $160 each, including bushings and hardware. In my case, I had Addco’s bars shipped and (halfway) professionally installed for under $600. Even better, Addco is one company known for offering group purchases to motivated forum junkies with loyal followers. Its an epic win for all.

[Addco Manufacturing provided these parts for this review]

Grand Theft Auto IV’s (GTAIV) intricate and involving storyline has drawn comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. You playin’ with me? Yes, well, there are a lot more cars in GTAIV. And the game’s protagonist, a Serbian immigrant named Niko Bellic, has neither a clean license nor a clean conscience. Despite the increased focus on the thematic and shooting action, most of GTAIV’s single-player missions still mandate mastery of a wide range of vehicles. From the start of the first mission, to the usual drug deliveries, to driving a big rig filled with explosives through city streets, Grand Theft is pistonhead catnip. As you’d expect, car chases and street races present some of the game’s toughest– and most rewarding– challenges.

While the simulated car’s simulated physics are more realistic than previous GTA iterations, that’s a bit like saying Sam Wiggle is a better singer than Greg. GTAIV’s driving dynamics are still more Roadrunner than road-worthy. A sharp handbrake turn at 30mph can set a car on its side. Hardly real world reflective. Or, as Travis Bickle might say, I could tell by the way they related there was no connection whatsoever.

Assuming you don’t hail a cab, the game begins behind the virtual wheel of a crappy-looking late 80s Buick look-a-like. All the cars in GTAIV look like real-world automobiles, with subtle and no-so-subtle “enhancements.” No points for guessing what a “Coquette” or “Dukes” would like to be when it grows up. Just in case a manufacturer might get upset about ripped-off whips engaging in criminal activities, GTAIV’s programmers occasionally hedge their bets by morphing two cars into one. The “Infernus” combines a Lamborghini Gallardo front end and a Pagani Zonda butt. Like the game itself, the $1.5m cut-and-shunt is strangely satisfying.

Each car offers specific driving dynamics: front wheel-drive cars understeer. All wheel-drive SUVs feel heavy in corners, and then pull strongly out of them. In this game, weight matters. In a “Patriot”, the only things that will scare you are big rigs, walls and tiny trees. More importantly, driving skill is (now) a critical factor; poor drivers will suffer immensely through the many vehicular missions. That goes double for the multiplayer races. The old turn-and-handbrake technique is no longer sufficient. Multi-tap subtlety is required to negotiate a bend “just right.”

Dab hands will opt for the first person view from behind the windshield. That’s where the sound of the stereo is drowned out by engine roar (or sputter, if you’re driving some old junk). Talk about aural sex… While the powerplants’ sonic signatures aren’t as faithful as, say Gran Turismo, they’re even more addictive. SUVs have booming big-block V8s, flat 6s wail and tasty imports provide plenty of turbo whine. The radio doesn’t stand a chance. It’s a bit of a shame; a multitude of stations offer some wikkid variety, from DJ Iggy Pop to NPR-style talk radio.

The game’s main mission is good for removing at least 30 hours from your life. Side missions can take up an additional 10 hours, hidden jumps and hunting for “flying rats” notwithstanding.

Despite some poor textures up close, the graphics are where it’s at. The game’s main appeal resides in its setting and the clever dialogue, not its racing qualities. Humorous touches abound, entrance and delight. Liberty City’s Statue of happiness holds a cup of RF’s favorite brew. Even without excessive caffeination, driving around is a buzz– enough to make random meandering almost as much fun as the game’s trademark violence. Bonus: the weather changes randomly, including rain and fog, which alter a car’s handling.

Rating:

Overall, 5/5 stars. Other than repetitive missions, it’s a real show stopper.

As a racing game: 4/5 stars. Gran Turismo and the Forza series are far superior. Then again, if you’re an aspiring gangsta– and who isn’t?– this is the place to be.

Need for Speed Prostreet is a huge departure from the NFS series, featuring only legal racing. That’s right; the ultimate “I don’t wanna grow up” game has grown up. By banishing typical NFS staples – illegality, police chases and near-invincibility – EA Sports has made a serious racing game. Unfortunately, that places ProStreet squarely in the crosshairs of established franchises like Gran Turismo and Forza Motorsport, who’ve cornered the market on “serious racing.” Against this lethal competition, ProStreet falls far short of establishing a beachhead.

The game’s heart is its career mode, which is structured in a series of “Race Day.” Each race day has a minimum point requirement for victory. If you collect enough points after a few races, you don’t need to finish the entire event to unlock more Race Days. However, you can choose to continue an already-won Race Day to collect even more points and earn a “Domination” victory, which unlocks better rewards and gives you more cash.

And so, you go from Race Day to Race Day, unlocking other Race Days. Gone is the “Free Roam” which allows you to meander through the city, exploring the limits of the car or trying to incite the police play bumper tag with you. All the various types of races within each Race Day are standard fare for experienced Xbox racers: straight-up races, time trials, sector shootouts and drag races. The only “free time” allowed is race practice.

It’s not a bad set-up for a pure racing game, but there are many disappointments. Track-based drag racing, for example, is new to the NFS franchise. It was an idea that must’ve sounded cool to a bunch of geeky car/gamer guys sitting around on bean bags, but wasn’t. Each NFS drag race starts with a burnout. The goal: heat your tires by keeping your revs in a specified power band. Do well and you’ll be catapulted at the green light.

From there, drags are ridiculously easy. Time your shifts to claim a victory. Presto. No race lasts longer than 24 seconds. (Surprise!)  In other words, it’s pure tedium; especially since most Race Days include at least one drag event. In comparison to the canyon duels– an innovative wrinkle introduced in NFS Carbon– drag racing is a non-crashing bore.

The other issue with Race Days: car typing. When you buy a ride, you select one type of racing for the vehicle: grip (standard racing), speed, drag or drift. Switching a car from one mode to another deletes all previous tuning. Obviously, some semi-pro racers optimize their cars for one type of event. But forcing gamers to do the same adds little value to the game, and another dollop of ennui. It seems obvious to me that a stock Corvette Z06 would be a competent dragster and time-attacker all at once.

Another unfortunate mystery: why an all wheel-drive (AWD) car can’t enter drift events. Seriously. I can still recall earning the “Drift King” achievement in NFS Carbon with an AWD R34 Skyline, a car known for its ability to drift. Yet in the next game of the series, the car is apparently unable to drift.

On the other hand, ProStreet introduces damage modeling to the series. Not there’s much to it; there three basic states of damage, each of which hampers your performance slightly. And of course, it costs money to repair your car (which you must do at the end of each Race Day). Unfortunately, there’s no distinction as to what’s been damaged (e.g., steering, engine, gearbox) and how each type of damage hinders you.

Forza’s guiding line is shamelessly aped, though ProStreet’s line is nowhere near as accurate. Follow it at your own risk. Most cars handle like buses at any speed above 40 mph. Some car rumps still have that cartoonish jiggle under acceleration. The steering is vague and imprecise as always. Visuals are not much better than Forza Motorsport 2 (released a year earlier) either.

NFS, in any incarnation, has never been a purist’s driving game. As long as it had that taboo underground  feeling, the arcade feel and a city to explore, you’d forgive the unrealistic driving, where brakes are an afterthought and a Viper can hit 120 mph in 1.5 seconds. In a more adult setting, NFS’ driving flaws are laid bare.

And yet someone at EA decided to let NFS step up into the big leagues. Wong answer. Let’s hope EA returns ProStreet to the streets or… no, that’s it. That’s what they need to do.

The full-page ad copy shouted, “I will boost your horsepower & torque.” Whoa! With claims like that, I felt personally challenged to test the Shark Injector. It’s an OBD-II connector that overwrites a part of the BMWs DME (BMW speak for electronic control unit or ECU) with its own internal Conforti software to deliver claimed results. So I installed the Shark Injector on a BMW 325i, one of the many six-cylinder BMWs supported by the Shark (includes all sixes in the 3, 5 and Z series BMWs through 2005, plus the M3 and X5 3.0). Or should I say I set about installing the Shark injector…

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When my esteemed editor suggested I review the RallyCam, I envisioned a simple one camera with a small recording device. Instead. the edgecameras.com people sent me their RallyCam 3000, a three-camera system with a sophisticated control unit integrated with a multi-use video recording device. The devices came packed tightly in their container. I was quickly overwhelmed by cables, clamps, remotes and plastic bags. The numerous instruction sheets were not very helpful. But TTAC’s Best and Brightest are persistent bastards, as are their legally-trained representatives. So away we go…

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One day, we’ll look back fondly on the rivalry between Xbox and Playstation. Inevitably, we’ll discuss the competing pairs of game that these consoles offered, genre by genre, sequel by sequel. We’ll debate Final Fantasy vs. Oblivion, Halo vs. Resistance, and ,of course, Gran Turismo (“GT”) vs. Forza Motorsport. And everyone will pick the Playstation(s)’s GT series. That said, Xbox owners need not lament as the Xbox’s own flagship racer is a solid game indeed and one of the most intuitive, purest racing games available today.

Forza Motorsport 2 offers several modes, the most interesting of which is the career mode. Don’t look for any story here; this game is all about racing. Period. There are no drug package deliveries, no free roam, and certainly no police chases. The entire concept of career mode is to finish a series of races to unlock a harder series of races where better cars can be used.

Starting out as a grassroots racer, you’ll take your track toy to humble, simple tracks to hone your skills. Forza offers all manner of driving aids for the beginner: automatic transmission, ABS, traction control and stability management. Minor point of irritation: all driving aids are available to all cars, even cars that have no business having them. You can now recreate the legendary Ferrari 312P / Ford GT40 face-off, only with traction control.

The best driving aid, of course, is the famous Forza guiding line. Not only does it provide an approximation of the best driving line, it glows red and green to prompt you towards the optimal speed along this line. It’s such a good teacher (or I’m such a bad driver), that I found my lap times dropping drastically on other driving games after playing this one. Of course, to achieve the “elite” times you see on Xbox live, you’ll have to learn to do things on your own. The guiding line doesn’t cut chicanes where possible. Worse yet, the automatic transmission shifts a wee bit before the redline, depriving you of that last ounce of the engine’s power.

As your driving improves, you’ll find it natural to step into better and better cars, on better and better tracks. Each step along the way is well-nuanced; a feat that sets Forza apart from other racers. Early on, the lo-po FWD compacts are forgiving and easy. Midway through, the Ferrari F430 or Corvette Z06 makes you honest about being smooth on the buttons, lest you lock-up going into a bend or spin out coming out of one. Near the end, the Le Mans LMP1 cars will truly test your testicular fortitude.

It’s evident the developers focused on car behavior. Each car, even compared to cars in the same class, has a unique personality. The Ferrari Enzo isn’t shy about singing the family tune through its exhaust. There’s a weight penalty as your AWD Lancer Evo hits the end of a long straight. The Corvette’s ridiculous grip and snap oversteer are present. And so on. There’s no doubt about it, Forza is one of the most faithful reproduction of the driving experience available in videogames today.

The driving dynamics’ gain, though, came at the expense of almost every other aspect of the game. None are major gripes, but taken as a whole, they leave Forza feeling somewhat unfinished.

Being a nice guy, I’ll call the graphics and re-used crowd representations “understated”. Customization is disappointing, especially on higher-end cars. Some of the Le Mans cars can’t even be tuned at all.

Then there are the tracks. Forza 2 offers less tracks than the game before it. The stalwarts are back, but it’s infuriating to buy the game and then pay to download a track as inane as a plain oval on Xbox live. At least the tracks that are included are faithfully represented. You’ll see just how annoying Laguna Seca’s corkscrew can be, or how challenging it is to apex through the carousel on the Nordschleife.

Unfortunately, the interiors come right out of the GM playbook. Every single car has the same interior. The cockpit of your Porsche 914 and my Ferrari P333: identical. Considering many games published a year before this one had distinct interiors, it’s as forgivable as the Corvette and the Aura sharing a steering wheel. Ahem.

My biggest gripe, though, is the number of cars per race: Eight. MAX. In that formation, you’ll find yourself all alone for huge stretches on the game’s bigger tracks – sometimes for entire laps! No one signed up for time attacks, Microsoft.

For Forza 2’s designers, game play was job one – and it’s apparent in every aspect of the game. This game’s realism and driving experience are unmatched.

Bottom line: **** Far from perfect, but you will never stop to ponder the game’s flaws as you hear your tires thumping along Sebring raceway.

Given half a chance, most car guys would spend big bucks pimping their wheels. Needless to say, their better half ain’t buying it. So neither are they. While aerodynamic addenda and wikkid wheels are [ultimately] a less costly ego enhancement than regular spa treatments, all car mods tend to appear fairly low on the list of financial priorities known as the family budget. But guys, it’s time to go to the mat. Literally.

Floor mats. Yes, I said floor mats. But not just ANY floor mats. I’m talking high quality rubber, deep-grooved floor mats specifically designed to keep the water and mud off the carpet of your mint 92’ Pontiac Sunfire. I know, I know; contain yourself. The best is yet to come!

If you’re looking for the sine qua non of rubber floor mats, it’s WeatherTech®. Their all-weather mats withstand sub-zero weather without curling, cracking or hardening, for at least ten years! That’s one decade, or seventy dog years (which is just as well if you let Fido in your car). Guaranteed.

Navigate to www.weathertech.com, input your car make and model, and voila! A set of black, tan or gray mats custom-contoured to your car’s curves for about $55, AND you can add matching rear mats for an additional $45 (must be trimmed). 

Problem: WeatherTech® mats look a lot like the cheap rubber mats you get at the local auto parts store for ten bucks. Sure they work better. But we’re looking for maximum pimpification. Stand back folks; I’m going OEM!

Audi sells custom-fit floor mats for various models for about $100 to $130. They come in any color you like as long as it’s black, with a contrasting car name logo in white. Yes, that’s twice the freight of a WeatherTech® set, but you gain the fancy logo. So if you forget what car you’re driving, you can simply look down for a reminder (closed course, professional driver). My mats proudly and accurately proclaim allroad. 

The mats include mounting holes that affix the rubber widgets into place on the carpeted floor. The design features WeatherTech®-tonic deep-ribbed channels PLUS a high surrounding lip designed to keep liquids from spilling onto the carpet. I tested this premise by removing the driver’s mat from the car and slowly pouring water into the mat until the liquid spilled out of the mat.

As I poured the water ever-so-slowly into the mat, I pondered the usefulness of this experiment. Liquids get to the car’s floor either from the outside via rain, car wash, garden hose, water balloons, etc., and from the inside from drinks, leaking ac, involuntary urination, exploding bottles, etc. Any liquid intrusion (save slow leaks from your shoes) would likely go all over the place– not just on the mat (regardless of the mat’s fluid holding capacity).

I was able to pour seven fluid ounces into the Audi mat before the liquid spilled over the mat’s edge. This is one-sixth the amount of soda in a McDonalds super-sized drink or if you prefer (God knows I do) a twelve-ounce Bud Light.  With this low capture level, I concluded that drink spills of any real quantity are going to end-up on the carpet. Therefore, in truth, the mats can only really handle very small spills and minor drips from wet shoes.

Of course, that still leaves another claimed benefit for floor mats: mud and snow protection. However, all floor mats provide a similar service. At least with rubber mats you can easily remove the mud which would have otherwise clung to– and stained– a carpeted floor mat.

The rubber solution also offers psychological benefits. Even if you never go anywhere near mud, having Audi floor mats tells passengers you’re a hardy, adventurous spirit, unafraid to venture off the beaten path to someplace… muddy. Or snowy. Or both.

Well if floor protection is not a major benefit, how about durability?

I used a similar set of Audi mats in an Audi A4 for a period of eighteen months and 15k miles. No snow, mud or spills of any sort occurred on my watch (nor involuntary urination). After that time, the driver’s side mat was worn down where my feet rest. The mat had split along one of the deep ribbed channels, making those dreaded leaks a potentially ruinous problem. This quick wear was really no better than a quality carpeted mat that costs less than half the price.

Overall if you’re into rubber, like to express your ruggedness in your floorware and share my customization compulsion, you will want a set of stylish Original Equipment Manufacturer mats in your car. Yes, they’re basically useless. But your wife won’t mind if you do. Take your victories where you can find ’em lads.

If you’re a pistonhead, you have people. You know, Nick the mechanic or Joe the dyno. I got a tire guy: Ernie Bello. Bello tires is a performance car hangout, with all the right equipment for mondo mods and a lounge, decorated with a map of the Nürburgring, stocked with car mags, ice cream and kick-ass Cuban coffee. When my sports car needed new tires I clicked on Tire Rack for price and advice. I then went to Ernie. Hey Ernie! Whaddayathinkin here?

For a long time, Ernie was a Toyo guy. Ernie’s now nuts on Nittos. Trusting Ernie’s advice, I went with the Nitto Invo. I’ve now driven over five thousand spirited miles on the shoes, including a 1500 mile trek to the BMW factory in Spartanburg, SC.

Like many high performance cars, my BMW boasts staggered wheel sizes: 225/45 17” wheels in the front, and 245/40 17” wheels in the back (on the stock rims).  This setup improves handling, but eliminates front-to-back tire rotation. That means shorter tire life; the rears suffer from my aggressive driving style, while the fronts stay ahead of the game.

Bottom line: I got great G’s on the track, and then spent them down at Ernie’s replacing the rears on a regular basis. Readers of my reviews will not be surprised to learn that I wanted a tire that wasn’t overly expensive, offering reasonable wear life, without sacrificing performance. I was pleased to learn that the Invos are non-directional; I can rotate the rubber side-to-side to balance wear. Somewhat.

The Invos are classified by Nitto as ultra-performance street tires. Translation: they’re designed for both wet and dry traction– without sacrificing ride comfort and noise suppression. Competitors include the Michelin Pilot Exaltos, the General Exclaims (previously reviewed), Firestone Firehawks and Bridgestone Potenzas.

The Invo has a unique design. The tire incorporates standard tread design with a three channel-deep wide-rib, located on one side. Nitto claims that combining an inner rib with two circumferential grooves improves wet weather performance. The rest of the tire consists of a Silica-reinforced tread compound, variable pitched grooves and large inner and outer contact patches (for improved dry handling).

The Invos come in sizes ranging from 225/45 17” to bling-sized 275/25 24” monsters. The tires are “Z” rated; good for speeds over 149 mph. But they’re also limited by a “W” rating, which pegs the maximum safe speed at 154 mph. The 17” tires I purchased have a 91 rating for load, which means a maximum load per tire of 1356 pounds in the front. The larger rear Invos support over 2000 pounds per tire, for a 5000 pound total.

Nitto warrants Invo tires for uniformity problems for sixty months after purchase– subject to rotation every 3500 miles.  As expected with performance tires, no mileage warranty is offered.

Without sophisticated equipment, testing tire on a scientific basis is impossible. As to mileage tests, one requires either many years of patience or a machine to artificially add mileage. Having neither, I can only provide my subjective analysis of the tires based on years of experience.

The other issue with tires is the trade-off between comfort/noise/longevity versus performance and traction.  Tires that lean toward performance usually have comfort and noise issues. Softer, more compliant tires aid comfort but lose performance capabilities.

I tested the Invos for four characteristics: noise, comfort, dry traction and wet traction. The easiest to measure was the Invo’s noise level. I found the tires extremely quiet, with little noise intrusion with the vehicle’s top down, and none with the top up.

Comfort was harder to measure; the BMW M Roadster is already a somewhat harsh vehicle to start. Compared to the stock Michelin Pilots, I found no change in the comfort level with the Invos installed. I lean to a harsher ride on a sports car and the Invos did not make the ride any worse.

The fun part of testing is pushing tires to the limit on the street in simulated track tests in open lots. All tests were performed with the traction control turned off.

I tested dry handling by completing high speed turns and simulated slaloms. I found traction to be substantial, with the car failing to break away. This made reasonable drifting impossible. I also tried several panic stops, inducing ABS vibration. Again the Invos functioned very well.

Wet traction was only slightly worse with slower slalom speeds and longer braking. I never felt a loss of control. I’d trust these tires (though my M never sees rain, the spoiled bitch that she is).

With the install, I paid $600 for all four shoes at Bello Tires. Not the cheapest option, but well worth the price and competitive with the other tires mentioned above.  Now if I can only get 20k miles on them!

Inexpensive products that promise significant improvements to your car’s performance are almost always fool’s gold. This is especially true for engine additives (*cough* STP *cough*). However, there’s one company with a sterling reputation for delivering on its promises: Redline Synthetic. Since 1979, the Benicia, California company has been selling coolants, fuel additives and lubricants to the automotive, motorcycle, marine and industrial markets. As part of their range, Redline offer a product called WaterWetter®. They claim their potion can reduce car coolant temperatures by as much as 30ºF. That’s hot! I mean, not. 

I reckoned it’d be a doddle to test the bottle. I’d simply run my car sans Redline’s additive and check the coolant temperature. Then, following the instructions on the bottle with my usual precision, I’d give my mount the magic potion, drive the same test loop and measure the temp again.

For the mechanically challenged, installation of WaterWetter® could not be easier. Assuming you can open your hood, open your hood (when it is cold, otherwise prepare for a scalding). Locate the radiator fluid intake point (RTFM if necessary). If you have too much fluid in the overflow tank (above the line labeled max), simply siphon off 12 ounces before installing, as overfilling is a really bad idea. Open the radiator cap (or on most modern cars, the overflow tank) and pour in the full bottle of WaterWetter®, funnel optional.

Before I reveal the results of my test, let’s look at Redline's claims for WaterWetter®'s effects on your cooling system:

• Doubles the wetting ability of water
• Improves heat transfer
• Reduces cylinder head temperatures
• May allow more spark advance for increased torque
• Reduces rust, corrosion and electrolysis of all metals
• Provides long term corrosion protection
• Cleans and lubricates water pump seals
• Prevents foaming
• Reduces cavitation corrosion
• Complexes with hard water to reduce scale

According to Redline, WaterWetter®’s greatest benefits accrue to those cars running straight water in their cooling system– which doesn't include anyone living in snow country. Translation: WaterWetter® offers all the normal protection benefits of regular coolant to people who don't use regular coolant. Oh, at a lower temperature. Well, theoretically… 

Strangely, Redline’s own test results don’t square with their ad copy. Their technical literature only shows an eight degree Fahrenheit drop in a car with a 50/50 mix of water and coolant, and an eighteen degree Fahrenheit drop for a car running 100 percent water. 

I used a VagCom system (reads sensor data directly from the ECU) for my tests. The pre-WaterWetter® installation delivered temperatures between 96 and 98 degrees centigrade (or 205 to 208 degrees Fahrenheit for the Americans). The post-installation temperature stayed steady at 96 degrees centigrade. Clearly, not the results advertised.

Other websites have tested WaterWetter® and also concluded that the overall decrease in coolant temperature is marginal. So WaterWetter®’s benefits either lie elsewhere (or nowhere). That assessment requires a certain level of trust with Redline products. In my experience, based on their oil products, they deserve this trust.

In reviewing the technical literature on Redline’s website, WaterWetter® claims to reduce hot spots in a car’s cylinder head. In theory at least, this reduces the possibility of localized overheating, improving engine longevity. Supposedly, WaterWetter® also protects aluminum products in the cooling system from excessive heat and cavitation caused by vapor bubbles forming inside the cylinder head and water pump.

In addition, for cars running straight water, WaterWetter® provides some additional protection. This includes traditional coolant roles of reducing corrosion and lubrication of water pump seals. For cars caned on the track or driven in the summer only, a water-only engine and cooling system solution will lead to problems. However, for cars with a tradition 50/50 mix of water and trad coolant, these benefits are already present without WaterWetter®.

WaterWetter® is available at auto parts stores and online for less than $10 a bottle. One bottle is good for an entire cooling system, and lasts as long as you properly keep fluid in your system (assuming you follow the recommended practice of flushing your cooling system every two years or 30,000 miles).

Since WaterWetter® has no readily measurable benefit, should you consider putting this in your car? That depends on your personality and your relationship with your car. 

If you’re like me, you like buying stuff for your car in the HOPES of improving power, performance, mileage or longevity (I put Chevron Techron in my tank every 1000 miles). It’s true: I’m a sucker for products that have the POTENTIAL to improve the car, even without any possibility of measuring the results. This is doubly true if the cost isn’t prohibitive and there isn’t any risk of a downside.

In other words, fool’s gold is as good as gold to a fool.     

I learned to drive in Philly in the winter. Although we were always warned to watch out for the dreaded black ice, the roads where I lived were plowed, salted and gently hilled. So there was little winter drama. The only slip sliding away in my ‘hood: Paul Simon’s doleful tune and the snow-covered mall parking lot where we went for late-night donuts. Flash forward to the winter of ‘07: a family vacation to the mountains of North Carolina in our rear drive Cadillac SRX. Before embarking, I glimpsed a warning on our cabin rental website: “four wheel-drive is a must.” Ch-ch-chains. Chains for fools. Or not.

Reviewing the Caddy's manual on the subject of winter traction devices advised me these automotive accoutrements had to come in the form of “s” class chains. The stricture is down to the SRX' passenger car roots; most “normal” cars can only accommodate s-chains in the [relatively] small spacing between the wheel and the body. So I started researching the “other” s-class. 

I learned there are three sub-categories of s-class chains. For under $125, you get your basic metal chain with complicated installation and manual tightening. In the $125 to $250 bracket, your money buys you more sophisticated chains with mounting tools and semi-automatic self tightening links. Finally, as befits an SRX, one can buy the Cadillac of chains: the $450 Spike-Spiders.

As an incorrigible Scrooge, I never would have paid this much money for chains, even if they were fashioned from gold. But my wife, who found these arachnid glorifying chains online, insisted. A week before the trip, we purchased them from the U.S. distributor at www.spikes-spider.com. The large box that arrived soon thereafter contained the "chains," the mounting plate and an enormous collection of nuts, bolts, spacers and clips.

The instructions were a bit confusing and over-complicated. Yes sir, I’m here to tell you that there were not one but TWO– count ‘em TWO– separate methods for mounting the plate. 

At first, the instrux seemed to imply that all of the car’s lug nuts would have to be removed. After a bit of re-caffeination, I divined it was only three. I proceeded to mount the plate to each rear wheel. Deploying the handy dandy measuring tool included with my purchase, it appeared that my SRX’s didn’t need no stinkin’ spacers. So I boxed up the extras, put the chains in the carry bag (included) and slapped on the decorative cover.

We arrived in a snow-free North Caroline on the last Sunday of 2007. Our driveway was so steep it could have served as a V2 launch pad. I knew if it snowed we were in big trouble. Or, as I preferred to think of it, I’d have the perfect opportunity to justify my wife’s heinous expenditure.

Lo and behold, three days later, two plus inches of the white stuff fell upon the hills. I was ready to test the Spike-Spiders.

Despite following the instructions for measuring the spacers, I was 1.5” short. I called the company on the cell, hot breath steaming in the cold mountain air. Spike-Spider immediately blamed me for not testing the mounting before the trip. Only after I gave the company my FedEx number– MY FedEx number– did they agree to send me extra spacers. 

Stuck in the cabin, I watched my neighbors struggle with cheap chains. First, they tried the rear wheels and promptly wrapped them around the axle. I advised them that their car was propelled by the front wheels. An hour or so later they were off, dashing through the snow.

The new spacers arrived late Thursday– on a chainless FedEx truck. After remounting the plate, I installed the Spike-Spiders. I laid them over the wheel, twisted on the mounting bracket and voila! They automatically locked on as I drove. 

Once down the mountain and onto the main paved road, I stopped, took off the mounting bracket, pulled off the Spiders, drove three feet and put them back in the bag.  I could easily mount or dismount them in the time it takes to drum your fingers during a long red light.

Of course, the real test is how they performed as snow chains. The Spike-Spiders were extremely effective. The Swiss-made contraptions bit well on the snow and ice. In fact, in test panic stops, the SRX came to a halt nearly as well as it does on dry pavement. We climbed steep hills without slipping, with better control than the four wheel-drive vehicle we followed up one particularly steep snowy road.

When properly installed, the Spike-Spiders are a well-designed product that provide an effective solution for tough winter driving. The only negatives are the price, the lame-ass instructions, and the major geek factor the mounting plates project. Otherwise, you're good to snow.

[German language Spike-Spider video here .] 

Looking at last year’s Black Friday ads made it clear that a portable GPS (Global Positioning Satellite) satellite navigation device was the season’s most popular loss leader. Even department stores like Macys were offering a GPS device on the cheap. This strategy continues; last week our local Walgreen’s had a Nextar GPS device at the front counter for under $200, right there next to mints and quit smoking gum. I wanted to see if a cheap GPS unit could compete with the big boys. So I contacted Nextar, and they provided us with a Snap3. 

On paper, the Snap3 sat nav looks like a winner. It comes complete with a 3.5” touch screen, Navteq on Board® maps, super-slim design, mp3 player, photo viewer and mini-SD memory slot. In person, the packaging is very professional, especially for a GPS product sitting on the lowest wrung of the consumer ladder. Included in the deal: the unit, a USB/DC charger, car mount, detailed manuals and a carry bag. The Snap3 is very small, measuring three by four and less than an inch thick. The front is all screen all the time, with all the necessary buttons positioned on the sides and bottom.

I always measure a gizmo’s user friendliness with a simple test: try and use without reading the manual. (Let’s face it, the vast majority of consumers at the bottom end of the market won’t read any user’s manual, ever, and the rest probably can’t.) The Snap3 flunked. The unit has to be booted before the main power switch can be used. Granted this requires about ten seconds; less time than it takes to call India– I mean, customer service. But who knew?

Once booted, you’re looking a main screen with choices of navigation, photo, mp3, Bluetooth, calculator and settings.

Selecting navigation takes you to the main map screen. Accessing the Navteq supplied software and maps is no different than most other GPS devices. I’ve had nothing but good experiences with this mapping software. The Snap3 offered more of the same– at least initially. And right from the git-go, at the main screen, you have to sit and wait while the Snap3 tries to acquire a signal. The search took all of 45 seconds, which indicates an older GPS chipset. 

On the road, the Snap3 failed to update our ETA (estimate time of arrival) as we drove. It clung to original estimate like grim death, despite the fact that we eventually arrived an hour earlier than the machine’s ETA. On the positive side, our car’s onboard sat nav system frequently lost the satellite signal in the mountains, while the Snap3 maintained a lock at all times– after the painfully slow signal acquisition.

We also took the unit hiking in the Carolina Mountains (better than going with some guides I know). In this application, the Snap3’s size is a definite plus, easily fitting in a pocket.

The Snap3 is touted as a multi-function device. However, once in the navigation mode, you can only access the other features by rebooting the device to go back to the main screen. The other functions are crude and basic. The mp3 player was too quiet even with the volume turned all the way up (fixed by going to settings, turning-up the volume and returning to the mp3 player). The photo viewer displayed jpegs but was slow and awkward.

The Bluetooth function never worked; my iPhone could not discover the Snap3. This may have been an iPhone issue, but my test Magellan sat nav device always paired quickly with the iPhone.

By the same token, the Windows CE spinning beach ball of death was a frequent sight. This means that the Snap3 is running some form of the embedded Windows Mobile software. This also means that the device should easily connect to a PC to allow data uploads for new maps and firmware. No such software was included with the Snap3, and nothing in the supplied box shows this capability. When I connected the Snap3 to my PC, the device was never found (even though the Snap3 was powered over a standard USB cable).

The Snap3 has sixty-four megs of internal RAM and one gigabyte flash RAM for map storage. Without the ability to connect to a PC, it can’t be upgraded; it’s only a matter of time before the maps will become “stale.” The inability to update the firmware is more worrying. In the settings menu, I noted that the system software was version 0.97. This indicates that I tested a pre-production version, so this capability could well be on its way.

After several days of use, one lock-up and several reboots, the Snap3’s mapping function eventually died, displaying a “can’t find navigation software” warning. It was a fitting end to an inexpensive device that proves that “value” and “price” are not always synonymous. 

[NEXTAR provided the unit tested.] 

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I know it's not PC to say so, but I hate a lot of things. For example, I hate people walking around with those stupid cell phone earpieces looking like Lt. Uhura from Star Trek. They wear them like some sort of fashion jewelry, even when they're not asking John to phone Sally to tell Jorge he needs to phone Mary. For my sake, they should put their headsets away when not in use. Meanwhile, to find out what these people see in these devices and whether they have any practical use, I tested the suddenly very cheap Motorola HS820, a small Bluetooth, wireless headset.

The HS820 comes in one of those plastic containers that are NASA sealed for your protection. After repeated attempts to chew the package open, I got the scissors out and proceeded to cut my finger on the razor sharp plastic. Once open, I extricated the headset, charger and folded eight language manual. [NB: Yes, I’ve seen the TV ads for the Pyranna plastic cutter, but that’s not a car-related accessory.]

Stylistically, the HS820 is reasonably attractive, at least compared to some of the larger, uglier headsets adorning large swathes of the mobile generation. Motorola claims the HS820 possesses a “Funky surfboard design.” If true, it may be way too LA for many users. While the HS is smaller than your average ear thingie, and therefore less obtrusive, its small size may also affect battery life (discussed below). 

I plugged the HS820 into my car’s 12-volt socket (a.k.a. cigarette lighter) and waited two hours for a full charge. I then switched my IPhone into Bluetooth discovery mode and hoped for the best. The telephonic apple of Steve Job’s eye quickly discovered the HS820, illuminating its blue bluetooth indicator light. That's a lot more exciting than it sounds; I’ve had Bluetooth recognition issues before. I was relieved to see the two devices make nice so quickly.

I tried to make a call. Nothing. There was no sound in the HS820's earpiece. The IPhone said paired, but I despaired. So I used another phone to call someone to tell them to call me. When the call came through, I pressed the big ‘phone’ button to answer. Still nothing. So I unpaired and paired again (like the shampoo instructions say, lather, wash, rinse and repeat).

Second go. This time, when I went to phone a friend, the IPhone offered me a choice of phone, speakerphone, HS820 or ask the audience. Kidding. When I selected the HS820, I heard a beep in my ear. And then, finally, the earpiece went to work.

Calls were audible enough for rock and roll. All the people I annoyed on your behalf stated that my mellifluous tones were clear on the receiving end, and swore I didn’t sound as if I was calling from an undersea Plexiglas bubble.  No one complained of an echo, which was a real problem with the Bluetooth speaker in the previously tested Magellan 4040. Comfort was not an issue; at just 17 grams (about half an ounce to the metrically challenged), the headset’s weight didn't once threaten to deform my cranium.

The HS820’s range was within the Bluetooth specs of about 30 feet. The sound quality, such as it was, wasn't affected by a ten foot stroll away from the iPhone. Beyond ten feet, the caller’s voice warbled but remained audible, with no complaints about my voice on the receiving end. In-car use uncovered no range issues whatsoever. I suspect most users will stick to the mobile mobile environment– especially with the increasing number of states where operating a cell phone illegal without a hands-free device can land you in the hoosegow.

Motorola claims the HS820’s battery is good for six hours of talk time and 120 hours of waiting for somebody to call time. In the real world, even I can’t talk that long, so I have no idea if the six hours time limit is even remotely realistic. However, I do know that if I didn’t use the HS820 for several days, it was always DOA. So the promised five-day schmooze fest seems a tad optimistic.

When the HS820 first hit the market, it was priced at $99. I’m sure your friendly Verizon store still sells it for that price. You can now find the HS820 for significantly less. Amazon will sell you an HS820 for $31.95, and best-digital's giving them away at $19.99. At that price, it’s a no-brainer.

But if ultimate quality, sound and battery life matter to you, look for a newer Bluetooth 2.0 device. (The HS820 is 1.2 technology.) With fair sound quality, small size, okay battery life and a whole lot of cheapness, the HS820 is a decent choice for a wireless cell phone headset.

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