I have a checkered past with the Fiat X1/9--as checkered, in fact, as is possible with a relationship that is limited to lusting and blogging. You see, I wrote a post about the X1/9 back in 2007 in which I detailed both the high points of the car (its gorgeous designer looks and nimble handling) and the low points (slow straight-line performance and dubious durability reputation).
In July of last year, the fine folks at Xweb, an online X1/9 community, stumbled across that post. They quickly registered the criticisms I made of their beloved Italian wedge and expressed a range of emotions ranging between bemusement and righteous indignation. I was startled by the response and headed over to Xweb to try to clear things up. My explanatory post was fairly well-received by most Xwebians, with one exception--Bernice, who described herself as "the lioness that ends up biting you on what you wrote about the X1/9." Bernice, quite simply, brought the pain.
Well, as it turns out, Bernice and some other X1/9 fanatics entered a X1/9 in this year's 24 Hours of LeMons--a hilarious and surprisingly intense 24-hour endurance race contested by beaters worth $500 or less. In short, just like the similarly named Concours d'LeMons, a Car Lust-type of event. If you're still doubtful of the weirdness quotient present here, consider that this race was won by a 1984 Volvo 244.
Bernice and her fellow X1/9 fans entered under the name Italian Stallions Racing, and they dubbed their X1/9 The Flyin' Spaghetti Monster. In an attempt to bury the hatchet with this fine protectoress of origami Italian sports cars, I present to you a recap of the 24 Hours of LeMons, as told by Bernice. For more comprehensive coverage of the 24 Hours of LeMons, check out Jalopnik or any of the sources here at the official site.
Bernice:
Last weekend we ran our Bertone/Fiat X1/9 at the 24 Hours of LeMons at Buttonwillow Raceway. We finished trouble-free and running well. Two hours in we were in third overall and contending for the lead, but as the race went on the more powerful cars (like the V-8-powered Volvo) got us. The end of the race was exciting; on the last lap the leading Acura Integra was fighting off the Volvo and rolled the car. The driver is OK, but the car fared less well--video at the end of the post.
We finished 16th overall, first in class L3, tied with the class L2 leader. We were 15th overall, one of four cars tied at 244 laps completed.We got a trophy for our class win and one from Grassroots Motorspots, "Most From The Least."
It was hot during the day, about 100 degrees. This caused many cars to die from overheating, blown head gaskets, flying con rods, exploding hoses, leaking water pumps, electrical problems, and fried brakes. One BMW's brakes ran so hot, the pad backing fused itself on to the rotor and piston. Many teams were working hard to put their cars back together all event long.
All of our drivers (Chris, Pel and Mike) had cool shirts which helped a lot during their 1.5-2 hour driving stints. Our X kept its cool well enough, under a constant load of 6,000 to 8,200 RPM hour after hour.
Here are our class win and "Most from the Least" trophies.
Our Team, left to right--Mike, Pel, Bernice, Chris, and Jen. The car is the #69, Flyin' Spaghetti Monster, a 1980 Bertone/Fiat X1/9.
Here's Chris in the car.
Here's Chris, Pel, and me--Pel is in the car.
Chris: Here's the final finishing order--the team names and car list are entertaining, so it's worth clicking to expand the picture.
The first two photos here came from Flickr user karamia29. The rest are from Bernice.
Bernice: Here's the video--the first video is of the flip on the last lap. The second is some in-car video from team "Formula BMW 325e." Their driver, Rahul, tried to get past our X with Pel driving. The BMW has 2.5 liters of engine versus the Fiat's 1.5 liters.Both cars and drivers are very well matched.. Rahul finally got by after Pel got caught in a dust cloud caused by another car going off course.
I am painfully aware of the fact that it has now been more than one month since the last entry in the Star Trek cars series--my attempt to tie the Hyundai Genesis sports coupe to Star Trek III. I deeply regret the delay--if I could get this post up earlier by taking a Klingon Bird of Prey around a local star to initiate time warp, I would.
A joke... is a story with a humorous climax.
Following the somber (though excellent) space opera of the previous two movies, filled with poignant losses, space battles, and themes of mortality, Star Trek went in a much more light-hearted and mainstream direction with Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Or, as most people remember it, the one with the whales.
STIV might have proved a dramatic change of pace from the earlier movies, but it was still clearly Star Trek--its time-travel plot and goofy, cheerful energy captured the appeal of the original TV series. STIV didn't feature a clear-cut villain, or hyper-kinetic space battles, but its willingness to poke some fun at itself and its characters proved to be a powerful breath of air for the franchise.
Kirk didn't spend the movie locked in a struggle to the death with a super-villain; intead, he was struggling to properly incorporate "colorful metaphors" into his speech. Chekov wasn't under the thrall of a brain-sucking parasite; he was frantically searching for "nuclear wessels" and getting called a "Rooskie" (and worse) by a bemused Navy interrogator. Spock wasn't enduring death and resurrection; he was mind-melding with whales, silencing punk-rockers and being referred to as having done "too much LDS."
This combination of fish-out-of-water humor and the characters' natural chemistry proved a powerful elixir--STIV was a crossover hit and a box-office smash, and the mainstream success of the film helped launch the Star Trek: The Next Generation TV show. Perhaps the most telling indicator of its appeal is that STIV is the only Star Trek film that my wife will even consider watching with me.
Spock: To hunt a species to extinction is not logical. Gillian: Who ever said the human race was logical?
Right around the time STIV was in production, Ford was considering taking its own iconic franchise in a dramatically new direction. The Mustang, of course, was famous as one of America's pre-eminent sporty cars, legendary for providing rear-wheel-drive V-8 thrills in an inexpensive package. That identity persisted through the dark days of the 1970s--even in Mustang II guise, the Mustang was available with optional V-8 power and testosterone-drenched muscle car plumage.
In the early-to-mid 1980s, however, a recent history of fuel shortages, a renewed emphasis on efficiency, and the emerging trend of automotive downsizing combined to make the rear-wheel-drive, V-8 formula look like an anachronism that would fade inevitably into the mists of history. At the same time, new technology promised similar performance from a smaller, front-wheel-drive, turbocharged car. Like the humpbacked whale featured in STIV, the traditional V-8 Mustang was an endangered species.
So, with its eye firmly on a brave new world of performance cars, and in partnership with Mazda, Ford began to develop a radically new Mustang. Slick, light, with front-wheel-drive and a turbo four, the new Mustang promised to bring the model's proud heritage up to date for the 1980s. Until, that is, the word got out and the backlash began. Mustang loyalists were not amused by the radical changes, they weren't shy about sharing their displeasure, and Ford quickly realized that it was in danger of killing the golden goose.
I have often tried to imagine the reaction in the Ford corporate offices when the completely predictable clouds of customer outrage began to appear on the horizon. The muscle car faithful didn't like the idea of a small, Mazda-developed, four-cylinder FWD hatchback replacing the traditional V-8 Mustang? Gosh, who could have seen that coming?
In any event, Ford executives belatedly caught on and decided to bring the new car out alongside the Mustang as a seperate model, named Probe in tribute to the manufacturer's line of early 1980s show cars.
Of course, history has proven that the RWD V-8 formula for performance cars was not in immediate danger of extinction; in fact, in recent years the pendulum has swung back towards RWD V-8 performance cars. Ford may have retained the traditional Mustang format only as a result of customer outcry, but it certainly worked out well--the V-8 Mustang has sold like hotcakes over the last two decades and has long outlived the Probe.
Still, Ford wasn't wrong--there was a huge market for smaller, lighter, front-wheel-drive turbocharged sports coupe, and by offering both the Mustang and the Probe, Ford was well-positioned to capture both the muscle car and sports coupe crowds.
It appears to be a probe, Captain. From an intelligence unknown to us.
When the Probe debuted in 1988, the flagship Probe GT immediately looked like a competitive offering in the sports coupe market. The sleek body came cladded with an aerodynamic body kit that looked so futuristic that tinsel-draped Probes were cast as 2015 model-year cars in Back to the Future II (alongside, interestingly, a modified BMW 6-series and the Pontiac Banshee show car).
The Probe's go-fast technology (a 145-horsepower turbocharged four-cylinder engine and adjustable sport shocks) was just right for the 1980s. The turbo was tuned for mid-range punch, so performance was strong--with a 0-60 time right around 7 seconds flat and a top speed north of 130 mph, the Probe was nearly as quick as its Mustang big brother. In 1993, Ford introduced the second-generation Probe, which replaced the strong but thrashy turbo four with a smoother and slightly more powerful V-6.
Both generations of Probe offered near-class-leading straight-line performance and handling, and, at $15-20K, it undercut its competition. It won Motor Trend's Car of the Year award and was honored by Car and Driver as one of its 10 Best Cars three times. The Probe was a good performer, a great bargain, and it sold well.
So why do I hate the Probe so much?
Because I .... HATE YOU! And I .... BERATE YOU! And I ... can't wait to get to you ... And I ... ESCHEW YOU! And I ... say SCREW YOU! And I ... hope you're blue too.
STIV isn't my favorite of the Star Trek movies--it's entertaining, but it hasn't aged well and I find the overall premise ridiculous and the message a bit heavy-handed. But, even so, it's still a fun movie that I enjoy watching.
By contrast, I loathe, loathe the Probe. I always have loathed it. I'm not sure why, but I think of Probes as cheap, tacky, obvious and horrifically gauche. Why I feel that way about the Probe and not, say, the Merkur XR4Ti or Ford Thunderbird Turbo Coupe, I'm not sure. After all, I almost reflexively fawn over turbocharged hatchbacks, so why not the Probe?
Well, for one thing, I think both generations of the Probe were ugly. Actually, that's understating things a bit. In fact, I think both Probes had been brutally beaten with the ugly stick. The first Probe at least had some interesting futuristic lines and details that evoked the IMSA GTP Probe, but by the early 1990s the look had been cluttered with cheap-looking side sills, slatted air dams and spoilers.
The second-generation Probe, like the Mitsubishi 3000GT, managed to look both ugly and bland. It combined the dullness of the every-sports-coupe profile with soft, amorphous lines and a hideous front-end look that could be dubbed "plastic aggression." Compared to cars like the Mitsubishi Eclipse, Isuzu Impulse, and Volkswagen Scirocco and Corrado, the Probe looked like the kind of nightmare one might have after a night spent eating anchovy pizza and poring over cheesy mail-order body kit catalogs. It's a tragedy, considering the loveliness of its Mazda MX-6 cousin.
Then there's the name. Probe? Really? Setting aside for a moment the obvious proctology jokes, I still don't get it. The name doesn't have a great sound to it, and there are a lot of unpleasant or mundane sorts of probes. Even the coolest kind of probe, a space probe, isn't that cool. Who at Ford Corporate let that name through?
Even beyond the looks and the name, the Probe seemed so ordinary inside and out, like a cut-rate budget sports coupe without the special intangibles offered by its competition. The Mitsubishi Eclipse and Eagle Talon siblings had smoother turbocharged engines, optional all-wheel-drive, they looked better, and offered higher performance in a slicker package. The Honda Prelude and Acura Integra offered sharper handling, precise shifters, and screaming VTEC engines. The Isuzu Impulse, depending on the generation, was either gorgeous or high-tech and chunky. The Volkswagen Scirocco and Corrado offered Germanic precision, resolutely right-angled styling, and powertrains featuring either superchargers or the excellent VR6 V-6. The Subaru XT and XT6 were less capable but compellingly weird.
Had the Probe debuted in 1984 instead of 1988, I probably would have liked it better--its styling would have seemed fresher, and in those days its speed and technology would have made it a legitimate hero car. In 1988, though, the sports coupe market was ferocious, and the Probe was competing with much slicker pieces of machinery.
Gillian: Don't tell me, you're from outer space. Kirk: No, I'm from Iowa. I only work in outer space.
>The patronizing smile that Gillian gives Kirk after that line is exactly how all of you should feel about my opinion on the Probe. As strong as my loathing is, I admit that it's irrational and probably dead-wrong.
The contemporary press loved the Probe; as I mentioned the Probe won Motor Trend's CoY and three Car and Driver 10 Best awards.
I have two C&D comparison tests from 1992, one including a first-gen turbo GT and the second including the second-gen V-6 GT. The first-gen, even at the end of its product cycle, was one of the top performers and finished mid-pack, ahead of the Impulse, Toyota Celica, and tied with the Corrado. The second-gen won its test outright, beating outthe heavy hitters of its day--the Prelude, MX-6, Eclipse, and Corrado VR6. C&D raved about the power of the turbo four, the smoothness of the V-6, and the precise handling offered by the second-gen GT. I have no answer to these observations from the contemporary experts, and I fully expect to get some comments from Probe lovers reading something like, "Double dumb-ass on you!"
The Probe provided copious speed and thrills for the dollar, and I'm sure plenty of people lust after it. I'm just not among them.
The first two Probe photos come from NWProbe.com, the red rear 3/4 shot is from a forum in which a user expresses an opinion similar to mine. The front shot of the overdone white Probe is from BlueCappro.com, and the final Probe shot is a press photo. The two STIV shots are screenshots from the movie, so photo credit probably needs to go to Paramount.
Today's subject is not quite one of those cars. Today we are going to forgo our usual emphasis on speed, power, styling, passion, and all that and examine a car designed and built to be basic transportation with the accent (pun intended) on the "basic."
In other words, we're test driving a 2009 Hyundai Accent.
Besides giving us an excuse to go driving on a pleasant summer day, putting this little Hyundai through its paces presents us with a challenging series of philosophical questions: Does an inexpensive car also have to be a "cheap" and "chintzy" one? When a car's design is stripped down to the essentials, can it still be an object of Car Lust? What does our reaction to this most basic of rides tell us about ourselves? And, finally, can this paragraph possibly get any more pretentious?
The current-generation Accent is built on a 98.4-inch wheelbase FWD platform shared with the Kia Rio, and weighs in around 2,500 pounds. The engine is a fuel-injected 1,599cc inline four which produces 110 horsepower at 6,000 RPM. Though it occupies the bottom slot in Hyundai's product line, the Accent nevertheless has six airbags and ABS.
Our test subject is a base-level ("GS") three-door version with a five-speed, hand-cranked windows, no AC, and no stereo--and a four-digit MSRP. It's painted a fetching shade called "Tango Red" which, combined with its roundish profile, kind of makes it look like an Easter Egg on wheels. The styling could be described as "generic" if you're feeling grumpy, or "cute" if you're in a better mood. Either way, the design is executed with taste and restraint and there's a certain basic rightness to the proportions. It may not turn heads, but it doesn't hurt your retinas either.
Inside are decent front bucket seats covered in dark gray cloth. The dash and door panels are rendered in a matching plastic that looks better than it feels. The rear seat is surprisingly roomy--your humble narrator, a husky lad of six feet in height, fits comfortably--and back-row access is assisted by a passenger seat that automatically shifts forward as the seatback folds up.
The ergonomics of the driver's position are excellent. I had no trouble getting my large self comfortable behind the no-tilt steering wheel. While it lacks the full array of electronic and electromechanical gadgets (such as remote power mirrors) found in cars with five-digit price tags, the Accent's controls are arranged conveniently, and the gauges are easy to read. There's even a dead rest pedal for your left foot.
Fit and finish, inside and out, are superb. The car feels solid and tight. Hyundai justifiably makes a big deal about its 100,000-mile powertrain warranty, and the Accent certainly gives the impression that it will last well beyond that point.
The driving dynamics are pretty good for what the Accent is. Remember, we're talking here about an entry-level car optimized for cost efficiency--that is, low sticker price and high mileage--and not for performance or entertainment value. It won't corner like a CRX or accelerate like a V-8 muscle car, but then again it was never meant to. Still, the clutch and shifter are better than you'd expect at this price point, and while the brakes (front disc, rear drum) certainly lack the raw stopping power of four-caliper Brembos, they're adequate to the task at hand. The steering--power-assisted, believe it or not!--is precise and responsive, with good-but-not-great road feel, and there's no noticeable torque steer.
The springs are a bit on the soft side. This gives the Accent a surprisingly smooth ride over rough pavement, but you pay for that with a fair bit of body roll in hard-ish cornering. It's certainly not anyone's first choice for championship autocrossing, but fling it down a twisty back road, and the Accent comports itself well as long as you respect its limitations.
The only element of the driving dynamics that I can really criticize is the lack of acceleration, though it's not so much a flaw as it is a thing to be worked around. The horsepower-to-weight ratio is respectable, but the motor--which gives off a happy sound like an enthusiastic sewing machine when you open the throttle--has weak bottom-end pull. Maximum torque is only 106 foot-pounds at 4,000 RPM, and I suspect the torque curve is rather sharply peaked. The owner's manual recommends shifting "for optimum performance and economy" in a manner that keeps the engine between 2,000 and 3,000--well below maximum torque. Drive it by the book, and there's not a lot of get-up-and-go. If you're merging into freeway traffic or trying to pass on a two-lane road, you really need to downshift and get the sewing machine spinning over four grand. (Even then, you're no threat to the Camaros at the local dragstrip.) Anything Hyundai could do to beef up the lower part of the torque curve would be helpful.
The upside to this is fuel economy, which is commendable. The EPA rates the Accent at 27 MPG city and 33 highway. From my own (admittedly limited) observation, that's probably an understatement. I suspect you could blast around all day in full drive-it-like-you-stole-it mode and still not push the Accent's fuel consumption down much below 30 MPG.
So, though it's solid and competent, is this a car you could fall in love with? "Love" is perhaps too strong a word, but it's sure likable enough. What it might lack in excitement it makes up for with a pleasant demeanor and understated air of confidence. It won't tear up the roads like a GTI--but on the other hand, it costs about a third of what a GTI does, and beats the GTI by a few MPGs in fuel economy. You could do a lot worse.
The politicians and pundits are promising us that Chrysler and GM are going to be brought back from their present sorry state by producing smaller, fuel-efficient "little green cars." I don't know enough about business or economics or politics to say if that's likely or even possible, but I do think I can be certain of one thing: whoever may be tasked with designing one of those "little green cars" would be well-served to start by taking a good look at a Hyundai Accent GS. It could be your prototype.
We all like to drive ... that's why we read this blog! But hey, what if we were to take the back seat for a while? Take some time off, let somebody else deal with the traffic. When that day comes for me, whether by choice or necessity, this is what I'd like to be driven around in.
Actually, this particular car was the "Nixon-mobile." This 1969 model is my favorite for one particular reason: It's the only 1960s Lincoln Continental that has a stand-up grille, rather than a horizontal one.
OK, keep the fender flags and decals, maybe tone down the sunroofs and opera windows a bit, but this car is about as close to passenger Nirvana as I can imagine. Sit back, kick your feet up, close the window separating you from "up there," and take it easy ... you have left the driving to someone else.
The Lincoln Continental's body lines were stately in their own right, but the center addition only made them more pronounced. The car looks as if it was designed for the extension which, surprisingly, it was not.
Until these cars were built, most "factory" limousines got their extra length by adding space behind the rear doors. Cadillac (at least until 1986) and Packard secretly saved extensive stamping costs by simply using the rear quarter panels from their 2-door models, such as the Coupe deVille. Even Chrysler, in 1984, stretched its little K-Car into a limo, the Chrysler Executive, with this method. In 1959 and 1960, Lincoln offered a limousine, but it was not lengthened at all. Stretching the center of the car was a revolution that almost every limousine uses today.
In 1962, when wealthy George Lehmann was 23, he wanted a custom limousine made for his mother. By chance, he met auto craftsman Robert Peterson, who said, "no problem, 12 days." The result became a partnership that would last until 1970 and produce between 500 and 600 cars. That's Mr. Lehmann on the left, Mr. Peterson on the right, on the South Lawn of The White House.
So, in 1963, Lehmann-Peterson, Inc. was born. At first, Ford did not think the Lincoln's unibody structure would survive the modification. But after 40,000 miles of harsh tests, the limousine conversion turned out to actually be a much stronger car than what it was based on. The nod was given, and Lehmann-Peterson began building limousines to be sold and warranted by Ford.
I recently saw a 1969 Lincoln Continental 4-door for sale, advertised at $7,500. But that's not good enough. These limousines evoke a feeling that not only are you physically at your destination, that you have arrived. In style.
The Lehmann-Peterson limousines are not to be confused with President John F. Kennedy's parade car, the X-100. This $200,000 "Midnight Blue" Lincoln was a 1961 model, owned by Ford Motor Company and leased to the government for $500 a year. It was built by Hess and Eisenhardt and had a clear plastic "bubble top" for bad weather. The car was built for comfort, not security.
The X-100 was damaged on Nov. 22, 1963, in Dallas. Its windshield was cracked, some moldings were dented, and the interior was ruined.
So it was shipped back to Hess & Eisenhardt for repair and new modifications. A permanent roof was attached, metal armor and bullet-proof glass were installed, and the car was painted black. It was put back into service and used into the Nixon years. Presently, it is on display at The Henry Ford (museum) in Dearborn, Mich.
Inside the Lehmann-Peterson limousines, space was plentiful. I would need a tape measure to prove this, but perhaps a Smart Car would fit inside these limos, between the dash and rear seat, if the roof was removed.
The builders faced two jump seats toward the rear seat and placed a cabinet between them, creating a "conversation" atmosphere. This would also allow the installation of a television, soda/drink fountain, stereo hi-fi entertainment system, maybe even an 8-track tape player if you so desired (this was the 1960s after all).
Other luxury options included a telephone, footrests for all passengers, a manual or electric sliding glass divider behind the driver's seat, a two-inch roof height addition, blacked-out glass, and separate front and rear air conditioning systems. An umbrella for the passengers, located under the front seat within easy reach of the chauffeur, was standard equipment.
These were some of the advertised options. If a buyer wanted anything "custom" done, the sky was the limit. Literally.
In addition to American Presidents, notable Lehmann-Peterson customers included the Pope, Jackie Gleason, Hugh Hefner, Spencer Tracy, The Supremes, The Rolling Stones, Sophia Loren, Jerry Lewis, actor Ronald Reagan, Aristotle Onassis, and this guy to the right.
The Papal version was built in an unbelievably quick six days. It featured an elevated seat and lighting for the Pontiff, a cutaway roof with a "flying bridge" windshield, illuminated flag mounts for the fenders, a public address system, and oversized, retractable running boards on the sides and rear for security personnel. This car was made from an earlier limousine that had been used for testing, and would have never been offered for sale.
Elvis' manager, "Colonel" Tom Parker, gave The King this car pictured to the right. The story goes that he gave himself one as well.
This three-foot stretch is mild by present standards, but that's alright with me. Today's extremely long-stretch, dachshund-like limousines have more of a "Rent Me" or "Take Me To The Prom" look than the elegant, reserved, and tasteful proportions of these cars. "Top Gear"did a take on these superstretches, and their result was, as usual, "most proper and fitting."
When the Lincoln Continental was redesigned for 1970, it lost the trademark aft rear-hinged doors, and its conversion to a limousine was "ungainly," to be kind. Only one was made by Lehmann-Peterson. At the same time, the company stopped building cars for unspecified reasons, but the most likely one was that new federal safety standards were in place. Since the limousines weren't built under Ford Motor Company's roof, Ford became concerned about liability. Lehmann-Peterson dissolved in 1970, another company used their name for a while, and they were featured briefly on The History Channel.
Maybe some day I'll find one of these cars. I don't mind doing an interior refurbishing, if necessary. And the 1969 grille will adapt to some earlier cars; no law says a 1967 Lincoln has to look like a 1967 Lincoln. Make mine black, please. I won't be traveling as a head of state or as the leader of a religion, but I hope to be in at least better style than these fine folks.
It's Wednesday, and it's sunny outside, mild and pleasant. Let's go to the cruise-in at the Dairy Queen tonight after supper for a little ice cream with our gasoline.
It really wouldn't be a cruise-in without a few "traditional"-style hot rods.
I'm not sure what the deal is with the giant plastic insects on the grille. The owner of the '37 Ford said it was his grandson's idea--but the flame-jobbed panel truck had one too. Mere coincidence, or are grille bugs the new fuzzy dice?
I remember this '59 Belvedere from last summer. It used to be black. The new color really suits it.
Fifty years old, and it still looks like the car of the future.
This '62 Bel-Air with a 409 is another frequent visitor.
One thing that always impresses me is how clean the engine bays are in many of these cars.
Amid all the high-output high-testosterone iron, there's this soft-sprung, lumbering, mid-70s land barge. Clean, pristine, lovingly-restored, with "classic" disco-era vinyl roof and interior. It's probably in better shape than the day it left the factory--all the screws are tight and the panels all line up properly!
Why put so much effort into restoring a car like this? It's gotta be the love.
That's what cruise-in night is really all about. The irrational emotion we feel for our rides, and the friendships and fellowships we develop when we share that affection with others.
