Our Cars--1991 Chevrolet Caprice Classic

by Chris Hafner on September 04, 2009

In our Cash For Clunkers open thread a few weeks ago, I made the point that the decimation of older cars is a profoundly sad thing--that these oft-overlooked cars are precious, non-renewable resources. I went further by making the observation that, for instance, Chevrolet isn't producing any more 1991 Chevy Caprice Classics and every example destroyed is an inexorable step towards a world in which we have none left.

One commenter responded to this deeply profound wisdom with the comment, "GM isn't making any more terrible 1991 Caprices? Hallelujah!"

Hold on, now. Sure, the 1991 Caprice inspires a vague sense of nausea in most people, but I love it. This generation of Caprice is the last direct descendant of the great massive rear-wheel-drive Impalas and Caprices that proudly owned the American road in the second half of the 20th century. It's the kind of huge, comfortable, relaxed cruiser that used to be right in Detroit's wheelhouse but that has been completely out of vogue for the last 20 years as the world has focused on overstyled trucks, small economy cars, and the today's omnipresent, hyper-aggressive sports sedans.

These Caprices became somewhat famous because in 1994 it could be ordered with the LT1 high-performance V-8 in standard, wagon, Impala SS, and police/taxi trim. The resulting high-performance monstrosity is a lust-worthy beast--I spend way too much time browsing listings for thrashed high-mileage ex-police LT1 Caprices--but this post is meant to commemorate the sedate plain-Jane sedan that I knew and loved in my adolescence.

I was fortunate enough to live in the same household as a '91 Caprice; I still remember celebrating when, after a decade-long string of execrable Oldsmobile Cutlass Cieras, my Dad finally scored a Caprice company car. I remember watching in awe as he (seemingly in need a few tug boats) slowly navigated the leviathan into our garage. Impossibly shiny, painted in sinister jet black and with just a few splashes of chrome, it looked mean. Or, at least, about as mean as a car with skinny tires, a freakishly long rear overhang, and rear-wheel skirts can look. I'll admit that now it looks a little gawky, but at the time it was smooth.

Actually, I'll go a little farther than gawky. To today's eyes, the styling looks a little ... well, perhaps deformed, like a model car slightly melted by a mischevious boy with a Bic lighter. When I first saw the '91 Caprice, I predicted it would revolutionize large-car styling in the same way the Ford Taurus did, which turned out to be a hilariously awful prediction. The automotive world reacted to the Caprice's styling with bemused disinterest and went about its business in the 1990s making ovoid cars that were significantly more anonymous.

I'm not sure what to make of the Caprice's rear wheel skirts--they're either a cool quirk or a bizarrely baroque affectation. Chevrolet thought better of them, dropping them from the sedan after only two years of production. My dad, forced during the winter months to thread tire chains under the skirts, was not particularly amused by them.

An unkind friend of my father's dubbed our car "The Meatloaf," a nickname that I found offensive at the time but strangely applicable now. Like a meatloaf, the Caprice was supremely satisfying but not exotic--it was pure automotive comfort food. Big, smooth, and soft, motivated by a big slow-turning V-8, the Caprice was like nothing so much as a motorized Barcalounger, made to inhale long stretches of American interstate at an effortless 80 mph. Performance? Not really. Handling? No thank you. The Caprice knew its role, and it performed it proudly.

I loved it dearly, and I miss it still. The car only stuck with us for a year, soon to be replaced in its company car duties by a succession of Ford Explorers, but I loved it dearly and I miss it still. I even still have the introductory cassette tape that came with the car.

The top photo looks like an original press photo, but I found it on KitFoster.com; the second photo is from a recent classified ad here in the greater Seattle area.

read more “Our Cars--1991 Chevrolet Caprice Classic”

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier--Nissan Frontier

by That Car Guy on September 01, 2009

"Space... The Final Frontier..."

Those words opened the original "Star Trek" and "Star Trek: The Next Generation" TV shows, and also closed my favorite Star Trek movie, "Star Trek II: The Wrath Of Khan." Whether spoken by James T. Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard, or Mr. Spock, they have an almost ethereal quality of their own.

Released on June 9, 1989, "Star Trek V: The Final Frontier" was supposed to be the last film featuring the original cast, but fans' reaction to the production left quite a bit to be desired. If I may be so bold, it even left a black hole in many hearts.

I remember a late-night TV joke that the next movie should be called "Star Trek VI: The Apology". But STV:TFF is really a quite logical story, once the plot line is better understood. The movie was directed and co-written by that man with a life, William Shatner (note from Chris: that link is well worth checking out, though it might strike a little close to home here at Car Lust HQ. The full skit is here).

"Star Trek V: The Final Frontier" may be the least-liked film of the series, possibly because the audience did not mind-meld the connection between our friends on the USS Enterprise and what was happening down here on earth in the late 1980s when the script was written. At the time, televangelists were falling from grace faster than a lazy, fat, drunk lady of the evening playing a stolen slot machine. A few even went to jail.

To parallel their plight, STV:TFF presented a fictional futuristic prophet whose message was also a bit far from the truth. Captain Kirk summed it up when he asked the "Almighty,", "What does God need with a starship?" Or, for that matter, what does He need with a pickup truck?

"I know this ship like the back of my hand."

Certainly not a starship, the 2009 Nissan Frontier has no transporter, photon torpedoes, or invisible energy shields. But it does have two available engines: a 4-cylinder with 152 horsepower, or a V-6 with 261. Sorry, neither will get you up to warp speed, you'll just have to settle for one-quarter impulse power.

All Frontiers sold in America are made at the Nissan plant in Smyrna, Tenn., where I used to work. To my chagrin, production started on the truck after I left, so I never saw one coming down the line. The first-generation Frontiers were known to be very carlike, but the present truck is much more brutish. It has also grown into a mid-sized pickup, sharing the Nissan F-Alpha truck platform and many body components with the Nissan Pathfinder, also built in Smyrna.

"I don't want my pain taken away, I need my pain!"

The first modern four-door pickup I ever sat in was a Frontier in 2000, before the Super Crew and Sport Trac were introduced. But I was disappointed then, and now, that the rear doors on the Frontier are really just ¾-doors, not quite the width of the front doors. To me, they look a bit truncated ... abbreviated ... even narrow. A Horta could never pass through these portals. I was hoping that this would have changed on the second generation, but it did not. Nissan has a few styling quirks, like the oddly-mounted outside rear door handles on the Pathfinder, that make their way from body style to body style. I guess this is one of them.

In STV:TFF, Mr. Spock surprised us with a half-brother, Sybok, brilliantly played by Laurence Luckinbill, who just happens to be married to Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball's daughter, Lucy Arnaz. Desi & Lucy owned Desilu, where the original Star Trek TV series was filmed.

I have read that the "God Planet" name "Sha Ka Ree" was an abbreviated pronunciation of Sean Connery, the first pick for Sybok's pointed ears. But he had been contracted to film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and was not available to play the Vulcan.

Just like Spock, the Nissan Frontier has a half-brother, the Suzuki Equator. Both are built on the same assembly line in Smyrna, share the same backbone, heart, and DNA, yet differ somewhat by facial and body features. The Suzuki version, like the Frontier, comes as either an extended cab or crew cab model. These days, regular cab pickups seem to be dying faster than an Enterprise away team member wearing a red shirt.

"Maybe God is not out there, maybe He is in here... the human heart."

STV:TFF may not be us Trekkers' favorite Star Trek movie, but I'll never forget the campfire scene where Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy, sipping on some 23rd Century black-labeled Tennessee whiskey, sings "Row, row, row your boat." Captain Kirk also joins in, reminding us again why he is a ♫Rocket Man♫ and not a singer. The group also asks why, after all the time they spend together in outer space, do they stick together while on vacation, and why don't they have families. Later, Kirk replies that they are a family.

Pavel Chekov and Hikaru Sulu were also off in the woods together, perhaps spending some quality "family time" of their own, and got lost. I still wonder how they could communicate with Uhura via radio, but could not be tracked. Was there not/will there not be some form of GPS in the 23rd century? Mr. Scott should take a look at those communicators!

Someday, Nissan will replace the Frontier with another truck. When the last one rolls off the line, I hope the folks in Smyrna will set their phasers on "Fun" and have a party, banner, and pass out T-shirts to celebrate its success and retirement. Maybe the theme of the day will be to honor "The Final (Nissan) Frontier."

--That Car Guy (Chuck)

The Sybok image is from StarTrek.com. All other photos in this post are from Wikipedia. Some information is from "Star Trek Movie Memories" by William Shatner.

At separate times, I met Walter Koenig ("Chekov") and James Doohan ("Scotty") right after this film was released. May both our favorite Star Fleet Engineer (Doohan) and Doctor (DeForest Kelley) rest in peace.

read more “Star Trek V: The Final Frontier--Nissan Frontier”

Our Cars--Volkswagen GTI Mk. V

by Cookie the Dog's Owner on August 31, 2009

It's a quarter after seven on a late August morning. There's a light fog with the promise of a sunny day later. Tom Petty's "Refugee" is playing on the car stereo, and all is right with the world.

I brake the GTI to a stop at the intersection. There's no traffic coming from the left, and nothing but open two-lane road to the right.

Let's turn it loose.

Ease off the clutch, make the turn, and then hammer the gas pedal.

Yeah, but, it don't really matter to me, baby . . .

The turbo sings high harmony to the race-car melody coming from under the hood. We're up over five grand on the tach almost before I know it; clutch in, second gear.

Everybody has to fight to be free . . .

Up to third gear now.

You see you don't! Have!

Fourth gear. Yee-haw!

To live like a refugee!

At this point I'm howling along at a speed that's a bit north of prudent for this road, and there's some traffic ahead. Best exercise some restraint. Put it in sixth, back off the throttle, and let the speed bleed off.

(Don't have to live like a refugee)

Do I like my GTI? Oh, yeah. I like it. A lot.

As I've written in these pages before, my first true automotive love was my 1985 Honda Civic CRX. For most of my adult life, I've been trying to find a car that has a similar combination of efficiency, driving dynamics, solidity, personality, and just plain rightness--and maybe a few more horsepower. In the late summer of 2007, at the end of a complicated four-month cross-shop, I found a car that fit the bill--a GTI Mk. V. This was slightly ironic because back in the day I had originally wanted a GTI Mk. I, but just barely couldn't afford it.

The Mk. V GTI, introduced in the U.S. in the 2006 model year, is the hotted-up version of the fifth-generation Golf/Rabbit hatchback. It looks as if someone took the previous generation Golf (itself an evolution of Giorgetto Giugiaro's Mk. I) and ran it through the wind tunnel a few times. The basic Rabbit-y shape and styling cues are there, but everything is rounded off and raked back in the interests of cutting the drag coefficient. I like my cars a little more creased and folded, so the new shape took a bit of getting used to. The one major flaw I see in the styling is the blackout treatment of the bumper between the headlights, which combines with the black honeycomb grille to give it an Audiesque schnozz that really doesn't go with the rest of the car. (The new GTI Mk. VI has a redesigned front end that corrects this flub.) At some point, I may have the center of the bumper repainted gray to match the body.

Inside is a very spacious cabin rendered in super-dark near-black plastic, with brushed aluminum trim inserts. The cloth seats are upholstered in a plaid pattern lifted straight out of the Mk. I GTI. The seats themselves are comfortable and well-bolstered. Your humble narrator can fit his large self as comfortably in the back as in the front, and the trunk holds more than you'd expect. Fold the rear seat down, and the cargo capacity is prodigious. The build quality is excellent, and the car feels indestructably solid.

The layout of the driver's position is superb. The steering wheel has little bulges that make perfect handgrips, located at the classic "10-2 position" they taught you in driving school. The shifter, stereo, and other controls are conveniently located. The instrument panel is one of the nicest I've ever seen. It lacks a boost gauge, but makes up for it with a clever multifunction computer screen which displays instantaneous and average MPG readouts and a whole bunch of other data I've never accessed, warns you when you're running out of gas or window fluid or have low air in the tires, and even reminds you when it's time for scheduled maintenance. The only ergonomic complaint I have is that the wiper controls are a little quirky--you have to turn off the rear wiper in order to use the washer in the front.

The GTI is powered by a 1,984cc turbocharged, dual overhead cam, direct-injection four-cylinder engine. This engine produces 200 horsepower at 5,100-6,000 RPM, and 207 pounds of torque at 1,800-5,000 RPM. That nice wide power band means that the GTI has good pickup. Even when loping along in top gear, you've got maximum or near-maximum torque available at the flick of your right ankle. If there's any turbo lag, or any hesitation in the drive-by-wire throttle system, my senses aren't good enough to detect it.

My GTI has a six-speed transmission. The reviewers all say that the optional Direkt-Schalt-Getriebe twin-clutch automatic is the greatest thing in drivetrains since sliced bread, but I got the six-speed because (1) I wanted a traditional stick shift in the family for my sons to learn to drive on, (2) the DSG was another $1,200 or so that I didn't feel like spending, and (3) I like shifting my own gears. The manual tranny is a joy, with a smooth clutch that's easy for beginners to learn on. I do think six speeds is overengineering it a bit, though. Five would have been enough. I really haven't found much use for fifth gear apart from hypermiling in residential subdivisions. (25 MPH in fifth is about 1,200 RPM, good for 40-50 MPG on a flat road. Eat my dust, Prius!)

For those interested in acceleration--aren't we all?--VW claims a 0-60 time of 7.2 seconds for a GTI with this powertrain. The test results published in the buff books ranged from 6.1 to 6.5 seconds. Mid-sixes seems about right. There's more than enough power for freeway merges and other affairs of normal driving, and there's plenty in reserve for when you want to make your passengers go "Ooooh!" or embarrass the poseur Trans Am in the next lane.

When it comes time to reverse the process and bring the GTI to a stop, you have at your disposal the best brakes I've ever experienced. Press down on the pedal and the big red calipers stand athwart the laws of physics, commanding "Stop!" In car magazine road tests, the 70-0 braking distance is somewhere around 160 feet, which is darned impressive.

The steering is precise, with plenty of road feel--I didn't realize until I read the owner's manual that it's got power assist!--and there's no noticeable torque steer under acceleration. Lateral grip is somewhere around 0.85g, depending on which magazine did the testing. The stiff suspension means that you are aware of every bump, crack, and expansion joint in the pavement. It's not a rough ride, but not a soft one either--but this is a small price to pay for the GTI's driving dynamics.

Take the GTI down a squiggly back road, and it's a blast. The car is extremely agile and responsive for its 3,200 pounds. It stays flat in the corners and goes where you point it, and there's plenty of power for accelerating out of each bend. Various electronic stability nannies are watching over you, but they are unobtrusive in their ministrations. You just zip along the straights and toss it into the curves and sing along with "Refugee" or "Radar Love" at the top of your lungs and wonder why other cars can't do what this one does. You are further tempted toward hoonery by the GTI's personality, which is half uber-competent German engineer and half mischievous teen-rebel leprechaun. The GTI wants to play, and it can handle anything you throw at it.

I should say something about fuel economy. The EPA rates it at 21 MPG city, 29 highway, and 24 combined. I was trading in a Mercury Grand Marquis, and since the Mercury barely broke 20 MPG downhill with a tail wind, that would have been good enough for me. In actual daily use, I get between 28 and 29 MPG--even though a GTI is not designed with fuel efficiency as its primary objective and I'm not "driving green" by any means. According to the trip-average function on the car's computer, we got 33 MPG coming home from South Bend, a four-hour freeway run mostly in sixth gear at the speed of surrounding traffic. Had I cut my speed down by five or ten miles an hour and made a conscious effort to hypermile, I could have pushed that number higher. The GTI is so darned efficient that even if I were to drive around trying deliberately to make my carbon footprint as large as possible--mashing the gas pedal hard, upshifting late, laughing at speed limits, cackling "Die, polar bears! Die!" as I do my part for global warming--I would still get 25 MPG!

I know VW's reputation for fanatical German quality has been a bit tarnished in recent years, but so far my GTI has not let me down. I'm approaching the 50,000-mile scheduled maintenance as of this writing, and have had no mechanical failures. Zero, zip, nada, none. Two years after taking delivery, the car is still as tight and rattle-free as the day it left Wolfsburg.

Volkswagen had two series of commercials for the Mk. V GTI. The first encouraged you to "Make friends with your Fast," where the "Fast" is a small gremlin-like creature meant to symbolize your desire to drive the GTI flat-out.

VW even went so far with the gag as to mail me my very own Fast, identical to the one in the commercials, within a couple of weeks after I bought the GTI. The Fast came with a separate owners' manual, which is an absolute hoot to read.

The second series of commercials combined hip-hop style and German-engineered nerdness:

There seems to be an unwritten rule that GTI Mk. V owners have to wave to each other. I first noticed all the friendly waves I was getting about two or three weeks after I got the car. I'm not sure what it means, but I think it's an indication of just how happy a GTI can make you.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy a little quality time with my Fast...and my dog.

read more “Our Cars--Volkswagen GTI Mk. V”

Our Cars--"Auto-Biography" of a Hotrodder

by Cookie the Dog's Owner on August 31, 2009

Submitted by Iowahawk for Our Cars Week

When Car Lust asked readers for personal stories about "that" car, it was difficult for me to narrow it down. Truth is, I have an emotional attachment to every car I've owned. Even cars I haven't owned. At eight I cried when my dad sold the old Chevy 3100 farm truck that my grandpa bought new in '51. Even cars that weren't really cars. My childhood Sears go kart, Honda Trail Z50 and Honda SL125 occupy every bit an honored place in mymemory as any of my cars, and I still get a rush whenever I see one.

But on to the cars: First was this '69 Chevelle, which I bought at 14 with hay baling money and windfall 4-H pig profits. By the time I had a valid drivers license I had added air shocks, headers, a Holley 4bbl carburetor, the fat Mickey M60s on Cragar S/S wheels. With a wheezy 307 and Powerglide it was easy pickings for the the big cube muscle cars that dominated the Dazed & Confused parking lot at my rural Iowa high school. But it was popular with the girls, and was the site of my first "meaningful experience."

Robert Williams once said that customs are for getting girls, and hot rods are for getting rid of them. Having lost one too many clandestine blacktop races with my chick magnet Chevelle, at 17 I swapped it for this '67 Pontiac LeMans. Contrary to the bland "326" fender badge, it sported a 421 SD TriPower and M21 from a '64 Catalina. It would have been the fastest car in my high school if not for my brother's '70 Chevelle SS 454 LS-5.

College beckoned, and with it more sensible cars to park in the dorm lots. Those include a weak smog-choker '73 Nova SS, a '71 VW Bug, and an '85 Mustang 5.0 whose payments necessitated a two year diet of mac and cheese dinners.

When Grandpa died in '88 he left me the last car he ever bought, a red '76 Malibu coupe with only 18k on the clock. With marriage, there came the requisite succession of rational appliance cars and minivans which my kids customized with spit-up and spilled Cheerios. But even when they were little I endeavored to keep a frivolous fun ride on the side. There was the '69 Karmann Ghia convertible I bought from the original owner. When my infant daughter had colic, 2 a.m. rides in that Karmann seemed to be the only thing that would calm her down. That was followed by a '65 Corvair Corsa convertible with the 180-horsepower turbo.

As the kids grew I returned to my first car love, hot rods. As far back as I can remember I have always been obsessed with rods and customs; building countless plastic model kits, collecting the magazines, worshipping at the altar of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth. It's a religion I inherited from my dad, a 50's hot rod greaser, and my grandpa, whose first car was a sporty Apperson Jackrabbit roadster. Some years back I bought this '59 Impala Sport Coupe from a Missouri acquaintance, which you can currently see cruising around the DFW Metroplex.

Later, these two: a '66 Buick Riviera lowrider and a steel '23 Model T roadster. The T was an early project of Orange County builder Rudy Rodriguez who has gone on to build a few cars for ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons. With a 300+ horsepower Chevy 350 and a curb weight of only 1,500 pounds, it is easily the scariest, white-knuckle-est car I've ever owned.

Hot rods and customs are the ultimate distillation of personal car taste, and each says something about its builder. In 2005 I finally had the chance to put my own ground-up imprimatur on a car. I located a rusty 1931 Ford Model A coupe in a barn in western Illinois. 20 months later, my pal Drew Didio and I finished it. The coupe is a homage to the custom street/show rod style of the early 60s, most notably Detroit's Alexander Brothers. At last count it contained pieces from 15 different cars, including a junkyard '59 Pontiac that contributed the 389 mill and dashboard.

But as every car fanatic knows, there is only one real basis for a hot rod: the 1932 Ford. The Duece. Bade by the gods, made flesh by Henry and Edsel. What Robert Johnson was to the Blues, the Deuce is to hotrod-dom. I recently had the chance to make good on a lifelong promise to myself and buy a steel Deuce 5-window body and frame. It's an old Chicago street racer from the 50s/60s, and Drew and I are currently resurrecting it with help from my 13-year-old gearhead son. The motor will be a blown '65 Corvette 327/365 hitched to an M21 4-speed. This will be the "keeper," the one I plan to drive to the Deuce Centennial in 2032.

I originally planned to be buried in it. But after my son's protests, I told him, "okay, you can keep it. Just lay a nasty burnout at the funeral."

Iowahawk, otherwise known as David Burge, writes political satire and essays on the glories of hot rods, lowriders, and other expressions of automotive art at http://iowahawk.typepad.com/.

read more “Our Cars--"Auto-Biography" of a Hotrodder”

Our Cars--1988 Mitsubishi Galant VR-4

by Chris Hafner on September 01, 2009

Submitted by Brettski for Our Cars Week

I just have to mention my Mitsubishi Galant VR-4. It was sold in the U.S. in small numbers (3,000 in 1991-92, I think) and in Japan and Austrialia (where I am) in a similarly restricted way. It was very much a sleeper car--I owned an original 1988 Japanese-delivered model that was imported into Australia.

Overall, it was such a fun car to drive--all-wheel-drive, a 2-litre turbo, and it was built to cruise in comfort. Various optional extras were had on some models--cruise control, climate control, sun roof. The Japanese-delivered model also had a larger intercooler, dual-runner intake manifold, and funky electric folding mirrors.

The AWD drive system wasn't particularly high-tech. Open diffs front and rear (unless you were lucky enough to get the RS model from Japan which had a limited-slip diff in the rear) and a viscous-coupled centre diff that normally provided a 50/50 front/rear split but would (under slip) deliver up to 70-percent drive to the rear. That made for lots of fun in the wet--four-wheel power slides are the bomb.

The other unusual thing about the car was that it had four-wheel steering. Over about 45 km/h (28 mph) the rear wheels would steer in the same direction as the front wheels but only by about 3 degrees. It was a love/hate thing--some people disabled it, some people didn't mind it. Personally, I don't think it helped the handling, but it didn't adversely affect it either. Given that the standard steering rack was 2.5 turns lock-to-lock it didn't really seem to matter.

Plus, it was practical. You could pack four people into it (five if you squeezed) and their luggage--cruise around for the weekend and when you put the right foot down, it would always respond, regardless of how much weight it was carrying. Overtaking on country roads was bliss.

Common mods were better wheels and tyres, bigger turbo and intercooler, better brakes, and better suspension.

I miss my VR-4; I always had a smile on my face getting out of it. It wasn't perfect, but it was just right.

I've enclosed a couple of photos--one of my car in a filthy state (got to use it on gravel roads, after all - right?) and one from a track day we had a while back before I sold it.

Enjoy, and have fun out there.

read more “Our Cars--1988 Mitsubishi Galant VR-4”

24 Hours of LeMons Recap--the Fiat X1/9 Perspective

by Chris Hafner on August 27, 2009

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.

read more “24 Hours of LeMons Recap--the Fiat X1/9 Perspective”

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home--Ford Probe

by Chris Hafner on August 28, 2009

We are going to attempt ... time travel.

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.

--Chris H.

read more “Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home--Ford Probe”

Test Drive--Hyundai Accent

by Cookie the Dog's Owner on August 11, 2009

Some cars are proudly possessed of the stuff of pistonhead passion: raging horsepower, legendary handling, avant garde design, opulent luxury, noble pedigree, and engaging or even quirky personality.

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.

read more “Test Drive--Hyundai Accent”

1969 Lincoln Continental Executive Limousine by Lehmann-Peterson

by That Car Guy on August 14, 2009

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.

These limos have been seen in many movies and TV shows, including "Thunderball," "Godfather III," "Green Acres," and "The Andy Griffith Show." There are also nice shots of the exclusive 1969 front-end in "The Jackson 5 Story", "Where The Buffalo Roam," and "Columbo." Watch the bloopers in "Thunderball" and "Green Acres" as the rear doors are opened with the windows up, then the windows disappear. Funny.

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.

read more “1969 Lincoln Continental Executive Limousine by Lehmann-Peterson”

Gasoline and Ice Cream

by Cookie the Dog's Owner on August 18, 2009

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.

Wonder what we'll see this week.

Probably will be a few "shoebox" Chevys.

How about Mustangs? Think we might see some Mustangs?

Oh, yeah, we've got plenty of Mustangs. A whole herd of pony cars.

Mopars? Got a few of those, too.

There seems to be a run on Chevy IIs and Chevelles tonight.

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?

What else do we have? Camaros, old-school...

...and new.

The inscription on the 2010's mirror really sets it off.

There's a Goat. Gotta have at least one Goat at a cruise-in.

We've also got a Trans-Am...

...and a 'Vette or three...

...and a few other odds and ends..

...and what might be called comic relief.

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.

Well, that and the ice cream.

read more “Gasoline and Ice Cream”