Loving the Whip

A 968 with one of its contemporaries.

Our perception of time is a strange thing, as it is so tremendously malleable. When, for example, I find myself at work, slogging through a night shift, every moment can seem interminable. When I finally get home, however, I look at my kids and am forced to wrangle with the mystery of how they’ve warp-sped to double-digit age, even as framed pictures of their infant selves still sit prominently on my bedroom shelf. Back at work, I get an email telling me to update some of my insignia to reflect my time in service, and part of me scoffs, because only old guys wear that insignia. Moments later, a 20-some year-old new kid asks me to talk to him a bit about saving and investing, reminding me that I am not the mountain-climber anymore—I really am the bearded fellow sitting at the top. And it occurs to me: that grizzled dude really only remains there because his knees and back are too bad to risk the journey back down.

Cars, though, can be a helpful way of marking time, can act as milestones in their own way. It’s certainly easy to remember how long you’ve owned something when you are reminded every month by the statement from the lender that arrives in the mailbox, of course, but the paid-off cars are a bit trickier. It helps to have a story that goes with the buying experience. So as I recently pondered on how long I have owned my 968, it helped to go back to its story. Turns out I wrote it back in August 2015, so the car has been with me nearly five years now.

In retrospect, driving a $7500 1992 Porsche 968 home over 750 miles was perhaps not the brightest idea. This wasn’t the world’s best-kept 968 – this was a 148,000+ mile (and the odometer was intermittent at best) example, with a questionably saggy suspension and a subpar repaint. But I’d wanted one since college, and this one met my requirements: six-speed manual, coupe.

I never owned a ‘project car’ before this one, and all five years in the story so far have been awfully educational. Leave the lights on one morning at work, killing the battery? Check. Burn my hand and blow the audio unit’s fuse by crossing up jumper cables (different electrical instance)? Check. Superglue a door mirror back on in a Wal-Mart parking lot during an interstate drive? Check. Have the starter die on me in the work parking lot (not the usual work parking lot, the work parking lot in another state), necessitating a tow to the nearest dealership? Check. Disconnect and detach the rear wiper mechanism, leaving a hole in the rear glass that needed to be plugged with a wine bottle cork until the proper metal plug arrived in the mail? Check. Drive to Porsche Parade in Missouri, only to get “Caution – Brake Fluid Low” two days before the autocross? Check (got it fixed in time to clear tech and place first—in a class of one—at the autocross). Be told by a dealer that the new Koni struts I’d bought to replace the worn-out originals were not sized correctly and immediately reply with a Koni-official YouTube video showing how to cut the struts to size? Check. Knock the windshield-mounted rearview mirror off? Check. Twice.

So this old 968 has taught me quite a bit, about both itself and myself. It was much like a child, in that it could be incredibly frustrating in one moment and then utterly endearing the next. And now, in this bleak, graduation-party-less COVID-19 spring and early summer of 2020, the car approaches something of a graduation of its own. The engine mounts, the balance shaft, the struts and suspension, the power steering, the battery, the timing belt and water pump, the fuse in the radio, the rearview mirror – it’s all fixed. Soon, a Billy Boat exhaust will arrive, and during installation, the transaxle mounts will be refreshed as well. When these steps are complete, the car that used to stagger at idle, sag around corners, stutter on throttle application, and whiff of exhaust at WOT will instead respectively hum, slice, pounce, and sing.

A couple weeks back, I rolled through a fast-food drive-thru with the kids in the rear seats and the music playing. The girl at the window, who could not have been born with the 968 was new, gave the boys some extra branded swag and said with a smile, “Loving the whip!”

Yeah. Me too.

“A-to-B Middlepersons”

“…personally cars are point a to b middlepersons…’Ohh that’s a ‘76 nestle convertible with a chrome cylinder piston doohickey? Interesting. And the tires still go in the same spots right?'”

This is a direct quote from a non-car-person friend of mine, effectively turning down an invitation to join me at the NY Auto Show in April. I love this guy, and we’ll hang out on a different day, but as a car person, of course a statement like this rattles me to my core. Aside from the natural “why don’t you like what I like” knee-jerk reaction, on an intellectual level I truly believe that somewhere in the world and all its history, there is a car that can connect with and bring out a sense of wonder in every individual. Cars are as varied and interesting as humans are, because cars spring from humans’ wildly messy and unpredictable organic minds.

It can be something rare and striking and beautiful and fast like an Alfa Romeo Tipo 33 Stradale, or something slow and square and utilitarian and simple like a first-generation Defender or Bronco.  It can be old and quirky, like a steam-powered Stanley, or new and comparatively mainstream, like a Mercedes E400 coupe. Speaking of Mercedes, there’s timeless simple beauty in something like a W113 “Pagoda” SL. Alternatively, there are cars strikingly and singularly of-their-era like a DeLorean.There are cars seemingly hewn from granite (like a Toyota Land Cruiser), and there are cars designed to only just complete their race and not turn a single extra lap (like a Lotus).  There are the newest, most contemporary, tech-laden cars like a Porsche Taycan or 918, and there are enduring, unchanging, but just-as-great classics like a Porsche 911 or Ford Mustang. There are cheap and cheerful, unexpectedly delightful cars like a first-generation VW GTI or an original Mini or a Mazda2, and there are drippingly extravagant cars bathed in absurd excess like a Bentley Mulsanne or a Bugatti Chiron. There are road cars, off-road cars, race cars, off-road race cars, gasoline-powered cars, diesel cars, compressed-natural-gas cars, hydrogen fuel-cell cars, hybrid cars, electric cars, coupes, sedans, trucks, crossovers, SUVs, 4x4s, 6x6s, and trikes…and then there’s whatever the BMW X6 is.

If the car universe isn’t interesting to you, that’s because you haven’t delved deeply enough into its wonders. And that, as they say, is a “you” problem.

Hyundai, Year 33

It is past time to discuss Hyundai. The Korean conglomerate has been making cars for the US market since 1986, but the upcoming third-of-a-century mark is going to be an era to remember.

The first stories that caught my attention came about in late August, when the usual outlets got their hands on the newly redesigned 2019 Santa Fe. I’m fairly sure I remember my sister owning a mid-2000’s Santa Fe at some point, and I think I rode in it once. It’s all fairly foggy and forgettable, and honestly, I was not even sure, based on that experience (or lack thereof) why I was even bothering to read about this particular redesign.

But then I looked at the exterior—and hey, that’s crisp! The interior shots looked solid, too, with the obligatory infotainment screen looking very neat and Honda Accord-like in its role as the centerpiece of a pleasingly styled cockpit. The real kicker, though, was that kudos about the Santa Fe’s all-wheel-drive system kept managing to crop up in various reviews. “AWD coupling, controlled braking, and some nifty torque vectoring voodoo…the Santa Fe is a hoot to drive and impressive for a small SUV,” said Automobile.[i] “There’s no doubt the Santa Fe can handle far more than any realistic owner would throw at it…the Santa Fe showed its SUV guise is more than just an act,” wrote thedrive.com, going on to call the Santa Fe a “strong contender in a crowded segment.”[ii]

The 2019 Santa Fe.

Color my curiosity piqued. And then, around the same time, or perhaps shortly later, there came a flood of reviews featuring the 2019 Hyundai Veloster N. The top-end trim of the newly-redesigned oddball 3-door Veloster, the N (with optional Performance package) sports a turbocharged 2.0-liter inline-four belting out 275 hp (at 6000 rpm) and 260 lb-ft (at 1450 rpm). It comes only with a six-speed manual transmission, 235-width 19-inch Pirelli P Zero PZ4s (specially made for the Veloster N Performance), vented discs front and rear, adaptive dampers, and an electronically controlled limited-slip diff. All for a mere thirty or so thousand dollars!

“The N’s punchy turbo four responds quickly and pulls strongly…and it sounds sexy doing it,” opined Car & Driver. “One of the best-sounding four-cylinder engine notes this side of a vintage Alfa,” C&D continued, adding that the N “wraps its substantial performance in an engagingly aggressive persona that never wears thin.”[iii] In a separate comparison test against the much-ballyhooed Honda Civic Type R, the N acquitted itself well in its second-place finish, especially when considering the two burdens the Civic places on its owner: eye-searing visual brashness and ten thousand additional dollars in price.

The 2019 Veloster N.

Further underscoring these strong statements of approval was the news that Bryan Herta Autosport would campaign a Veloster N TCR in the 2019 IMSA Michelin Pilot Challenge Series.[iv] Bryan Herta is not someone whose opinions in the matters of fast cars should be taken lightly—among his countless other motorsport successes, his team secured Team and Manufacturer Championships in the series last year whilst campaigning the Hyundai i30 N TCR.

Finally, at the Los Angeles Auto Show (ongoing as I write this), Hyundai delivered the final phase of its plans for world domination: the Palisade.  A full-size, three-row, eight passenger SUV—the aspirational vehicle for so many Americans—that somehow manages to look quite shapely given its bulk.[v]

The 2020 Palisade.

And to think, I have not even mentioned the 250-plus mile range of the 2019 Kona EV.[vi] Or the fact that the 2019 Nexo Fuel Cell vehicle will be sold, not leased, to customers.[vii] Or the captivating lines of the Santa Cruz small-pickup concept, recently green-lighted for production.[viii] Nor have I breathed a word about the entire Genesis luxury brand, parts of which seem to have already overcome competitors who have been in the luxury arena for much, much longer.[ix] If you’ve long dismissed Hyundai’s passenger vehicle offerings, you might want to consider stopping by your local showroom soon. Year 33 looks like a promising one.

2019 Genesis G70. (Courtesy Autotrader Canada)

[i] https://www.automobilemag.com/news/first-drive-2019-hyundai-santa-fe-ultimate-2-0t-awd/

[ii] http://www.thedrive.com/new-cars/23169/2019-hyundai-santa-fe-first-drive-review-how-times-have-changed-for-hyundais-midsize-suv

[iii] https://www.caranddriver.com/reviews/2019-hyundai-veloster-n-hot-hatch-performance

[iv] https://www.imsa.com/news/112018/hyundai-bryan-herta-autosport-coming-imsa-michelin-pilot-challenge-2019

[v] https://www.caranddriver.com/news/2020-hyundai-palisade-photos-info

[vi] http://www.thedrive.com/tech/23049/epa-hyundai-kona-electric-does-258-miles-on-full-charge

[vii] https://www.caranddriver.com/reviews/2019-hyundai-nexo-first-drive-review

[viii] https://jalopnik.com/hyundai-finally-confirms-the-santa-cruz-small-truck-yo-1798305248

[ix] https://www.motortrend.com/news/genesis-g70-2019-car-of-the-year/

Test Drive: 718 Boxster S

Some part of my soul that I had not realized was languishing has been blessedly restored—I took a Friday off and spent some of it test-driving a new sports car. Specifically, the new 718 Boxster S.

The sky was bright but overcast, the air a cool sixty-one degrees. Convertible top down, leather jacket on, sunglasses not required. Humming merrily just behind me was not six cylinders, but four, displacing 2.5 liters total and snuggled close to a variable-geometry BorgWarner turbocharger boosting to 16 psi. I did, however, have six of something else: gears, selectable by means of a clutch pedal and shift lever. “Take as much time as you want,” Ryan Pemberton, Porsche Brand Ambassador, had said. “Keep it under a hundred, hm?”

I’ve sampled every Boxster. I test-drove a 986 while still in college before settling for my little Acura RSX. Sometime in the early 2010’s, I swapped my 996 for my friend’s 987S one day for a blast through some mountains. I demo’d a 981S PDK for a customer during the very brief phase of my life wherein it was my job to sell them. Those cars each left different, singular lasting impressions: the 986’s center of mass felt like it was connected to my right hip-bone, the 987’s interior was sharp but the car was notably slower than my 996, and the 981’s party trick was how glorious the exhaust sounded with the top down as you cracked off PDK shifts with the paddles.

On this day, I’d been driving the 718 for about two minutes when I came to the first corner requiring a heel-toe downshift. I just absolutely nailed it. Right off, the 718 disarms you and burnishes your ego by being so fundamentally driver-correct that apparently anyone can nail a heel-toe downshift in it within two minutes of first getting it rolling.  Just having gotten started, I was already cackling with glee—yet it soon became clear that the ease with which the car makes you feel like a driving god is not its primary claim to fame. Nope. Instead, the foremost attribute of the car is its torque. The 718 is always ready to wallop you with twist. All three hundred nine pound-feet eternally stampede the ample plateau stretching across the tachometer from 1900 to 4500 RPM. You will see the traction control light often in this car. This engine is a playful kitten with only one setting: pounce.

The exhaust note will never be confused with a meow, however—or a flat six. Pitch is V8-low, but its vibrato at idle is too rapid to be mistaken that way. Then, too, it winds easily to a high-for-a-turbo max of 7500 RPM. I understand the comparison with Subaru’s 2.5-liter STI engine, but Porsche’s acoustic engineers have more artfully solved the riddles of this flat four, and the sound that shines through is righteous and apparent when you expect it, while fading into the background when uncalled-for. The sound is the sound. It is never irritating or wrong or bad. It does not detract.

After that heel-toe corner, the next thing that made me laugh was the G-meter. Scroll through the driver’s menu screens and you’ll find it in there, chastising you to push that dot a little closer to the edge of the circle every time you go around a corner or depart from a stop. Are you kidding me? Instant feedback like that should be illegal. It’s like a constant double-dog-dare. Every time I make a Target run I gotta manage at least 0.7 lateral G’s somewhere, right? Between the G-meter and Launch Control it’s a wonder we don’t see even more wrecked supercars than we already do. These temptations are made worse by the pure neutrality of the mid-engined 718’s chassis. A four-wheel slide is as easy as: turn wheel sharply, apply and hold throttle. Lift, and the car resumes going where it’s pointed.

The 718 further restored my soul with a perfect stop/start system that never intruded or interrupted. It was ever so easy to adapt to expecting the engine’s momentary quiver-to-cessation when coming to a stop, then feeling it just as quickly re-fire upon release of the clutch pedal. Better yet, when I stalled the car on an incline, it restarted itself for me! That unexpected assist drew another enchanted chuckle.

It is not surprising that Porsche has another hit on its hands with the 718. Getting in the car, I always expected to be in for a very competent experience. Yet somehow, all the things that the 718 does competently add up to more than merely their combined sum. The shape, the top, the wind, the shifter, the wheel, the seats, all of it. I had connected my phone via Bluetooth to play some test-drive music, and one song in particular did well to capture the mood. As I was enthralled by all the great things this car did with me and for me, Charlie Puth crooned, “stay here with me…I won’t tell a soul,” and my brain concocted the shallowest of sunset-strewn fantasies about disappearing over the horizon with naught but the contents of my pockets and this Porsche.

Please keep pooh-poohing the 718, purists. I really, really want these cars to depreciate.

I Do Not Consent To Monitoring


I have written before about needless complexity, but I read an article this week about a tangential subject that got me all fired up again.  The article in question appears in the June 2018 Consumer Reports and it makes reference to the Tesla Model 3.  No, it wasn’t the infamous “Model 3 Road Test Review,” which was published around the same time and became an internet lightning rod as it documented the Model 3’s failure to earn a CR “Recommended” rating.  Instead, it was an entirely different article titled “Who Owns the Data Your Car Collects?”

In this article, one finds the following three paragraphs:


Just above eye level is one of the Model 3’s accommodations to old-fashioned safety technology, the rear-view mirror. And just above that mirror is something relatively new in the automotive world—a tiny camera aimed at the car’s occupants.

The Model 3 owner’s manual says that the camera is not currently operational but that it “might be used in potential future features which could be added to Model 3 with software releases.”

When asked by Consumer Reports about the camera, Tesla declined to detail its future plans but said owners would be notified before the camera is turned on. In the meantime, the manual directs owners to keep the camera’s lens “clean and free of obstructions.”


I understand that it is 2018 now and we exist in a futuristic technological wonderland.  However, I’m going to be very clear about how I feel about this—you gotta be kidding me. Get that nonsense out of my face.

My perspective is somewhat different, perhaps, than that of the average American consumer.  I work for the government in an information-gathering capacity. I read every day about how our information is shared and compromised and bought and sold for profit or advantage.  For these and a thousand other good reasons, there is no Amazon Alexa, or Google Home, or Microsoft Kinect, or Wi-Fi-connected fridge or toaster or hair dryer in my house. I’m certainly not about to put any of those things in my car.

To be fair, Tesla is not the only manufacturer that is monitoring driver behavior.  The 2018 Cadillac CT6 with “Super Cruise” has a driver-facing camera, and Subaru plans to offer a similar system in the 2019 Forester.  Mercedes-Benz has been “observing driver behavior” in their E- and S-class models since model year 2009, ostensibly to pre-emptively warn drivers about their state of attentiveness, which the car constantly evaluates based on steering inputs.  Vehicles with OnStar or other such telematic systems are constantly beaming information about the car’s activity to a third party.  And famously, Wired magazine published an article in 2015 about two hackers who had found a vulnerability in Chrysler’s UConnect system (which is constantly cellularly connected to a central UConnect hub) that allowed them to remotely locate and reprogram some of the vehicle’s software, permitting remote control of many vehicle systems, including the brakes and transmission.

My car is a refuge.  The only people that get in my car are my family and friends.  I’m not about to invite some mega-corporation into my passenger seat so it can watch and listen to me sing along with the radio.  Progressive Insurance’s “Snapshot” OBD-2 plug-in can go straight into the trash, preferably after I run over it.  There’s only one gesture I’ll give BMW’s “Gesture Control” system.  Porsche has a similar system touted for the Mission E, which additionally tracks where my eyeballs are looking, saving me from the proletarian tyranny of having to reach for switches or buttons with my hands – sorry, not interested.

My 1992 Porsche 968 recently came home from a long-overdue service.  She got new tires, new front and rear shocks, new front control arms and bushings, a new coolant reservoir, a new battery, and new hardware to keep all those things in place.  This car was built over two and a half decades ago, but she’s fuel-injected with variable valve timing and has no trouble carving up contemporary traffic.  What she DOESN’T DO, however, is bug me about anything.  Anything! Not about how fast I’m going, not about how far I am from that curb or bollard or bumper, not if my seatbelt’s fastened, not if my phone’s ringing, not if I’ve left her lights on, none of it.  It’s such a welcome relief from the usual present-day deluge of incessant beeps and boops that I might drive nothing but Nineties cars from now on.  Cars with all of the go, but none of the “monitoring.”  It has been forecast that the “automotive data industry” will be worth $450-750 billion by 2030, but here I’ll quote Nineties legend Dr. Dre—you won’t get a crumb from me.

Five Tons of Comparison Testing – X5 xDrive35i vs Cayenne Diesel

A Premium-spec example of the second-generation BMW X5 has just recently joined the fleet. The boys have finally (after nine and seven and a half years, respectively) gotten too big to comfortably commute in the rear seats of the sports cars, and besides, the 996 C4S deserves some respite after nearly 120,000 miles of daily-driver duty.

Between the Cayenne Diesel already in the garage and this new-to-us X5, we have two competitors that have always existed in close proximity to one another on the full-size luxury SUV plane.  These particular two examples are fairly close in mileage as well, the BMW at around 73,000, the Porsche at 65,000.  So, after a couple weeks of getting to know the BMW, I thought it only right to let the two rivals duke it out in this column for driveway supremacy.



The newcomer first.  “Why this? What do you like about it?” asked the wife at first glance.  “The engine,” was my immediate reply.  BMW is known for its long history of commendable straight sixes, and the so-called N55 under the hood of the X5 is one of the all-stars on that list.  An evolution of the preceding twin-turbo N54, the single-turbo N55 makes the same 300 horses and 300 pound-feet as its predecessor, but with greater efficiency and fewer emissions.[i]  It also brings the natural balance and glorious noise of the straight-six configuration; under hard throttle, the X5 gives a gnarly growl of purpose and quickly fires the big SUV up the acceleration curve into the zone of extra-legality.  The numbers provide the bite to back up the bark: the X5 does 0-60 in 6 seconds flat and cracks the standing quarter mile in 14.7 at 92 mph.[ii]  This dusts the compression-ignition Cayenne, which manages 6.8 and 15.4/88.[iii]

The Bavarian’s steering demands some heft, most noticeably at lower speeds. Once the driver’s brain is calibrated, however, the weighty helm seems appropriate for the near-five-thousand-pound metal beast that envelops the seats.  Yet somehow, astoundingly, feedback from the tires still manages to sneak through all that mass to reach the fingertips in a timely and informative manner.  The X5 does a convincing 5-series sedan impression around corners and through bends.  It does not shy from changes of direction.

Both vehicles change gear via the ubiquitous (and excellent) ZF 8-speed.  However, the X5’s driver interface is the better one.  The Munich engineers have devised a clever way of keeping on offer the tactile thrill of “shifting gears” while minimizing cockpit space and clutter required for the associated hardware.  The BMW’s automatic transmission lever is easy to learn and puts some fun back into the dull world of kid/dog/grocery hauling.  If you hear an X5 winding its N55 up into the “loud” category between stoplights, blame that newfangled lever and the hooligan it can unlock in any driver.

The X5 is let down, however, by its multimedia interface, which requires more than an optimal number of user inputs to produce the desired result.  It has one or two praiseworthy solutions—making the “radio preset” buttons usable as one-touch commands for just about anything (oft-used phone numbers and navigation destinations are well-served here) was one such trick—but overall the system is cumbersome.

The BMW feels more spacious inside, though, even with the interior swathed in black leather.  The feeling of space is no doubt amplified by the dual-panel panoramic roof that stretches back over the heads of the second-row passengers.  The glass will physically slide open nearly as far back, lending an almost open-top airiness to the cabin.  Lastly, the X5 does not compromise its cargo area by chopping the aft section of roof in order to appear sleeker in profile (as the Cayenne does) and therefore, the BMW will inhale significantly more of one’s possessions—75.2 cubic feet to the Porsche’s 62.9.[iv] [v]



This Cayenne has performed over forty thousand miles of service to my family.  It’s a suitable replacement for intra-continental air travel, as far as we’re concerned.  Step into the interior and immediately the reasons for the ten or so thousand extra dollars the Cayenne commands on the used market are readily apparent.  The seats and leather are a class above the X5’s, and (in this case) boast heating and cooling versus heating-only.  The multimedia interface is fast and intuitive.  The rear window shades are electrically operated, as opposed to manual.  The steering wheel is more finely finished and impressive-looking.  The Bose sound system in the Porsche is a vast improvement over the stock BMW system.

Insert the key (you needn’t do this in the BMW – the X5 features a very convenient proximity key and start-stop button) and twist it to fire up the engine.  The sound is reassuring but hardly inspiring.  The Audi-built 3.0-liter V6 diesel in the Porsche simply cannot aurally compete with a gasoline-shredding BMW straight-six.

As you helm the Cayenne slowly out of the driveway, though, you do notice that steering it is a delight, instead of an exercise, as in the X5.  The Porsche takes on the character of its steering wheel: easy, precise, and well-finished.  My wife used the adjective “lumbering” to describe the BMW by comparison, but that probably comes from being spoiled by her Cayenne, which seems to magically and gleefully shrink around the driver when pushed.  The X5 is happy to carve a corner or two, but reminds you that “Hey, buddy, I’m a lot of car and a lot of tire and a lot of brake here, and whenever you make me do this, I chew through all those things a little faster.”  The Porsche grips to 0.94 lateral G’s before it loses traction; the BMW is stability-control-limited to 0.87 G’s.[vi] [vii]  In the handling arena, the Porsche emerges a clear winner.

Additionally, while the BMW may be faster than the Porsche from a standstill to sixty miles per hour, it is hard to imagine the same being true from zero to thirty.  Whenever you read about the Cayenne Diesel, the most oft-cited word is “torque,” and that is for good reason.  All four hundred six pound-feet of twist are available from around 2100 RPM, and that’s early enough to give the Porsche a healthier shove right off the line.[viii]  It would be very interesting to drag-race these two SUVs down a runway—I expect the Cayenne would leap to an early lead, and then be shortly later overtaken by the greater horsepower in the X5.  In the low-speed around-town commute, however, the Cayenne blends its agility and torque into a potent combo that the BMW cannot objectively match.


The BMW is faster, sounds better, and is more spacious inside.  The Porsche is more agile, with better interior execution, and achieves significantly better fuel economy while retaining an edge in low-speed, accessible performance.[ix]

For me, the Porsche is the better of the two, but they are both excellent.  The fact is that a five-year-old X5 xDrive35i can be had for just over twenty thousand dollars, while a similar-condition Cayenne will cost quite a bit more…and that makes the second-gen X5 a very strong value proposition as we wrap up the first quarter of 2018.



[i] Jon Yanca, “2011 BMW X6 to Get Single-Turbo N55 Inline-6, 8-Speed Transmission.” Car & Driver, January 2010. https://www.caranddriver.com/news/2011-bmw-x6-to-get-single-turbo-n55-inline-6-8-speed-transmission-car-news


[ii] Steve Siler, “Short Take Road Test: 2011 BMW X5 xDrive35i.” Car & Driver, September 2010.  https://www.caranddriver.com/reviews/bmw-x5-review-2011-bmw-x5-xdrive35i-road-test


[iii] Jared Gall, “Instrumented Test: 2013 Porsche Cayenne Diesel.” Car & Driver, January 2013. https://www.caranddriver.com/reviews/2013-porsche-cayenne-diesel-test-review


[iv] US News & World Report, “2013 BMW X5 Interior Review.” https://cars.usnews.com/cars-trucks/bmw/x5/2013/interior


[v] US News & World Report, “2013 Porsche Cayenne Interior Review.” https://cars.usnews.com/cars-trucks/porsche/cayenne/2013/interior


[vi] Gall, ibid.


[vii] Siler, ibid.


[viii] APR, LLC. “APR 3.0 TDI ECU Upgrade (APR STG I – High Output Model).” http://www.goapr.co.uk/products/ecu_upgrade_30tdi.html


[ix] US Department of Energy: fueleconomy.gov. “Compare Side-by-Side.” https://www.fueleconomy.gov/feg/Find.do?action=sbs&id=33124&id=32351



Something About A Flat Six Revving to 9000 RPM…Just Calms Me Down


Back road. Behind a semi and trailer. Sport button! Mash throttle!

Hiccup. Lurch. Grind. Vibrate-vibrate-vibrate-vibrate-vibrate…warning message.

That was the first time I tried to go fast in a Macan.

Excellence Magazine recently did a Macan GTS review.  It was one of the most damning-with-faint-praise car articles I’ve ever read, replete with gems like “engine output feels acceptable but honestly rather unexciting,” “surprised by the amount of understeer,” “unexpected quirks,” and “feels too heavy and underpowered relative to other contemporary performance machines.”

Amazon’s The Grand Tour released an episode a few weeks back where the boys spend some time in Canada testing and comparing small luxury crossovers.  Hammond gets a bright red Macan Turbo, which, when asked to do some rodeo-style barrel racing in loose dirt, quickly throws an “AWD overload” warning message and goes into a power-limited “limp” mode.

If you hadn’t caught on to my thesis just yet, it’s that all small crossovers—including Porsche’s—are essentially useless.  The Cayenne is one thing; especially in its original form, it was a full-size SUV designed to comfortably seat four adults and transport their luggage while retaining the ability to not only go fast on the road, but also to dependably and capably go off-road, as well as to tow a respectable amount.  The Cayenne does things a car could not do.

The Macan cannot comfortably seat four adults.  It cannot transport their luggage.  It is less capable around corners than a car would be.  It is less fuel-efficient than a car would be.  It cannot tow any significant amount.  The base model’s stock tires are Pirelli Scorpion Verde low rolling resistance fuel-economy-at-all-costs tires that offer minimal lateral grip in dry or wet cornering, even less grip off-road, and still less grip in snow.

You would think a company whose history is recorded in a series of volumes titled Excellence Was Expected would only agree to produce such a subpar vehicle to the absolute minimum extent possible. And yet this very week, Porsche unveiled another of the type, a “concept study of an electrically driven Cross Utility Vehicle (CUV)” at the Geneva Motor Show.  This is the first paragraph of their press release:

“This car has many talents and is aimed at people who like to spend their free time travelling, playing sport and pursuing other outdoor activities. Thanks to all-wheel drive, every ski slope is easy to reach, while the flexible interior creates space for all kinds of sports equipment and modern load-carrying systems facilitate the transport of surfboards or a Porsche e-bike.”

Except for the “Porsche e-bike” statement, that paragraph could be used by just about every other automaker in the world.  I read that disgusting, poorly-written, uninspiring drivel and come away with nothing except “This car is what our accountants say the market demands. We need cash to recover from Dieselgate.”

With all this, I was girding myself to go on a longer tirade about how Porsche has left top-tier LMP1 racing, how the new 911 RSR remains uncompetitive in sports-car racing even after a ground-up redesign, and how the company’s Formula E effort is still a year off.  I was going to point to the sales numbers that indicate without question that the public-road-going soul of the company has a higher center of gravity, larger footprint, and heaver curb weight than ever before.  I was going to say that that same soul was diluted, lost, aimless, and who knew where it would end up next.

Then I remembered that the other car Porsche unveiled at Geneva was the new GT3RS, and I watched the hype video they made for it.  And suddenly, everything was fine, just fine.  Even better than fine.  In fact, things might just be unabashedly brilliant.

Sweet Jumps

For me, the most obvious indication of the macro-passage of time is my two boys.  They nonchalantly toss ever-more complex words and sentences at me every day, they type almost as fast as I do, they are suddenly so tall that it’s easier to throw them over my shoulder and carry them like logs than it is to carry them upright, and lastly—excitingly—whereas in the past their toes barely touched the floor when sitting in the rear seats of the 996, now their knees are pushed up past the horizontal plane, even with soles flat.

It must be almost time for a new car, right?  Can’t have the kids be uncomfortable, right?

This is a convenient excuse to drive some of my prospects, among them the Chevrolet Colorado ZR2.  I’m not usually a pickup-truck guy, but the ZR2 is remarkably compelling.  In short-box crew-cab form, it seats 5 with just over five feet of cargo bed out back.  It’s offered with a four-cylinder diesel engine making 369 pound-feet of torque at just 2,000 revs, but that engine adds over three thousand extra dollars to the MSRP, and you sacrifice horsepower for all that torque – the Duramax’s 181 horses are realistically not enough to keep all 4,758 pounds of ZR2 at equal pace with highway traffic.  My choice is GM’s ubiquitous but respectable “LFX” aluminum-block gasoline V6, displacing 3.6 liters and producing (in the ZR2’s case) 308 horsepower and 275 torques—while itself weighing 226 pounds less than the iron-block diesel.  The LFX also gets two more gears in its transmission—eight versus the diesel’s six.

The ZR2’s real party trick isn’t its powertrain, though—it’s the Multimatic DSSV (Dynamic Suspension Spool Valve) shocks that come as standard.  Multimatic makes most of their money putting their trick shocks on high-dollar race cars—and when I say high-dollar race cars, I mean cars such as Sebastian Vettel’s ridiculously dominant 2010-2013 Red Bull Formula 1 machine.  However (as good racing technology tends to) Multimatic’s efforts have trickled down to some road cars, for example the 2014-2015 Camaro Z/28.  Multimatic’s factory in Toronto is also, wouldn’t you know it, the primary assembly location for the current Ford GT supercar.

When bolted to the ZR2, the Multimatic DSSVs make the midsize pickup’s ride incredibly compliant.  I happened to test-drive the ZR2 on a lonely stretch of road that periodically was interrupted by sections coned-off for repair, requiring me to drop some wheels off the tarmac to navigate around.  I was reminded of the episode of Top Gear where the trio drive through Albania in top-end luxury sedans—at one point, driving on a rocky dirt road, James remarks from the comfortable driver’s seat of his Rolls-Royce Ghost, “As far as I’m concerned, the road merely changes color occasionally.”  From the helm of a Colorado ZR2, the surface passing beneath you has absolutely no effect on the sensation you experience as you glide effortlessly over it.  It’s uncanny.

The truck is plenty fast enough, capable of 0-60 in 7.1 seconds and a quarter-mile in 15.6.  It sounds…unobtrusively okay…with the stock exhaust, and the available “Performance Exhaust” offered by Chevrolet nudges the acoustics firmly into the “good” category.  The truck doesn’t feel excessively wide or tall or long from behind the steering wheel, either, so it’s easy to fit into normal gaps in traffic, garages, and parking spots.  There are a zillion accessories and ways to customize it, so it can be configured to do just about anything.  The ZR2 tows less than its plain-jane Colorado brethren (5,000 lbs versus 7,000) but that’s still capacity enough for a light trailer and a track car.

It should be an easy transition for my boys.  They’ll simply transition from being admired at school as they go home in the back of a sports car to being admired at school as they go home in the back of the neighborhood Stadium Super Truck.  Oh, did I forget to mention?  It does sweet jumps.


Horsepower is Now Completely Meaningless

The 2018 Toyota Camry will boast an (optional) direct-injected 3.5-liter V6 producing 301 horsepower and 276 pound-feet of torque.

Chew on that for a moment.

The 2018 Camry eats that ’86 930 Turbo that just pulled $120k at auction for breakfast.  The 2018 Camry scares the hell out of your bad-boy ‘05 Mustang GT.  The 2018 Camry is poking you in the eye for paying close to fifteen grand more for a new BMW 530i with an infantile little turbo four from a Mini Cooper under the hood.

When a Toyota Camry has 301 horsepower, it can mean only one thing: horsepower is as free and common as rain on summer afternoons.  Horsepower is no longer special and rare; it’s a thing that handily occurs on frequent occasion.  No car can simply post a horsepower number and convey its uniqueness via that sole metric (ahem, Dodge) – not when the ubiquitous Camry posts 301.

What makes a car special, then, in this breathless age of ever-present power?  The easy thing about the horsepower wars is that they’re a scoreboard.  The biggest number wins, right?  When that scoreboard becomes irrelevant, however, the discussion about specialness becomes more nuanced and complex.  We’re forced to grapple with hard-to-objectify impressions like “steering feel,” “handling,” “seat comfort,” and “throttle response.”  Everyone weighs these subjective things differently, so it’s much more difficult to conclude a clear and straightforward “best” based on categories that aren’t horsepower.

If horsepower is essentially a given, we need to step back and look at the larger picture.  Rather than niggling over the infinitesimal details of a car’s on-road or on-track behavior and handling, we need to simply ask: what can this car do?  Does it carry more than two people?  Can it handle a reasonable amount of luggage?  Is it comfortable for long hauls?  Is it dog-friendly?  What kind of fuel economy does it get?  Is it quicker/faster than most other cars around it on the road?  Does it even NEED a road?

That last question is an important one, because many buyers are swayed by the so-called “capability” of their prospective purchases to go off-road.  I’ve mentioned before that the Jeep brand is one of the hottest in the world right now, and not an ounce of their marketing is directed toward on-road behavior.  What Jeep sells is the ability to escape the mundane.  While everyone else slogs through traffic in a dreary urban wasteland, Jeep buyers crash through crystalline wilderness streams enroute to secluded beaches or mountaintops where all their Jeep-driving friends have started jaunty bonfire parties and eagerly await their arrival.  While much of this is pure fantasy, is it any more fantastic than the notion that every single Porsche sold will spend time on a racetrack?  Of course not.  In fact, for many people, the nearest beach or mountaintop bonfire is much closer and more attainable than time on a racetrack, so there is a sliver of potential reality in Jeep’s marketing.  However, with every Jeep purchase comes the roulette of owning a Fiat-Chrysler product.  Jeep Cherokee Trailhawks that originally sold for upwards of $40k are worth half that just two years later.  Are they all lemons?  Certainly not, but equally certain is that some of them are.

All of this—the ubiquity of horsepower, the related step-back to a bigger-picture outlook, some slogging through traffic, and some wariness regarding Jeep ownership—coalesced for me recently with an invitation I got in the mail from the local Land Rover dealership.  I’d always laughed about Landies, these huge, heavy, inefficient, Old-World slabs of switches and buttons and supposed capability (when they were working correctly).  But recently, the company replaced the old LR4 with a new Discovery, and each review I read attempted at its outset to bemoan the change from ladder-frame to unibody construction.  In every case, the negative narrative collapsed because the new Disco was so astoundingly off-road capable without any of the on-road compromises associated with the old design.

My curiousity piqued, I arrived at the Land Rover place at the appointed hour.  Forcibly peeling my eyes off of the V90 Cross Country parked next door at Volvo, I strolled inside.  After some introductions, I got a ride and a drive in a new Discovery HSE Td6 (midlevel trim, diesel engine).  And my goodness, it was staggering.  The finish and materials of the seats and interior were really impressive.  The torque from the diesel was smooth and satisfying.  The off-road capability, showcased on a little rock track tucked behind the lot, was nigh-unbelievable.  Windshield filled with nothing but sky?  No problem.  Nothing but dirt?  No problem.  Tilted at a crazy angle as if about to barrel-roll?  No problem.  Want a gods-eye view of what the car is doing and the obstacles around it, rendering spotters obsolete?  Simply press the Surround-View button.  Want to get back on the road?  Just turn two knobs and press one button, and the Disco hunkers back down to cruising clearance.  Incredible.  The very thought of juxtaposing such a modern, luxurious, technical engineering achievement with an untamed wilderness far from civilization is captivating to me.  So does the ease of doing it – all one needs is to buy one and strike out into the frontier.  To one moment be unprotected and alone with untouched nature, and the next to be enveloped in a mobile jewel of mankind’s progress…it’s nearly a magician’s trick that can be repeated endlessly and not lose its novelty, and the Discovery is the (admittedly pretty expensive) magic wand that makes it possible.

In conclusion, the 301-horsepower 2018 Toyota Camry means you should go buy a Discovery and leave the confined spaces of the road network behind.  Because when everyone is over-300-horsepower special, no one will be.  Except you.

Digital Exclusivity

I’ve just learned that Great Plains Region cancelled their Spring Fling Driver Education event out at Raceway Park of the Midlands this weekend.

(A moment of silence for my loss, please.)

However, this sad occurrence does serve to amplify what I was going to write about this month anyway: the importance and high profile of video gaming when it comes to marketing a car brand.

This story begins back in 2000, when Electronic Arts and Porsche collaborated on “Need for Speed: Porsche Unleashed,” the fifth entry in a series of video games that began with the original “The Need for Speed” in 1994. “NFS: Porsche” was released for both PC and Playstation.  A lot of the reviews were mixed, complaining about the handling of the cars and the collision detection, but I remember being just staggered by the “feel” of the cars (I think perhaps the complainers didn’t know how Porsches, especially early ones, really handled). Right from the very beginning, you learned NOT to lift mid-corner in your 356.

Nearly every road-going Porsche from the earliest 356 up to the just-debuted 2000 996 Turbo was modeled, and several of the race cars (550A, 935 Moby Dick, GT1) were as well. A few additional cars (the 928 GTS was one) were released later as free, downloadable extras on the frontiers of the baby internet.

I had a burgeoning interest in Porsches at the time, and NFS: Porsche threw high-octane gasoline on that fire.  I’m fairly sure it was the first video game I ever stayed up all night playing.  Through until the dawn, a friend and I took turns, discovering and driving Porsches through the virtual years, from the 356s and early 911s, to the 930, to the 914 (1.7, 1.8, and 2.0, but no 914-6), to the 944, to the Carrera 3.2, to the warp-speed 959, to the 964 Carrera 2, and 4, and Turbo 3.6, to the voluptuous 993 Carrera 4S and glass-roof 993 Targa, to the Boxster, and finally to the 996 Turbo. I came away from NFS: Porsche an educated Porsche customer, knowing the company history, its racing heritage, and which cars were the fastest and not-so-fastest. NFS: Porsche made the notion that I would never own a Porsche completely laughable; after playing that game I was always, inevitably, going to someday have one in my real-world driveway.

Then, however, someone at Porsche (it is not clear exactly who), no doubt basking in the glow of what they and Electronic Arts had wrought, made a critical error: they signed a contract giving Electronic Arts exclusive digital rights to the Porsche brand. With the deal in place, no other software publisher could touch any of Porsche’s intellectual property. At the time, the exclusivity deal itself was somewhat defensible, as the Need for Speed series was among the best-recognized and best-reviewed driving simulations out there. But the term of the contract was SIXTEEN YEARS, an eternity in the consumer electronics and software market. As Ars Technica‘s Automotive Editor, Johnathan Gitlin, put it: “Indeed, in conversations on the topic with Porsche North America over the years, we always got the sense the company knew it was paying a hefty price and couldn’t wait for the deal to run its course.”

During those long years, Electronic Arts lapsed into a mere also-ran among driving simulation publishers, easily outstripped by, at first, the Gran Tourismo games, and then by the Forza series. The band-aid solution used by non-EA publishers was usually to contract for the digital rights to Porsche partner company Ruf, so at least there would be 911 look-alikes in their games. In fact, when I first wrote about the original Forza Horizon on theflatsix.com, I used an in-game picture of a Ruf RGT-8. Rufs are undeniably great, fast, exclusive cars, but everyone knew that they only slipped into the gameworld because there weren’t any “real” Porsches.

At long, long last, though, the exclusivity contract has expired, and grateful gamers everywhere can welcome Porsche’s cars into the best virtual realities that the world has yet seen. There is perhaps no more welcome place for the now-liberated Porsches than in the latest, greatest in the Forza series, Forza Horizon 3—a wide-open fantasy recreation of Australia chock-full of highways, B-roads, dirt roads, fields, streams, forests, beaches, mountains, cliffs, and every other conceivable environment in which you’d love to see or drive a car. Look upon the results, ye mighty, and be joyous:

At long last, we’re back to my original point. Not everyone can get to a track day. Not everyone can go on a long vacation drive to see and experience cars and vistas like these. However, almost everyone DOES have the means to access the digital experience. And in the case of the younger ones among us, a great digital experience will ignite a yearning for an even better real-world experience. Goals will be set and dreams cemented in place. With the exclusivity deal expired, a whole new generation can discover the allure of Porsche—and learn for themselves that there is no substitute.