If I'm not my car, what am I?

Stereotypes are bad. We know that when we stereotype we make assumptions about a person or group that is most likely inaccurate. Stereotypes can be hurtful or derogatorily. Just don't do it. So here I go...

Those of us that commute in busy city traffic have a lot of time on our hands. Our minds wander while they idle with the engine. Staring out over the hood of your commuter rig, what is it that you see? Well, it's likely a slow moving river of cars.  As a car guy, I spend many of those moments studying the vehicles around me. What model is that and how is it equipped? You can get a doctorate on car classification with a few hours of commuting a day.

After a while your not just looking at the cars. Inevitably, you start to consider the drivers. You wonder who they are and what led them to select the vehicle they spend hours a day in. Perhaps some of those drivers just fell into the car they sit in. Maybe a parent gave them this car long ago as a hand me down. Others may have just seen a great deal and jumped on it. That said, most of these owners, those not renting or driving something provided by an employer, probably made a decision to buy that car based on some criteria. The individual's needs or lifestyle certainly defined the questions underlying. So, is it really a stretch to suggest the car sitting in front of you in traffic says something about it's owner?

Buckle up, here comes the stereotyping.

Let's talk about that minivan that always manages to sit in the pole position at a red light in front of you and accelerates at the same pace as a snail. Forget for a moment that this same van likely has a rear entertainment system tuned to morning cartoons or that the rear window is decorated with a stick figure family. No one buys a minivan for it's hot looks, handling, or luxury accommodations. These vehicles are purchased for three rows of seats, captain's chairs that make it easy to get from front to back without stopping and exiting the vehicle, large storage capacity, and huge sliding side doors. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that anyone that has decided this is the vehicle for them is likely a mom or dad. (Did I just stereotype?) Expect that vehicle to move slowly while it protects it's precious cargo.

Now let's consider a vehicle I see nearly every day as I fight my way into the office, a Chevy Volt. So who do we think drives this contraption? If it was a Prius, I would suggest that it may just be a "me too" purchase decision made by someone who wishes to smugly point out how they are doing the right thing for the environment, fuel consumption, or similar. But this is a Volt. These four door nightmares are ugly, uncomfortable, and uncool on a level that Prius has not yet hit due to the Toyota's widespread celebrity ownership (not that the Prius is cool, it just has a group of followers that think it is). So considering that the Volt is sold more on the principle of it's electronic drive then on it's hybrid nature, this owner must be a real deal eco-terrorist, err, an environmentalist. Think I'm wrong? The one I see has a bumper sticker that says "We know because of evidence." What do you suppose that sticker is trying to say?

Not to be immune to the point I'm drawing here, what do you think my two seat roadster, V10 powered Viper says about me? Clearly I'm not focused on hauling the family to school. Nor am I worried about sipping on gasoline. If you heard that crazy loud exhaust, you wouldn't consider that I'm all that into the environment either. Those humdrum things aside, it says I'm more into the performance and cool of my vehicle then practicality. It says I'm a car guy. Anytime I see another driver flying along in a similar rig it's a moment of comradery. Wonder if the minivan and hybrid owner feels the same way?

The Curator Paradox - Porsche 911 Carrera

In any form, the Porsche 911 Carrera is a classic. This timeless sports car is the result of 50 years of improvement by the genius German engineers at Porsche. It's an impressive machine that is both uniquely beautiful and exhilarating to drive. Considering it's rear-engine configuration and simple VW roots it shouldn't be either. It's the paradox of the 911 that makes it all the more amazing.

Over the years I've had the opportunity to own a number of amazing cars and the 911 was one of these machines. Bringing this car home was a surreal experience that carried on for my entire possession. Owning her was as much about being a care taker of something special as it was an opportunity to drive that legend. A legend, however, has a way of making you worry.

It all started with the rain. One evening after work I was weaving my way home through crazy traffic on a busy expressway. The low dark ceiling above me began to crackle with lighting followed by an explosion of water. That's when shear panic hit me. On the more rational side, I was worried about the looseness of the rear-end as Michelin PS2 Sports tried to grip like z-rated rubber in the rain. That healthy self-survival thinking quickly gave way as my mind flashed with thoughts of what that dirty water was doing to my perfectly groomed paint. Nuts.

As a result of this nasty storm, the need arouse to clean the soiled dream machine. Who do I trust with this task? Car guys know the damage the wrong towel can do to the finish of your car, never mind a car wash tunnel. Detailers and discount car washes alike could not be trusted. A new ritual of four hours each Saturday became dedicated to the cause of a careful two bucket wash. Not that I'm complaining, this is a ritual I love and continue today on whatever toy finds it's way to my garage.

While we discuss the process of keeping the museum piece perfect, have you seen the delicate leather that decorates the interior of the modern 911? It looks incredible and smells even better then it looks. Touch it the wrong way, however, and you have a permanent mark that will cause an obsessive-compulsive owner to have a full on seizure. My wife, God bless her, couldn't help but put her elbow on the top of those artful door panels. No matter the begging and pleading, she just couldn't stop. Neither could the rolling in my stomach.

What about parking? When I first purchased the 911 she was my only car. My job required heavy travel and provided little expense assistance for transportation to the airport. Reluctantly I would drive and leave the masterpiece in airport parking. Waiting to board for that return flight home would cause severe stress while I worried about the possibility of a damaged, or worse, stolen sports car. At the end of the day, the only solution was the investment in another vehicle that can be used for worry free rain, snow, and airport service. This is an investment I made with haste as soon as the financial opportunity arose.

Cars like this are amazing and worthy of museum piece status. It's a special type of relationship with the car and it's heritage. Just as critical, driving a machine like this is it's own reward. Here we are with the curator's paradox - owner's anxiety has a way of defeating the driver's joy. What's the car guy to do? I've decided to just have a museum piece and get out there and drive it like you stole it. Xanax anyone?

May She Rest in Peace - My Camaro Z28

I've never been one to live in the past or collect pictures of it. There is, however, one memory that I often beat my self up for not recording to film; my high school 1984 Camaro Z28. It's a flash in my mind that often returns from a time in my past I'd really rather not remember. That car is my greatest memory of misspent and unfortunate teenage years. All of my teenage time was spent in that car. It was my freedom and escape. Whenever I wanted away, it was a willing and exciting retreat. The timeline of my teens can be outlined with moments circling that vehicle. The time when I was out with friends. Moments I ate there and slept there. Of course I went everywhere and no where in it. It was always my own space, a home that I let others in, or not.

Then there was all the time spent restoring and hot rodding. It wasn't the right car to spend that time on. It was a bad year with a 190hp 305 V8. Like a omen of what's to come, the day I brought her home the battery went flat. Then, just a few weeks later, the engine threw a rod requiring a complete rebuild. From the start it was a basket case that needed Ferrari levels of constant attention and maintenance.

None of that matters. For a car guy we all have a soft spot in our heart for the car we had in high school. We just fall for one special vehicle that grabs us and owns us. It's part of who we are. I'm not sure why; this wasn't my first car, she wasn't the most reliable, and she certainly wasn't the prettiest car (though I fixed that).

In my junior and senior year I enrolled in vocational training for paint and body. I really didn't intend to go into this line of work, but it did give me two hours a day at school to work on this pet project. The training also gave me access to the materials and equipment necessary to give the attention needed to my high school addiction.

When I think about how I spent my two years of senior high, it really was about this car (and girls, but that's not what my blog is about.) Perhaps I should of been focused on college and grades, but that's just water under the bridge. Instead of the things a responsible teen should do at this age my time was consumed removing dents, replacing the front clip and doors, and sanding every surface. Most critical to the transformation was the custom application of two gloss black racing stripes from hood to trunk. What an awesome sight! Good times.

Not too long after I finished all the hard work required to transform a beater into a hot rod, I graduated from school and started to make enough money to buy something new. This is were it all went wrong - I let the thought of something reliable get in the way of something fun. The real world won out and in no time flat the gem that took a thousand hours to create had been dumped for a new Geo Metro. Please don't throw tomatoes, I was young and stupid. It's not my proudest moment and something I just whisper in hushed tones to those I trust not to reveal my sad secret.

So here I am many years later and that car haunts me. I left her to some discount car lot or, more likely, the scrap heap. What value that car really had, and she is gone. Moment of silence, please.

Where is the Jeep Wrangler Hemi V8?

About a year ago I went on a search for a Jeep Grand Cherokee. I've always been a fan of the Jeep logo and was in love with the reinvented advertising campaign, "The Things We Make, Make Us." That was the type of philosophy I truly believed in, but that's a post for a different day.

Truth is, I don't want to own a Grand Cherokee. Don't get me wrong, they are excellent and capable SUVs. It's just a little too soft for the Jeep brand. This model has decided it is the American Range Rover and must be gentle enough to accommodate those who buy such a machine. So basically, in order to appeal to soccer moms we have to ensure it's comfortable and easy to drive. Those are the type of attributes I expect to appeal to the previous mini-van and now SUV (or CUV) crowd. I'm not that customer. 

When I drive a Jeep I want an ATV - All Terrain Vehicle. I'm looking for a package that handles snow, rain, mud, rock, and everything in between. That's what the logo intends to portray. Just look back to those awesome "The Things We Make" commercials and you will see a vehicle easily moving across terrain that any minivan would best avoid. That's a Jeep. Not this soft and comfortable thing that I welcomed into my driveway. 

To further make my point, just try and find after-market accessories designed to enhance the off road abilities of the Grand Cherokee. Some simple and mostly cosmetic components are available but nothing like those awesome bumpers, light bars, and wenches designed for Wrangler. 

So what do I want? How about a Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. I'm not talking that long wheelbase four door that suggests it's capable. The two door version with a remarkable turning circle only made possible with a short wheelbase. This type of vehicle is not only purpose made for what I love - an extremely capable off-road machine, but not of interest to those who haul children to soccer practice. No rear child entertainment package available.

Why haven't I just made the leap to such a capable off-roader? Well, that same off-road machine has got one of the most anemic motors Chrysler can offer it, a 285 hp V6. I do realize things have gotten 83 hp better with the latest Pentastar V6, but come on. Why can't Chrysler see the advantage of putting at least a small 360 hp Hemi 5.7-Litre V8 in the Wrangler? I just don't get V6 engines. They don't sound good and they don't inspire in this form. Why even offer that stupid motor. It's the same power plant they put in the Dodge Grand Caravan making the Wrangler sound and lag like the common boxy tool seen idling just outside a school at 3 pm. Wranglers are for enthusiasts. Grand Caravans are for Mom. Get it Chrysler?

I'm a capitalist and understand that bushinesses don't build products that consumers don't buy. This is how Chrysler should think, "What is it that Jeep Wrangler fans want and how can we include these features on the build sheet?"  One place to look to find what the fans demand would be after-market vendors. Just look at AEV. They offer an incredibly popular 5.7 V8 conversion kit. It's the perfect complenent to the Wrangler and availble for a whoping $5,600, no engine or transmission included. So that's the AEV kit investment plus $20k for a V8 motor and another $3k for the transmission. Include the Jeep itself and your looking at $70k for an off-road vehicle that should have been available at the factory for half the price. That's a ton of cash for something I should be able to buy on the showroom floor.

Enough said, I purchased a Grand Cherokee. Now I have an off road vehicle with that Jeep name, some good all-terrain capability, and the proper V8. It's not the Wrangler I dream of, but its something. It does have a different benefit; my wife likes it. She tells me it's comfortable with a nice ride and plenty of space. Pish. I want a Wrangler.