Monday, January 14, 2008

There's A Spur In My Slalom

Please understand, I really do like the 2008 Subaru Impreza WRX STi. Sure, it looks like the spawn of some minor role Transformer and Robocop’s twice decapitated head, but nonetheless, a practical 4-door hatch that does 0-60 in 4.8 seconds and goes 72 mph through the slalom is nothing to laugh at. I would even go as far as saying the STi has the potential to look attractive: swap out that nasty front grill for something reasonably tasteful, and I would be satisfied. After all, STi’s were never meant to look elegant, graceful, or even natural, just as bulldogs were never meant to win beauty contests. Even justifying the STi’s appearance as “function over form” would be misleading, as this car is really an exercise in “function despite form.” Ultimately, focusing on the STi’s aesthetic appeal is as pointless as buying a Michael Graves power tool…or is it? Why concern yourself with how the STi gets results when the results are this good? Up until now, I happily did not have an answer to this question, but then I saw this… (Pay special attention at the 1 min 55 sec mark.)

About midway through, this video shows footage of the STi making its way to a stellar 72 mph slalom run. But here lies the rub: a 72 mph slip through the cones should conjure up images of supercars like the Porsche 911 Turbo or the Ferrari Enzo. Instead, I find myself engrossed by memories of my dog marking a tree or the time I got seasick on a budget ferry ride to Catalina Island. Two words: body roll. Check it out for yourself one more time and notice how even the shamefully one dimensional (only good in a straight line) Mustang gets through the slalom with a lot more…dare I say it…style. Despite the STi’s undeniably impressive slalom result, its flailing lack of composure is really an eyesore, sort of like watching Manu Ginobili drive to the rim:


The sad thing is, the STi’s body roll issue is drastically improved from its less formidable sibling, the plain old WRX. Watch a video of the WRX seesawing its way through a few cones, and you will be overcome with musings of inserting random objects in those intermittently huge gaps between the tires and the wheel wells. I seriously think I could jam a basketball in there.

A final thought: it would be a nice touch if the folks at Subie included a Subaru-branded, adult version of this weighted cup for everyone who buys a WRX or STi:

Monday, January 7, 2008

Evolution & The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics:
An Ongoing Conundrum, Part 3

Let us at last take a moment to pay our respects to the last great Mitsubishi Evolution...

The 2006 Evolution IX arrived on our shores like a tourist whose fashion sense was more than a little lost in translation. Frankly, the IX looked like the hormonally imbalanced attempt of an angry teenager to salvage the remains of an automotive lost and found bin. The trademark rear wing remained laughably disproportionate. Apparently, the designers from Mitsubishi had learned absolutely nothing in regards to aesthetics (or aerodynamics, for that matter) since the Evo VIII. The IX, like its predecessors, continued to reject the standard “slippery finesse” sports car motif. Instead, its aim was to free itself from the shackles of the wind tunnel through brute force, blast itself halfway across the globe, and literally crash the caviar-laden party at Pininfarina. This car was not about the art of seduction, but about getting down to business, unapologetically shoving its over-blown cylinders in your face with a dare. From there, you could take it or leave it. As expected, most turned away in disgust, but the few who were able to put aside their yuppie machismo experienced a ride they would never forget.

The greatest attribute of the IX was its undeniable integrity. This machine was raw and uncompromised, never attempting to be anything other than what it was: a stripped out driving machine ultimately more intense and connective than any 4-door coming out of Bavaria. Its heavy fisted intentions were grotesquely clear, and were made even clearer as they mirrored the unscrupulous intentions of its buyers. Choosing an Evolution IX meant that you had only one thing on your mind, and you were going to get it, societal approval (and The Highway Patrol) be damned. The IX’s presence in the market was a refreshingly brisk slap in the Botoxed faces of other “performance sedans” that grew softer with each generation, systematically reducing themselves to “sport trimmed” baby carriers bought by consumers whose true affinity for athleticism rivaled that of Sporty Spice. But the IX was different. A drive around the block would never put the baby to sleep at night, but my oh my did it wake you up in the morning.

Accelerating, braking, and turning in the IX were seemingly commanded by your will and not the pressing of pedals or the twisting of the wheel. Driving this car was like riding a rocket powered Segwey, but without the embarrassing “prick on a stick” factor. This same responsiveness, however, resulted in anxious fear and potential danger for the inattentive driver, as every millimeter of movement registered a comparatively mountainous response, for on the other side of the connectivity coin we always find words like “fidgety,” “frenetic,” and “twitchy.” If you took your eyes off the road and your hand off the wheel for a second to reach for your Grande Latte, you could find yourself inadvertently pulling into the non-existent Starbucks on the right. It was that good at reading your intentions. The IX responded to your instinctual desires before you could filter them, and that was a dangerous thing…if you happened to be the mindless fingertip-steering type who frequently got the “the wandering eye” during your commute. Like a jealous wife, the IX made you instantly aware of any potential duplicity in your focus. On the other hand, if you were the type that delighted more in the dependably moving song of a high performance engine than in the decision making of a franchised radio station, this was the safest car you could buy. For such people, the IX was safe not because of its crumple zones, airbags, or its fantastic brakes—it was safe because it made us better drivers. The Evo IX practically frightened us into keeping both hands on the wheel, our eyes pinned to the road, and our minds cleared of distractions. In truth, every car on the road going past 30 mph carries life or death on its wheels, but the Evo IX made us viscerally aware of this reality, and the sane among us responded with respectful attention to the only important task at hand: driving. But as we drove, just drove, the IX thrilled us through a symbiotic relationship built on speed, agility, and intoxicating levels of fun. Perfectly heel-toed downshifts were collected like points in a video game as increasingly challenging corners were conquered with wide-eyed enthusiasm. Meanwhile, sling-shot blasts off the line past a competing Porsche Caymen S never failed to elicit uncontrollable laughter, joyous self-affirmation, and more than a hint of judgment for others. And the most magical part of it all was that the vast majority of these adventures happened on the way to work, the grocery store, or the post office. Despite the IX’s ability to crank out mind-blowing track test numbers, its greatest and most important trick was its ability to resurrect what most drivers considered dead time by injecting pure adrenaline into the mundane.

So let us now raise our shots of sake, and bid a tearful farewell to the Evolution IX. (This one is worth crying for, no matter how big your biceps are.) In this time of ever-increasing automotive compromise, nothing, not even a car that built its legacy upon being extreme, is safe from the hegemonic monster of mainstream mediocrity. What’s next? A Lotus minivan? A Porsche SUV? Oh wait… Seriously, we need to stop and think about this: Porsche, the maker of the 911 that most of us dreamed about as kids, killed that very car and built a Porschesaurus.

Nothing is safe. And now, the Evolution we know and love is dead. Mitsubishi has abandoned its dominant position in a segment it practically created in hopes of scrounging a few scraps off the ever fattening BMW 3 Series’ table. For shame… But as is common in life, greatness often shines for but a moment, and when that moment passes, we must learn to be grateful that greatness can exist at all in a world where the blind lead the blind to car dealerships and impossible mortgages. Alas, let us eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die an anesthetized death of Tauruses and Camrys.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Evolution & The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics:
An Ongoing Conundrum, Part 2

At the end of the last article, I stated that I would explain why auto enthusiasts mourn the death of cars like the pre-1999 Porsche 911:

and the soon to be deceased Mitsubishi Evolution IX:

But oddly, perhaps the most effective way to convey the greatness of these cars is to focus on the oxymoronic nature of their successors. The 996 brought a newfound sense of civility and evenness to the driving experience of a 911 while still improving performance numbers. Mitsubishi has incorporated a similar “best of both worlds” approach to the design of their new Evolution X. With the 996 and the Evo X, Porsche and Mitsubishi respectively managed astounding feats of engineering, and for their accomplishments in this respect, they should only be applauded. However, the fundamental error within these cars lies not in their abilities to perform, but in the corruption of their characters. Neither a 911 or an Evo should ever have to be described as “civil” or “comfortable,” and to utter such words as a complement should be tantamount to a groin-shot at the esteemed legacy of these dedicated machines. Furthermore, any discussion at all of ride quality in respect to these two cars should immediately call into question the groins of the conversationalists involved. (Seriously, just go buy a Buick and get it over with.) The mission of these cars is not to cushion your coccyx, lull you into a feeling of comfort and control, or isolate you from the cold world outside your climate controlled cockpit. These cars should not draw you in with their interior layouts and amenities, but should make you forget their interiors entirely. The mission of these cars is simple: to excite you by providing an intimately transparent and tactile connection between man, machine, and motorway. I am clearly not talking about the excitement of going to a new spa and finding L’Occitane products in the shower. I am talking about the raw, eye-opening excitement of a child riding a rollercoaster for the first time having just made the height requirement. If at least a touch of fear is not involved in the experience, something is very wrong. The true measure of an enthusiast’s car is not in its ability to pump out performance numbers, but in its eagerness to draw every ounce of your attention to the road ahead (and all those chumps who are just asking to be passed). By this standard, the 996 and the Evolution X represent ironic steps backward for Porsche and Mitsubishi.

[In Part III, the final segment of this article, I shall pay my respects to the venerable Evolution IX.]

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Evolution & The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics:
An Ongoing Conundrum, Part 1

2008 sees the arrival of the eagerly awaited and much applauded
Mitsubishi Evolution X:


The “Ten” is a complete redesign. Dimensions have increased. The new interior could only be described as luxurious compared to the one it replaces. Gone is the old iron-block 4G63 that has powered all Evos since 1992. In its place sits the new aluminum-block 4B11: a lighter, more capable engine working out a broader torque band through a double helping of MIVEC magic. The end result is smoother and more refined acceleration. In addition, a dizzying array of electronically controlled acronyms (S-AWC, ACD, AYC, ASC) pulls off the modern miracle of improved ride quality and improved handling. The roomier, quieter, more comfortable Evo X out-laps its frantic, bare-bones predecessor without even breaking a sweat. Well done, Mitsu, you have sufficiently ruined the only redeeming vehicle in your lineup.

Perhaps in a tragic twist of fate, 2008 also marks the 10 year anniversary of the Porsche 911’s death...

In 1963, the iconic rear-engine rear-wheel-drive sports car from Zuffenhausen was born, and for the next 34 years, it was tirelessly tweaked toward perfection. In 1998, the 911’s evolution came to an abrupt halt with model 993, as Porsche had finalized the decision to effectively sacrifice 34 years of inspired work to a porcelain god. The “new 911” (code named 996) that arrived in 1999 was redesigned from scratch. It arrived larger, more luxurious, and more powerful than the 993. The all new engine was now water-cooled, sporting double overhead camshafts, and variable valve timing. The modern underpinnings of the 996 allowed it to grace the road with a composure and civility that redefined Porsche, broadening the carmaker’s appeal to a wider audience who could suddenly purchase the title of “automotive enthusiast” without having to pay the ass-tax of driving a true enthusiast’s car. And in that moment of inevitable entropy, one of the most significant cars in automotive history met its irreversible end. While Porsche celebrated the “rebirth” of the 911, automotive enthusiasts worldwide prepared themselves for a funeral. As the grammatically challenged editor of Autozine struggles to state, “Since April 1998, our old friend 911 was dead. Although Zuffenhausen is still selling a car called Nine-Eleven today, all of us know the real 911 no longer lives in the world…I hope you will enjoy this special and always remember the real 911.” Shhh…It’s okay, Mr. Wan, I too learned English as my second language. I get you, I get you.

In these last days of being able to purchase a new Evolution IX,

let us not forget the deceased but ever beloved Porsche 911, which to this day still stands as a testament to the fact that “new and improved” is not always better, and to the truth that “appealing to a wider audience” almost always means an exchange of purity for profit, resulting in a wasteful dilution of something rare and special. In 1998, people buying new 993’s were branded as foolish for not waiting for the 996 arriving the very next year. But time, as it often does, reveals true wisdom not in days, but in years. Nearly a decade later, a comparison of resale value mirrors the clarity of greatness that was the Porsche 911 and the greed-driven myopia that envisioned its successor. Forget Edmunds “True Market Value” pricing on this one. Go straight to Autotrader.com and do a comparison for yourself. In the Los Angeles area, a search for ‘99 Porsche Carreras brings up roughly one hundred vehicles for sale whereas the same search for ’98’s rings up less than ten. Prices for a well kept ’99 range from $30-$35k. Prices for a well kept ’98? $40k-$60k. Oh the sweet justice of time...“Ti-i-ime…Why you punish me?” (A tribute not only to an old band obsessed with owls and life-threatening sushi, but also to you, Mr. Wan. Achtung, baby. We’ll get through this together, my German friend.)


[In Part II, I will discuss exactly why automotive enthusiasts mourn the loss of the 911 and will eventually mourn the loss of the Evolution IX.]

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