Archive for 2012 « JESDA.COM | Cars, travel, etc.

Review: 1978 Toyota Pickup (Hilux)

As a child of the 1980s, I didn’t grow up with toys that did a whole lot of talking, flashing, or moving. We had to make our own “VROOM VROOM!” sounds and say “SMASH!” when our plastic action figures engaged in battle.

I fondly remember owning a bright yellow Tonka dump truck that was made of real steel and weighed what felt like a hundred pounds (I’m sure it was more like 5 lbs). When you loaded it up with rocks and moved it along the gravel it made a satisfying CLANG CLANG sound, like a masculine toy should.

If you fell on it, pinched your fingers in a moving part, or dropped it on your toes it would genuinely hurt, enough sometimes to draw a bit of blood, especially if you slammed your knee into a sharp metal corner. Playing with a scale model that felt, weighed, and caused injuries like the grown-up version was thoroughly satisfying.

[You can read my 2011 article about the dumbed-down blandness of modern toys.]

I feel the same child-like excitement driving my dad’s 1978 Toyota pickup, a battered and bruised piece of machinery that he bought for $500 nearly a decade ago. It only sees use a few times a year, hauling light yard waste to and from the dump. It’s had a starter, clutch master cylinder, and a few oil changes, but otherwise it’s carried on without much incident.

The only mechanical exercise it seems to get is when I’m in town visiting. When I fly to Washington I usually end up staying for an entire month and if I’m not borrowing a friend’s car, renting can become prohibitively expensive. As a result, I often find myself behind the wheel of this old bruiser.

Admittedly, back in 2005, I hated driving it. The exhaust is shot, the interior is full of dirt and leaves, the clutch is a bit heavy, and it rides like… an old truck. There’s no air conditioning, no radio, and everything is manually operated. But since then, I’ve abandoned my snobbery and allowed my automotive tastes to evolve.

In my past pursuit of luxury, I’ve made hefty monthly payments on everything from BMW convertibles to Escalades and Range Rovers. I’ve tolerated the complications and expenses of owning technologically complex high-end cars and I often wondered if it was all worth the trouble. Who was I trying to impress? Strangers I don’t even like?

I spent most of my early youth driving beater cars so as a result, I longed to feel clean and respectable behind the wheel of something with a bit of prestige. However, as I got a bit older, what I once perceived as luxury started to feel numb. After years of dining on expensive automotive lobster and caviar, I found myself craving a simple, honest, backyard-grilled cheeseburger. And that’s exactly what this pickup truck (known in parts of the world as the “Toyota Hilux”) is — a vehicle as basic and satisfying as the combination of ground beef and melted yellow cheese.

There’s no bullshit between you and the road nor is it trying to be clever. Toyota never intended for owners of compact pickups to park at country clubs or listen to Mozart or use them to haul their families around (though you probably could). It’s a tool for men to do work and get from place to place, a simple means to an end, and a solid one at that.

Stepping inside, you’re ‘greeted’ with a cabin that reeks of disco, invading your nostrils with the odors of aged vinyl, plastic, and various adhesives. The closest you’ll get to the delicate scent of Connolly leather is by parking it at a Jag dealer. There used to be a radio but it was long gone by the time my dad bought the truck. There’s a heater below and air vents on each end of the painted metal dashboard. The ashtray is missing but someone added a handy little cupholder and storage tray behind the shift console.

Instrumentation is sparse but readable. The backlighting still works and the warning lights are fully functional. It’s amazing that after more than three decades of service, everything has held up reasonably well.

The horn emits a cutesy beep that sounds like less like a truck and more like your Blackberry’s ringtone. The top of the dashboard is cracked in a few places but otherwise, after more than 200,000 miles, nothing at all is squeaking or rattling, a testament to Toyota’s build quality. I’ve driven five year old cars that had more loose bits. The doors haven’t sagged, the plastic steering wheel hasn’t worn, and the rest of the interior (other than the seat upholstery and door pockets) is still in tact.

So here I am on a one-hundred-degree July day, dressed in bright white pants and a gingham shirt like the pretentious SOB I am, behind the wheel of something a teenage landscaper might drive to job sites in the summer. I briefly considered buying a broken lawnmower on Craigslist and throwing it in the back just to garnish the appearance.

After a few miles of working the long-throw 5-speed gearbox and listening to the PUT PUT PUT PUT VROOM! VROOOM! VROOM! of the carbureted 4-cylinder 20R, I caught myself in a state of bliss. I even saw myself grinning in the side mirrors (pictured above).

That moment of joy I experienced in 1985 as a dopey little immigrant kid playing with a metal Tonka truck in the dirt suddenly came back to me. This Toyota pickup, just a few years older than myself, is the culmination of all the sights, sounds, and smells that I as a child believed a truck should make, long before the F150, Ram, and Silverado became cushy commuter cars for bland suburbanites.

After driving hundreds of automobiles including my all-time dream car (the Cadillac XLR-V), this is easily among my top five most memorable motoring experiences. Ever.

And it wasn’t just the way it crashed over bumps or burbled at idle that tugged at my heart strings, it was the fact that I was behind the wheel of something worth half what my eyeglasses cost. Taking everything into consideration from fuel to maintenance to insurance, this pickup is practically free. If author and transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau was alive today, engaging in the civil disobedience and frugality he spoke of in Walden, this is exactly what he would drive to and from his cabin on Walden Pond. Liability insurance is only $16 and I managed to get anywhere from 20 to 28 mpg on regular unleaded, perfectly respectable numbers for a 2WD pickup, even for 2013. As an added bonus, parts are plentiful and insanely cheap — we’ll get to that in a bit.

Theft is a real concern for older vehicles because they’re so easy to break into but the manual transmission (which few Americans know how to use anymore) functions as a deterrent. A few years ago I was in the back yard swimming in the pool and enjoying some cold beers. Out front where I parked the truck, someone walked on to the property, smashed the rear glass, and stole the Sony boombox I left under a towel on the front passenger seat.

They felt confident enough to take their time and rifle through my burned CDs, taking U2 but leaving behind The Backstreet Boys (shaddup). I suspect the presence of a manual gearbox kept them from starting it up and taking it for a joyride, and from now on all of my CDs will be labeled “Backstreet Boys” to discourage thieves.

Unfortunately, because my dad rarely drives this truck, nothing goes wrong until I arrive in town and accumulate hundreds of miles in a short period. One night, I was driving my friend Tyler and his bicycle home when the clutch ceased to engage. We were passing through the seedy part of Spokane on Sprague Avenue. It wasn’t terribly dangerous but there was certainly a level of risk. The spot we broke down in had a homeless guy sleeping in the grass next to us and strange characters were roaming around including a few drunks and prostitutes.

Thankfully, since Tyler was with me, he helped push and I was able to inelegantly rev-match and wander up to 3rd Avenue, a safer part of town where we finally gave up and called AAA.

Unfortunately, my cell phone was dead and I found out that the 12-volt socket wasn’t working. Tyler loaned me his and we got a tow truck out within 30 minutes. He then rode his bicycle the rest of the way home while I hopped in the tow truck and headed up the hill to my dad’s.

The next day, I called my friend Bo and asked him to come over and offer a bit of advice. He discovered that the master cylinder was low on fluid and there was either a master or slave cylinder leak. We topped it off with DOT3 brake fluid and I gave the clutch pedal a few dozen pumps to build pressure. That was enough to be able to drive the truck to Bo’s garage where he and I worked on it and discovered that the slave (attached to the top of the transmission) was fine, but a new master cylinder was needed.

So, I went to NAPA and picked up a master cylinder, in stock for less than $30!

The new part came with a couple bolts.

Pictured above is the old one, and you can see by the fluid stains that it’s been leaking.

Bo moved the fuse box out of the way and removed four bolts, two inside under the dash and two outside at the firewall.

Note Toyota’s use of nuts with built-in washers. Speeds up manufacturing and reduces error.

Pictured above is the new master cylinder installed. Getting the metal fluid line connected was a bit tedious and we kept dropping bolts. The most time-consuming part was crawling underneath over and over to fetch them, a bit of a challenge in the dark. Otherwise, the job was easy.

The next day, the hot weather cooled off a bit so I took the truck for a ride down some country roads. It isn’t exactly good at handling. It’s light on its feet, yes, which makes for easy acceleration from 0-30 and minimal body roll, but you can definitely feel the rear end wanting to slide. The old knobby tires are certainly no help. Still, as long as I took it easy in tight curves it was a pure delight to hang my arm out the window and hoon around the woods like a drunken redneck (don’t worry, I was sober).

The fun didn’t last, unfortunately. Later that night the oil light came on and it stalled. I managed to restart it and get it over the hill where I coasted into a 7-11 parking lot. The dipstick was disturbingly dry so I went inside to buy a couple quarts. It was still dry so I bought two more. That’s when my friend Jimmy (riding with me) noticed that a pool of oil the size of Exxon Valdez spill was spreading across the parking lot.

Jimmy looked underneath and noticed a hole in the oil pan with nothing in it but some kind of rubber gasket. Once again, I called AAA.

I simply assumed that the oil drain plug fell off so I picked up a new one.

However, when I looked underneath in the daylight I saw that the drain plug was still there with another hole right next to it.

According to my dad, the previous owner patched it with some combination of JB Weld and a plug or bolt of some sort. It was clean, perfectly round hole and the challenge was finding something to fit. Ahh yes, the joys of dealing with someone’s redneck repairs.

I thought about maybe using some bolts along with JB Weld to patch it over.

My friend Sean (I have so many generous friends in Washington) loaned me his Toyota Celica GT (review forthcoming) which I took to Ace Hardware to pick up some towels, brake cleaner, wire brushes, various sizes of bolts, and JB Weld.

I started by cleaning underneath and removing the mess of oil.

The brush came next. Some folks on the internet suggested scrubbing or sanding a surface before applying JB Weld to improve adhesion.

Unfortunately, none of the bolts I bought would fit. I made a couple trips back to Ace but unfortunately nothing was right-sized for that odd hole. It was somewhere between M16 and 1/2”.

I was about to cave in and drive 200 miles to pick up a used oil pan at a junkyard but first, I called Bo again and asked him for more advice. He mentioned that there were universal drain plugs that you could buy, usually meant for oil pans with stripped drain plug holes, that might serve as a short-term solution.

I headed to O’Reilly Auto and picked up two kinds, a 1/2” one and a universal one with a wing nut.

The 1/2” plug was rather clever. There’s a wing nut on the outside that clicks and locks as you rotate it, pulling the nut inside the rubber sleeve down and pulling the outer rubber upward to create a tight seal. Unfortunately, it was just a bit too small.

I then tried the universal plug and the darn thing worked perfectly.

It’s a rather simple device.

The wing nut, which rotates on an axis, goes in the drain hole alongside the tip of the screw. You pull it a little as you turn to make the wingnut grip the metal while you screw it by hand until the rubber is flush against the oil pan and fixed firmly in place. The instructions say to avoid using tools and only make it hand-tight.

The problem is that when you remove it, you have to use a magnet to fish out the wing nut. You could leave it there, but that’s a bit unsettling. It’s intended to be temporary solution, enough to get you on the road until you replace the pan. My dad said he had no intention of replacing the pan and was willing to just sell the vehicle as-is, so he’s going to replace the plug with each oil change. For emergencies (in case the plug fails), he can keep an extra in the glove box along with a few quarts of oil.

Though I was eager to finally leave Spokane I was sad to say goodbye to such a loyal motoring companion. Kudos to Toyota for rekindling the simple joy of my childhood.

This old “Hilux” is perfectly sized, fuel efficient, easy to service, and fun to drive — exactly how truck ownership should be. I say, it’s time for compact pickups to make a comeback.

RATINGS:

Powertrain: 10/10 — In a word: STOUT. The carbureted 20R can handle all the abuse you can throw at it. Even after losing all of its oil, I was able to restart it and coast down down the hill to a gas station. After almost a quarter million miles it doesn’t blow smoke or misbehave in any way. What it lacks in horsepower it makes up for with adequate torque and light weight. No, you don’t want to tow horse trailers with it but it will more than suffice for typical household, landscaping, and construction site tasks. 4×4 versions are popular for off-roading.

Braking: 7/10 — The drums need adjustment (tendency to pull in one direction) but otherwise they work surprisingly well. Pedal effort is minimal.

Ride: 2/10 — Leaf springs are crude and unforgiving over potholes and ruts but once you’re on the highway its quite steady.

Steering/Handling: 5/10 – Manual steering is heavy when parking and a bit loose on-center. However, it’s stable and easy at highway cruising speeds. Because it only weighs 2500 lbs, cornering ability is more than adequate. As long as you’re aware of the limited traction and the rear end’s tendency to slide, you can have a reasonably good time driving around town or on back roads. There’s no TCS, ESP, ABS, SRS, or any other alphabetical nannies to help you. The burden is on you, the driver, to drive.

Audio/Accessories: 1/10 — My cell phone fits in the cupholder and plays MP3s. The little speaker on my phone sounds like an old AM radio, so I guess that lends the experience a bit of authenticity.

Interior: 6/10 — Few squeaks and rattles, if any at all. The cabin is quite small but highly functional. Climate controls are hard to see at night but gauges are nicely lit. At this point, the door panel pockets have sagged but none of the plastics, aside from the cracks in the dash top, have broken or come apart. All the switchgear feel substantial and over-engineered. Even the steering wheel is in good shape. The extended bed is great for hauling wood and lumber (I once picked up a used recliner at a yard sale) and the low ride height allows for easy access to cargo.

Comfort: 2/10 – The seats are oddly shaped and at this point all the padding is shot. The vinyl upholstery has seen better days. The driving position is nice, however, with a simple upright position and perfectly positioned pedals. The seats should be easy enough to replace with a junkyard set from a newer model.

Quality/Reliability: 9/10 — Body integrity is poor but mechanical dependability is excellent. Expect to replace a starter, alternator, or water pump every 100k.

Overall Value: 8.5/10 — For a few hundred bucks it’s a piece of transportation that will last forever. Here in Missouri, old Japanese vehicles are quite rare because of their vulnerability to corrosion (lots of salt on the roads each winter) so if you buy one, you have to look underneath to make sure the frame isn’t about to dissolve into a cloud of orange dust. If you’re in a milder climate, seek a local example with a maintenance history and hold on to it.

VERDICT:
If you come across a clean one, buy it. Store it in your shed with the rest of your tools.
This was, to my surprise, the most mechanical enjoyment I’ve had behind the wheel in years.

Resources:
YotaTech

Comparable:
Nissan Hardbody

Specifications:
2.2L 2-Valve SOHC I-4
95 hp @ 4800 rpm
122 lb-ft torque @ 2400 rpm
17-29 mpg depending on conditions and maintenance
5-speed synchronized manual
Rear-wheel drive
Options: Extended bed
2500-lb curb weight
Payload: ?
Made in Japan

For Sale: 1976 BMW 2002, $7,950

On the way home from a Minnesota Cadillac owners meet, the three of us stopped at Zio Johno’s, an Italian fast food restaurant in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. As I scarfed down my very average lasagna, Mike and Ian noticed a brown coupe parked at a European used car dealer across the street.

Curious about what it was, we drove across the street to take a closer look.

BMW enthusiasts will immediately recognize the legendary 2002, this one a 1976 example with over 80,000 miles. The body panels appear to be original with the ad claiming the car was from California.

Aside from one or two very minor rust bubbles, this appears to be an accurate claim.

The 2002 comes from an era of BMW when cars were pleasingly simple and light, serviceable by anyone with a basic tool set and an amateur skill level. Hemmings Motor News describes it as “an affordable collector car that doesn’t need constant care and attention, and can be used as a daily driver throughout the year.”

Referred to by BMW as the “New Class”, the cars produced from 1962-1977 include the 1500, 1800, 1600, 2000.

A predecessor to the popular 3-series, the 2002 coupe (the 2002 being a coupe version of the 2000 sedan) set the tone for BMW as a manufacturer of sporty, classy cars with driving enjoyment in mind, setting the brand apart from stodgier competitors like Mercedes-Benz and Audi.

A turbocharged version produced 170hp, significant output for a diminutive car that weighs only 2200 lbs, just 100 lbs heavier than a 1990 Mazda Miata but with seating for four.

This particular example is good for 97-120hp. Expect 0-60 times between 9.5 and 12.8 seconds, commendable for the Carter era and certainly adequate for dealing with modern traffic.

This brownish reddish paint is unlikely to be original, but there were no significant signs of overspray. If this was a repaint, it appears to have been professionally done aside from minimal orange peel, no worse than what you might find on a new car today.

All four wheels with center caps are fully in tact.

The interior is in near-perfect condition with a Blaupunkt head unit in place of the original AM/FM radio.

Elongated bumpers are an unfortunate product of 1970s low-speed impact regulations.

The aluminum trim is in excellent shape.

The lightly faded BMW badge is the only significant sign of wear, so if this 80,000 mile car wasn’t restored, it was certainly well cared for. The ad claims the car is “stock, un-modified, un-touched, original.”

In addition to setting the stage for decades of leadership from BMW, the 2002 created a global standard (to borrow from Cadillac, a “Standard of the World”) that competitors have been following ever since.

Unfortunately, the dealer was closed when we arrived, so after snapping some pictures we headed home.

Driving Footage:

Fast Tube by Casper

If you’re interested, this dealer has it listed for sale:
http://www.euroltd.com/vehicle_details.php?cid=658

The $7,950 asking price is quite reasonable assuming it drives as nicely as it looks.

Hemmings article:
http://www.hemmings.com/hsx/stories/2006/11/01/hmn_feature26.html

What’s it like to own a car in Brazil?

I’ve never been to Brazil, but here’s what I can tell you:

-> It’s warm and tropical.
-> They speak Portuguese.
-> It’s the sixth-largest economy in the world, ranked just ahead of the UK.
-> They own Anheuser-Busch.
-> Nissan CEO Carlos Ghosn is from Brazil.
-> The Amazon rainforest is kind of a huge deal.
-> They build jets, lots of them.
-> Car ownership is low, with just 140 vehicles per 1000 people. Compare that to 808 per 1000 in the United States.

-> They drive a bit aggressively, though nowhere near as frighteningly as India:

Fast Tube by Casper

[Video taken by a cyclist.]

-> They have traffic lights with fancy timers:

Fast Tube by Casper

-> Gas is expensive in Brazil at USD$6.82 per gallon (as of May 2011, recently settling at USD$5.64), thus the popularity of small hatchbacks.
The government has the power to control the retail price of fuel, similar to public utilities in the United States, putting a squeeze on refiners as the price of crude fluctuates dramatically. Policymakers intend to use gasoline price controls as a tool to manage inflation.

Ethanol is a significant source of fuel, cultivated from sugarcane. Most new mass-market cars sold in Brazil are flex fuel capable. To meet energy demands, sugarcane production is increasing, though some are concerned that new plantations could threaten the Amazon. Fortunately, the vast majority of Brazilian sugarcane is grown more than 1,000 miles away from the rainforest.

Above: Ethanol is available at 2.299 reals/liter or USD$4.47/gallon. Gasoline is USD$5.64/gallon.

Further explaining the popularity of cheap hatchbacks are Brazil’s high taxes, as much as 36%, and imports are taxed similarly. Additionally, interest rates average 20-25%. As a result, a car that sells for $20,00 here in the United States could sell for $30,000 in Brazil, not including sky-high financing costs.

-> And finally, here are the best selling cars in Brazil for May 2012:

1 – VW Gol
No, that’s not a typo. The Gol, a front-drive subcompact built on the VW Polo platform, has been a Brazilian best-seller since 1987. It effectively replaces the Classic Beetle which ended production in 2003. An entry-level car, the Gol is equipped with a 72 horsepower 1.0L I4 or a 101 horsepower (how exotic!) 1.6L I4. And the name? It’s Portuguese for “goal.”

2 – Fiat Uno
Sharing a platform with the Fiat 500 and Panda, the Uno is a “supermini” that’s nearly five feet shorter than a Cadillac Escalade. The Brazilian-made hatchback produces 75hp/83hp from a 1.0L/1.4L “Fire Evo” I4 with a 12:1 compression ratio. It’s basic transportation for a developing country.

As for the Uno’s interior, it should be familiar to anyone who’s ever been in a Fiat 500.

3 – VW Fox
Like the VW Gol, the Fox is powered by an anemic 101hp 1.6L I4 and share’s the VW Polo’s platform. A soft-roader SUV version called the Crossfox offers a raised suspension, unpainted plastics, and rugged tires. The Crossfox does not have all-wheel drive.

4 – Fiat Palio
The first-generation Palio hadn’t changed since its Brazilian debut in 1996, facelifted three times since then. The new Palio, introduced in 2011, is Fiat’s attempt at a single global model which explains its large-ish but compact size. It has a friendly enough face and borrows its 73hp and 85hp engines from the Fiat 500. Palio sounds an awful lot like polio. If they decide to sell these in the US they should reconsider its name.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=–0Tn4T_ImA]

5 – Ford Fiesta
Yes, it’s essentially the same Fiesta sold in the US and EU, except the hatchback is the only version available in Brazil. Its platform, shared with the Mazda 2, was co-developed by Mazda and Ford. Both cars offer sprightly handling and racy styling. Neither are particularly powerful or quick.

6 – Chevrolet Celta
Based on the Opel Corsa platform, the Celta is an unfamiliar model from a very familiar manufacturer. Chevrolet is officially GM’s global brand, and as it transitions [outside the US] from selling rebadged Daewoos to offering genuine GM products, it conflicts with homegrown GM brands like Vauxhall and Holden. Meanwhile, American Chevrolets have little or no connection to Chevrolet in other markets.

7 – Renault Sandero
Dacia was acquired by Renault in 1999, and since then the Romanian brand has served as Renault’s connection to central and eastern Europe as well as other emerging markets. Dacia’s Sandero is sold in Brazil as a Renault. Like most everything else on this list, the Sandero is powered by small I4 engines ranging from 77hp to 112hp. 0-60 times range from an agonizing 11 to 15 seconds.

Top Gear’s James May is quite a fan:

Fast Tube by Casper

8 – Fiat Siena
The Siena, yet another small cheap car, loosely resembles an Alfa Romeo 159 from the rear. Perhaps this is because Giorgetto Guigiaro, an Italian design firm, penned them both.

Here’s an Alfa 159 to compare:

To my credit, I did say “loosely.” Perhaps I should clean my eyeglasses.

9 – Chevrolet Corsa
To Americans, Chevy Corsa sounds a bit like Chevy Corsica, but the two have nothing in common. The Corsa, sold in various markets as a Vauxhall (UK), Holden (Aus), or Opel (Germany, EU), is yet another gutless supermini with sharp lines and an elegantly arched roof.

10 – Fiat Strada
Finally! Something that isn’t a compact hatchback!
The Strada is a unibody pickup truck built on the Fiat Punto small car platform. A raised version with a locking differential is available for mild off-roading. An extended cab is available as well as a 114hp I4.

The Civic, Corolla, and Cobalt, top-selling compact cars here in America, rank 13, 14, and 15 respectively in Brazil. Brazilians have taken a liking to locally-built Italian and American-branded cars while Nissan doesn’t make the list until #23 with the March/Micra.

Thanks to Chrysler’s tie-up with Fiat, Brazil now has access to the Mexican-built Dodge Journey (#141). The Jeep Liberty is known there as Cherokee, ranked at 141, while the recently introduced Compass ranks at 134.

Hyundai and Kia are struggling to gain traction alongside France’s Citroen, Peugeot, and Renault. You can buy a BMW or Mercedes-Benz there, of course, and the 3-series and C-class are growing in popularity.

So there you have it, a crude snapshot of what it’s like to buy and drive a car in Brazil. It isn’t exactly heaven for middle class motoring enthusiasts.

2011 Infiniti QX56: 30,000-Mile Update

It’s a house on wheels, and that’s perfectly fine since my mom practically lives in it.

In just over nine months, her brand new QX56 has traveled 30,000 miles. By September, her one-year ownership anniversary, she is likely to accumulate 40,000. That’s 3-4 years of driving for the average motorist compressed into 12 months.

Since the fall of last year, the interior has become cluttered with boxes, receipts, mail, water bottles, snacks, DVDs, and whatever else a mom with small children is inclined to collect. It has become, effectively, a mobile office and summer day care.

I reported back in February 2012 that it was flawless, though a bit of a chore to park in the garage. One minor defect has emerged, which is the fuel filler door’s occasional reluctance to open. Mom drove over one afternoon, knocked on my door, and asked me to take a look at the problem. With 80 miles remaining on the fuel range display and 20 minutes until their service department closed, I decided to drive it to Bommarito Infiniti.

By the time I arrived at the dealer (with just two minutes to spare), the fuel door had worked itself open. The service advisor explained to me that to work the lock plunger loose, you cycle the lock/unlock button once or twice. Apparently the plastic fuel door lock plunger can get partially stuck on days with very hot or very cold temperatures. He advised me to not use WD-40 or any lubricants because they could cause the plunger freeze in the winter. Hopefully it doesn’t get any worse.

There was also a recall for the fuel pressure sensor. It was a simple enough repair; the dealer tightened it to spec.

A week earlier, I got a chance to sample Infiniti’s Roadside Service. Mom drove over a nail somewhere in the city and after a while she noticed a tire pressure warning. She ignored it and kept going until other drivers waved her down.

She made it home anyway and parked in the driveway. I couldn’t find the paperwork with the roadside assistance phone number and was surprised that it wasn’t clearly marked on a window sticker or stored in the onboard computer. I gave up and did a Google search on my phone and found it.

Infiniti’s roadside service advisor was courteous and pleasant as I confirmed the VIN, the registered owner, and the address. Within the hour, a service truck arrived and the matching full size spare was installed.

A new OEM Bridgestone tire, unfortunately, cost about $350 to replace. Plaza Infiniti (which is only two miles away from her house) said they would call when the tire arrived, which will take two weeks.

Over the last few days I’ve been driving it quite a bit, running errands for Mom while my Saab was in the shop. It’s a remarkable experience to be able to perch high on a throne while enjoying braking, acceleration, and handling nearly on par with an Infiniti Q45 or Lexus LS430. There’s a sense of control and agility you would never expect from something so mammoth. You could even call it fun to drive.

Additionally, the QX’s technology continues to function smoothly, though being on the receiving end of a Bluetooth phone call is a bit of a nuisance. When my 8 and 9 year old siblings are in the back seat chattering away, it’s difficult to hear her speak, finding myself saying “WHAT? SAY THAT AGAIN? HUH?” two or three times until I understand. The microphone seems to give equal priority to all passengers. Otherwise, calls are competently clear if lacking a bit in dynamic range — it sometimes sounds like she’s speaking through a cardboard toilet paper tube.

Some reviewers have inexplicably described the 13-speaker Bose sound system as “kickass” and “rockin’.” Inarguably, it produces thunderous bass and has enough power to turn the cabin into a night club, but mids are bland and muddy while treble is tepid at best. A luxury sound system ought to be refined and precise, and the QX’s Bose setup is less like a surgical instrument and more like a rubber mallet. In an increasingly competitive luxury market where Audi offers ultra-premium Bang and Olufsen audio and Porsche offers Burmester, Infiniti’s Bose system is comparatively mass-market and mundane.

Perhaps the Bose system was a compromise that had to be made to reach the QX’s competitive price point. Fortunately, none of those compromises were in the upholstery or furnishings. By far, the second-generation QX56 has the most tightly assembled and decadently adorned interior in its class.

For its next generation, the QX would benefit tremendously from improved styling. It remains as offensively ugly to the eyes now as it was from day one, but as a luxury vehicle to live with and live in, it is a pleasure.

Services:
1 Tire – $350
Two Oil Changes, Tire Rotations – Covered by prepaid service plan.
Fuel Pressure Sensor Recall – Free

Average Fuel Economy:
15.9 MPG

See also:
Original Purchase, 9/20/2011
12,800-Mile Update, 2/9/2012

50,000 Miles, No Oil Changes!?!

A 2006 Mercedes-Benz CLS500 registered in Houston was recently towed to a dealer because it failed to start. The original owner had never changed the oil.

Here’s the aftermath:

There is a “Service Due” message that comes on but the owner ignored it.

The engine is being replaced.

Motorsports? Not A Fan

Heresy? Perhaps.

Whether its WRC, Formula 1, CART, DTM, or NASCAR, I have trouble getting excited over watching someone else drive. Nor do I understand how anyone enjoys football, soccer, hockey, or baseball on television. It’s like a video game without the interactivity and control.

Baseball has a handful of positives. The stadium experience cultivates a sense of civic pride and the activity level on the field is so sparse it gives plenty of time to socialize, enjoy the weather, and drink overpriced beer. Same for college football — the young, inebriated crowd is the primary source of excitement. The game itself has too much stop and go.

Basketball gets a bit of a pass since it’s high-scoring and constantly moving, and hockey tries to compensate for the boredom with physical confrontations. Rallying also has its moments — the high jumps, the deep mud, and the epic crashes into people, trees, and farm animals.

—–

Last month’s issue of Automobile Magazine covered a rallying event up north. The writers took three luxury convertibles, top-down, to Michigan in the dead of winter. A local racing enthusiast recalled a story:
“Deon Rice, who hasn’t missed a Sno*Drift since the inaugural event in 1973, is at Parc Expose with his four young sons and his dad, Jerry. They don’t watch from designated spectator areas, instead setting up their own stations along the course. Rally America asks fans to view the event from six designated spectator areas — five of which have no admission fee — but with 132 miles of competition roads, it’s impossible for rally marshals to stop devoted fans from finding their own spots. “We hide behind trees and stand four feet away from cars going 80 mph,” Deon reveals. “While we wait for the cars to come by, we target-shoot BB guns and twenty-twos.”
“When Pastrana hit the deer, we were on the stage waiting for him. We knew something was going on because he hadn’t come through. After the wrecker went by with his car, we walked down the stage, found the deer, dragged it back to our campfire. I had a pocketknife, so I processed it right there.”
“So, you took the deer home?” I ask.
“No, we ate it right then and there,” Deon responds, clearly annoyed to hear such an ignorant question from a downstater. “Cooked it over the fire and went back to shootin’ guns and watchin’ race cars.”

It’s a great story, but I hate to admit as an auto enthusiast that I neglect to understand the appeal. I’d certainly attend if someone invited me just to say I did it, but it’s nothing I’d otherwise endure Michigan winters for. There’s the sounds, the sights, and the smell of fuel, but I can’t imagine enduring that much misery for a few moments of excitement. I suppose that’s the essence of being a fan, enduring a bit of misery for a few moments of glory.

I’m willing to concede that maybe it’s a defect on my part. I don’t comprehend the heroism of racing drivers or the risk and training involved. Additionally, television makes it all look so easy and slow. 150 mph is far slower on a 32” television than it is behind the wheel.

—–

In Bob Lutz’s latest book, “Car Guys vs Bean Counters,” the veteran BMW, Ford, GM, and Chrysler executive explains his lack of interest in manufacturer-sponsored motorsports. Lutz believes they contribute little at all to an automaker’s bottom line.

For example, an “Impala” built for NASCAR is so far-removed from the sedan sold at Chevy dealers that customers are unlikely to make the connection between the NASCAR vehicle and the rolling appliance they rent at the airport. It’s difficult to imagine anyone taking home a V6 Impala simply because it bears a loose [VERY loose] resemblance to the decorated stock car they saw racing on Sunday.

Arguably, NASCAR participation could be considered a form of marketing for Chevrolet, increasing the brand’s loyalty and notoriety among millions of racing fans — NASCAR is America’s fastest-growing sport. But that justification seems to lack substance when cars like the Kia Optima and Hyundai Sonata, both entirely lacking in performance credentials, manage to sell so briskly on the simple notion of value, and their turbocharged powertrains are far more powerful and fuel-efficient than the 3.8L OHV mill that powers most Impalas.
[The 2012 Impala did finally receive GM’s 3.6L DOHC VVT V6.]

That said, racing technology eventually trickles down to street cars. An engine that’s “track proven” is believed to have the ability to handle anything on the street, so say marketers and racing teams. And at General Motors, powertrain engineers participate directly in factory-sponsored racing programs to gain hands-on experience, so not only does the technology trickle down to consumer cars, the knowledge and experience finds its way into vehicle development programs.

From Engineering.com:
“Honda has made good use of its R&D efforts on racing circuits to enhance its consumer products. According to Robert Clarke, General Manager of Honda Performance, “One of the most prominent examples of racing technology finding its way into street vehicles is the variable valve timing system found on our VTEC engines.”

Clearly, Honda’s reputation for forward engineering would be nowhere today without the development of VTEC, and VTEC would be nowhere without Honda’s involvement in motorsports.

Perhaps Bob Lutz was wrong. Perhaps manufacturer involvement does have value beyond mere showmanship.

Now, autocross is quite a bit different. Unlike professional racing, amateur events seldom involve teams or engineers. It’s you, your used car, your handful of mods and upgrades (or none if you prefer), and your skills. It doesn’t matter whether you show up with an Ariel Atom on a flatbed or, in a friend’s case, arrive at the track in a 4000-lb Cadillac Seville. The enjoyment is in being an active participant rather than a distant observer and developing a closer relationship between you and your car.

The sights and sounds aren’t very exotic (unless you get a kick out of orange cones and parking lots), but being behind the wheel beats sitting in the stands or watching Speed Channel any day of the week. Additionally, participants gain a direct understanding of the handling and braking limits of their cars, priceless in emergency situations on the street, and there’s a huge aftermarket that caters to amateur racers.

—–

My primary interest in automobiles is in the act of motoring — traveling, seeing new sights, meeting new people, and enjoying automobiles as products of human inspiration. Secondarily, I’m drawn to the economics and inner workings of the auto business — development, design, management, international deals, negotiations, and sales processes. It’s why you’ll rarely see me review a vehicle with much discussion on engineering, why I primarily talk about heritage, design, luxury, and practicalities.

That said, I still can’t understand why anyone enjoys racing (or any sports) on television, but I can appreciate the engineering advancements gained from manufacturer participation.

Review: 1999 Honda Prelude

1999 was a good year — Silicon Valley boomed, US unemployment was at 4.2%, I still had plenty of hair on my head, and Honda was arguably building its best-ever cars. Accords were selling faster than the Marysville, Ohio plant could build them, the Civic Si redefined sport compacts, and Acura’s NSX and Integra were design and engineering gems. Additionally, the S2000 roadster debuted that same year alongside the 70 mpg Honda Insight hybrid.

The problem with achieving greatness is the inevitable decline that follows. The Ridgeline pickup and Crosstour wagon-SUV-thing are head-scratching flops, the Acura NSX is long gone, and the Civic lost its soul and devolved into a substandard appliance.

Honda, once the purveyor of “dreams,” has lost its way.

That makes the fifth-generation Prelude (1997-2001) among the last of Honda’s best. With its angular lines, low stance, large greenhouse, and low sills, it was Honda’s first “retro” car, drawing inspiration from the second- and third-generation Preludes that sold nearly half a million units from 1983-1991.

Unfortunately, the fifth-gen Prelude encountered stiff competition not from Toyota or Nissan, but from Honda itself. The Civic Si was more practical, the Acura Integra had more prestige, and the new Accord Coupe offered significantly more space and comfort with equal fuel efficiency and a rakish new body.

The Prelude’s sporty, 80s styling came with compromises to its cabin space and with a price tag between $23k and $26k, it wasn’t a particularly good value among front-drive cars. For the average American motorist, the looks came with far too many disadvantages. Spirited drivers willing to sacrifice practicality for fun could take home a rear-wheel drive Mazda Miata with a convertible top for only $20,000.

As a result, less than 60,000 fifth-gen preludes were sold over five model years.

But that’s nothing but history to people like you and me who buy well-used cars. What matters to us, the second- and third-hand owners, are ownership costs, looks that age well, parts availability, comfort, and reliability.

My brother bought this black 1999 Prelude about three years ago. It was a one-owner trade-in at Plaza Motors in Creve Coeur, Missouri, a multibrand luxury dealer in suburban St Louis. The car was religiously maintained at a local Honda dealer and the body and interior were, despite over 100,000 miles and a few minor scratches, in surprisingly good condition. Leather side bolsters tend to crack, fade, and tear over time, but this Prelude’s black upholstery was in outstanding shape.

Here are the photos from the Autotrader ad posted in 2009:

The tail lights recall the late 80s Prelude.

The headlights follow the shape of the second and third-gen Preludes but use plastic clear lenses in place of motorized glass pop-ups. The plastic, unfortunately, is terribly prone to fogging and yellowing.

Normally, I dislike Plaza Motors, but the salesman, Jack, was a friend we’ve been buying cars from for several years and he happened to take a job there. I drove with him back to my mom’s house to check out the condition of the Civic that was being offered for trade because I was concerned that my parents didn’t fully convey the severity of the body damage.

Since my brother was halfway across the state at school, the decision to buy the car was going to depend entirely on my driving impression.

Though I fit well enough with plenty of leg and head room (I’m 5’10”), the seating position was a bit awkward. You feel like you’re in a tube that’s angled down toward the street. I had to put the seat back in an unusually upright position to comfortably reach the unusually distant steering wheel while allowing adequate room for my legs.

Imagine an infant sitting on the floor:

The low door sills and low cowl make it feel like you’re sitting on the car rather than in it. That aside, once you find a bearable driving position, the well-bolstered and supportive seats prove to be quite comfortable on thousand-mile road trips. I’ve taken this car from St Louis to Georgia and St Louis to Pennsylvania with no back fatigue or discomfort. The only issue is the lack of cargo space in both the trunk and back seat. The rear seats aren’t realistic for adults and stuffing a suitcase back there is a chore.

At least my dog fits (though he found it to be a bit confining as well), and the rear cupholders are perfectly sized for feeding:

RIDE AND HANDLING

Despite its diminutive size, the Prelude rides like a much larger midsize car, soaking up highway imperfections like a sponge while digging into curves and ramps diligently. Despite the 63% front weight bias, the 3000-lb coupe zips through tight bends like a four-seat Miata thanks to its four-wheel double-wishbone suspension and rigid chassis.

Additionally, the quick and communicative 15.75:1 rack and pinion steering system provides an assuring sense of control.

There isn’t as much isolation from tire and road noise as there is in the Integra or Accord Coupe, but with a quality set of tires the ride is fairly hushed with less wind noise at 70mph than a Lincoln Town Car.

Unfortunately, its low ride height and long front overhang prove to be a nuisance in urban areas where the front lip is terribly prone to scrapes and curb rashes. The front bumper has been repainted once in the last three years and its due again for a cleanup.

We headed to mom’s house to show the vehicle since this was going to be a parentally-funded purchase. I accidentally put in a red security reset key (Honda has some kind of key programming system), so I wasn’t able to restart the car.

No one was home, so Jack and I sat in the driveway waiting for a flatbed. My aunt and stepdad showed up at the house just as the tow truck arrived. The tow operator managed to get it started, likely because there was a 5 or 10 minute security lockout timer caused by the red key that finally ticked over.

My stepdad looked at the car, asked for my opinion, wrote a check, and the deal was done right there in the driveway. Perfect timing.

It was purchased for $6500 in 2009, not a screaming deal, but for a one-owner car with an all-local dealer service history it was quite reasonable.

The lesson? Just avoid ever touching the red key.

My brother took ownership of the Prelude while I adopted the 1992 Cadillac Seville STS he bought a year earlier (it used to be mine, then I sold it, then he bought it a year later from the guy I sold it to).

Just a couple weeks ago my brother and I took the Prelude to Carlisle PA for a NICOClub event. We planned on taking my Saab but the day before we were going to leave, the water pump took a dump. My Saab was left with my specialist while we stuffed the Honda with luggage and hit the road.

INTERIOR

I mentioned already how smooth it is on the highway, but after a few hours I took notice of how incredibly well-assembled the interior was. Despite nearly fourteen years of motoring, the interior looked like it hadn’t aged a day. ‘

You can see where the gauge cluster, clock, and center stack all intersect. The panel gaps are faultless. The level of quality and precision is on par with Lexus, though Lexus uses softer materials. All of the interior plastics have a fairly soft touch and feel firm and substantial, arguably even better than a BMW 3-series from the same era.

The door panels are nicely padded and create a more luxurious atmosphere than the Civic Si and Accord Coupe.

The dashboard sweeps across the passenger side cowl to form an elegant arc where it meets the vent. All of the buttons, switches, and knobs feel heavy, substantial, and fairly expensive.

My brother replaced the Honda “Acoustic Feedback” CD player with an aftermarket Sony head unit to gain auxiliary input. The factory amplified speakers have been retained.

On paper, the Acoustic Feedback sound system is pretty clever. From PreludeOnline.com:
“The Acoustic Feedback System is a 2-way, self-checking process. The head unit sends the signal to the speakers. The speakers produce sound. The microphone built into the stock speakers takes that sound and sends it back to the head unit. The head unit listens to the sound and alters the output to correct what it heard. The idea is to get better sound quality by reducing hiss, feedback, etc etc etc.”

The person who posted that message said he had speaker output level issues after replacing his head unit. I experienced no such problems. Unfortunately, if any part of the system is replaced with aftermarket components, the AFBS is reduced to serving as an amplifier, losing its feedback capabilities. That’s fine, because although “Acoustic Feedback” was a clever idea, I question its effectiveness. Clever and inventive for the 90s, but more of a gimmick than anything.

There’s a surprising amount of clean, powerful bass produced by the rear speakers, negating the need for a subwoofer that would consume precious cargo space. The highs were a bit muddy and distorted with the stock AFBS CD player, but the aftermarket radio cleaned up the mids and highs quite nicely.

Unfortunately, the front speakers are now blown, as they tend to be in most fifth-gen Preludes. That’s fine, because the rears produce surprisingly full, rich sound on their own.

James needed a ride to the airport from the Carlisle Fairgrounds, and he unfortunately was forced to share a back seat with two suitcases. We stacked the suitcases to his right while he shoved his toes underneath the back of the driver’s seat. I moved my seat forward a bit to give him some breathing room. We made it work, but no one was comfortable.

Fortunately for him, it was only a 25-minute drive. Despite the suspension being bottomed out with three guys and their luggage, the ride continued to be smooth and comfortable and the H22 I4 pulled with commendable power.

ENGINE

On that note, I’ve managed to go through nearly two dozen paragraphs without mentioning the Prelude’s best asset: its H22A4 VTEC engine, an absolute gem.

Producing 200hp for the US market, this 2.2L DOHC I4 moves the coupe with surprising authority and thrift. On the way to Pennsylvania, we averaged more than 31mpg:

Unfortunately, the high compression ratio that contributes to its performance and efficiency also means it requires premium fuel.

If you want to hear the engine and exhaust, play this video and skip to 4:50:

Fast Tube by Casper

The stock exhaust gives the VTEC I4 a deep, racy tone without sounding like a garden appliance.

TRANSMISSION

Its performance around town is hampered by Honda’s apathetic 4-speed automatic. Despite being fully serviced with fresh fluid and a new filter, it’s agonizingly lazy and sluggish to downshift.
Advice: If you buy a Prelude, go manual or go home. It makes a world of difference.

Aside from space, automatic transmission, and seating position issues, the Prelude has one additional flaw: the body. Rust is extremely rare on late 90s Hondas but the steel feels thin and seems prone to dents and deings. The paintwork is a bit soft as well, too easily scratched and scraped. Be careful where you park.

BRAKES

The brakes grab with tenacity but the pedal feels a bit touchy for my tastes, but that’s likely because I’m used to driving older cars that require more foot effort. The Prelude stops with authority and features vented discs at all four corners, 11 inches at the front and 10 inches at the rear. Aftermarket upgrades are available but seem entirely unnecessary.

OVERALL

On paper, the Prelude appears hampered by its limited space and practicality, appearing to be a car that’s more style than substance. However, once you examine the cost that went into the extensive engineering and precisely built interior, you begin to understand why it cost so much when new.

Unfortunately, subtleties and design details are difficult to convey in automotive marketing, so most of the American public overlooked the Prelude.

RATINGS:

Powertrain: 5.5/10 — A fantastic engine is let down by a miserably indifferent automatic transmission. If this Prelude was equipped with a 5-speed manual, this score would be at least 9/10.

Braking: 9.5/10

Ride: 9/10

Steering/Handling: 9/10 – Without looking underneath or opening the hood, you would never know this was a front-wheel drive car. Thanks to front and rear wishbones, the Prelude digs securely into corners.
The steering is perfectly weighted for both spirited driving and highway cruising though a tiny bit more feedback would be nice. It’s certainly more lively in the hands than most other Hondas.

Audio/Accessories: 9/10 — Nice amplifiers. Substantial low-range output from the rear speakers means no subwoofer is needed. Air conditioning is impressive, quickly turning the small cabin into a polar bear’s habitat.

Interior: 10/10 — Every single panel is precisely assembled with thin and even panel gaps. Every button and switch feels chunky and substantial. All of the surfaces are fairly soft and feel very substantial. Gauges are logically arranged, easy to read, and well-lit at night.
The cupholder arrangement with the sliding divider is awkward.

Comfort: 7/10 – Thick side bolsters, supportive seats, and good ergonomics make road trips easy. The seating position is a bit strange at first.

Quality/Reliability: 8.8/10 — The transmission should be regularly maintained with fresh fluid every 30k. Preludes are prone to wiring issues in the driver’s door.

Overall Value: 7/10 — You can find more car for less money somewhere else, if that’s all you care about. And if that’s the case, you’re reading the wrong blog.

VERDICT:
It’s no better on fuel economy than most four-cylinder front-drive cars, it’s less spacious than a two-door Civic or Accord, and it costs more on the used market. But really, who cares? It’s better looking, more fun to drive, and more satisfying to own. If you’re a single commuter, consider a Prelude.

Bonus:
There’s a higher-performance “Prelude SH” with handling and suspension improvements, detailed toward the bottom of this article:
http://www.honda.com/newsandviews/article.aspx?id=20010221001322

Specifications:
200 hp I-4 VTEC @ 7000 rpm
156 lb-ft torque @ 5250 rpm
4-speed auto (19/24 mpg) or 5-speed manual (20/24 mpg) – Real-world fuel economy seems higher than EPA numbers.
Front-wheel drive
Options: Sunroof, leather, SH handling package
3009-lb curb weight (subtract 50lbs for manual trans, add 50lbs for SH package)
101.8 inch wheelbase
Made in Sayama, Japan

How To Save Lincoln

It’s my turn to play armchair quarterback.

Lincoln peaked in 1990, moving 230,000 units including the Mark VII coupe, Continental sedan, and redesigned full size Town Car. That was quite a feat for a brand with only three models and no sport utilities, an unheard of achievement in today’s market.

Then for a brief moment, Lincoln attained the coveted position of America’s top-selling luxury car brand thanks to the popularity of the 1998 Navigator, briefly stealing the top spot from Cadillac but losing it to Lexus at the turn of the century.

Today, Lincoln sells just a hair over 80,000 cars per year, and that’s with a lineup that includes the Navigator, MKZ sedan, MKX crossover, MKS sedan, MKT crossover, and recently discontinued Town Car. That’s half the sales volume of Cadillac and less than a third of what BMW and Mercedes-Benz sell in the United States alone.

Effectively, Lincoln is dead. Refreshes and rehashes of existing models are unlikely to produce the 165,000 unit annual volume that Ford’s management are looking for, and the billion-dollar investment promised to Lincoln is mild compared to the 4.3 billion Cadillac received at the turn of the century.

Cadillac revamped its entire lineup and introduced the 2003 CTS, 2005 STS, 2006 DTS, 2002 Escalade, and 2004 XLR, saying goodbye to the Seville, Deville, and Eldorado. V-series performance vehicles gave Cadillac the global credibility it lacked.

Meanwhile, Lincoln prodded on, giving the once-classy Navigator a garish redesign in 2007 that drew inspiration from the brand’s 1970s malaise era, and discontinuing the spectacularly competent LS, a mid-size, rear-drive, V8-powered sport sedan that genuinely competed with BMW’s 5-series on handling, modern style, technology, and luxury. Unfortunately, the LS suffered from a lack of updates and improvements, carrying on for seven model years with no plans for a replacement.

Lincoln Zephyr/MKZ

That left behind the Zephyr, later renamed MKZ, a reasonably competent but entirely unspecial midsize car that borrowed its underpinnings and body panels from the Ford Fusion, and the full size Town Car which was mildly refreshed in 2003 but essentially unchanged. The Town Car’s “panther” platform by 2011 was more than three decades old and its typical buyers were in their 60s.

Lincoln MKT

The MKT crossover, with its awkward jacked-wagon styling, was a flop compared to Buick’s stunning art deco-influenced Enclave. The MKS, based on the Taurus, looks like it came out of a 1990s Korean design studio with its high and short rear deck, long front overhang, and inelegantly tall roof. Its only saving grace is Ford’s twin-turbo Ecoboost V6.

Lincoln MKS

Meanwhile, the MKX, a smaller, taller crossover based on the Ford Flex which borrows its CD3 architecture from the Mazda 6, has been a steady success. Its conventional shape and high level of luxury have attracted an audience seeking refuge from Cadillac’s bold, in-your-face designs.

Unfortunately, successes at Lincoln are rare.

So, what’s a zombie brand to do?

After the discontinuation of Mercury, Ford’s neglected middle child, Lincoln is theoretically free to straddle the middle to upper-middle range, occupying the same territory as both Acura and Cadillac. Unfortunately, Mercury’s sales volume was a pittance by its demise with little market share for Lincoln to recapture, and instead of upgrading to Lincolns, buyers interested in FoMoCo products with upscale styling and more luxurious interiors have chosen Ford’s Titanium-level trim packages.

With its back against the wall, this leaves Lincoln with few options — it has no choice but to carve out an entirely new identity.

This is Lincoln’s proposal for rebirth, the new MKZ:

Max Wolff came to Ford from GM and played a role in the development of Cadillac’s successful Art and Science design theme and rightfully expressed disappointment with the derivative styling directions of the new Cadillac XTS and ATS. Seeking more creative freedom, he moved to Lincoln, a brand that could eagerly gain from design expertise. During his tenure at Cadillac, he expressed justifiable disapproval of the original Lincoln Zephyr/MKZ, criticizing it for being too derivative of the Ford Fusion, which it certainly is.

So far, Wolff seems to share my tastes.

The MKZ concept pictured above was detailed by Wolff though the overall shape was penned before his arrival at Lincoln. While it lacks the head-turning attraction of the Cadillac CTS, it presents Lincoln with a clean, flowing theme that looks significantly more modern than the econocar-proportioned MKS. The tail lights are particularly beautiful with a wide and elegant appearance that recalls the Mark VIII coupe.

Will this all wheel drive concept car be enough to save the brand?

No, but it’s a start.

Except for the MKX, the entire Lincoln lineup must be deleted and rebooted, beginning with a competent, compact sport sedan, coupe, and convertible that competes with the Cadillac ATS and BMW 3-series and a midsized version that competes with the upcoming 2014 Cadillac CTS and BMW 5-series.

As demonstrated by Audi, entry-level luxury cars can be front wheel drive as long as genuine all wheel drive is available as an option to lend the model and the brand some credibility. Too many all wheel drive packages are simply front-drive cars that occasionally send traction to the rear with few handling benefits on dry pavement. Unless Lincoln can come up with traction technology as sophisticated as Audi’s Quattro, its sedans and coupes have to be rear-wheel drive to gain respect and credibility in a highly selective and technology-sensitive market.

It’s true, most car buyers have no clue where their drive wheels are, but automotive publications and picky enthusiasts do. To impress the masses, you have to impress the vocal few who in turn influence the choices of the general public.

With the D2C Mustang platform (originally called DEW98 and used on the Lincoln LS, ’02-’05 Thunderbird, and Jaguar S-type), Lincoln has the hardware to develop two or three fully competent luxury sedans. A modernized DEW platform currently underpins the Jaguar XF, released in 2008, and serves the model exceedingly well.

Additionally, Ford’s Falcon, built and sold exclusively in Australia, is a sport sedan built on a highly competent rear-drive platform. There are, unfortunately, no specific plans to continue development of an Aussie-specific Falcon. Ford, however, intends to replace it with a global vehicle based on the rear-drive Mustang-based platform or something derived from the more conventional front-wheel drive Ford Mondeo. The Taurus is too heavy and too big for global markets and no final decisions on the Falcon have been made at this time.

In recent years, Ford has attempted to create new rear-drive platforms only to kill them midway through development, primarily due to the global recession and rising fuel prices. Globalizing the Mustang’s architecture could reduce development costs, pave the way for Lincoln-branded derivatives, and allow Ford’s luxury brand to regain its lost luster. This is, of course, assuming that future Lincoln designs under Wolff’s direction are striking and elegant.

Another dud like the current MKS would be a nail in Lincoln’s coffin.

In summary:
Take the Mustang and make it a globally viable rear-wheel drive platform. Then, ensure that the Lincolns built on that platform are dramatic, beautiful, and luxurious.

Kids Hate Cars; That’s Fine By Me

Teens and twenty-somethings born in the 1990s and late 1980s, known as “millennials” by marketers and “self-obsessed douchebags in skinny jeans” by the rest of us, would rather prod around on smartphones and laptops than drive across town to see friends.

Millennials are putting off learner’s permits and licenses, waiting until it’s absolutely necessary or abandoning driving entirely, choosing to bum rides or take public transportation.

From Edmunds:
“In 2008 the Federal Highway Administration reported that over the previous 10 years the portion of American 16-year-olds holding driver licenses had dropped from 43.8 percent in 1998 to just 29.8 percent in 2006. That’s a statistic almost unfathomable to earlier generations of drivers who would have chewed through granite to get licensed and on the road.”

It’s Farmville over freedom, a baffling choice until you consider why.

In 1997, when I received my first driving permit, gasoline was 90 cents per gallon. Ten dollars would fill the tank of my Nissan and at 25mpg it sometimes lasted weeks — that’s damn near free. Internet connections crawled at 33.6kbps and the only social networking we had was the sparsely populated AOL Buddy List.

Fast Tube by Casper

For most of us, phones were primarily appliances plugged into the wall. A few of my privileged peers had cellular service but they were only capable of making and receiving voice calls. Even then, coverage areas were quite limited.

If you wanted to interact with girls outside of school, you had to get in the car and see them in person. If you wanted to take one out, you needed money, so you got an after-school job serving corn dogs at the mall — a job that you also drove to. The automobile wasn’t just a method of getting around, it was the key to sexual and emotional development, a path to maturity, and a platform for learning how to make responsible adult decisions.

Unfortunately, as young college graduates struggle to find work, they find themselves working in service jobs normally occupied by high school students, suffocating under the burden of heavy education debt and high unemployment. This displaces teens from entry-level occupations and makes vehicle ownership a luxury.

[Source: Young Americas Foundation]

While some millennials have happily abandoned the automobile in favor of Facebook, others are simply unable to afford the privilege of driving.

I had the advantage of growing up in a period of widespread prosperity, when jobs grew from trees and gasoline was cheaper than water. Motoring wasn’t just a means to an end, it was an end in itself, an interaction between man and machine that was and still is engagingly satisfying.

Admittedly, smartphones and computers are more effective at connecting large quantities of people and allowing them to share ideas and experiences, but without personal transportation, there’s fewer experiences to create and share.

For the US auto industry, an entire generation of customers is lost as a significant part of postwar American life quietly fades. A segment of America’s youth may never appreciate the sonorous pleasure of a V8 or the assertive control of a sports car.

There is, however, a small upside.

While I may be inclined to point fingers at Gen Y and dismiss them as soulless agoraphobic slackers, their disdain for driving benefits motoring enthusiasts by reducing traffic congestion, reducing accident fatalities, and reducing oil consumption.

So, kids, feel free to stay home posting status updates. That’s more gasoline and asphalt for me.

Just stay off my lawn.

Review: “Clare” – A 1963 Chevy Impala Wagon

When you’re driving something half a century old, it’s hard to review the vehicle as a particular model. Instead, you’re reviewing the work of the restorers and owners. Modern powertrains, safety enhancements, upgraded electronics and modern disc brakes make it difficult to share what a driving an Impala was like in the 1960s, but even after an extensive restoration and modernization, the original look, feel, and driving pleasure remain, which are all that really matter.

I’ve been following this restoration since March 2009, when Mark posted pictures of his soon-to-be restored wagon on NICOClub.com. It was listed in Arizona, where NICO’s Greg Childs happens to live, so he checked it out, took it for a test drive, and loaded it on to a truck for shipment to Illinois.

Bonus: The previous owner swapped the original motor for an LT1 V8 with modern fuel injection as well as a 4-speed 6L60E automatic.

The trophy-winning restoration work was done by Rick Carpenter, pictured above, who Mark has known since high school. Mark posted a 13-page thread at NICOClub documenting the entire frame-off restoration.

I highly recommend reading it! It’s an excellent introduction for anyone interested in buying and restoring an American classic, covering body work, interior refurbishment, electrical work, and the challenge of finding obscure, out of production parts.

Fast forward three years…

I checked Facebook on the afternoon of April 24th, 2012 and saw a message from Mark’s son Neal, a friend and fellow Nissan enthusiast who resides with his family in Japan. Neal said his parents drove Clare, the fully-restored ’63 Impala, from Galesburg, Illinois all the way to Phoenix, Arizona, and they happened to be in the St Louis metro area on their way home, right in my backyard.

I threw on my pants, fired up my Saab, and headed east to Troy, Illinois.

I pulled into the parking lot of their hotel and parked next to Clare, in awe of the stunning cosmetic work, sprawling sheet metal, and fine attention to detail. I called Mark to tell him I had arrived and met up with him downstairs.

Mark and his wife Sherri had just completed 3300 miles of a 3500-mile journey. The only hiccup was a wire connector under the hood that worked its way loose on Illinois’ pockmarked freeways. A tow to a nearby mechanic resolved the issue in a day.

The white/chrome trim along the lower half of the body is normally black, but due to a lack of availability of wagon parts, a white one was found. Millions of Impalas were made but the two-doors and Supersports were coveted while the wagons, built in much smaller quantities and often ignored by collectors, were crushed. That makes Clare particularly unique.

These are the production numbers from 1958-1965: http://www.348-409.com/production.html

Just over 10% of full size Chevrolets built in 1963 were wagons, and due to small annual changes to the body and interior, some parts were model year-specific. 1963 wagon trim pieces are difficult to find, and once located they can be quite expensive.

Pictured below is the front fender, pointy for 1963, and flat or curved for other model years.

This rareness might make an Impala wagon owner reluctant to travel long distances, and some owners of classics, especially after completing such an exhaustive restoration, are inclined to hide their vehicles in their garages, saving them for sunny Sundays and auto shows.

Mark and Sherri, however, bought and restored this car with the intention of roaming the country, sharing an American icon, and meeting new faces along the way (like mine).

That’s what classic car ownership ought to be about. A restored vehicle is essentially reborn, ready to enjoy another 50 years on the road. They’re machines, not paintings. Drive them!

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So, why the Impala?

People restore specific models and brands for all kinds of reasons, but for the most part, it’s usually to reconnect with the past.

Mark grew up with a white 1963 wagon in Toledo, Ohio, where his family was originally from, just an hour from Detroit, Michigan. He shared fond childhood memories of a white Impala taking his family across the midwest to Illinois where they’ve since settled. For him, it isn’t just an impressive looking car, it’s a symbol of his heritage and family history.

My friend Gary, who owns a 1964 four-door Impala hardtop that I drove last year, shares the same fondness for the Impala’s “jet smooth luxury” [a line from GM advertising] and the role it serves as a bridge to his past.

I can’t help envying the way cars connect people to who they are. I grew up in a household of beater Datsuns (not the cute ones… we’re talking orange B210s with rust holes and primer patches) which were on the verge of disintegrating into brown dust. We arrived in America as poor immigrants in the middle of an early 1980s recession, so transportation was more about necessity than enjoyment. I don’t have the privilege of looking back on the vehicles our family owned with a great deal of fondness.

Fifty years from now, I wonder how many of today’s young people are going to restore their dad’s Hyundai Sonatas? I can’t imagine it, but you never know.

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Now, let’s talk about the car.

Mark handed me the keys.

We took a look around the exterior where I got a chance to see the LT1 under the hood, pulled from a Camaro Z28.

The 5.7L fuel-injected pushrod V8 was good for 285 horsepower and 325 lb-ft of torque. Sure, modern V6 engines like GM’s 3.6L HF V6 easily produce more power, but none do it with the stump-pulling grunt and earth-shattering sound of an LT1. Pressing the accelerator an inch produces an immediate tug that throws you back in your seat, and I didn’t come anywhere close to applying full throttle.

The back is where the dog hangs out. There’s cargo storage space underneath while the spare tire is stowed away in the compartment on the right. Blue bedliner was used to ruggedize the cargo area.

This Schrader valve to the left of the filler cap is for the rear air suspension which helps level the vehicle while loaded with people or cargo.

Inside, it has the Impala’s “starry night” headliner, door panels adorned with chrome buttons and soft arm rests, and tasteful diamond-patterned seats.

The seats were freshly padded and upholstered and still needed some time to be broken in. The springs were supportive but the back rest needed some lumbar support, nothing a small pillow couldn’t fix. The most unusual part about sitting in an Impala is the size of the thin-rimmed steering wheel. It’s wide to accommodate access to gauges and controls and basically sits in the driver’s lap.

For those of us accustomed to bucket seats with large side bolsters, thick leather-wrapped steering wheels, and the feel of being cocooned into a narrow captain’s chair, there’s a period of adjustment.

All you have to do is relax, trust the car, and enjoy the cushy ride.

Shoulder belts were a pleasant surprise. When Rick took apart the interior he found holes in the B-pillars ready to accommodate shoulder belts. They latch similarly to a belt on a Boeing 747. You connect the buckle and then pull a strap on the other end to adjust. To disconnect, you lift the metal flap on the buckle.

After getting myself oriented, we hit the road. The sound was GLORIOUS — and by sound I refer to the exhaust, though the retro-looking stereo with USB support was also a clever feature. Here’s what Clare looks and sounds like from outside:

Fast Tube by Casper

And this is what she was like from inside:

Fast Tube by Casper

Throttle response is instant. There’s no delay between the movement of your foot and the mountain of torque applied to the rear wheels, and your ears are rewarded with a thunderous and raspy V8 soundtrack. The exhaust outlets are in the middle of the vehicle at the moment, but Mark wants to relocate them to the rear for more pleasant cruising.

Did you notice the gauges? They’re a stealthy setup from a company called Dakota Digital. Above the numerical speedo and tach are bar graphs that fill horizontally to the right. Clever stuff, and much easier to read than the original sweeping needle.

There’s also a digital coolant temperature display, oil pressure display, voltage display, and fuel gauge shown as a percentage remaining.

There’s no air conditioning… yet. Impalas with factory AC have large chrome vents in the dashboard. Several aftermarket options are available.

As I approached a stop sign I applied the four-wheel power disc brakes (pulled from a late 80s Oldsmobile), bringing the Impala to a stop with adequate force. There’s a lot of pedal travel before it bites, but once the calipers grabbed on it was easy to slow down.

It’s a big, wide cruiser, so I planned my moves a few feet ahead and drove it the way it was intended — comfortably and patiently.

The spacious Impala was intended to be the working man’s upscale vehicle with the room, power, and comfort of a Cadillac without the extra adornments (chrome, velour, wood), high-tech gadgets, or automated features, features which would be expensive to restore today.

Once we got on the highway, I had to keep my hands on the wheel to make constant adjustments. Mark said some adjustments still needed to be made to the front suspension and alignment to make it feel more linear and direct at highway speeds, but after about 10 minutes of driving I got used to it. The steering was reasonably snappy around the city thanks to the Saginaw 605 steering box and it’s quicker ratio.

As you can see by the expression on my face, I was having a great time. We headed back to the hotel so I could close the top on my Saab, then took Clare to south St Louis for dinner at Iron Barley, a restaurant featured on Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.”

Needling the 79-inch wide behemoth through old urban roads was like threading a piece of rope through a sewing needle. For reference, the Impala is a tenth of an inch wider than a 2006 Cadillac Escalade. We got lots of waves, thumbs up, and adoring stares from from the locals (especially kids!) as we looked for a place to park.

This is another reason why classics should be driven — the public needs to be reminded of a time when design was more important than focus groups, when automakers were a source of societal optimism and futurism. When everyday cars were still ridiculously cool.

Though the Impala may have been a mass-market family car back in 1963, it stands out in a modern world where automobiles tend to look like bars of Dove and feel like lumps of plastic.

I found a place to park across the street from the restaurant.

From outside, Iron Barley looks like your typical neighborhood joint, a small brick building that blends into the German-influenced architecture of St Louis.

What arrived on the plate was stunning (sorry, I dug in before I realized I hadn’t yet taken a photo). My roast beef and mashed potatoes were well-seasoned and super tender, as was Mark’s salmon and Sherri’s pork medallions. You can order everything from hot dogs to oak-roasted prime rib.

Our waitress was extremely knowledgeable, the service was quick, the atmosphere was pleasing, and the food was simply fantastic. Another solid recommendation by Guy Fieri.

Fast Tube by Casper

Also, big thanks to Mark and Sherri for treating me to dinner!

Iron Barley is in somewhat of a distressed neighborhood, but thankfully Clare was still there when we left, as were the wheels.

Here’s what the Dakota Digital gauges and RetroSound radio look like at night.

And here we are, parked at the hotel next to my Saab. The satin-silver finish on the tail light cluster is stunning at night.

Driving this car was a chance to experience a real piece of American history and meet some fantastic people. For Mark, it’s a fun tribute to his youth, his family, and his past. For me, it was a motoring experience I will fondly remember.

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Ratings:
Its a challenge to numerically evaluate a car from half a century ago with criteria based on modern standards, especially a restoration that’s as thorough and unique as this one. Some of my comments are copied from the review I wrote of the ’64 last year.

Ride: 8.7/10 — Aside from some float on the highway, it’s well sorted. There’s a little bit of bouncing after large bumps but nothing out of character for a big family car.

Powertrain Overall: 10/10
Engine: 10/10 — The LT1 is a torque monster that responds immediately. It doesn’t have the “jet smooth” sound of the ’64 Impala I drove, but the exhaust on this ’63 is entirely different, exiting through the middle of the vehicle rather than the rear.
Transmission: 10/10 — The 4L60E’s gear shifts are imperceptible, and thanks to gobs of torque no shifts are required for strong mid-range acceleration.

Comfort: 5/10 — The bench seat needs some time to conform to the shape of the human body. The fresh padding was still a bit stiff and the seat back doesn’t have the lumbar support you might find in a modern car. That could be a bit painful on a long trip. A small pillow for the lower back would go a long way. There’s potentially room for nine people if you add a third row.

Steering/Handling: 4/10 — It needs some front-end adjustments to keep it from wandering at highway speeds.

Cornering is surprisingly flat thanks to grippy tires and suspension work including polyurethane bushings. The steering ratio is perfectly comfortable around town, capable of navigating city blocks without tiring your arms.

Features/Accessories: 8/10 — For its time, the Impala was well-optioned with air conditioning and power brakes. A wide selection of seating, roof, transmission, engine, and interior configurations made the Impala suitable for almost every middle and upper middle class buyer, quickly becoming the best-selling car in America at nearly a million units a year. Accessories and options for 1963 include air conditioning, power seats, AM-FM radio with mechanical presets, third row bench seat, cruise control, wire wheel covers, rear speakers, electric clock, windshield washer, trash box, and a choice of sixteen exterior colors and seventeen interior colors. While much of what we enjoy in today’s cars was optional back then, it was at least available.

Impala wagons also had an optional third row with seating capacity for nine. This particular ’63 has a modern AM/FM radio with USB MP3 playback, shoulder belts in the front, rear air suspension, cruise control, and power disc brakes. All of the controls are in easy reach and logically laid out. Air conditioning would be a nice addition, though the average July high in Galesburg, Illinois is a tolerable 84F.

Interior: 10/10 — A clean, timeless dashboard with attractive digital gauges, easy to reach switches, and pleasing lights make it a nice place to spend several hours. Everything is bolted together nicely without squeaks or rattles, a testament to Rick’s craftsmanship as well as GM’s high level of build quality.

I do miss the look of the sweeping speedometer, but I appreciate the accuracy and readability of the digital gauges.

Styling: 10/10 — Dare I say, the wagon may be the sharpest looking Impala of all. The extended roofline gives it a sense of length, though the long rear deck on four-door models has a similar visual effect.

Braking: 6.5/10 — They get the job done. A few more adjustments may be needed to improve pedal feel.

Reliability: 10/10 — Impalas from this era have typically good body integrity, well-sorted electricals, and reliable powertrains, though by this age (50 years!) everything on an original car will be due for restoration and refurbishment. Clare came from Arizona, a good location for buying classic cars with clean bodies.
The fuel-injected LT1 has a strong reputation for reliability combined with low maintenance. Except for Optispark ignition issues (make sure the water pump mounted above doesn’t leak), they require little maintenance beyond spark plugs and oil changes.

Overall: 9/10 — The ubiquity of GM cars from the 60s and the wide selection of easy aftermarket upgrades makes the Impala an ideal classic. It’s a standout that’s easy to drive, easy to admire, and easy to maintain.

Additionally, I’d like to mention how great it is to be able to connect with fellow auto enthusiasts through online clubs. Sites like NICOClub, CadillacOwners, and others have given me a free automotive education, countless hours of entertainment, and a global network of lifelong friends.

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Quality Reading:

—Clare’s restoration process with photos

—Clare’s inaugural road trip

—Gary’s 1964 Impala hardtop