“Foot on the pedal, never ever false metal.
Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle.”
The wisdom of driving a 30-year-old BMW across some of the more desolate areas of America first came into question as we watched Sparks, Nevada fade from the rearview mirror, casually but rhythmically vibrating in time with the four bent wheels. Continue reading
“What’s the fastest car in the world? A rental car, of course!”
That old chestnut, the object example of truth lovingly wrapped in a cliché. We all know people who have purchased cars previously the property of a rental or loaner fleets. And not ironically, either; this wasn’t some vane nod toward empathy – like adopting an abused baby harp seal because you feel bad – or merely thumbing their nose at the Goddess of Nice Used Cars. They saw no problem in purchasing an automobile that had likely never known an easy day in its life.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a Camaro SS or a Dodge Avenger, an Audi A6 or a Kia Rio, a Nissan Quest or a Lincoln MK-whatever. Nobody has ever been nice to a rental car. Continue reading
The San Francisco, California, public auto auction is not normally the place to discover a classic Mercedes sedan. Generally run across the block are tatty donation cars like battered Ford Escorts, crispy Nissans imported from rusty states, or smoke-belching Saab parts cars that will not pass the state’s Draconian emissions inspection.
Occasionally something interesting gets consigned, like a clean Porsche 914 or 1980s Maserati Quattroporte, but the reserve is always full retail. My friend Jake and I would always keep our eyes open for the rough gems, but more routinely found the generic garden boulders. Continue reading
So My dad died about three weeks ago. In his honor, I’ve been trying to write something witty, something solemn, and even something really, really long. But ultimately I decided that first and foremost this is a blog about cars, and he liked cars, and even instilled in me that passion. So instead of eulogizing him and writing some long, drawn-out diatribe about the guy he was, I’ll write about one of his cars: the Fiat 132. It was the first car he ever let me attempt to move (almost taking out a family friend/one of dad’s colleagues in the process) and is to me one of the cars that stands out most in my memory as “Dad’s car”.
This is one of those quick little things that makes you thankful. Continue reading
We recently took part in a multi-family garage sale hoping to lessen the content load of our oversized, though somewhat cluttered, car hole. While I know we sold a bunch of household items – we made a few hundred dollars, after all – I swear there isn’t any less stuff. My shelves are still pretty full and some of the larger items clearly haven’t moved. Continue reading